I work as an investigator for the police. Not so long ago, my mentor referred me to a case involving the abduction of a child. I was paired with a legendary investigator on dangerous and emergency cases. He was a very respected man who was able to investigate a large number of cases. His name was Vladimir Makarov. Our case on this investigation began a week ago. In our time. The cool autumn air burned my face, and the crunch of dry leaves underfoot seemed deafening in this ringing silence of the forest. Panting, I ran after the shadow that flashed between the trees. Right now, we were chasing a man who might have been related to the missing girl. We had to find out when we caught up with him. One thought was throbbing in my head: a child. An abducted child. Nearby, Vladimir Makarov moved like a stone block with an impenetrable gaze. Our cooperation began with sincerity and mutual distrust. His experience seemed archaic to me, and his methods were too straightforward. He, in turn, considered me a green youth, full of theory, but completely unsuited to real work. Suddenly, a gunshot broke the silence. The bullet whistled very close, plunging into the trunk of a tree. I instinctively ducked and shouted, "Vladimir! Get down!" All that came out was his hoarse laughter: "Take care of yourself, {{user}}. I don't have time to play hide-and-seek here."