Karina

I find myself gazing intently at the NVR camera. Taking a step back, I squint, adjust the device, and satisfied, head towards the road. Halfway there, I stop and look around.

It's strange to observe one's own emotions displayed on one's face as if they were pages in a book. Why had no one ever mentioned this to me before?

I get behind the wheel of the van, my old machine speeding away, leaving only the Gromovs' sports car on the road. An odd, ambivalent feeling overwhelms me. It's as if I'm reliving this day, only observing everything from the outside.

Now, an empty road, a tree, a sky, and a broken car lie before me. I try not to look at the driver; it's too painful, too frightening.

I think about how well this stretch of road looks, and mentally pat myself on the back for choosing such a successful location for the device.

I watch the recording in fast forward. I'm waiting for him, and yet, when the helicopter's noise blares out of the speaker, I shudder. A shadow falls over the road, and I instinctively bury my head in my shoulders.

After a while, a large, black car with tinted windows enters the camera's field of vision. I switch back to normal viewing mode, nervously clutching the phone in my hands. And when the car stops at the accident site, a string inside me tenses. I feel like I can even hear that tension.

Four guys in normal, well, presentable suits, get out of the vehicle. I'm not a connoisseur of clothing brands, but the suits look good on them. Clearly, they weren't bought in some cheap consumer goods store.

The men approach the sports car, peek inside. They exchange looks. From what I see, I conclude that one of them is the boss, the rest are his subordinates.

Where did I get that from? I've seen enough at the gas station. Just like our staff looks at Dad while waiting for his orders. And for the last month, they've been looking at me like that, because I'm their temporary boss.

The boss gives an order, but it's unclear what it is. In general, you can't make out a single word of their conversation. The NVR is too far away, plus the wind is blowing towards the sea. It carries all the sounds away, even the humming of the helicopter blades.

"Can you zoom in on his face?" I hear over my shoulder and startle.

I turn around and see Mark wrapped in a towel. He holds onto the bed's headboard, shifts his weight onto his healthy leg, and shamelessly flops down on the made bed.

"Do you have to sneak up so quietly?" I murmur, hiding my embarrassment. "I almost dropped the phone!"

Mark raises his eyebrows in perplexity, and it hits me late that a limping man weighing no less than ninety kilograms simply cannot sneak up quietly. So it was me who was too focused.

I easily pause the recording and zoom in on the image. Mark props himself up on his elbow and pats the bed beside him. I make an effort not to blush like a red flag at a racetrack.

I sit beside him, he looks at the phone. He frowns, bites his lower lip. Looks for a long time, but eventually falls back onto the bed.

"I don't recognize anyone, I've never seen them. And where did you get this recording, Karina?"

"I hid the NVR in the rocks. See how far it was?" I point dejectedly at the screen.

"How did you manage to fix it?" "With a suction cup," I shrug. "It's a very simple NVR."

"And how did you power it?"

"It runs on batteries."

"You mean it's still working? And it didn't run out of power?" Gromov asks incredulously.

"I left a power bank connected to it. Tied it up with duct tape," I clarify, but it's needless. Mark is already profoundly shocked.

"Do you know who you are?" he asks, not hiding his admiration. "You're a real treasure!"

I realize this is only in reference to my ingenuity, and I sigh. It's not very flattering, of course. But on the other hand, it's better than nothing. Just yesterday, I couldn't even dream of this.

"Caro, can you stream the recording to a bigger screen?" Mark points to the TV. "I want to try to get a good look at them."

I nod and turn on the TV. Mark is right; now the men look clearer, especially when I zoom in and play the footage frame by frame.

Gromov watches intently, biting his lip, but it's clear he doesn't recognize either the boss or his subordinates.

"It's the first time I've seen them," Mark murmurs, leaning back on the bed, exhausted, and I resume normal playback.

The men take pictures of the sports car from different angles, look inside, approach the edge of the road, searching for something in the sea.

Not something, but someone, I realize. Mark didn't leave the door open and throw his phone into the sea for nothing.

"Could they be police?" I ask hopefully.

"In suits?" Mark looks at me grimly.

"Maybe some special unit..." I say cheerfully, proposing a guess, but I stop as he's no longer looking at me, but at the screen.

After the boss puts the phone to his ear, there's noticeable commotion. He says something to his companions, and the men quickly get into the car and head towards the city.

"Armored," Gromov notes, frowning, and I understand he's talking about the vehicle.

The shadow of a helicopter hovers over the road. I conclude that they called the boss from it, warning him it was time to disappear. I'm right, as a police car and an ambulance with flashing lights approach from the opposite direction.

It seems to me that the sound of tires scraping the asphalt doubles beyond the window. I go to the living room, look out the window, and nearly turn into a pillar of salt. Because a black car with tinted windows enters through the gate.

Armored. Now I see it for myself.