Sеrgey Voronin
In search of Truth
Dear Alice!
Today is May 27, 2017! Exactly 1 year ago we met each other! I dedicate this book to you, my beloved Filipino wife! I love you very much, my baby!
Prologue
"The defendant Gumbrilidze, get up!" Answer my question: What was your role in the national labor union (abbreviated - NTS)? What questions did you oversee in this organization, banned in the USSR and in the Warsaw Pact countries?
"Citizens of the judge!" From the very beginning of the preliminary investigation, I always spoke and did not tire of repeating that the investigator, and now you too, had an absolutely false idea of my supposedly basic, that is, organizational role, in the NTS mentioned by you. This error arose from the fact that, indeed, I was entrusted with all the secret, secret work of our union. In fact, I was a resident of the NTS in Moscow in the period from 1975-1979. And here there was a frank "setup", as a result of which I was now in front of you. In June 1979, these scum from the Baku branch of the NTS hanged me on the obligation to supply secret information about the activities of the union to a certain agent named Medunov who, through special channels, sent her to the CIA later. As we learned later, Medunov turned out to be a "double" agent, while simultaneously working for the CIA and the KGB of the USSR. This was, of course, our most difficult, most unpardonable mistake for the whole time of our work.
"The defendant, what was this secret information intended for Medunov's agent?"
- It mainly concerned issues of financing, armament and directly subversive anti-Soviet activities of the NTS in the USSR and abroad. But the most interesting thing is that the citizens of the judge, that our patrons from abroad did not skimp on financial means at all, without even asking: are they really being used for their intended purpose or shamelessly pocketed by some functionary from the NTS. Surprisingly, our foreign bosses, for some reason, naively trusting the information we provided, always very responsive and responsive to all our requests. So, for example, in January 1977, there was a problem with the delivery of weapons and drugs to our organization. They were smuggled from Turkey, and when a large batch of weapons was intercepted by customs and KGB officers, the bosses immediately organized a transfer of an additional batch of arms and drugs across the Afghan-Tajik border.
"Defendant, tell the court how you used the weapon?" In which military operations, except the last, you participated personally?
"Citizens of the judge!" You see ... .. the thing is that I have always belonged (and this can be confirmed to you by other members of the NTS) to the category of union leaders who oppose radical methods of pressure on civil society. But ... lately, I began to notice more and more often from some members of the organization a clear dissatisfaction only with propaganda work. This circumstance worried me very much, because, once again, I was never a supporter of harsh terrorist actions. It all started, as I recall, from the attack on the collector near GUM, already here in Moscow. And then everything became more and more dizzy, like a kaleidoscope! The establishment of the State Bank of the USSR, a whole series of raids on jewelry stores in Moscow and Leningrad, and, finally, the seizure of an airplane with passengers in Domodedovo! This was the most terrible, but truly culminating moment in the terrorist activities of our organization! It was the Moment of Truth, the citizens of the judge! Now that everything is over, I ask the court to pay attention to my voluntary assistance to the investigation and take it into account as a mitigating circumstance in passing your, I am sure, absolutely fair verdict against me. I very much regret my long-term involvement in a terrorist organization called the NTS and ask the court to save my life! Give me the opportunity once again to atone for my guilt, at least with honest labor for the good of the Motherland!
- Defendant Gumbrilidze, you will still have the last word!
It seems that it is time to stop this frankly protocolal judicial narrative, so that, suddenly, inadvertently, not to roll down on the documentary - detective path in the style of Julian Semenov! After all, you are so tired, fatally tired, dear reader, from all this detective graphomaniac nonsense. Today my thoughts are crumpled, like a schizophrenic; They knock somewhere in the back of the head, like in a cramped cage; Tormented and not allowed to fall asleep in my bachelor "bungalow" on the most exotic island in the world, thoroughly smelling of foundry scale and caustic creazote, called "Barnaul Stream do not offer", as a lonely swollen from insomnia and wine to an old man. I'm talking to you not because I want to, like the last, unfortunate egoist, throw you into everything, like in a garbage pit, all that has become painful for my short life of 20 years; Or shine before you "masterly" mastery of the literary language. It's too late, doctor! Time for the treatment of a grave literary illness I fatally missed! My Time for the conquest of the literary Parnassus is hopelessly lost in idleness and merriment, worldly vanity and student drunken intoxication! What can I say? !! Mikhail Yurievich Lermontov in less than 20 years has already created his brilliant "Hero of Our Time"! But these words, unlike Lermontov's, heavy as Siberian shackles, are now strained, with a terrible creaking they try to get out from under my incompetent pen, trying to somehow shape into a complete and digestible for you, reader, thought. Oh, do not worry so, my sophisticated urban reader, accustomed indifferently to looking at other people's sufferings, tired of the painfully long hours of fruitless introspection and spiritual striptease of people you know and unfamiliar to you. There will be no hysterics, there will be no useless calls to conscience. We will argue! Only a dispute and nothing personal! After all, this is - the favorite occupation of the Russian intellectual. Yes, to tell by conscience - perhaps, and its only kind of weapon in our cruel and at times such a ruthless world!
Let's remember, gentlemen, at least, our happy students! When the group, as usual, is not ready for a seminar on philosophy, it begins to actively defend itself, attacking the poor, completely indebted to the life of the professor. Do you hear this terrible noise and din, reader? It is in the "black holes" that the galaxies are capsized; This time suddenly turns back! These terrible social cataclysms shake society! In general, students who are not ready for a seminar on philosophy argue about this! "Nihil" (in Latin - nothing!) Then reigns supreme at the seminar, the teacher is simply going mad with the tricky questions and the endless sophistical moves of the nihilist pranksters. He, of course, suddenly begins to believe that the world is not a reality, but, just a collection of subjective sensations! And that man did not come from the monkey, but from the donkey, because the same stupid and obstinate in his desire to cut off the branch on which he himself sits!
When you are bored, gentlemen, so much so that it just makes you sick of the dull monotony of days, weeks, years - argue! When you are painfully ill at the loneliness and endless kicks of Destiny - argue! Go to your friend and allow yourself to disagree with some most obvious thing that he said! Dispute, and it will be easier for you (perhaps!) If the dispute does not help, and you are so tired of all this life twist - then sit down and write a literary opus, like this, without fear of offensive accusations of blatant graphomania! The fact that there will be a lot of them is I guarantee you! Maybe you are lucky, and you will not become a neurasthenic at the very beginning of your life path and will not fall into the category of unreliable people (including, and the magic "pencil" of our gallant special services). I did not long to think, nevertheless, I chose a literary opus, because to scholastic disputes of this kind (as you probably already noticed, the reader), I treat with ill-concealed dislike and sarcasm. When old intellectuals gather in one place, who are excluded from the state plan due to physical and moral deterioration, they like to argue, but these disputes, as a rule, are frankly fruitless. I am categorically against such noisy and fruitless disputes, because in them definitely nothing is born except scholasticism and foolish admiration for one's own cleverness. They are transformed from a genuine instrument of knowledge into a completely unnecessary, but sometimes so funny and inviting trinket!
But let us leave the old men in peace. As they say, from them and "bribes are smooth"! Trotsky, Lev Davidovich, became a traitor to jealousy and jealousy of Lenin's ingenious insight. Years spent this talented, in general, a person suffering from a painful ambition, to be exact - vanity, inventing untenable political ideas - if only to pique the leader and his great doctrinal ideas. How much strength was put by Trotsky, imposing on the Bolshevik party endless political discussions, which brought him at first a shame, and then a terrible death from the punishing ax of the Spanish communist Ramon Mercader. Remember, the reader: scholastic disputes in politics, most often, end very, very tragic!
But Trotsky, I believe, became a traitor much earlier than the noisy debates he had unleashed on various questions of the policy of the Communist Party. This was preceded by a psychological breakdown in his soul, caused by an internal dispute - the most cruel and merciless, where both the disputant and his opponent are all in one person. The whole human person begins to split up suddenly, as in schizophrenic ravings. Only here the reason for the splitting is not a disease, but the internal lack of principle of a person whose origins, most likely, lie somewhere very deep ... in the earliest childhood. Doubts, generated by unscrupulousness, lead to unbelief in the basic moral values - these eternal constant measures of human behavior, and in fact faith, as we know, requires much more effort than disbelief. This truth is axiomatic, reader!
So, our hero simply does not notice how he, without any compulsion, step by step knock out a fragile support from under his feet and suddenly appears on the crossbar with a tightly looped betrayal around his neck. This internal dispute, preceding the fatal act, in my opinion, in the genesis of betrayal plays a decisive role.
May the dear reader forgive us another desecration of the paper, which, as everyone knows, will endure all; After all, the main character of our narrative is the real, most that is not a double traitor!
