I hid with my head behind the door to at least cool down the ardor of those who were shooting at me, then I came out with a new machine-gun burst – this time only two "black" corpses (people had time to scatter), again "got behind the rock" and heard that the glass on the door shattered into pieces (this event surprised me a little, because I was absolutely sure that it was bulletproof).

Suddenly a thought pierced me like an arrow: two more men behind me. I turned around lightning fast, but saw only two corpses in their own pools of blood. I could tell from the amount of red substance that they had been killed seconds ago, that is, almost at the time of the "start" of the firefight.

"Wait. – One thing struck me about this case," The guards were killed at the beginning, or possibly before the beginning, that would explain the fact that the #'s reacted in sync…"

The bullet hit the foot of my left leg: my body started to roll to the left (away from the car), but I managed to catch the wounded part and put my knee in its place. This brought me to my senses, because, jumping out and shooting from behind the door with a brutal murderous scream, I ran out the last three "competitors" (one fat guy and two #'s). The battle was over…

1:48 a.m. July 22.

I stepped away from the door, looked at her (shot up in a flash) and shouted: "Who among us is still alive?" Gento and Garibaldi answered.

I waddled over to Jarno – forehead shot through (obviously shot from a Yugoslavian "monster" "Zastava" (a six-shot revolver, if you can call it that)), Morten – three holes in his torso (he didn't even have time to move), KAMAZ driver – head, neck, shoulders (hands on the wheel), Penzalla – torso, arms, legs, in a word, got the most (hand with a gun pointed towards the garage door).

"So. – I stretched out, turning to Gento – Who's been slaughtering the gatekeepers?" "Penzalla…" – he replied.

"Jos, you saw Penzalla shooting at the guards at the gate."

"I didn't see anything, I hid here in the car… You know… I'm just a chauffeur…" "Nothing, nothing…" I reassured Garibaldi and continued with Gento, "And why should I believe you? Maybe you couldn't stand it yourself and then blamed it on Penzalla." "See for yourself the position he's in… The hand with the gun is pointing toward the gate…"

"Who knows, maybe you were the one who put him in that position while I was walking around inspecting dead bodies."

"Yeah, no, he laid down like that right away…" "We'll figure it out…"

I decided to use the famous check tactic: I turned around, took one step, then did a 180- degree flip with my weapon in my hand (in this case a Russian Kedr). Gento managed to get the gun, but not to point it at me, most likely he wanted to finish me off, after Garibaldi, and tell Cepino that it happened during the firefight (it's not hard to convince Cepino of this, and after all the corpses will be removed and neither our best specialist Francesco Scarabelli, nor our colleague from the Yakuza Ishiro Yamomoto will be able to find out what really happened).

"Drop the gun!" – I yelled.

"Come on, I just wanted to clean it…" "Drop it!!!!"

He didn't though put the firearm down on the sand.

"Turn around. Hands behind your head," my voice came back to normal. "You've got it all wrong."

He obeyed the order, and I sprang up and slapped the handle on his head, just as there was a knock on the gate: Cepino had arrived at last.

"Jos, open up, ah… I'm getting tired of limping."

Garibaldi, holding his shoulder, repeated the dead man's procedure. "Hey…Uh…Guys, what happened here?"