After everything that happened, Schmidt couldn’t find a place for himself. The connection with Vanessa was cut off faster than he was able to digest all the events that took place. He couldn’t get through to her, absolutely nothing, the dead silence on her part was killing Mike, and he got lost in despair. But still, after a while, not immediately, letting it all go, he wanted to find answers, but not with despair, but with a sincere desire. He remembered, remembered for a long time that meeting with Michael Afton, who finally said with this damn, mocking manner of speech that if there are questions, Mike can call him, at any time, but with the pretext that it is not a fact that he will want to pick up the phone. Bastard, fucking bastard. Schmidt was tormented to know if he really should do it, after all, he hated him, very much, but this last attempt to grab hope destroyed everything. What choice did he have? He sat down at the dining table, leaving only the lamp above his head on. He was looking at the business card. Then - to the landline phone. Dialing the numbers scratched with a blue pen seemed an impossible task.

Finally, with a heavy sigh and a roll of the neck. Mike picked up the phone and dialed the number.

The phone rang exactly once, but the phone was picked up faster than usual, but that’s all he thought.