Chapter 1, in which our hero understands that everyone has his own
He woke up chilly in the morning, in military style, quickly jumped up and kicked his feet barefoot into the washbasin. His wife and child were still asleep when he washed, dressed, and smoothly combed, began the amber rounds of fried eggs, which was preventively fried by the mother. She, as always, patiently and uncomplainingly woke up before Vitenka and now with a sleepy eye she looked in love with her son. "When will you be back, Vitya?" Her mother asked. "You know, Mom, I'll be released early today, so tell Natasha that I'll come to the kindergarten for Leszko!" Hurriedly finishing his tea, he got dressed, put on his overcoat, and soon his heavy boots rattled loudly on the stairs of the sleeping house.
The city was still asleep and did not know - what a shame it will be awarded this gloomy autumn morning. He, like the whole country, learns about this in the morning, when by one act of just one person the work of a thousand people will be crossed out; When the superfluous gray hair will appear in a moment at the general designer and the Minister of Defense; When the whole family will understand that she has been branded with the vile label "traitor's family", which from now on and until the end of their days will weigh heavily on each of its members.
Before the hangar, Vitya got there in only 15 minutes. The entire air regiment was already assembled. With hidden hostility, he found his old rival in the service. It was Captain Sheremet, the beginning of the service with which was marked by a very unpleasant incident. When an experimental model of the top-secret MIG-25 entered the regiment, Major-General Shubin asked Lieutenant Colonel Shuvalov, commander of the air regiment, what pilot to assign to it. He recommended Sheremet. This greatly affected Vitya, although from his flying school he and Sheremet had long-standing friendly relations. But if earlier Vity only felt dislike, generated by the envy of this blue-eyed captain, the pilot-ace, the all-recognized leader in the regiment for his cheerful and cheerful disposition, now, after this ill-fated episode with MIG-25, dislike began to grow into a poorly concealed and Poorly controlled hatred. After all, the model of a top-secret aircraft at that moment Vitya regarded as a great springboard for a big leap on his career ladder. Needless to say, Lieutenant Belenko was scared, just loved the authorities patalogically! "Well, it's strange! - you will say. - What normal man will give up his career and from self-affirmation in society by authority? Especially in the army! "And there is a certain reason in this, on which, however, we will not dwell in detail. After all, in this line of his character there was nothing unusual; Especially since the social environment of that time in the Soviet school of the city of Moscow had quite a similar upbringing of the personality of the future traitor Viktor Belenko.
Envy is the main driving force in the development of his personality. Himself from a family of average prosperity, simple "hard workers", besides from the shameful category of the so-called "limits" (the author - visitors to the capital from other cities of the USSR at the limit), he saw every day at school an example of a "luxurious" life Professorial and director's sons, whose clothes, as well as the manner of condescendingly speaking through their teeth, "whipped up" Vityusha to the heart. And he began to drag himself with all his might to this altitude, as it seemed to him then, absolutely unattainable. Then his unconditional fetish, due to youthful limitations, became money. And Victor began to actively fart (avt. - that is, speculate). He started with the usual little things, like magnetic heads, films and other electronic tinsel of the time. Fartsovar alone, like a wolf, because in the "clan" of privileged farthers, the sons of "rich" parents to include him clearly did not hurry.
But, once, in his life there was a significant event - Ilya Zavarzin, the son of the director of a large Moscow department store, approached him. He was an ugly, lanky youth with a fading, contemptuous smile on his pale face. "Listen here, Bely! They say you do not die, old man? Fartsushe little - little by little? "" And what, you can not? Maybe you still have permission to ask? "Vitya began to insist, but Ilya stopped him with an impatient gesture. "Okay, do not bother! Personally, I - do not mind. For others - I do not hold a market. In turn, I invite you today to our sabantuy in the "Lear"! "Vitya almost jumped with joy, although some vague anxiety crept into his soul. "Is this too pathetic cafe too hard for me to afford?" But despite these apprehensions, he decided to make a good impression on his new friends. "The game is worth the candle!" - decided Belenko and took from the moneybox all the money received from the sale of the last batch of magnetic tapes of the Kazan company "Tasma".
Who was in the Moscow cafe "Lira" before its reform in 1985 (before the "dry law" of Gorbachev), he certainly knows what an indelible impression it makes on a young man for the first time. Not without reason, the group "Time Machine" in 1980 dedicated the cafe "Lira" its famous song of the same name. The cafe is not so much fashionable as prestigious. Prestige attached weight to everything that surrounded Vitya at the moment: the girls who miraculously made their way to this pretentious cafe and on which he simply would not pay attention; Music, unpretentious sounding under the arches of the bar; His new friends with red faces and excited gesticulations from drunk wine and the surrounding atmosphere of universal fun. At the end of the unforgettable evening, Victor pleasantly surprised the company by paying generously for everyone, after which Zavarzin slapped him for a long time on his knees and exclaimed drunkenly: "I always told these goats that you are your guy in the board!" In a word, the evening was a success! The young man's dedication to the secret society of the "Masons" took place! Vitya was, finally, accepted from the candidates for members of the "clan" of the most real capital fartsovshchikov!
The next day Zavarzin went to Vita and said: "White, I have a business proposal for you. I took out four pairs of woven jeans with a lefty pouch (the author - on the slang of the farther "white jeans with a left pocket"). You must sell! "Jeans in the early seventies of last century were a huge deficit and Vitya, of course, agreed. So he was, finally, admitted to the financial activities of the "clan". Vitya was delighted with the course of the matter and was amazed at how far the "clan" had worked out the mechanism for the acquisition and sale of goods. The whole system of relations of type: the customer - the intermediary, the intermediary - the consumer. From the intermediary penalty was collected in cases of untimely sale of goods. If the Soviet economy of that time lived and developed under such effective laws of trade and marketing, I think we would still live under socialism!
Moreover, in the "clan" there was a whole group of "missionaries" who brought the goods to the final consumer in the peripheral cities of the USSR. In short, there was an impression that behind all the "clan" are very respectable figures who, in the conditions of their complete impunity, felt themselves in the vastness of our great Fatherland "like a fish in the water!"
Victor was exhausted completely! Speculation from easy money turned for him into a hard, exhausting work of an ordinary mediator. The real threat of forfeit forced him to hang out for days on end near hotels, universities, on the "flea market". He began to learn badly and was already not happy that he so frivolously contacted the "clan", which now quite firmly held it in its predatory paws.
Once, oppressed by doubts, Vitya wandered along one of Moscow streets with a bag at the ready, at the bottom of which were two packs of "white" jeans. It was a usual cloudy day. The asphalt was wetted, abundantly watered by rain. Everything was running around: people, buses, streams, and only Vitya was walking with a gait of a person who was not in a hurry. Suddenly his attention was attracted by a bus with the inscription "Intourist", which stopped near the eponymous hotel, spitting out a motley crowd of foreigners on the wet pavement. It was then that Vitya noticed this young and impressive man wearing glasses of an expensive Italian rim and worn jeans "Wrangler", who was destined to radically change Belenko's life for all subsequent years. It is not known what pushed Vitya at that moment:
Version 1. The desire to get acquainted with a foreigner (it was very prestigious in those years in Moscow).
Version 2. Purely commercial interest - to try to "drive" him the remaining lot of jeans - but only he, yet got the courage and very determined approached the foreigner, offering him in broken English his stale goods of the company "Wrangler." The guy through his doroguschie Italian glasses carefully looked at Vitya and in pure Russian said: "Come tomorrow here in this hotel, room number 56. Maybe I'll buy something from you! "
The ending of this, at first glance, rather prosaic story was so unexpected and surpassed all the brave expectations of the young man that Vitya simply lost his speech, grumbling something inarticulate in response to the foreigner. All the rest of the day and the morning of the next day, Vityunya lived in anticipation of this meeting. He had such an absent appearance that Zavarzin approached him uneasily and asked: "Did you sell jeans, Bely? And then the chief is worried! "" Listen, you and your boss are going to go far away! "- whispered Victor sullenly. "How is it - roll? Zavarzin did not understand. "Ahh, well, well, did the baby decide to show the teeth?" And he stepped away from him with pointed hostility.
After class, Victor rushed to the hotel "Intourist" in joyful expectation. There was a real chance to rise above the "clan", and it was sinful, to her - God, it's a sin to miss it. With sprint speed, he reached the hotel, with barely restrained excitement rose to the 3rd floor and timidly knocked on the door of room number 56. The foreigner was at home. He met Vitya in a slovenly pajama suit, with a sleepy face and a strong smell of fumes.
- Ah, it's you, come on! Said the foreigner, smiling amicably, revealing a series of perfect snow-white teeth. "Honestly, I thought you would not come, young man." And you turned out to be a punctual gentleman, and this is a pleasant discovery! "Vitya went to a rather modest room for a hotel of this level, immediately glancing at the whole bohemian mess that reigned in him. A crumpled bed, a coffee table with scraps and uncorked bottles of Scotch whiskey and Martini, forgotten accessories of women's clothing on the back of the chair - all this spoke for itself of a restless night.
