The protocols for moving cash from the bank were so super-secret, the procedures worked out in such excruciating detail, that nothing could go wrong. Only two people had been made privy to the details of the transport of an amount of cash so great that even these two dared not say the figure out loud unless they absolutely had to. This was not an easy run, but they had never had a slipup and they wouldnt now.

It all happened so fast that no one, even if that no one were nearby, could have comprehended what he was seeing.

At two-thirty in the morning, the last of the formalities had been concluded and the armored car, called a safe on wheels because of its impregnability, moved smoothly to the gate of the bank. The gate opened and the armored RAF, jam-packed with money, rolled out into the street. It had scarcely cleared the gate when a car suddenly vroomed out of nowhere and rammed into the RAF at tremendous speed. No one saw that about ten meters before the car crashed, the drivers door flew open and some very brave soul tumbled out head over heels.

It was a head-on collision. The car blew up instantly, the fiery explosion lighting up the night, rocking the armored car, and rattling the windows in the neighboring buildings. Procedures and protocols notwithstanding, the driver of the safe on wheels and his partner jumped out of the cab, fearful of the flames. The men who had been entrusted with guarding the valuable cargo couldnt imagine what had happened, but they could well imagine being roasted alive in their closed compartment. They clambered from the back of the armored RAF with their assault rifles at the ready, prepared to repulse any attack.

But fate awaited them all outside the vehicle. Two black Volgas raced up to the scene of the crash, death spitting from the windows. The unseen killers sought no target; they simply loosed long bursts from their assault rifles without seeming to aim at all. The rifleman guards, the driver and his partner, and even the man closing the gate after the departing safe on wheelsall dropped without another breath. The automobile was still engulfed in flames when the firing ceased. Less than a minute had passed.

The attackers obviously had prepared long and thoroughly for this operation. They acted precisely and were well coordinated. The stuntman who had jumped from the speeding car had performed his job brilliantly; his car had rammed the armored RAF exactly where it would produce the most dramatic results without damaging the RAF. This daring acrobat was already sitting in one of the Volgas. Now two men climbed swiftly into the cab of the armored vehicle, and two others swung up into the cargo compartment. The RAF roared away. The black Volgas, having done their terrible deed, made hundred-and-eighty-degree turns and rushed off down Moscows nocturnal streets, guarding the armored RAF between them. And they certainly had something to guard: There were millions of dollars and billions of rubles in the belly of the captured vehicle.

I arrived at Investigations Section and went up to my office. In spite of its being pretty early, Lilia was already at her desk and pretending to work. Or maybe she really was workingI dont have a good grasp of that. It often seems to me that for young people work comes after love, entertainment, and dancing.

Lilia is an investigator, too. We share an office. Its convenientshe is assisting me in the investigation of several cases.

It was only very recently that she was given permanent status as an investigator at the Office of the Prosecutor General. I had hoped that this happy-for-her fact would influence the length of her skirts. (The sight of her endlessly long legs causes flashes in my eyes. Those beautiful legs constantly distract me and interfere with my work.) Once I thought she had come to work without any skirt at all, but it turned out she was wearing hot pants.

Earlier, when Lilia worked at the Moscow Municipal Prosecutors Office and was detailed temporarily to my brigade, she was an entirely different person. I even assumed she was in love with me; she looked at me with such admiration and devotion. But now that she has begun working as a staff member at the Prosecutor Generals under my supervision, all that has gone by the wayside. Now she is a confident and independent young woman with her own views and judgment on many things. Now I have begun thinking how I could get myself into her good graces.

So I offered to explain to her the nitty-gritty of a case she was working on independently, thinking to help her the way an experienced major cases investigator would help an inexperienced young specialist. And what do you suppose? I got an absolutely stunning refusal from a girl who so recently had hung on my every word. Since then, in my spare time, when I havent been engaged in investigations operations, I have been dreaming about how to organize an encounter in some vacant apartment.

Hi! I greeted her and went to my desk, where there was an incredible pile of papers.

Lilia raised her head as though she had just seen me. How are you, Aleksandr Borisovich? she greeted me unexpectedly warmly. You dont look very well. Did you have a fight with your wife?

Why, can you tell? I asked in surprise.

She looked at me with pity. Alas, Aleksandr Borisovich. You have an expression of grief on your face.

I thought it better not to say anything. For a while we sat in complete silence, and only from time to time did I catch her sidelong glances at me, full of unconcealed curiosity.

What do you have thats new on the Beta-Bank robbery? I asked.