Aman-Jalil caught the pilot's envious glance and a devilish smirk played on his thin lips.

"I won't treat you, or you'll crash my plane, not because I care about the plane, feel free to crash it, but count me out," Aman-Jalil thought, pretending to pour himself cognac and drinking it, tilting the empty glass into his mouth. He didn't forget to nibble on a "Lux" chocolate, convincing the pilot more than if he had seen the cognac flowing down Aman-Jalil's throat. Alright, enough pretending, leave half for the pilot to shut his mouth… I wonder who he's bringing along?"

Aman-Jalil spilled a bit of cognac on his collar, waiting for the car to suddenly shake.

– Hey, driver, watch out, is there a pothole or something?

– You think this is a main avenue? Let's switch seats: you take the wheel, and I'll drink the cognac. Deal?

– Hold the bottle, it's exactly half full, honest… Just swear you'll finish it at home, they're already saying I'm getting all my friends drunk, the mullah almost hinted at it right in my face after the morning prayer. Don't you know?

– Small, isn't he? I don't drink at work!

Aman-Jalil stood up, discreetly wiped the bottle and handed it to the pilot.

– Drink up, elder, and understand!

– What am I understanding?

– Understand, I say.

– And what's that?

– I don't know, they say in the capital.

– Maybe it's a curse word?

– Maybe, but it sounds good.

– No, not a curse word: understand, learn, that's what it means…

– Clever! Listen, how clever you are, eh!

– Did you think…

Aman-Jalil suddenly saw a small black fly, it flew past Aman-Jalil and landed on the pilot's helmet.

– Wow, look, a fly on your head, don't move, I'm going to kill it now.

– Are you planning to shoot it with a pistol?

– Why with a pistol, dummy, then I'd have to shoot you in the head too, a fly is smaller than a bullet, don't you understand… Don't move.

Aman-Jalil took out a thread from his rubber band, his eternal companion, he always had these threads, carefully unraveling the most ordinary rubber band that held his underwear together. In a second, the killed fly fell onto the control wheel.

– Sniper! – the pilot praised him. – Look for more, maybe you'll find some.

He said it in jest, but Aman-Jalil seriously searched for flies and, to the pilot's surprise, found another six and calmly shot them down.

Ahmed, upon hearing the joyful news, jumped and clapped his hands.

– Ah, you've done it skillfully, ah, you've done it skillfully. Well done, jigit, the inquisition is all yours, with guts. Take it, command it, just remember: every word of mine is law for you.

– Why offend, father, every breath of yours is law for me… Oh, sorry, boss, got carried away…

– It's okay, it's okay, it's from an excess of feelings… Listen, were there any papers with Sardar Ali?

– None, chief. I reported to you that he first visited Nadir; if there were any, he left them there, but I think there weren't any, Sardar Kareem intended to discuss everything with Nadir first, but he wasn't there.

– He wasn't there, he wasn't there… But what if there were?.. Okay, can't reach Nadir anyway for now… Apples on the table, help yourself.

Aman-Jalil turned to the small table to take an apple and paled: a small human head crowned the pyramid of apples…

…In the daytime, a soldier brought a bag of apples, telling the mother:

– A gift from Renk, just sift through them, they've been sitting a while, might be some wormy ones…

And he left. Mother spread out the sack in the courtyard and poured the apples out… Her wild cry tore little Aman-Jalil away from his game. Running to his mother, he found her lying unconscious near the apples, and his father was sleeping, buried in the apples so that only his head was visible on top of the apple mountain. The boy pushed his mother away and asked her, when she opened her empty eyes: