Vitaly Blazhevich extended his hand and shook that of his boss. “What brings you here on a Sunday morning?” “Vitaly Romanovich. If that is your idea of a joke you should not give up your day job. Now tell me; what do we have here?” His boss was not in a good mood, it seemed. Did I drag you back from the dacha, he wondered? Blazhevich took a biro from his pocket. “We have a large hole where the lock would have been.” He poked at the hole with his pen for dramatic effect. “Circular charge. Quite neat.” The old man circled his hand. “Pre-made plastic charge, Gennady Stepanovich. It took the lock clean out. A very professional job.” He led Dudka through the hallway and into the lounge. “Who would have access to that Vitaly?” “Army, SOCOL snatch squad, mafia...” “And your guess is?” He shrugged his shoulders.
