Anatoly kept on asking questions and Matilda answered them. They studied dossier after dossier. A lot of time had passed before Lazarev realized that he was very hungry. A plan had already formed in his head.

«Let’s stop here. If I need something else, I will let you know. Please, prepare the data about these people,» Major Lazarev handed her a scrap of paper with some names. He got up, waited until Matilda closed the files and piled them up on the table. Then he stepped towards the door through which they had entered.

«Okay, Anatoly, I’ll get ready everything and the files with the data will be on your table in about an hour. Let me walk you out.»

Bang! Bang! Bang! The sound of pistol shots ricochet around the semi-basement that housed a well-equipped shooting range. The walls and the ceiling had soundproof panels and the floor had thick rubber sheets. The lamps on the ceiling made the place look a bit like a tunnel. Thick metal sheets called baffle plates were seen far in the distance and in front of the target holders. The smell of burnt gunpowder, gun firearm and rubber never left the shooting range.

Major Lazarev was standing in the pistol shooting section. He placed the rotating targets at a 10-meter distance and was practicing speed shooting. He has loved shooting since he was a kid and was very good at it. His favorite weapon was a Walther PPK. Therefore, when it was necessary to think over something important or came across a difficult task that required all his strength and knowledge from Anatoly Lazarev, he went to the shooting gallery, pondered there, and found his brilliant ideas and solutions, and gave preference to this particular weapon.

The shooting process made him concentrate and forget about everything around him; he heard and saw nothing. The world around him shrank and turned into a narrow cone, whose end stopped at the spot on the target and his own heartbeat was the only sound he could hear. And when the head was freed from all extraneous loads, then he loaded his task. The brain obediently began to free from the depths of memory the options suitable for solving, and then analyzing one by one, he left only the best in consciousness.

Major Lazarev reloaded the gun and stood at the ready. He saw that the targets had started to rotate and pulled the trigger. Bang! Bang! Bang! It was the fifth round and, laying the gun down, Anatoly Lazarev began examining the targets. He was pleased and complimented himself with satisfaction.

Just yesterday he was bathing in the sea and basking in the sun. He loved resting in the KGB sanatorium among palms and manicured lawns, but he soon got tired of doing nothing. When the communications officer found him on the beach and sent forward an order to break off his vacation and return to Moscow promptly, Anatoly gladly complied. The same officer took him to the airport and Major Lazarev took the first flight to the capital city. At the Moscow airport the Committee car was already waiting for him.

The sun illuminated only the roofs of Moscow houses, but from the western side, plunging the city streets into a kingdom of violet, reddish and bronze shades with emerald shadows. The day was drawing to a close. The hubbub of the birds fell silent, and in large flocks they settled on the roofs and trees for the night. On the vibrant and bustling city streets the smell of doughnuts was mingled with the odor of fallen leaves and the whiff of car fumes.

Major Lazarev was sitting in the spacious, but uncomfortable office of his boss. It was already his second visit there today, but there was now a file with the documents and the plan for the new mission on the table in front of him. Anatoly was describing his project of the fetation of the Crown Prince or Princess, and was supporting every stage of this plan with arguments and details. Usually, it was impossible to understand what was going on in the general’s head judging solely by his expression, but Anatoly Lazarev saw a tiny sliver of a smile one of approval. It was well known in the office that General Yershov was not capable of smiling, but it was obvious that the general liked his plan. Moreover, he had given Anatoly a free hand, limiting his discretion in no way.