About the book: year / Near Moscow region. Early afternoon heat. A used Lada was driving along a country road, buried in a brown dusty mist. With thick hairy hands sticking out of a gray shirt with dirty yellow stains, the steering wheel was held by a squat, unshaven man of about forty-five years old. On the driver’s face, in contrast to the dim, dusty headlights, the eyes glowed, piercing, like those of a monomaniac or a junkie. Slouching in the front passenger seat is a thin-armed, tall, thin guy with full lips and hare eyes, wearing a T-shirt with the inscription NIRVANA and knee-length denim shorts. There were no other passengers in the car. The man's name was Karavaev. Guy - Dimon.