Chapter 1246

Hassayev rubbed his hazy eyes and followed the waiter through the bathroom corridor to the dressing room on the side of the bathroom.

At the moment, his heart kept cursing and complaining.

Every Wednesday and Saturday is his private time. It is a rare opportunity to relax. It belongs to a man's happy hour.

Over the years, hasayev has been living a double faced life. He has four daughters and three sons. His two wives add a lot of live babies to him like sows. The youngest daughter is only three years old. When he sees him, he calls him "Da Da" in non-standard Russian（ папа Father).

All of khasayev's children received orthodox Russian education, and even his eldest son was still studying at Moscow University. He knew that he could not pass on the so-called hatred to the next generation. History belongs to history, dust to dust, and life must continue.

He made dirty money by dealing with the devil like figures in hell like baskiev, but he couldn't mention it to all his close relatives.

This makes hasayev's temper a little strange. He often breaks out unknown fire for no reason, which makes his wife and daughter extremely awed, and even a little cautious in front of him. However, most of the time, he is a good father, loving and caring, meticulous, and a good husband in everyone's mouth.

This high-end Turkish bathroom is the favorite pastime place for itumkaleh men. Every time hassayev comes here, he has to sweat for an hour, then wash the hot and cold pool, then lie on the stone slab and let "Tanak" apply aromatherapy essential oil all over his body, massage every inch of skin, and finally fall asleep. At five o'clock, The waiter would wake him up. The man released in the Turkish bathroom slowly left and drove home.

But this beauty was interrupted tonight.

Of course, it's not the first time he's been interrupted.

Hasayev came to the bathroom six years ago, and there have been two interruptions in the past six years.

Because of khasawev's special occupation, there is almost no complete private time in his life. Many times, baskiev is like a ghost hovering overhead, which seems to be watching and affecting his life all the time.

Therefore, wherever he goes, he must take the satellite phone that belongs to his separate contact with baskiev. Even in this naked place of "honest meeting", he still tells the waiter to wake himself up if the phone he put in the cabinet rings many times.

"It must be baskiev!"

He cursed in his heart. From his heart, he didn't like baskiev. Although he didn't like Russians, at least he didn't appreciate baskiev's extreme line.

Baskiev was also involved in the Beslan incident that year. He was one of the dangerous figures to escape successfully, and hassayev was the key figure to escape from the country for him.

When I saw those bloody scenes on TV, especially the bodies of innocent children being carried out of school by soldiers, hassayev became worse tempered than a mad dog that day. He was angry with his wife and children who watched the TV news, smashed a table of fruits, turned off the TV and hurried his wife and children to the room.

No one wants to see this. From that day on, hasayev began to feel guilty, especially when he saw his innocent children. He occasionally came up with strange ideas that those children who died in Beslan school should have enjoyed the life of sunshine and fresh flowers, and he was the devil who participated in depriving them of their rights.

This idea oppressed khasayev's nerves like a nightmare all the time, made him crazy and depressed. He went to the Turkish bathroom more often, first once, and then twice a week.

Lying on the stone floor of the Turkish bathroom, "Tanak" squeezed the fatigue out of his pores with his powerful hands. Hassayev felt that his soul was going out of his body, as if floating to the ceiling and quietly overlooking himself.

Who am I?

Is everything I do right?

Am I a sinner? Or the devil?

At that moment, he often had this strange idea.

However, baskiev not only pestered himself like a lingering enemy, but also received a considerable reward for his services, which made the greedy hassayev feel like opium or poison. He knew it was poisonous but addicted.

Because of this strange and contradictory idea, hasayev began to prepare for his future.

In fact, the false identity abroad is not false, but it is only a fictional identity. He and his wife and children have a virtual identity in neighboring Georgia. Everything exists from birth to education, as if he were a person who lived in Georgia but never left that country.

He got it at a great price from powerful local people.

As long as something bad happens one day, hassayev even used his knowledge of the border to formulate a set of routes to leave the country.

Everything was perfect. On the day when hassayev made all these plans, he poured wine in his office and drank several glasses secretly to celebrate his intelligence.

So the dressing room has a size of more than 200 square meters. There are neat wooden cabinets in it. Everyone has his own key to open his own locker, where his clothes are placed.

Sure enough, the mobile phone was ringing. I rolled my eyes and stood in front of the cabinet. I was going to turn back.

He wants the waiter to leave and find a quiet place to talk to baskiev. It's not convenient for any outsiders here.

However, he didn't have time to turn around. One powerful hand wrapped around his neck from behind and tightly covered his mouth and nose with a towel, while the other hand wrapped his neck like an iron hoop.

Hasayev was terrified. He had no time to respond to what had happened. He was not a trained professional soldier or spy. His head was chaotic, like a projector that suddenly burned through the film in the cinema, projecting only a blank.

In the nasal cavity, a strange smell penetrated into the nostrils. Hasayev was still alive and kicking. After the smell entered the respiratory tract, he immediately felt that the whole person was in a strange excited state, with an indisputable sense of joy. Then he felt tired and incomparably tired

A few seconds later, hassayev's whole body softened like noodles.

From the other end of the dressing room, an FSB agent dressed up as a guest with a big white towel around his waist looked at the waiter and nodded. The waiter turned and walked to the glove cabinet and took some big bath towels. They quickly rolled up hassayev like a spring roll, then walked to the window and opened the curtain.

This is the first floor. Outside is a cross street in the back lane. The waiter pressed the agent's earphone in his ear.

"When the goods arrive, send someone to check them."

Soon, there was a "dudududududui" knocking sound on the glass window.

Agents dressed as waiters and bath guests opened the window from inside, wrapped hasayev and his satellite phone together and threw them out like a dead fish.

Poof——

The windowsill is less than one meter and five meters high from the ground. People outside obviously caught the fruit merchant, so their voice was very low.

The waiter cleanly closed the window, then drew the curtains, went back to hasayev's cabinet, closed the cabinet door with the other party's key, raised his wrist and looked at the time.

It's 1:07 a.m. and the whole arrest process didn't take more than seven minutes.