Chapter 21.3.

 The siren wailed again. Another general air raid alarm.

 - I'll call her, pretend to be a fool, tell her to get ready, she'll come out, and I'll be surprised, where is everyone? - Dragovich thought to himself. - She'll come out of the hotel, and then we'll have the rest of the conversation. And then I'll call Madame and tell her something. - he decided, taking out his phone.

A few minutes later, he was already wiping his pants in the waiting room, where, like yesterday, only one screen was working. Some program was on about everyday life at the front lines in Africa. Every now and then, the asses of soldiers flashed by, hurriedly moving along the trenches.

 The picture was mostly gray-green, through a night vision device. Suddenly the program was interrupted, and the presenter appeared on the screen from "local time", as before, early in the morning, somewhere in the fields. Where she was now, snow was falling in full force, although in the city, at least in the "Western" region, there was no snow.

 - During the last half hour, an attack by at least twenty cruise missiles was repelled. - Sounded from the TV. - We are receiving information directly from first-hand sources.

 The camera moved, and a large trailer appeared in the field of view, from which several different antennas stuck out - this is what air defense field control points looked like. This one, judging by the identification marks, was not Blokovsky, but KANARovsky, although they were also integrated into the interlink, albeit with limitations. - Apparently, this attack is a retaliatory strike in response to yesterday's raids, - the presenter continued, - Well, it is now obvious that the enemy will continue their attempts. As you have already noticed, the alarm has been declared again. Let's follow the events together.

The program that was previously on and interrupted by the inclusion resumed - the locals had an annoying habit of cutting into any TV program on any channel, despite the fact that there were more than enough of their own, locals, and the alarm and sirens would not allow anyone to miss anything important, much less dangerous.

 The time was approaching ten o'clock. Dragovich kept glancing toward the stairs. Finally, looking up once again, he saw Lisette coming down.

 - I can't get through to the others, - she said.

 - I was just informed... Comrade "Mexican" reported that a significant part of your group, or rather all of you, including Mr. Zavirdyaev, went yesterday... How can I say... To rest... Well, to rest... Today they all feel unwell. Well, it just happened - he pretended as if he himself was partly to blame for this. For some reason he decided that this would lead to a greater understanding of the situation as a whole.

 - Ah, I see. This Mr. Zavirdyaev was already drunk last night, - she answered.

There was a distinct impression that she didn't like him very much. Maybe because of his ostentatious openness, maybe for some other reason.

 - Of yours, only you and Madame Landskricht are left, - Dragovich continued. - So you have today off. And most likely tomorrow too.

 - Wow, we had everything scheduled, - Lisette answered in some confusion.

 - Was there a lot planned? - Dragovich asked, feigning sympathy, realizing that the question was stupid. - Yes, of course... It's a nightmare.

 - Mademoiselle, would you like me to show you the city. Just not like yesterday, when we all had to drive through the most... the most unpleasant places. There are more beautiful and interesting areas, nature. It will be interesting.

 - I'd be happy to, - answered Lisette, - but there was an air raid alarm this morning. They said in the basement that it was nothing to worry about, but I'm scared, - she immediately cut everything off.

 - It's nothing, - Dragovich answered deliberately carefree, while simultaneously thinking about whether or not to talk about the cruise missile that he had seen being shot down. On the one hand, this event clearly demonstrated the security of the region, and on the other, on the contrary, it was a completely unnecessary manifestation of military activity during walks.

 - When I first arrived here, - he continued, - I also rushed to the shelter at the first alarm. Here, this air raid alarm means nothing.

 - Stop acting like you're being so fussy, are you really afraid of the alarm? - he added mentally.

 - I'm really scared, - she replied. - They announced on TV that they shot down twenty missiles, but the second wave has already been launched. It's because of yesterday's bombing.

 - Yeah, I heard that too. Do you know what kind of air defense they have here?! And anti-missile defense too.

 - Sorry, I don't want to leave the building with those sirens howling... Or be in the open air... Sorry, really... If it all ends in the afternoon...

 Dragovich remembered the view of Paris with its leaning tower. It had leaned during the "hunt for governments", after a small, insignificant, five kiloton warhead. Dragovich decided that there was no point in arguing or trying to convince her. It would only make things worse. But Lisette wasn't really against it. She wished that this fucking raid would end sooner.

