was an investigator. Nor the most successful, nor the last person in his department. Smiley, always in dry-cleaned and ironed uniform, he liked affable hand-shaking in corridors in the mornings, when to-do folders are still gathering dust in cabinets. He respected colleagues; colleagues respected him.
It so happened that he knew something that he should not have known. This sometimes happens when you work in such a position.
The day was long and stressful, so in the evening he sat in his office and began to sort through the remaining papers. “High forehead, mole on the right cheek, straight nose... how am I supposed to notice him when everyone is wearing these damn masks?” anger sounded in Oliver`s voice. He quickly read the entire description in the document, then reached the point of describing the eyes. “That is where I would stop!” he continued “Gray, slightly slanted, expressive eyebrows – ‘excellent’ signs for operational search - I don't even know his height!”
“Now you know!” a voice came from nowhere.
“Who is there” Oliver winced.
“Would you care to shake the hand of the man who defeated you?” the shadow took out a cigarette case, lit up, inhaling.
The shot was fired.
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