gastric processes.
I'm anything but a clyster-pipe.
Or, Mr. Mild Gentleman.
We're limbs of the law, even worse
than a clyster-pipe,
even worse than a nightman.
You know what we are?
Protectors of things good, I presume.
You've said a mouthful. Retrievers
of stolen things.
For many a year our ancestors
have been robbing their naive compatriots
and amassing their loot.
You and me guard this loot
from the hungry and dirty ones
yearning to squander it.
All of them
goose-flesh-necked ones understand nothing,
stirring people up.
They want freedom?
They will stir up that freedom.
When they see what comes onto the surface,
they will cackle bloody murder.
They will lick the boots,
they will pray to anyone showing fangs.
They will lick their anything.
There will be no rightful ones or
wrongful ones then.
And then hell will begin.
Ivan the Terrible will seem
a rosy-cheeked angel
compared with this.
It's the wrong time for mild methods,
Or we shall have Russia in shit.
The one with serious forsight,
caring for the future of Russia,
such one doesn't care for personal glory.
I know exactly:
those living with a sugar plum
in their mouth
will be left without their head
and their caramel.
You think I seek glory?
Fandorin,
I'm tired and looking for a serious
colleague.
I'm tired of loneliness, I swear to you.
Tired of dealing with these...
...these mugs, with these leaden-headed
creatures.
I'm tired because I can't tell them openly:
'What are you doing here, you, non-entity,
'occupying someone else's place.
Retire in good time'.
I would agree with you here.
He sent a message through Aronzon
that he would wait in the tavern.
There are no spies there.
- You at last.
- Where were you?
At the police station.
Let's skip the lyrics.
I could spin yarn, but it's either you
believe me or not.
You either take me to a hot job
or take me out into the yard
and kill me quietly.
You will have your hot job.
You'll tell me later how you escaped.
- You fancy for a drink?
- Let's go.
Why did you believe him?
You better believe a traitor than
disbelieve a friend.
Rakhmet!
Lady? Put me through to Laskutnaya.
Shmelev, this is what you'll have to do.
That fool of a photographer didn't know
him in the face!
Come here.
Burchinsky?
They don't forgieve such things.
Sorry, I'm in the process of deducting.
My Jesus...
Where is your Chinese dumpling?
Japanese dumpling.
Masa is sitting in the barrel at the moment.
In the barrel?
It's a Japanese steam-bath kind of.
Never mind that.
'Ladies free to choose their code of dress'.
You can go with me.
Only in fetters and under escort.
How can you serve those vampires?
They violate and strangle their own people.
And you at one with those Khrapovs
and Burchinskys.
I do my best serving my country.
In all times scoundrels would be
seeking power.
Almost all of them are scoundrels.
Whereas revolutionaries are noble
and selfless people.
This confusion is Russia's big problem.
Scoundrels serve good, martyrs and heroes
serve evil.
You mean revolution is evil?
Decembrists, Chernyshevsky is evil?
- They are all woodcutters.
- Woodcutters?
Cutting the wood,
and woodchips, which is human flesh,
flying around.
The worst evil is when it is disguised
as good.
Everything is over between us!
I'm ashamed to have slept with you!
Don't make wry face!
You should call spade a spade!
Master of Japanese voluptuousness!
Don't imagine there was something
between us!
You are a watchdog of autocracy!
They search only those departing.
It won't occur to them you are not going
to escape.
Our deed will be quite a surprise for them.
There they are.
How do you do, Green darling.
Julie. Needle. And you are Trump?
Let's go.
Can we organize a deed?
Of course we can. When exactly?
Today.
All right. There is an idea.
Carriage of the State Exchequer.
Every day they're taking about 300 thousand
or more.
We have people and weapons.
I can