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The hell I will!
- Get on!
- Over my dead body!
- Too late. They've spotted us.
- Who are they?
- Bashi-bazouks.
- Those who cut heads off?
RUN...
- Too late! Stay quiet... Let's pretend we are simple
peasants - no sport for them.
- What's going to happen? Are we in trouble? Will they kill us?
- They won't if you keep silent. Low down your head...
- Get on the donkey. Let's move.
- Have you seen it? Have you?
- Yes, I've seen, they have a Russian officer -
We'll tell this to the nearest patrol.
- I mean the head!
- Get on the donkey! Quiet!
- Ouch!!!
- QIET!!!
- Mother... Mother...
- Yes! A girl!!!
- Look, sir, a golden medallion. With rubies...
- Rubies?
- Get on. Quick, I beg you...
Come on. Come on. Come on...
Please, quicker. They are catching up on us.
- Shoot, shoot! What's wrong?
- The gun is unloaded.
- Sabres ready! Follow me!
- They've got our officer!
- Are you Chetniks? I'd like to ask you
a couple of questions.
My name is Seumas McLaughlin, I work for The Daily Post.
- We are Russian. My name's Erast Fandorin, and my
companion is M-mademoiselle Suvorova.
- A lady...
- I'm traveling to find my fianc. He serves at the HQ.
- Have you watched my kill? Like a lightning, eh?..
- True.
- Who's the gentleman with a hat?
- Monsieur d'Hevrais, he works for La Revue Parisienne, a star among French reporters.
The gentleman in white is Michel Soboleff  - a great warrior.
He's been dispatched to HQ. And is truly bored without action.
Charles and I are interested in everything.
This is our first day at the front.
- Got away, sons of whores! Nice horses they have!
Turkish fucks!
- General, there are ladies in presence...
- Where?
- Let me introduce Madame Suvorova. She is secretly
heading to her fianc at the camp.
- Mademoiselle...
- I am Charles d'Hevrais, a reporter.
There's blood on your face.
Here. That's better.
- How's the Captain? Dead?
- Looks dead to me...
- Hold on. "Looks dead, looks dead"...
Moron...
Just a scratch... You are lucky, Captain.
Here, have a drink...
- Captain Perepelkin. Service of Supplies and Maintenance.
Your Excellency, at you service forever!
I thought we were deep within our own territory...
- You are stupid to ride alone. Get his wounds bandaged.
Halt! Tie him up. While he' still unconscious.
- Your Excellency...
- And who are you?
Romaev, get me some water...
- Titular Counselor Fandorin. I've escaped from t-the Turks.
I have information of utmost importance and s-secrecy.
- What kind of information?
- General, could we talk in private?..
- Nonsense. Speak.
- It's vital you occupy Pleven.
Osman-pasha's corps is moving there.
- What is he doing in that rat hole?
- I can tell this only at the HQ, General. Time is s-slipping away...
- Everyone's alive?
- Your Excellency, looks like we found Semenov of the 2nd Cossack Company.
- Time to hurry, General.
- Wait a second. Take fifty men and get to Pleven. Take a look what's going on there.
- Yes, sir.
- Take this bird to the counter-intelligence department. Titular Counselor, my ass...
- General! What can fifty men do against an army corps?
- Doesn't look like Semenov to me? Semenov had a snubbed nose.
- See, the nose... the birthmark... the missing tooth...
- Hey, mademoiselle... Mademoiselle...
- Warrant Officer, have you passed my message on? Time's running out.
One more hour and it's too late!
- Tell me, the man who called himself a "titular counselor"...
- Fandorin.
- Yes. Did he talk to bashi-bazouks in Turkish?
- Yes. He was a Turkish prisoner for 8 months...
- I don't give a damn what kind of lies he told you!
How did speak Turkish? Fluently?
- I can't remember! Perhaps not.
He stammers a lot.
- I'll cross-interview you both. Sit quiet.
Not a sound. Or you'll be sharing the basement with rats.
Officer on duty! Bring the prisoner in.
Lieutenant-Colonel Kazanzaki of the Gendarmes Corps.
Head of the Counter-Intelligence Unit.
Arrived yesterday.

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