"My name is Michael," said the foreigner, lounging in a chair in front of Vity and blissfully letting out cigarette smoke from his mouth. "I'm a correspondent for the American magazine New Suik, I came to an accredited press conference at the Foreign Ministry of the USSR, and then ... then, apparently, I'll stay with you for a month, another for journalism. And you, that is, you are with us ... ..e ... ..
"Victor," suggested Belenko.
- Yes, Vitya, apparently, you have a large Russian businessman? Do I understand correctly?
- No, you are not! - Vitya laughed. "It's just that your jeans have such a shabby appearance, but I have a brand new pair, but not my size at all." So I thought: "Maybe you need?"
"You're a very kind man, and, you know, I like you!" - suddenly switched to "you" Michael and famously slapped Vitya on the shoulder. "Do you want a good Scottish whiskey?"
- No, thanks, I do not drink!
"You do not drink it right!" Whiskey is rubbish, but a glass of "Martini", I think, will not hurt you! - Michael said, pouring from a figured bottle to himself and Victor.
"Well, Victor, consider that the deal of the century has taken place!" I'm buying your magical jeans, and therefore I propose to drink for a mutually beneficial business without deception and mutual beatings, "Michael said cheerfully and after the next glass he pulled out of his travel bag a plump album, apparently with family photos.
"Well, now let's get to know each other better." As far as I know, this is quite in the Russian tradition! Show your family photos! Vitya sat closer to him, and Michael, began to lay out the pictures on the bed with enthusiasm.
"It's me at the Sorbonne, at the most prestigious university in Europe." It is located in the Latin Quarter of Paris and is famous for its outstanding academic school. God! What kind of professors! By the way, do you know what the Sorbonne teaching method is?
- No! - Vitya mumbled.
- There are 5 students per professor. This is a piece work, Vitya! Really! And I studied for 5 years at the philological faculty of the Sorbonne precisely on such a system. It was there that I perfectly mastered the Russian, however, not only in Russian! Said the foreigner, pointing to a picture of three young boys - students in black robes and magical caps on their heads, among whom it was difficult to recognize the very young Michael.
- Wow!
- Still as it is healthy !!! Prefect!!! (English - suitable). Actually, I'm a Frenchman, assimilated, true, but not losing purely French habits: well, for example, I terribly love women. American women in relationships with women are too rational and mean. Almost like the Germans.
"You see, Victor," Michael continued. "My father is a French merchant, why I preferred the Sorbonne to all other European universities." I lived with my father in Brittany for 25 years. And this is my mother. She died when I was 3 years old. " From the photo on Vitya looked the pleasant face of a calm intelligent woman.
- And this is us in New York, where we moved with my father immediately after graduation from the University. Here my father married again. You see, next to me is a woman? This is my stepmother!
"Uncle Michael, can I call you that?"
"Of course, dear nephew!" Hahaha !!! No offense! I know that the word "uncle" in Russian has a dual meaning. In fact, close friends in the States call me Michel. So what did you want to ask?
"Is not this woman too young for your father?" Although, maybe it sounds immodest on my part ....
- H'm ..., but no, that's right! Absolutely correct remark. As it says in Russian, "you see at the very root"! Indeed, I told my father the same thing. And it was too calculating for this American baby for our, quite frankly, not very rich European family. But is it possible to judge and reproach your father for anything when he is alone all his life and unhappy? Yes, it's useless, as you know! And this we shot in 1967, along with my friend, a famous American economist, by the way, with your namesake Victor Perlo. Your economics often uses its formulas to calculate the gross national income in the USSR and the USA. Thanks Victor! It was he who awakened my interest in your amazing country. I'm writing a dissertation on Russian classical literature. Actually, you Russians are an amazing people! You can work as devils when you want! After all, only in 1940 you produced as much as the US produced in 1901, and already in 1967, which is completely incomprehensible to me (after all, after a terrible military devastation), they already produced as much as we did in 1962! Only numbers, and how much they are titanic labor and sweat! Yes, you ask puzzles to our industrialists! Prefect!
- You know, we start to work when we get bite in ass. From «fried cock»! And now we are working that way, because roasted cock is Americans! Really, Uncle Michael! It is you! To tell you the truth: we could work ten times more and better in such a tense international situation! But we are lazy! - Suddenly, he was pretty much drunk.
- Wow! Exclaimed the American of French origin. "Not at all!" You're all right! Yes, by the way, that this is me all about myself, yes about myself! What are you, Victor, who do you want to be?
-Oh! I think that this is completely uninteresting to you. I'm a simple Soviet schoolboy, I'm in the tenth grade. I do not have any special interests and hobbies, just look at the girls! To my future I am indifferent to the great distress of my parents! Friends, I can say, I do not have. Is not that an exhaustive description?
Michael listened very seriously to Viti's monologue and said with a touch of mild sadness: "You know, old man, and I really like you! Really! First of all, by its sincerity and spontaneity. It is not proper, of course, to impose my friendship at the first meeting, but I'll tell you: while I'm here before the New Year - let's be friends! I think that I can orient you in your future life. Still, I have some kind of journalistic experience. I saw a lot, I know a lot! Let's have a drink for our chance meeting so necessary for both of us!
"Come on, Uncle Michael, only on the last, and then the house will be such a serious plug-in from the ancestors!" God forbid!!!
"Nothing, nothing, you're already an adult guy!"
And they drank again. New friends stayed in the hotel room almost till late at night. Belenko was delighted with his foreign friend! His eyes gazed admiringly at the new idol, which he did not put on, pouring into Victor's glass until the bottle of Martini finally emptied. Then a printed bottle of strong Scotch whiskey went into circulation. And again toasted for acquaintance, for friendship, for normal Soviet-American relations. Vitya completely intoxicated and no longer protested at the sight of a new glass, but only languidly waved his hands. Michael sat across from him, occasionally wiping his misty glasses and the sultry ones from his drinking eye, leading a drunken conversation, completely not caring if his interlocutor was listening.
Finally, the alcohol and monotonous speech of the foreigner did their job - Vitya leaned back on the sofa and fell into a heavy drunken drowsiness.
"Your home phone?" - I had a dream, he heard the cheerful voice of Michael, stuck his tongue with a stiff tongue, mumbled the figures of his Moscow phone and fell asleep to a drunken man.
Vitya woke up all in the same hotel room from a nasty squeaky call of an import alarm clock. The foreigner has already risen. The night he slept next door, especially since a wide double bed made it easy. Vitya got up with difficulty and went to the toilet with a lazy walk. Finally, he washed himself and, together with the foreigner, without any appetite, purely mechanically set about the unpretentious breakfast, carefully ordered by Michael in the hotel restaurant.
"Do not worry!" I called your parents yesterday and said you had me!
- And how did you introduce yourself?
- He said that I am your friend, journalist. He also said that in the morning I will take you to school, so I think they will not worry. Only I have a big request to you, Victor - do not tell your ancestors that I'm a foreigner. You understand, it will be a very good food for all kinds of gossip.
- Okay! And when will we meet again next time?
- So it is! I announce the complete disposition. 2 days I work in the Foreign Ministry at a press conference, 2 days - in the newspaper "Izvestia". But on Saturday we can quite meet and have a very good time.
- well! Then until Saturday!
Finishing his tea, Vitya got dressed, put on his jacket and hurried down the stairs of the still sleeping hotel to the street. It was still very early. Michael ignorantly woke Vitya ahead of time, so that the city slept and did not know that this autumn morning in the life of one Soviet man there was an unexpected and very dangerous turn. Nothing at first glance, not meaningful meeting of two people, two worlds, marked the beginning of a series of fatal acts and events that radically changed the life of the Moscow schoolboy Victor Belenko.
Before school on the metro, Vitya got there in only 15 minutes. In the empty corridors and classes there was a deathly silence. In addition to the wench and cleaning woman of Nina's woman, there was not a single living soul in the school. Something is attractive in this cold emptiness to the painfully familiar spaces with which all childhood and a significant part of youth is connected. Some mystery is hidden in this strange, unusual school silence. And you are one. Scary, but, at the same time, very nice. I remember how my friends and I liked to stay in school after the second shift on duty. They ran along empty corridors, played tennis and in a cheerful, mischievous "Sifu", throwing themselves gambling with each other in a damp rag. But most of all, of course, they liked to sit in darkened classes and indulge in philosophical, only necessarily philosophical reflections! This mystery, is not it, reader ?! So our hero, finally, got to his desk, sat down for her and, propping his hand on his chin, dozed off.
