But, in the end, money had to be paid with nerves and humility.

- Okay. We must go, - Bulatov finished his coffee. - Don't ask for the bill. And eat something. You were nervous, I suppose, - he mockingly threw.

- Isn't this Oleg's restaurant?

- No, Zagorsky does not do this, - the man grunted merrily and got up from the table. - Come on.

He leaned towards the exit without waiting for an answer. He pushed open the heavy glass door and stepped out into the street. He looked up at the sky, breathing in the smell of the coming rain. He closed his eyes and rubbed...