Chapter 21.5.

 The car drove up to the checkpoint. It was snowing again. Dragovich nimbly jumped out onto the sidewalk and parked about twenty meters from the checkpoint - the flashing light on the roof made it quite possible to make such abrupt movements without fear of an unpredictable reaction from the fighters at the checkpoint.

 - Wait in the car, I'll go talk to the post, - Dragovich announced.

 - Why? - Landskricht answered in bewilderment.

She took out of her bag either a huge wallet or a small purse and found an identifier - a gray plastic card with a blue stripe, slightly larger than a standard plastic card, and equipped with a photograph.

- They'll let you in right away with this one, - she announced and opened the door.

Dragovich, out of politeness, also got out and followed her.

 In the room of the checkpoint, behind the armored glass, sat two corporals. Both were in the uniform of the Bloc forces, but most likely they were Russians. So it turned out later, as it turned out from the stripes and speech.

 A colorless, judging by the twisted lips, lisping fighter, who for some reason was missing one front tooth, silently took the ID placed in the receiving device, turned it over, studied it, and then returned it back.

 - Excuse me, Madam, the bridge is closed.

 Contrary to expectations, he did not lisp, but his speech was still somehow strange.

 - How closed? - Landskricht asked with genuine surprise

 - Air raid siren, Madam, that's why it was closed.

 - Usually they didn't close it.

 - This time they closed it. If you want to clarify, Madam, call - here are the phone numbers, - he waved his hand towards the inscriptions written on the glass.

 - And of course you don't know when they'll open it either.

 - Yes sir, Madam, I can't know. I can tell you when they closed it - as soon as the first alarm was announced in the morning, that's how they closed it. I've finished my report. - Blokovsky added.

From the outside it might have seemed that he was being sarcastic when he added "report", but most likely he was used to talking like that. After all, the CSCE was taken seriously, especially here in the Superfederant.

 - There's no possibility at all? - Dragovich asked just in case, standing at a distance with a frown on his face all this time.

 - None at all, - the corporal answered much more relaxedly - the locals were like "not serious" people for the Blokovskys.

 - Okay, I understand, goodbye, - Landskricht answered without any irritation and turned to the exit. Dragovich followed her.

 - Do you need a ride back? - Dragovich asked sympathetically, although it would have been better for him, of course, if she had gone to her right bank now and he had not had to take her further.

Somewhere in the distance something banged.

 Landskricht expressed a desire to run into a bank, to cash out some money. Apparently, she was afraid that the coming waves of attacks would disrupt the work of all these monetary systems. The one she needed was located in the "trans-station" area, which was not very suitable for such institutions. The area was not far from the avenue - only the "railway" had to be crossed.

 Soon Dragovich was already driving onto one of the streets of this peculiar city within a city - the blocks resembled some old European ones, with two- and three-story houses. Judging by the stories I had heard earlier, in the last years of its existence, the Soviet government was going to build up everything here with high-rises of twenty or more floors, but for some reason the locals rushed to fiercely defend their one-story blocks and defended them. The decrepit red Soviet monster crawled away. Of course, this was the story and expressions of Flaxen-H. The three-story "high-rises" appeared later and were built by private entrepreneurs.

 Ahead, black smoke loomed, rising upward.

 - What's there? - said Landskricht, - it seems to be on some street nearby, but not on this one. Maybe we should take a look?

 Dragovich inhaled heavily, then agreed. In theory, the offer was reasonable. You never know what could have happened there. Still, he, Dragovich, was a man for a reason...

 Having found the right street and finally driven up to the place where the smoke was rising, Dragovich saw how the torn-up roof of one of the residential or office buildings was reluctantly burning - you couldn't tell by the look of it. There was nothing to do - he had to go out and participate, although it was unlikely that there could be people in the attic.

 It turned out that there was nothing serious - to climb into the attic and find out what and how had already happened to someone. The booster stage of the air defense missile fell, and, despite all these devices, the "fuses of urban combat", tore apart the roof, damaged the floors and wiring. It was the wiring that caught fire.

 In general, all these braking things on the booster steps, devices like inflatable balloons or fabric belts, may have done some useful work and without them, the building in this particular case would have been broken through to the first floor.

 In general, the matter turned out to be trivial and soon Dragovich was already revving up, wanting to quickly get out onto the street where the bank was.

 In less than an hour, all the work was completed - Landskricht, although unhappy that she could not go to her right bank, was taken back to the hotel complex. If not a raid - it would have been beautiful.