Four days before Saturday, flew completely unnoticed. Saturday was unusually warm and sunny, further warming up the nascent friendship between the two young men. It is difficult to say on what basis it has arisen between such different people, both in age and in origin, it is also impossible to explain the sudden emergence of love between a man and a woman of different ages and characters. For Vitya, such friendship is the usual attraction of a young man to a more mature and intelligent man. If you want, this is one of the ways of self-affirmation in the life of a still insecure, fragile young man. After all, nothing flatteres youthful pride in the period of adulthood, like the fact that you are undoubtedly interesting to an adult and a man already in this life. In Belenko's life, one day came a time when he began to vaguely realize that the "clan" for him was too small a game, too little a tribute to his over-year-old excessive ambition. And as soon as membership in the "clan" has turned for him to the already achieved milestone, this victory was no longer pleased Vitya and did not inspire, forcing to look for something new, exciting nerves, giving food for his not yet fully formed, but already very tenacious And receptive intelligence. Michael managed in a few days to take a firm place "guru" in the life of a young man. After being a complex and closed person (introvert, in essence), Vitya was endlessly lonely, despite constant external communication and bustle with people of the "clan". The egoism and caste of the "clan" inevitably doomed him to spiritual loneliness, which subconsciously pressed and oppressed Vitya, for there is nothing more painful than loneliness among people who are alien to you in spirit. His life at the time of the end of the decade was represented by Belenko as a solid black band, and Michael was able to break through this dark strip very easily, which made him in the eyes of Vitya, although it sounds loud, a kind of spiritual mentor.
The relationship between the men was mutual and seemed to Vita absolutely sincere, although from time to time he was overwhelmed by a wave of doubts: is he really so interesting to Michael, who undoubtedly gave the impression of a man who had seen much, for a short, journalistic age. But everything was still cloudless, and so Vity did not want to torment himself with these completely sterile and very unpleasant reflections.
On this day off, Michael and Vitya spent the autumn day in Sokolniki. For a long time they wandered along a deserted avenue dotted with crimson and yellow leaves - the last splashes of the golden autumn. Victor went and thought: "It's now autumn, this strange and very unexpected meeting! Um ... interesting, I'm lucky for some reason in the fall! Probably, if I do sometime something great, meaningful, then it will certainly fall! Straight rock of some sort! "
- You know, you have some special autumn, the journalist's almost savage beast caught the mood of the young man Michael. - In autumn, autumn is also very beautiful, but it gives you a very special mood. This is my second time in Russia, and every time I enjoy both your nature and your fall. Although it is possible that their charm is in me, is not it, my friend? Said Michael, smiling abstractly at his thoughts.
"You know, Uncle Michael, I would very much like to visit Paris or in the States." It seems to me that you live there some special life full of civilization!
"Oh, well, we have more than this in our country, but my dear friend, it's always good where we do not exist." We have the same problems connected with human nature as you do, and they are the same everywhere, because they obey some universal law in the human psyche and relations between people. You say you're lonely, but I think you do not? Although, honestly, at your age I did not have such a problem. Somehow it was easier for me to look at life in your years!
- Yes, from the point of view of the layman I'm not even alone. Communication is something to me, as - once, enough, even too much! Formally, I have a bunch of friends, but they do not need me! As it was written by the great Nasir Khusrow:
From a handful of hypocritical friends, it would be better to stand aside,
Unnecessary these acquaintances are enough to support me.
Friends do not then fuss, that to them your share is close:
They demand their share and sweet seek a piece.
Yours they are looking for support, when you are healthy and rich, -
And on your black day they escape and do not look directly into your eyes.
You are cheerful, while in power, - they easily run through the years,
But to become restless, morose, anyone will make want ...
"... In vain do you seek reliable, mail of such friends:
No one knot will untie your intricate network! - picked up and finished the famous poem of the 11th century Persian poet Nasir Khusrow Michael, with genuine interest looking at Vitya, as if reopening it for himself.
"And I also like Nasir Khusrow! - Vitya exclaimed with delight, inspired by Michael's stormy reaction, reciting the poem of the great Persian, condemning all panegyrics for those in power:
"Do not waste on low laudatory words.
Who spends necklaces on donkeys?
About vain things you are in vain,
After all, the kingdom of two worlds is subject to you.
And you betray yourself to shame,
When your mouth keeps telling lies everywhere,
When you praise a low deed,
Honor is your betrayal! "
"I really did not expect that these beautiful Persian motifs are also close to you! Michael noted happily. - Although I am more intimate with the poetry of another great Persian; By the way, also a contemporary of Khusrow - Omar Khayyam. How is it with him?
For the horse, the eloquent circle is a treadmill -
This is your inner horizon of being.
Who is the rider? Soul. Mind make a bridle,
Thought is the usual saddle, and your victory!
"Just try to say it's bad, damn it!" Vitya, I understand your mood very well, although I think that your problem is in many ways far-fetched. The solution to the problem, in my opinion, is very simple and lies on the surface! You just need to pick up and disperse such friends! And all! How do you say in Russia: "Such friends - for dick and in the museum!»
"Hahahaha!" Uncle Michael, you obviously did not go to Russia in vain! Now you can easily become the greatest Russian folklorist of all time! But ... only in America!
"Hahahaha!" Yessssss! I really want this, Victor!
"Uncle Michael, you are, after all, wrong." The difficulty is not how to get rid of old friends, but how to find new ones - interesting and reliable!
"You see, Victor, this requires a choice, freedom of movement in space and time, too. And where do you have a choice in your school, when you are going there such a heterogeneous audience both in terms of views, interests, and social origin. That's when you go to college, the problem of choice will automatically disappear among your "Gavrik" ... Hmm ... Is there such a word in Russian?
"Yes," answered Vitya with a smile.
"Do not be offended, old man, that I'm talking to you in such a mentor's tone, as if I were always teaching you." No, it's just that I myself was a student and I faced similar problems. Yes, by the way, Victor, and I have not asked you yet - where are you going to go?
- It's a difficult question and has not been decided yet. Mom wants me to go to Polytech and my father to the medical institute. But, most likely, if everything is okay with health, then I will enter the military military school!
It was necessary to Vite to pronounce these words, stupidly looking in front of him, otherwise he would have noticed how anxiously his eyes glittered at his interlocutor. When communicating with a person, dear reader, try, if possible, to look into his eyes. A negative, at least indecent, and in some cases, as you can see in the future, and very imprudent.
- Wow! Exclaimed Michael. - Yes, I had the honor to communicate with the future pilot - ace of the Soviet Union Air Force! Prefect! Well, if all these guys are in the ranks of the Soviet Army, I will certainly come to the States and raise a new propaganda wave - a campaign for peace throughout the world! I really would not like to fight with you, young man!
And they laughed gaily, slowly moving from the arboretum, very pleased with themselves and their unusual friendship.
And the days, meanwhile, fled the frisky alyura, shamelessly pushing each other off, twisting the turns on that terrible counter, the testimony of which is paid by the most expensive for each person at a price. Friends for two weeks, as they were familiar, but not at all bored with each other; Even, on the contrary, their affection has become even greater.
Encouraged by this friendship, Victor was visibly drawn in all respects, became more collected in his studies and slowly, but surely began to move away from his "clan" comrades. Recently, he made a strange impression on the surrounding people - a mixture of some arrogance and an incomprehensible detachment from what is happening around.
As usual, on every second Friday of the following month, the guys from the "clan" gathered in the cafe "Lira" to discuss current issues of their funding and activities. After the lessons, Zavarzin approached Belenko with an unconcealed irritation and clenched his teeth through his teeth: "White, you did not forget that today we have a meeting, and everyone must report on the work done in two weeks. How are you doing with jeans? "Only now, Vitya remembered about an unrealized pair of jeans in his school bag. And, like every man, tired of the importunity of another person, suddenly he felt a surge of rage. "Listen, Zavarzin, I am very tired from your pants! Take them, while it's not too late and I did not throw them away! And tell your scum that I'm leaving the game. Have you been lying to me, understand? You come again - in the face I'll give!"
With these words, Victor hurled a cellophane bag with jeans on the desk, grabbed the briefcase and walked quickly through the crowd of puzzled students who came running at his shout. Fresh drizzling rain and autumn coolness gradually reassured him. Relaxed gait Belenko went to the hotel "Intourist", although he was not sure that he would find Michael there. The foreigner warned him yesterday that he would run away from his journalistic affairs in the morning.
Ducking his head, standing in the darkened passage opposite the hotel, Victor thought over what had happened the day before. From all this situation it was clear only one thing: nothing good in the foreseeable future it did not wait. As if in confirmation of these gloomy thoughts from somewhere above, Zavarzin's voice rang out: "Ba! What a meeting, Mr. Belenko! I did not wait, I did not guess! "Vitya looked up and saw Zavarzin, accompanied by two hefty guys with criminal faces. One of them Belenko immediately recognized. Ilya introduced him once in the "Lear" as a candidate for the master of sports in boxing. "It seems that his name is Igor!" Thought Vitya, feeling an unpleasant chill on his back and neck.
