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– Did they tell him the amount that Emil estimated his girl for?

Georg silently nodded, but I understood that thoughts were roaming in his head, which for some reason he was in no hurry to voice, and with just one look he ordered me to continue.

– I think he’ll be in trouble, Max, – he finally said curtly. – Slippery type and, apparently, difficult. Fake passport and rights of excellent quality. All we’ve been able to find so far is a couple of fines from the last year. The passport was lit up only a few times: casinos, buying tickets…

And where did he fly?

– To Italy, – Georg replied, not surprising me in the least. So Italy. I looked at the papers again, flipped through them, pursing my lips thoughtfully. It was worth picking up the girl, dragging her here and shaking everything she knows about her own husband out of her.

Did you pay attention to the girl’s suitcase? I asked as I threw the papers on the table. «Obviously not cheap. And things on it, apparently, designer.

Georg gave me a knowing look. Yes… It was worth asking the girl. Something just told me that she wouldn’t say shit. Another spoiled fool, led by the fluffy tail of an ordinary cheap gigolo. The only question is, where did this gigolo get such a skillfully forged passport and rights? Either the girl is not as simple as it seems at first glance, or not everything is so simple with Ivan Lobachev.