And then it will be possible to call him a martyr or a fighter for some ideals. To tell how long he was prepared for this "most important step" in his life, how long he read the Koran and penetrated into the meaning and importance of his further actions, how long he realized why he was chosen for such a crucial moment in the "liberation" of some territories or people… And even though he himself did not know about all this, and did not even do it, but all this can be told about him and decorated with all colors of the rainbow… Because by this time he is already dead.
Terrorists could pose as anyone — left-wing, extreme right-wing, nationalist or anti-abortion — just to get people to do what they wanted.
Vanya vaguely saw himself in a similar method of recruitment. He would have to introduce himself as someone acting on behalf of their church and the holy Inquisition, but he would still be a human being. Not only that, but he also had to get in touch with someone who spoke Russian, as he had not yet learned their language seriously enough.
A muffled noise of approaching footsteps was heard — a hundred times a day, as many chums and agent candidates pass through this corridor.
Half a minute later an SSchekist passed by, full of food and lazy — threaten or threaten such a one — he can't do anything anyway.
Two minutes later, another one of about the same species came out of the karak's office.
Over the next eight minutes, six more people passed by Vanya, all looking the same.
Then Ananhr came out of her premises…..
Vanya smiled inwardly: "Wo! She should be recruited. She's not lazy yet, she can work. Those at the top are certainly not afraid of her. An ideal agent! But only in my dreams…"
After wiring a rag for the next half hour the miner thought he could peer this way for years and still not move.
But he has only one attempt — they won't believe it, they will report it to the right place and that's the
end of it…
Then someone started yelling, violently, in a plague-like language. A little mocking and sort of telling off. Vanya could understand only two words: "tat" (translated as "you") and "shahr" (he recognized it first; plague mate, swear words, as usual, are remembered first).
In general, it is a strange phenomenon to memorize swear words in a foreign language in the first place. On the one hand, it seems that someone memorizes them in order to understand if someone is swearing at him; on the other hand, to swear himself, if anything… But it all looks like that. In fact, it all happens at some subconscious level… And he knows where it came from. Maybe because in childhood you are taught to have a special attitude to the mat, and in adulthood you begin to understand its "special" meaning. Maybe from the very genesis of mat, because words derived from it are usually formed in some illogical way. For example, the words "dick" and "pussy" are respectively feminine and masculine, although their roots are directly opposite genitalia. Or the fact that swear words themselves were formed from something that is intimate, and because of this, it is indecent to say them in public (as well as this
"something" itself). Maybe that's why no one criticizes those who don't swear, but speak in it, saying, "It's almost like walking naked in the street — indecent". And yet, no matter how you look at it, but the mat itself sits somewhere in the subconscious, and perhaps that is why most people swear to the place, only if it comes out sharply emotional and unexpected for themselves.
The shouting ended and almost immediately a fairly young and not as angry as the rest of the chum jumped out from around the corner. He walked quickly and nervously: it was clear that he had been yelled at. But the main thing was not that, but that Vanya had seen him somewhere before.
Closer and closer. We should have recruited him: he is young, upset, probably regrets something, and has had little contact with people. But we had to remember his name!
Just as he passed, some strange thought popped into his head, "Shinhr. That's his name. And the one who was reprimanding him was repeating that word, not the profane one.
"Brother Shinhr," Vanya said quietly but clearly and even defiantly forcefully.
Chum, who was already walking at his back, stopped and just stood still.
The miner didn't turn his head, but felt it as he tried to realize what it was.
In addition to this feeling, a number of thoughts about what he was doing himself were creeping into his consciousness. Here he is about to turn around; he, Ivan Tikhomirov, is the one on whom all hopes for the future are now resting, and he must not make a single mistake. Not the slightest. He is a Slav, with blond straight hair and a neat good face. His right klk doesn't stick out, like all the chums. His eyes are not yellow or violet, but gray and calm because he did not have to break the bones of others and cut with blunt knives slowly and endlessly just to learn something that will help to do the same with others, or just out of pleasure.
Vanya saw all this when he turned around, just a little, half a turn, so that the man wouldn't recognize him.
"Did you say something?" — Shinhr asked in Russian, continuing to breathe quieter than anyone else walking down this corridor.
"You're not Tamerlan. — a certain inner 'animal' voice tried to break through. — You can't go on like
this."
"Tamerlane walked under the same blue sky that I walk under," the miner answered him and said aloud: "You know how this is going to end. And we know, too. They've got you under their thumb." So many incomprehensible things were said that the plague could not decide what to ask first. — Don't you see that? — Vanya whispered.
— What's that?
— That they don't need you… You're nothing to them. They'll execute you.
— Executed? — Shinhr looked away and shuddered slightly — it was a hit.
— Yeah. Join us. We can help you.
— Your place? What are you–
— Don't look at me. Appearances are deceptive. You are still young, you have not seen much… I speak in the name of the Church… in the name of the Holy Inquisition….
Hearing that, something slammed into his eyes; the Inquisition turned out to be something they fear more than execution. And what they fear so much that they are willing to hide from it even behind a human. — I don't quite understand…
— You see, you must understand.
— Why do you need me?
After this phrase a bad feeling came off Vanya, and he almost shuddered at it — the man believed in his involvement with the church, or at least thought it possible.
— It's penance week here in a few months. We need informants.
— Am I supposed to point to others? Я…
— You! You'll get away with it. And you don't have to point fingers at anyone.
— I…
— You! You have to do something else. If you won't do it for yourself, do it for the Holy Church. For the holy Inquisition. And you will escape the punishment of the Black Stone. It is written in the Silan-zhah. This is it. It's what the Inquisitors of the Middle Ages used, not much different from the plague. Scaring people into the unknown. Uneducated and uneducated people. Because it's written, it's said, and by whom? The inquisitors themselves. In the end it turned out that "you must help us, because we said so…".
And it worked. It worked.
— I'll have to think about it.
— To think… An impermissible luxury for someone who is still young.
— I don't…
— Thinking is the same as saying you doubt the holy church. Do you doubt the holy church, Shinhur?
— No. Of course not. Я…