"White, I've been wanting to talk to you for a long time, but somehow it did not seem like an accident." Repent, and I will be human to you - how could we have been friends with you sometime! Pay a forfeit, and you know that you have already expired all the terms, and we will gently take you into our arms! Come back, son, I'll forgive everything!
- You know, Zavarzin, I also wanted to tell you a long time ago, but there was no chance either! You got me dead, along with your finished cattle!
"Well, that's all," he said peacefully, but at the same time he raised Elijah's hand warningly. "We'll talk quietly." You're a clever boy! "And, with a wicked wink at his guide, he continued:" Tell us, baby, we've been following you for a long time. Received operational information that you are plowing a firma from the States. The bosses are worried: is White really so rotten that he will not share such a noble confectioner with his friends? I think you yourself understand very well what a rare success it is for our cause! And it would be very unfair to eat such delicious jam alone! In short, White, big clever people, do not like you, drisnya, seriously interested in your foreign fraerom. I hope you understand what that means?
"Who told you such nonsense?"
"Oh, do not, please, fool a fool! You are always seen near the "Intourist" with a guy, obviously not domestic production. In short, the bosses offer you the exchange of your foreigner for our forfeit. In my opinion, this is a very profitable repayment of debt obligations for you! Ah? What does it say? "Zavarzin laughed gaily.
Malice, blind unrestrained anger, as they stepped on their favorite corn, overflowed Vitya over the edge, and he, with sadistic delight, moved Zavarzin from below up his chin. He heavily reeled, but he stood on his feet. Satellites Zavarzin immediately flew to Vitya, knocked him down and began methodically kicking him, already lying, feet in heavy forged shoes. In his position, there was nothing else left but to cover his face from blows. One blow, stronger than the other, fell on the back of his head and blinded him for a while. "Well, stop," - already through the noise and ringing in his ears Victor heard a familiar accent. Beats suddenly stopped, and he ventured, at last, to open his eyes. Just before Zavarzin and his companions stood Michael. Igor from the turn tried to kick him in the face, but the foreigner slipped his finger into the solar plexus with a light movement of his hand. The boxer with a low moan, as if he were stuck, fell on the cold slabs of the passage and did not move any more. His shocked companions at first hastily retreated backwards, then their retreat assumed the character of a panic flight.
Michael with a worried face bent over Igor, quietly muttering English curses. "Well, thank God! It seems alive! "- he muttered and, with an enlightened face, approached Vita:" Well, is it alive, soldier? "
- It seems alive! - Vitya croaked, trying to smile at Michael with bloodshot lips. The foreigner helped him to get up and get to his hotel room. While Belenko was washing himself, Michael walked restlessly around the room, nervously smoking a cigarette. In such an agitated state, Vitya found him as soon as he left the toilet.
- What were you beaten for? - Without looking at Vitya, Michael asked sullenly. Vitya said nothing.
- Victor, I would not like to tell you about this, but there is some kind of understatement between us. You're obviously hiding something from me, and this can sow distrust between us. Really, Victor!
"Uncle Michael, I would not want to involve you in my dirty business, but if you're interested, I'll tell you!"
And he told the foreigner about the incident with the "clan", forfeit, ill-fated jeans - in short, everything that was the content of his life before meeting with Michael. The latter listened in silence to him and said: "Well, now, dear, now listen to me carefully! Penalty, like any decent businessman, you will pay. I'll help you with this. And with the "clan" or whatever you call it there, stop categorically. This banal crime is clearly not for you! I understand your youthful craving for money! This is normal! Once I also believed that money is everything. But no, Vitya, this is a naive mistake! True freedom in the society of any social system is not given by money, or even by power, but by intellect and knowledge! Money and power are only means to realize the intellect. Another thing is that without money and power it is nothing, but now you have to work on the intellect itself, and not on the ways of its implementation. When, after the Sorbonne, I was practicing journalism in the Figaro newspaper in Paris, my father introduced me to his old friend Robert Irsan, a multi-billionaire owner of most of the major French newspapers and magazines, including Figaro. What did this man conquer me? Despite his Nazi past, thanks to his extraordinary intellect, he has acquired a lot of money, and now also power, spits on public opinion from a high bell tower, and recently said in Paris: "Something tells me that I will be prime minister!" And in fact to me something prompts, Vitya - he becomes it, will necessarily become! Not this - so next year! In this I can assure you! But why go far for examples. Sikorsky, a friend of Tupolev, your compatriot, left Russia. Who was he with you? Beggar, a forgotten genius, who with his brilliant design ideas in his homeland acquired the glory of a madman! And who is he now ?! The Sikorsky and Pryf helicopter company is an absolute monopoly on rotorcraft in America, which has long had a powerful political and economic impact on the US government and its decisions! "
- Yeah, that's straightforward bourgeois propaganda! - Vitya laughed.
- No, it's not you! God forbid, this is absolutely not my role! I just gave you a very good reference point, considering that speculation and criminality are too small and unworthy for you. As it is with Blaise Pascal: "It is our nature to believe, but to desire; And if they do not have worthy items for faith and desire - they are rushing to the unworthy. " I gave you, in my opinion, a worthy subject for will and mind - earn knowledge, and they will pay you a hundred times!
- Uncle Michael, when I listen to you, I really want to say: "Friend Arkady, do not talk beautifully!" What a habit to say smart things all the time! Vitya said irritably.
"Hahaha!" This, in my opinion, is from Turgenev. "Fathers and children," if I'm not mistaken? And you are very nervous, Victor! And this, in my opinion, is not at all "believe me"! Well, I have now finished and will not return to this unpleasant topic for you!
On that they decided. And time passed, and two months of Michael's business trip flew by unnoticed. The New Year came, which friends decided to meet with Michael at the hotel. December 31, as for Michael, and for Vitya, passed in the New Year's eagerness. The day before they agreed to meet at about 20 hours on December 31 with Michael in such a way that, 4 hours before the New Year, to do a proper holiday table.
"You can not worry about table and table setting! Everything will be okay! "Michael said with a fake path, while winking slyly at Vita. At that moment, Belenko did not attach much importance to this, but now, going to room 356 and hearing the loud female voices covered by the soft baritone of Michael, he suddenly understood the essence of the hint. I understood and felt a strong excitement when I knocked on the door and was discovered by a pretty girl of about 25, with discolored hair, brightly painted lips, the elegant figure of which was successfully highlighted by a smart blue dress in tight fitting.
"Ah, it's Victor, if I'm not mistaken? - with a sweet Baltic accent said a stranger. And Michael has already told you everything about you. My name is Lima! "Vitya, still visibly embarrassed, walked into the room where Michael and the dark-eyed dark-haired girl sat behind the already set table.
- And this is my best friend Victor, a cadet of a military flying school on vacation! - solemnly, as the herald, said Michael, slyly smiling at Belenko.
"Inga," the girl sang softly, coquettishly bending her head while smiling charmingly. As it turned out later, both girls were married, both - graduate students, who came from Latvia to study in Moscow. Michael diligently played the Bulgarian out of himself on a business trip abroad, joked a lot and was clearly in good spirits. When the men left to smoke, having given women to host New Year's table, Michael in an emphasis asked Vitya: "Have you ever had a woman?"
- No! - Honestly answered Vitya.
"Well, you see," said the "Bulgarian", satisfied with this answer, "you have a unique opportunity to correct this mistake!"
"But they're married, Michael!" Said Vitya naively.
- My dear friend! They are openly unfaithful to their husbands, for which I like insanely! "Loyalty, which can only be maintained at the cost of great effort, is not better than treason!" - said Laroshfuko, and I fully agree with him. Oh, I'm sorry! You do not like it when I speak beautifully!
New Year's night was amazing and enchanting thanks to the presence in the room of Michael these young interesting ladies. Wine, the battle of the chimes that marked the coming of the New Year, the playful kisses of Laima in the dark, exaggerated the imagination and feelings of Vitya to the limit. He seemed more excited than usual, his eyes glittered and made him unusually attractive that night. Sensual views of Lyme worried and tickled nervously. And the euphoria of the night was equally felt by both men and women. Finally, the sensual tension in people reached their climax, and they were impatient, in pairs wandered about the hotel rooms.
Vitya and Laima stayed in Michael's room. Half an hour they silently indulged in a love game, then entwined into one hot tangle and gave themselves to each other with rapture.
"What a dishonorable woman! Seduced an innocent young man! "- You condemn, you, the reader, but ..." Almost all decent women are untouched treasures, which are therefore inviolable, that no one is looking for them, "one of the great ones said. So do not be hypocrisy and hypocrisy! It obviously does not suit you, dear reader!
In the morning Laima left, leaving behind her the stupefying smell of expensive French perfumes. Any more or less finely organized man, who for the first time possessed a woman, especially at the age of 16, remembers what feeling of emptiness and his own uselessness remains after that. This was the first sensation that Vitya experienced on this wonderful winter morning when he woke alone on a bed that still kept the warmth and smell of the tender body of a young beautiful woman. Victor lay for a long time, his head thrown back, hardly remembering the events of New Year's Eve. The emptiness and peace of the satisfied body - these are the two senses that completely mastered him at that moment. From this numbness he was led by Michael, who had come out of the dressing room and was already washed and clean-shaven.
