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1.2 KiB
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"Stay in good health, dear comrade. Step inside. There’s a job to do if you’re interested. Need to find one piece of crap, and I’m at my wits’ end how. Briefly - one of the foremen who worked on that fucking Polikim, has just in time laid his hands on some pretty heavy documents. You know, for sure, how hard is everyone still gunning for any evidence on TG and its associates? So it goes. But the folks who tried to get the info out of that foreman happened to be more edgy than smart. Dude’s ticker stopped ticking before his tongue started wagging. Can you imagine? What dimwits! How do you do business with the likes of them? Okay, back to the point. So he grabbed the docs and stashed them somewhere. Asked around a bit, those who worked with him before. In general, chances don’t look too good, but who knows how lucky you can get? In a word, that foreman worked in the chemo shop. The shitmost shit, see. And somewhere on the factory premises he and his homies had their bunkhouses. Chowing there, relaxing, most certainly inviting broads over etc. I figure it’s holed up there somewhere, most likely. If it’s not there, then we won’t find crap at all." |