The Last Call

By Vadim Oleris

The professor of the research institute were robbed in a dark courtyard. Criminals kidnapped the laptop. Was it a common crime for a profit or did someone want to use the professor's secret works?
Investigator Andrew Totman will finds out. And also he will get acquainted with his new team.

The first story from the cycle 'La Scala'.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookRix
• Release date: Oct 24, 2017
• ISBN: 9783743837409

Book preview

Prologue

La Scala

The Last Call

Who knew that the future will come so soon?

From BMW advertising

Prologue

A large black car stopped. Samuel Epstein opened the back door and groaned as he stepped out onto the sidewalk.

Professor, let me help you? The driver turned around from his seat.

No, no, thank you. Do not worry, Edward. I'll go to the store for bread, and then I'm almost at home.

Well, as you say. As usual, I'll pick you up tomorrow at eight, will I?

Yes.

Professor! You forgot your bag! The driver reached for the seat and handed the passenger a laptop bag.

Oh, memory like a sieve! Thank you, Edward!

The toned sedan blinked with a turn signal and smoothly sailed off the sidewalk, merging into the stream of cars that streamed along the night street. The professor hung a bag on his shoulder and went into a small 24-hour shop.

A few minutes later he came out, holding a paper bag to his chest. From package protruded a long loaf. The professor walked along the building, then stepped into a poorly lit archway that led from the street to the courtyard.

An uncertain shadow flew from the wall, and then the world around the professor finally faded.

Grab the bag!

Check his pockets!

Cards, keys...

C’mon, run!

Chapter 1

Chapter first, the only one

Andrew Totman woke up a minute before the alarm bell rang. He got out of bed, open one eye, took two steps to the desk, picked up an old mechanical watch. Half past five. Andrew hastened to turn off the bell before the sound was heard. After that he went back to the bed, sat on it and waking up a couple of minutes, rubbing his eyes and stretching. Finally Andrew got up from the bed, folded his linen, and put it into the closet. After that he went to the bathroom.

Andrew was a typical owl, a fan of sleeping in the morning, so that early awakenings did not give him pleasure. However, haste preparation for work gave even less joy. So what's the difference - get up at half past five or at half past seven, if in both cases did not get enough sleep?

In the bathroom Andrew washed his face with cold water, and his mouth with a blue rinse aid liquid. After that the man returned to the room and began to dress.

Pants. Lightweight sports jacket. Thin leather black gloves on the hands. Andrew, not shod, left the apartment and closed the door behind him.

Cold rough concrete pleasantly tickled bare feet. The elevator hospitably opened its doors almost immediately after pressing the call button. Andrew stepped inside and pressed the button. The cold polished metal slightly vibrated, and this vibration was transmitted throughout the body.

The elevator quickly arrived to the first floor. Andrew nodded to the two guards who were watching TV behind a glass wall. Then he crossed the vestibule with a smooth gray tile on the floor and pushed the glass main door.

Fresh, after the night rain, air was delightful. His purity was felt even in the room through the half-open window, but on the street it felt hundreds of times brighter. Andrew smiled slightly, covering his eyes for a second and allowing himself a moment of pleasure. Turning around the corner of the house, Totman run.

Having run across the street, Andrew found himself on the embankment, trimmed with granite slabs. On the right, barely discernible in the fog that rose above the river, the bridge spans were visible. But Andrew headed left, to the far bridge, located downstream.

How nice is in the early morning! The nature is fresh and clean. The city has not yet had time to replace the oxygen of the air with exhaust gases. There are almost no people on the streets. Only couples who have walked all night. And workers hurring to early jobs. Most citizens prefer to watch the last dreams. Cars do not drive through the streets. Nowhere to run. If only jogging for your own pleasure. So fine!

Arguing in this way, Andrew has reached to the far bridge, crossed the river and jog along the embankment in the opposite direction.

Yes, of course, the modern city never sleeps. There are 24h-shops. Youth funs at clubs. Traffic on motorways does not stop. From the early morning the work of some institutions begins. Yes, we know that. But it's somewhere there, in the business centers or in the factory zones. Not here. Here is a clean, fresh, deserted morning, so wonderful, not spoiled by stupid bustle. It's a pity, the dawn is not visible behind the buildings.

Leave it all and go away to the village, muttered Totman, crossing the bridge and heading for the pedestrian crossing. At the traffic light, a red light came on. Andrew stopped, still running on the spot. He looked to the left, looked to the right. There was not a single car on the road. However law-abiding Andrew waited for a green traffic light before continuing to run.

On the wall of the house a small sign with the image of a coiled bagel was swaying on the wind. Ordinary tin sign. Not a panel that attracts attention with sparkling lights. Not a holographic sticker. Not a logo of a well-known chain store. Just a sign of a small shop that sold the products of a small private bakery.

Andrew climbed the steps of the porch, which were covered with a green synthetic carpet, still wet after the rain. He turned an elegant gilded handle, opening a wooden door. Behind the door there rang a melodious bell, warning the hosts about the guest's visit.

Ah! Mr. Totman! Good morning! The owner of the bakery, he is also a salesman, welcomed the man who approached the counter.

Morning, replied