- Ah, great! I have long risen, just did not want to wake you up. Well, how are you, young conqueror of women's hearts? He asked gaily.
"Everything is OK! - Vitya, in a crude, manlike way, said rudely, exposing his thumb. "She turned out to be a real woman - a charm!" And the men were laughing and cheerful.
- By the way, you, as I see, love our American "okay", and in fact, probably never thought about its origin? The whole world uses it and does not think that it was invented because of the illiteracy of our President Jackson more than a hundred years ago, who shortened the phrase "All correct", that is, everything is in order, and instead of "a" he wrote "o" . It turned out OK, i.е. "Okay." You see how beneficial it is sometimes to make spelling mistakes. Oh, by the way, are you going to escort me to the airport today?
"Of course, what conversation can there be!"
At the airport, Vity suddenly lost his spirits - again, as always, the already forgotten ghost of loneliness came close to him. He even caught his throat and burst into tears when they announced registration for Michael's flight. They exchanged addresses. "Do not worry, do not worry very much! We will correspond! And if you find yourself in New York on tourpublishing or something like that, you can always count on me. I think we will have a great time in this metropolis! Yes, by the way, I have 30 dollars left - take them from me as a gift. You can buy yourself something in your notorious "Birch". And remember everything that I told you. You - a guy is heady and you can achieve a lot in life if you keep to the right course! "
Strongly shaking hands with Belenko, Michael easily picked up the suitcase and went to the exit to the terminal. Flexible, clever, dangerous enemy Michael; The real name is Richard Roy, the agent's nickname is "the Frenchman". Employee of the Russian department of the CIA of the United States, which currently has about 700 people. The activities of this department are very diverse: from terrorist actions to the publication of a two-volume edition of selected Soviet anecdotes. This department is not alien to "scientific" activities.
So, in 1978, an employee of the Russian Department of the CIA Arthur Gore at Georgetown University (Washington) was presented with a doctoral dissertation on "The Reasons for the Betrayal of Soviet Youth in the Years of the Great Patriotic War". The defense was "brilliant", as you understand, the reader! And, of course, in the chain of anti-Soviet proclamation issued with the assistance of this department of the CIA - Solzhenitsyn's book The Gulag Archipelago, for which the author received the Nobel Prize. The question arises: what for? For the high artistic value of this book, or, nevertheless, for the anti-Soviet "stuffing" that turns this book Solzhenitsyn into another ideological weapon against the USSR? I think the answer is obvious! It is unlikely that the author of the "Hero of Our Time" would now be awarded the Nobel Peace Prize by literary critics from the United States and Western Europe! This book of Mr. Lermontov, in the opinion of the most demanding literary critics from the United States and Western Europe, clearly does not hold out in its artistic value to the "Gulag Archipelago"! Ce la Vie, dear reader!
Here is what the famous political observer N. Yakovlev wrote in his book "The CIA against the USSR": "The passionate" book lovers "gathered in the walls of the CIA. The department loves to publish books. True, it is not in order to meet the needs of those who are hungry to gain knowledge, but for the opposite reasons - to poison the minds of people. "
But books are far from the only means of influencing people who are in the service of the CIA. Thus, a former CIA employee, Miles Copeland, in his book "Without a Cloak and a Dagger. The truth about the new epoch in espionage "directly writes how the CIA is cracking down on those suspected of being connected to foreign countries:" If the detainee refuses to speak, the state security officers take him to the basement and try to "bring him to his senses." After interrogations in the dungeons of the CIA, the interrogated person is brought to such a state that he can not be shown in court and "... calmly liquidated in ways whose horror does not lend themselves to description!"
Needless to say, it is rich, oh, how rich is the arsenal of means from the CIA: from books, psychomotoremic and psychotropic substances to banal torture by electric current! All this abomination I have brought to you, the reader, so that you will understand how much the CIA hydrologist is multi-headed, and how much she knows the art of reincarnation. An example of such incomparable reincarnation was for our hero and Richard Roy - undoubtedly the most experienced psychologist who managed to find and time to recognize the necessary strings in the soul of Victor Belenko; Virtuoso play on them and, only, for 2 months, cast doubt on the basic moral values of the Soviet man and citizen. Call it recruitment in the literal sense of the word, of course, very difficult, since, unlikely, Richard Roy saw in the face of an ordinary Soviet schoolboy potential CIA agent. Not so he is perspicacious, I think, to see a decade away. But these ubiquitous Michael really captivated our world. They, as missionaries who convert pagans into the Christian faith, carelessly, in passing, throw the seeds of betrayal on a fertile soil, which, as you can see, the reader will soon give, and even how to give their "blessed" shoots!
Chapter 2, in which our hero steals the plane
Years of youth, held by Vitya in the flying school, swept with incredible speed. Studied Vitya well, even, we can say, well, but, contrary to Michael's predictions, friends among himself such young men, clad in cadet form, never found. More or less warm, friendly relations with him formed with Igor Sheremet, cadet 4 graduation. Despite the fact that he was older than Vitya for as much as 2 courses, there was not a shadow of conceit and narcissism in him, although, to be honest, Vitya often remarked this to himself, there was something to admire.
It was a slim, very attractive appearance of a young man of remarkable mind, so talkative and witty that it immediately distinguished him among all the other students. Therefore, even though Igor never imposed his leadership, he was the absolute leader in their relationship. This circumstance, of course, somewhat depressed Vitya, but soon he completely resigned himself and was even proud of being on friendly foot with Sheremet himself - God and the king of the whole cadet world!
Michael regularly wrote to Victor for one year. In the last letter he warned Belenko that he was being transferred to Detroit, a peripheral newspaper for some official sins. And since then no more letters have been received from him. Vitya calmly suffered this inevitable and quite expected break with Michael, as the feeling of aching loneliness had long ago left him. He was in good standing at the flight school; He had a beloved girl Natasha, patiently waiting for him at the checkpoint on weekends; He is friends with Sheremet himself - what else is needed for male pride at this stage of becoming a real man - a warrior, to whom he positioned himself ?!
Only occasionally Victor was burned by the thought that somewhere far away, outside the barracks there is a completely different life - bright, unattainable, full of fun and colors, devoid of the monotony of everyday work. Initially, Vitya persecuted these thoughts, but then stopped, and long hours at night, when the barracks was seized by a serene sleep, he dreamed of creating his models of "Dolce Vita" ("sweet life"). Soon these images created by him so captivated his mind that he could not fall asleep, once again not fantasizing.
So there were days, weeks, months. The second year of training in the flight school was over and the session began. At Sheremet - final exams. Here only Vitya learned that Sheremet for writing right on the lectures of some novel of dubious content is not allowed to the state. This news gave Belenko great pleasure. The very idea that lucky people, the real favorites of Fortune, sometimes stumble and fall, he liked very much. Soon he met Sheremet himself. He was very angry, under the eyes of bags and some new stubborn crease near his mouth.
"What's happened with your nonsense, Igor?" Vitya asked with a fake voice.
"Ah, do not say that! Some nits on the course handed over. You see, in the boring lectures, the three wrote a novel in faces. Well, what a novel without eroticism. Well, and then a notebook with a novel someone stole from my bag. A day or four ago, the party organizer called. He says: "We will not transfer the matter to a special department, if you say who else wrote this rubbish together with you!" Well, what could I say to him? I wrote one, although we wrote the three of them. Yes, this is also evident from the handwriting in the novel - three wrote. Now I'm waiting for the decision of my fate! "
"Ah, do not be upset!" It seems to me, that all will manage!
"Your words, Vitya, let God in your ears!" Do you know how offensive it is from the 4th year to fly, in the truest sense of the word? I did not know, shit, that we have such shit on the course!
Fortunately for Sheremet, then, really, everything turned out. Apparently, the party organizer decided not to make the case public, and this unpleasant story was hushed up. Sheremet was admitted to the state examinations and successfully passed them.
Vitya already internally decided for himself that fate will never again poke him with Sheremet. And what was his amazement when, at the end of the school, Belenko got to that air regiment in Primorye, stationed near Ussuriisk, where Igor Sheremet had been serving for two years. The joy of this meeting was great, but short-lived .... Exactly until the experimental model of the MIG-25 arrived in the regiment and, following the advice of Lieutenant-Colonel Shuvalov, he was not assigned to Captain Sheremet. Then it all started!
The thought that he was again circumvented, especially now that their chances are practically equal, made Vitya forget all the warm feelings he felt for Sheremet. He wrote an anonymous letter to a special department with a detailed account of the history of the novel in the flight school. After a brief trial confirming the contents of the anonymous letter, the air regiment command decided to remove Sheremet from flights to the MiG-25. And, although another pilot was identified to the plane, Belenko was quite satisfied with his small victory. The relationship between him and Sheremet clearly went into decline - apparently, the latter guessed who was the author of the ill-fated anonymous letter.
