– Hello! Tell me, please, does Boris Eduardovich Sosnin, the chief architect of Kyiv Gor Stroy, live in one hundred and thirty-two?

The elderly concierge looked at me through tortoise-shell glasses, the thought flashed through my mind: “Antiques, my grandmother definitely inherited,” she finally said:

– Young man, what is your question to Boris Eduardovich?

– In our company "Italian Pizza", he often orders it, and I was sent from our company to acquaint him, as our client, with bonus offers, since he is a long-term and regular client. – Okay, but how to introduce you?

– Tell me that I am a sales manager, our delivery agent visited him earlier, well, and after the decision of the management, the company's managers sent me to Boris Eduardovich.

– That's what I hear that amazing smell comes from your bag.

– Well, I did not come up to you in vain, by the way, what is your name?

– Aunt Valya, you can just Valya. – Smiling with a youthful smile that a woman had some sixty years ago, she took a gift copy of pizza from me and added, – Thank you, will you bring pizza now?

– Unfortunately, no, this work will be done by an agent, I hope you have seen him more than once, well, unless he quits, do you see what is happening around?

– Yes, yes, young man, yes, yes, – she said sadly, – wait, I'll find out now, is he at home or not?
– With these words, the concierge picked up the phone. Soon her voice was heard, then she turned to me, – Go to the third floor, he is waiting for you there.

– Thank you, aunt Valya, I'm on the elevator!

– Wait, wait, now there are rolling blackouts, you can get stuck in there, it's better to walk. – Thank you, and good evening to you!

– And you, young man … A wide staircase led to the fifth floor, an elevator crate passed nearby, but I no longer heard the voice of the concierge, as I was walking along the wide steps of the pre-revolutionary luxury of building architecture of the past. Two entrance doors of apartments No. 132 and No. 133 went opposite to each other on the landing of the third floor. The landing was narrow, bounded on one side by an elevator shaft, and on the other side by a wall with a large, bright window high up. Exactly in the middle of this wall, under the window, there is a fire hydrant with a coil of fire hose, which was visible through the glass of the door, sealed with a seal. On the door of the fire hydrant, a strip of white paper is glued to the wooden frame of the niche of the fire hydrant with the date and number of the inspection of the object, with the seal and painting of the controlling person. I approached this object and, leaning my travel bag against the wall closer to the fire niche, opened the zipper of the bag and, pretending to take out a pizza, turned on the scanning device for detecting listening installations of tracking, a gift from the lieutenant colonel. Then he took the pizza out of the bag, zipped it up and hung the bag over his shoulder, as if by chance he moved close to the fire hydrant and heard the squeak of the device. Turning around at the door of the fire facility, setting the bag strap on my shoulder, I saw where the miniature camera was located, carefully so as not to accidentally catch it, I finally fitted the bag strap on my shoulder, and with a pizza in my hands, picturesquely approached the door of apartment No. 132 pressed the bell . Soon shuffling steps were heard outside the door, such sounds are heard from room slippers on the floor of a fat person. The door opened and a gray-haired man with glasses appeared in a dressing gown over a pajama suit with a book in his hands. Without thinking twice, I said the password:

– Did you order Italian pizza? – smiling affably at the same time.

– I like mushrooms, but what do you have? – the response was correct, I should have answered like this:

– Only with sausage from the lips of a desert and wild camel! – such a review was invented just in case, and told the resident that the intelligence officer had died, and that now there would be another one instead of him, that is, me.

– Come in!

The apartment with high ceilings and antique furniture looked more like an exhibition pavilion of historical artefacts and paintings. The portrait of a woman in a luxurious white dress stood out in particular. The painting hung over a massive fireplace that occupied a third of the blank outer wall that closed off the street. And the windows of the apartment overlooked the courtyard with a small garden of planted trees and two or three benches for relaxing. By the fireplace Boris Eduardovich stopped and gestured to two armchairs and a table between them with crooked marble legs and a mahogany top.

– Sit down young man, and put pizza on the table. – Kindly offered Boris Eduardovich. I put the package of pizza on the table and took out the cognac.

– A gift from your company? – playing a comedy before wiretapping, said the architect. It became clear to me that the former architect was being shadowed, – And how much do I charge for pizza and cognac?

I silently laid out a check from the store. He looked at me carefully, then took a ballpoint pen and wrote something on the check, pushed the check towards me, I looked at his note: “There is a wiretapping all around, don’t say anything, I’ll go see you off and we’ll talk there,” after reading, I nodded back and said:

– I temporarily replace a friend for delivery, and I bought cognac for myself, they gave me a pizza as a gift, there is a sale in the supermarket now and I bought this cognac at a discount, but I wanted to sell two pizzas, I gave one for nothing to the concierge, but I decided to sell you the old way check in two expensive, but if you do not want, then as you want.

– No, no, just leave me pizza, I'll buy it from you, I don't need change, take the cognac back, -with these words he thrust money and a letter into me, – wait for me to go for a walk, I'll go see you.

– Fine!

He changed his clothes and soon we went out into the park. – You never introduced yourself?

– Valentin Baran Yuryevich, captain of the Soviet army, was summoned by a summons and sent to the garrison of Belaya Tserkov, where he was captured and was recruited and sent to you to receive a task.

– Where did my contact go? Boris Eduardovich asked anxiously.

– Shot by a sniper when advancing towards the airfield to the town of the captured aviation unit. I managed to grab a white shirt from my travel bag and all twelve people remained in captivity.