that...
...he had The First Degree Patriotic War
Award on his uniform. And that confused me...
- Did he have a razor scar here?
- I didn't notice it...
Don't you be upset.
- No we know one of them by sight,
got it? - We are getting off, Gleb!
Come on!
- Hey, let me have a ride.
- No way. I want to ride it myself.
- Hey, give me your gun.
- Again?!
It's early morning and
he is already drunk.
Shurka, give me a ruble!
I'll show it to you when you grow up.
- You are drunk! Again!
- What's up there?
- Hey you! I fought in the war! Shut up!
- He'll kill me!
Hey, listen, you, invalid!
One more row and I'll bust you!
Got it?
While she does the washing for all of us,
you, damn drunkard... So you got it?
You should have gone to jail
a year and a half ago. Understand?
- Gleb Yegorovich, damn him! - Then
pick him up and sort it out yourself.
He'll get sober!
Come on, go to sleep!
This way! This way!
Good morning, sir.
Junior sergeant Synychkina reports.
It's a false alarm. The infant is alive.
He's a foundling.
Couldn't you find it out right away?
A corpse... A murder...
Why the hell do you trouble
the group with such a trifle?
The neighbours called you, sir.
Before I came here.
I called Petrovka immediately
but you were already on your way.
- All right. Where is the infant? - He is
in the apartment. It's too cold outside.
- And why did you think that he was dead?
- Mechanic Milyayev found the baby...
Well, yes, damn it. What else could
I think? What else? Come on.
I went to the attic
to repair the barrier.
And he was there. He was so tiny.
Tiny and swaddled. Yes.
And it was dead silence. Not a cry,
and not a squeak.
Dead silence.
- Did you take him?
- I was so afraid. So afraid!
And I thought what a wretch,
what a monster his mother is...
...to take the life of her own baby?
So I ran to Ap. 32.
They've got a phone. And I called her.
You, to be more precise. Yes.
So that you find this she-devil.
Got it. Well, Sharapov, let's go
and have a look since we are here.
I have no idea what to do. I don't understand
how he will grow up without his mother.
What is here to understand? We'll never
desert him. He'll grow up like the others.
Shall we look for his mother?
I'm so sorry for the baby.
He doesn't need a mother like this.
Though we still need to identify her.
A woman like this can do anything.
- It's overheated.
- The engine? Right?
- You are lucky, Sharapov.
It's a good sign. - Why?
A foundling is always a good sign.
Well, Synychkina...
...unwrap the baby.
- Why?
Do what I tell you.
Well. First, there is a birthmark...
...on the head of the infant. Good.
Then there is a stamp
on the swaddling cloth.
I can't make it out,
but the experts will do it.
What is it - a maternity hospital or
a nursery? Then we'll find his mother.
Don't cry. Why cry?
Well, swaddle the baby. You and
the girl will go to the Arbat street.
There is a Grauerman maternity
hospital there, right?
- Will they accept the baby?
- They have no right to refuse you.
Who are you? You are
a public servant.
And you bring the infant
already adopted by the state.
- I get it.
- Who would dare to argue this?
- And if someone dares, cool him down.
- I get it.
And my daddy was a rock.
He made the six of us and went
to the city to earn money.
But he never forgot us. Every month
he sent us a letter with money.
And once he came home
and brought presents, sweets...
But three days later
he led our cow away.
The bastard was smart. He put
shoes on the cow's hooves.
- Why?
- To make the search even more difficult.
I've been crazy about
the detective work since then.
What do you think, Sharapov?
Well, Volodya, was it a funny story?
And make friends with the girl.
She is good.
And keep the address of this maternity
hospital. Once you may need it.
- Come in, please.
- Thank you.
- Wow, Sharapov.
- Stop it!
Let's go.
Why are you so sad?
I am thinking.
What will this