After some time, a whole batch of MIG-25 arrived in the air regiment. And again, Sheremet, like a classy sniper pilot, got a new plane, while Vitya continued to fly on an old, shabby MIG-23. After that, Viti's dislike for Sheremet grew into hatred - the most real bestial hatred, which is absolutely beyond the control of the mind and completely fills the whole being of the hating man, displacing the good that was left in him!
The worst thing was that their relations began to be noticed by other pilots in the unit. For a long time, of course, this could not have happened - one of them was bound to leave the air regiment. "Bolivar can not stand two!" Belenko thought sadly. He was well aware that most of the pilots were on Sheremet's side; He was clearly disliked by all and was not averse to getting rid of him at all. Vitya has so exhausted himself with the accursed envy and this endless inner struggle of motives that he was not even happy when he finally got a brand new MIG-25. It was necessary to solve something urgently. Unlike Sheremet, he had a family: his mother, his wife, his little son, and he, as a regular military man, knew very well all the difficulties at his new duty station.
Only in the plane sad thoughts left him. What to say - the car was very good! Excellent speed data, a large margin of safety, maneuverability. Vitya knew perfectly well that our planes demonstrated amazing vitality on the Iran-Iraq war. The Iraqi pilots who fought on our MIG-23 fighters told us that they landed safely on wings that were leaky, like a sieve, and that was not a hyperbole, a reader; While Iranian pilots were killed by dozens of just one hit in the wing, fighting on American Boeing and Phantoms. Our aircraft, unlike the American ones, are designed for reusable combat and are therefore very reliable.
Very intrigued Belenko device autopilot on the MiG-25, which still did not know the world of aviation. The device allowed the fighter to go with a small set of heights, avoiding ground obstacles. The autopilot gave the aircraft the opportunity to be invisible to the radar. Perhaps, it was at these very moments, when the instructor told about the possibilities of this secret device, that Belenko had the idea of escaping.
A group flight was assigned for tomorrow. The commander of the "box" was the same accursed, hated Captain Sheremet. Oppressed by gloomy thoughts, Belenko went home. It was already dark, a cold autumn rain was drizzling. Vitya, lifting the collar of his greatcoat, walked sullenly along the wet asphalt. It's hard to say what was happening in his heart in these very moments. This terrible work on oneself, which removes a person from everything that is happening around, concentrates all his intellectual efforts on only one goal. In such a detached state, Belenko came home, dumped his wet overcoat and, not looking at his wife, who met him on the threshold with a worried look, muttered: "I have a flight tomorrow morning, so I go to sleep!"
Of course, his wife could not hide her depressive state, but since this story became the norm in their home, she, unfortunately, did not attach much importance to this. That night Victor could not sleep for a long time. The chaos of thoughts filled his agitated brain. "At the supersonic ... ha! Yes, these morons do not even have time to recover, as I will in Japan! And if, after all, air defense will work? They will say how to drink, how to drink! It's good if I immediately drop the hooves! And if they take it alive - the "hog" (the death penalty) shines unequivocally! No, they will not have time, with our carelessness! I'll transfer by radio, that I lost my orientation .... Let them understand! As long as they trample down their martyron convolutions - a lot of time will pass, and I was like that! "
Excited, Victor jumped up and nervously walked across the dark hall. Finally, he sat down, lit a cigarette, and, having calmed down a little, began to make calculations using a ruler and chart chart. "The nearest civilian airfield in Japan is only half an hour flying on MIG. We need to think about what to take with us from things. Yes, and Michael's address would not forget! Although this is an old address, but, nevertheless, it will be easier to find it in the States! "Finally, having made the final decision, Vitya lay down and fell asleep to a nervous, restless sleep.
He woke up on a chilly morning, quickly got up quickly, and slapped his feet barefoot into the washbasin. His wife and child were still asleep when he washed, dressed, and, smoothly combed, set about amber round eggs fried with a warning mother. She, as always, patiently and uncomplainingly woke up before Vitenka and now with a sleepy eye she looked in love with her son. "When will you be back, Vitya?" Her mother asked. "You know, Mom, I'll be released early today, so tell Natasha that I'll come to the kindergarten for Leszek himself." Hurriedly finishing his tea, he got dressed, put on his overcoat and soon his heavy boots rattled loudly on the stairs of the sleeping house.
Before the hangar, Vitya got there in 15 minutes. The entire air regiment was already assembled. With concealed hostility, Victor found his rival in the service. Sheremet, as always was in the center of the attention of the pilots, talking about something with enthusiasm. Belenko came closer.
- You see, all the rank-by-rank! I'm sitting in the airplane like a king on a birthday! The automatic machine of electric power supply has arrived. You know, this young soldier ... Ivanko, in my opinion, his name! So, this same Ivanko is sitting at the wheel, a stupid Ryazan mug! I asked him: "Did you charge?" He says: "Yes!" Well, I, like the right pilot, turn on the engine, start the take-off and, you know, I feel that some mischievous bl ... pulls me aside. I can not understand anything, I stop the plane. Already on the runway I look out of the cab. Imagine this moo .... Forgot to disconnect the power supply hose from the plane, and I dragged the power switch w ... forward along with Ivanko 250 meters. So would take off with it! That, then, he probably put in his pants for fear! No, but his face at this moment, guys, it was necessary to see! "There was a cheerful approving laugh of the pilots. With Belenko, as always, no one said hello. He, as if, at point-blank did not notice! "We must do it, we definitely have to" make our legs "from here!" Thought Vitya sullenly, bowed his head, and, like a hunted animal, hammered into the far corner of the room for briefing.
The briefing passed quickly and the pilots were dressed. Soon 3 pilots, including Belenko, were dressed in high-altitude compensating suits, which only allow to balance the natural forces acting on the human body at high altitudes. Vitya always caught himself thinking that he completely calmed down on the plane, all worries, as it were, recede into the background. It comes from feeling the reliability of the technique; A feeling of enormous strength concentrated in your hands. With a familiar glance, he surveyed the cockpit, stuffed with equipment and electronics.
"Allow me to take off!" - Vitya heard the voice of the commander of the link Sheremet in the headphones. "I allow you to take off!" The dispatcher replied. Vitya turned on the watch, switched the engine control lever (RUD) to the maximum, smoothly released the brakes and started running up the wet concrete of the airfield. Then he transferred the aircraft control lever (ENG) to the neutral position and in the first half of the run began to diligently maintain the direction of the take-off with the help of brakes. When the speed reached 150 km / h, Vitya lifted the nose wheel to the take-off position with a smooth movement and, having reached a speed of 190 km / h, smoothly separated from the ground. This is always the most exciting moment of flight for every pilot, who truly loves his work. I always envied the pilots, I have "white" envy and would have paid dearly enough to feel at least once for a moment this incomparable feeling![1]
At an altitude of 200 m, Vitya decided: "It's time!" After carefully inspecting, he made a 30-degree turn and, separated from the air group, sharply increased engine speed.
"2nd, 2nd, what's going on with you?" He heard in his headphones.
"I lost my bearings," Vitya answered in a voice as alarmed as possible. "I'm in a layer with increased atmospheric turbulence!"
"2nd, 2nd, turn on the distress call and dial the safe height! How do you hear, reception? "Vitya said nothing, as he decided not to answer the dispatcher any more. Dropping the altitude, he turned on the device of the autopilot and even squinted from surprise - the plane began to throw from side to side, as on giant potholes. "However, from such innovation, it is possible to impose in your pants inadvertently!" - smiled Belenko, realizing now why the pilots prefer not to use this device. But for him it was a salvation.
In the Sakhalin area, a terrible chaos began. Minutes for Belenko stretched into eternity. "When will it all end?" - Vitya thought wistfully, focusing only on the horizon, the speed and altitude indicator. Soon the bolt stopped - just as suddenly as it began! It was a 27 minute flight. The fighter was already in the sky of the Land of the Rising Sun.
After disabling the autopilot, Victor proceeded to climb. And that's exactly what happened here, what the US military experts will be puzzling about for a long time. Belenko heard alarming claps in the engine. It threatened to stop him completely. "The engine's surge!" - Vitya thought with horror and felt the chill of his head chill. "And it's almost at the very end!" The engine, indeed, stalled. The airplane hovered in absolute silence, as in zero gravity. You could hear even the rustle of air, transparent streams of a lifeless airplane flowing around the cabin. Belenko finally regained the composure of the military pilot. With an energetic movement, he set the lever of the stop valve to the "Closed" position, executed a turn and began planning towards the airfield near Tokyo. Once again checking the speed of autorotation, Belenko pressed the button "Run in the air." The engine started. Vitya sighed with relief and, setting the lever of the stopcock to the "Open" position, began to land the plane.