 Dragovich started chatting about how of course they would have to wait until the alarm stopped, and that they would announce the end of the raid, and if anything happened he would call, most likely even today.

 - Madame Landskricht just needs to be warned that no one is going anywhere today, - he suddenly remembered, counting on Lisette herself to tell her this later.

 - Is she Madame? - Lisette is picking on the wrong thing.

 - I don't know. All the foreigners here need to be addressed formally as "Madame". It doesn't matter what country you're from. That's it. Haven't you ever been addressed like that here?

 - Indeed, several times, but I thought... I didn't even understand... It's funny. And you can't call her yourself. I don't even have her number.

 Dragovich wanted to offer Lisette a coffee, but as luck would have it, the buffet was closed this time, and there was nothing upstairs. Having said goodbye to Lisette, he went out onto the porch, looked around the street, filled with the wail of a siren, and reluctantly headed for the car. The "Mexican" was in charge, and he let him go his separate ways, so he could go home. In the police of some Russian city such freedom could hardly take place, but here there was the "popular anarchist" KANAR, its NM corps and special corps.

 Having got into the car, Dragovich began to think whether to call Madame or not. Of course he should have called. While he was thinking, she called herself - it was time to gather, and she, apparently, could not get through to either her Zaperyadev or the "Mexican"

 - Hello, hello, Mr. Dragovich, - she began, - Are you there yet?

 - You mean at your hotel?

 - Well, yes. Are you here?

 - Yes, of course. I'm sitting in the car, waiting. I was just informed that today's plans have changed somewhat.

 - Yes, I know that. They have changed. I'll get out in about ten minutes and you'll take me to the bridge. Do you understand where? To the bridge, there's a checkpoint there.

 - Of course I understand.

 - That's it, I'll be right back, - she answered and hung up. She spoke in English. If she was going to go to the bridge, then she would go home, that was also good.

 - They probably let them through easily, - Dragovich thought to himself.

The CSCE administration employees could indeed pass through the checkpoint without hindrance, but they had to walk across the bridge, there was nothing to be done about that.

 There was also the Galtman corridor, named after the European politician who participated in the signing of one of the documents of the settlement between the SFS and KANAR at the very beginning. This corridor was a railway bridge located downstream of the river. It, this bridge, was used by the Bloc forces and in particular by the units of the Russian national armed forces, NaAmF RFR, which were part of them, having allocated for themselves protected and inaccessible to the local, Super-Federate, patches of land on both banks. Both "extraterritorial" (although for Russia it was the same Russian territory) patches of land could only be reached through their own checkpoints, almost customs.

 On the bridge, as on all similar structures, there were pedestrian bridges, but for safety reasons it was not allowed to walk on them. For the safety of the bridge, of course.

 It seemed that in addition to the trains scurrying in both directions, there was a motor car or a train of two cars, but as far as Dragovich knew, it ran either once a day or less often and was used when it was necessary to transport some group of personnel - Blok's or imported industrial, equivalent to Blok's.

Landskricht really did not keep us waiting long - less than ten minutes later she jumped out onto the porch, for some reason waved her hand in the direction of Dragovich's car, as if he would not notice her, and went down the stairs. She was carrying a large black bag, apparently, that was what she had come to the left bank with. Getting into the car, she started chatting about how unexpectedly everything had turned out. It was felt that she was even happy about it. Surprisingly, it was going well for everyone: the "Mexican", who, like many others, openly despised the fallen alcoholics, allowed himself to "let loose", the visitors were also relaxed, Dragovich could implement his plans regarding Lisette, Landskricht was driving to her right bank.

 - Mr. Zavirdyaev ... - Landskricht began, laughing slightly. - The man worked a lot, yesterday he decided to relax a little, it happens to him with his busy schedule. It's quite normal.

 - Well, it's not just him, - Dragovich answered to keep the conversation going, although he was not going to either defend or blame anyone. - Oh well, - Landskricht waved her hand. - The anxiety probably won't give us any peace today. We're getting it for yesterday's raids now. It's business as usual.