At an altitude of 8 meters Belenko skillfully leveled the plane, putting the lever on himself, and gently dropped onto the concrete flooring of the Japanese airfield. MIG-25 briskly ran along the take-off field, bringing astonishment and horror to the workers of the Japanese airline, and stopped.
"All, ales, facken shit!" Thought Belenko and, opening the cockpit, jumped out of the fighter. The frightened Japanese approached the plane from all sides, looking with fear at the scarlet stars on the wings and tail of the fighter. In Tokyo, a warm rain was drizzling, but Belenko did not even feel it. In general, everything that was happening for him now was like a fog! Pulling out the pistol "PM", he cried in a broken voice: "Do not come! All back! I'll shoot! I demand a representative of the American Embassy! I need political asylum! "
It's time to sum up our, frankly, very unhappy story. And the outcome is sad, gentlemen, very sad! The MiG-25 was dismantled by American experts just before the cog. As a result, the US Air Force got a full picture of the level of electronic and combat equipment of our fighters. On the basis of the autopilot in MiG-25, American engineers designed a cruise missile that laid the foundation for a whole generation of MX, Trident-D-5, Pershing-2, and Tomahawk missiles unavailable for radar, with a large striking force .
Experts have identified a number of possible causes of engine surge from MIG-25:
1. Reduce the air flow through the engine due to mechanical damage to one of the nodes in the engine.
2. Supply to the combustion chambers of excessively large excess fuel in the process of acceleration of the engine rotor due to the movement of the throttle towards increasing the engine operation modes at high altitudes.
"The second reason is the most probable! - answered Belenko during interrogation to the American military investigator. "I confess, from agitation, I asked too much acceleration for the plane!" That's that! This I had a strong desire to leave the Soviets as soon as possible! I'm so tired! " And even sorry for him wasted time and paper!
His mother could not believe this blatant betrayal for a long time, insistently repeating: "My son promised to go to the kindergarten for Alyosha's grandson after the flight!" "He told you on the radio that he had lost his bearings!" - with tears in his eyes, An aged, completely gray-haired woman.
In the "Instruction for Pilots" there is a definition of this phenomenon: "Orientation is considered lost if the crew can not establish their location with the accuracy necessary to determine the future direction of the flight and the task". If Belenko really lost his bearings, he was obliged:
1. Ask the slave crews about the whereabouts of the group.
2. Turn on the "Disaster" signal.
He, as we already know, did not do anything, because he knew perfectly well: where and why he was flying. It remains only to be surprised at the slowness of our coastal air defense, which has such strict flight criteria, but who have not decided to stop Belenko's last fatal flight.
That's all, reader. Now that the meanness committed by this person has been left behind for you, you can doubt something written here. Indeed, something might look different. For example:
Version 1. Victor Belenko was recruited back in the school.
Version 2. Belenko was recruited, being already in the service in the air regiment.
Version 3. Belenko has never been recruited by anyone, and his deed is the result of a sudden intent.
Everything can be, I fully admit, but the main thing, however, does not change: he is a traitor, causing enormous political, economic and moral damage to our state.
And, finally, the last time we returned to the traitor Victor Belenko, it must be noted: he changed three times! Changed mother, wife and motherland! And this is not accidental, because all these three changes are in the same row, and the commission of one of them, under certain circumstances, may entail the commission of another. You can object to me: they say, not everyone who changes his wife or mother becomes a traitor to the Motherland. I agree! Not every! Not every! But in fact the very concept of "Homeland", in my opinion, should include not only the territory of your residence, but also those close and dear people with whom you constantly share pain and joy, live with one breath! However, the reader, I leave behind you the right not to agree with me! After all, then he and the dispute, in the end, to argue!
Epilogue
What is treason? Ethics, as part of Marxist-Leninist philosophy, gives such a definition of betrayal. "Betrayal is a violation of loyalty to the common cause, demands for solidarity, treason against class or national interests, transfer to the enemy's side, extradition to him of comrades-in-arms or party, state, military secrets."
Article 64 of the Criminal Code of the RSFSR states: "Treason to the Motherland is an intentional act committed by a citizen of the USSR to the detriment of the sovereignty, territorial inviolability or state security and defense capability of the USSR: transfer to the enemy's side, espionage, extradition of state or military secrets to a foreign state, flight abroad or refusal to return From abroad in the USSR, rendering assistance to a foreign state in conducting hostile activities against the USSR, as well as plotting to seize power. "
With some difference in these definitions, we see that in the main they coincide: both moral and legal consciousness betrayal is certainly assessed as a blatant crime. Naturally, the moral assessment of society contains more signs of this phenomenon than the legal one. Yes, this is understandable, since the criminal law idea is extremely formalized, and therefore - very limited and not perfect.
For example, why did the legislator need to single out the "Hijacking of an Aircraft" (art. 233-2 of the Criminal Code of the RSFSR) as separate elements of the crime, when it is clear to an uninitiated person that it is possible to steal an aircraft only from the territory of the USSR, and this hijacking Falls under the qualifying sign of Article 64 of the Criminal Code of the RSFSR. Much more logical, in my opinion, would be to include the hijacking of an aircraft in Art. 64 of the Criminal Code as a way of committing a crime.
However, we are more interested not in the objective side of betrayal, but in the subjective, that is, in evaluating one's actions on the part of the individual. Actually, our entire story is built in the mainstream of the psychological analysis of the state of the traitor; therefore, we analyze the act of man only insofar as this personality can not be torn from its deed in principle.
So, did Belenko understand himself as a traitor? Of course I did. I think that here there are no difficulties in psycho-diagnostics of this person's behavior at all. Too good Belenko's act falls under the signs of a crime under Art. 64 of the Criminal Code of the RSFSR. The question of dissidents in the USSR is much more difficult!
Every person, the reader, has his own Truth, which is the foundation of his whole life. And the whole trick is that your individual Truth does not disagree with the objective, on which the entire human society is based and by which it lives. People are different, there are different ways in which they go - they wander to their "truth of life", even though it sounds loud. Sometimes, both the human psyche and the paths of knowledge give out such intricate zigzags that the knowing subject, instead of approaching, hopelessly moves away from the Truth, completely not realizing it.
It often happens that dissidents are self-seeking creative people who are trying to get to the "truth of life" in a metaphysical way - by tearing certain facts from the context of the country's historical development, transferring personal experience to collective ones and formulating false conclusions in connection with this. This is a very serious epistemological problem for these people who consider themselves intelligent and very educated. Yes, reader! Dissidents can not think dialectically. It is a fact! Unfortunately, they are not able to see a complete picture of the world in its complex palette of colors, a complex system of connections and relations. That is why Solzhenitsyn's "Gulag Archipelago" was not and, I think, will never be an "encyclopedia of Russian life", since it covers only one, and very dark and tragic aspect of the life of our state. It is the viewer's view of life from a dirty, damp prison, which, for obvious reasons, will never be the view of a real philosopher-thinker! I think this is the main problem of dissidents in general and Solzhenitsyn, in particular. They simply can not rise above their own, more often than not, negative empirical experience, preferring to all solutions of their relatively small everyday problems an ordinary escape from the country.
The motive, a kind of emotional impetus for writing this story was for me Elem Klimov's film "Go and See." Immediately I will say that I'm not going to write a review of this beautiful and at the same time such a terrible movie! I think those who looked at this amazing saga of the war absolutely do not need comments and, especially, any reviews. I remember that I left after the session completely stunned and for two whole days walked under the impression of what I saw. Then, after leaving the cinema, I made for myself an unambiguous conclusion that Elem Klimov is the greatest director of all time! Such a range of feelings and emotions, the main thing in which is my empathy to my heroic people; People - the victor in that terrible war! I really experienced a powerful catharsis after "Go and See" and, at the same time, a feeling of unity with my nation! I am a part of my great, long-suffering people, whose history is paid for at an incredibly high price! Against the background of these immeasurably great sufferings of the Russian people, my personal suffering and experiences, as a result of the difficult search for my "I", seem small and insignificant!
We are in great debt to the artists who create such masterpieces of Art! But even more in debt to those who have left, not thinking about the glory; Leave and to this day with the consciousness of a completely fulfilled historical mission. They still live side by side - these are our wonderful old people! But all of them are already part of the history of our great homeland! They have worked honestly, because preserving the nation and the state, preserving the History itself, if you like, is the greatest and most difficult work ever done by mankind. Against the background of this grandiose titanic work a bunch of freaks - renegades: dissidents, defectors, traitors - seems especially offensive to the Russian nation. That's why today I am a prosecutor on our Dread Judgment and demand for all outcasts - traitors of the most severe punishment! Amen!!![2]
[1] Dream of pilot https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JRRyglbvhTk&t=3s
[2] Amen https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QdfkkGHIbec&t=17s
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