In the conference room of the internal affairs bureau of the Gorky Automobile Manufacturing Plant, the branch director Nikita Mikhailovic Markov was sitting in the main seat of the conference room and talking. The cigarette ash scattered everywhere with his excited gestures, and even fell on the clothes of the officials sitting beside him, but they did not dare to express any dissatisfaction. Everyone sat upright and listened to the director's remarks with serious expressions. Director Markov's words occasionally popped up a few uncivilized words, and everyone here also went in his left ear and his right ear. Leader, just want you to listen carefully to his words. How could he know if you listened or not? In fact, everyone should be looking forward to the meeting ending quickly.

Chernenko, who was sitting at the end of the conference room, kept writing something on his notebook. If someone walked into the conference room at this moment, he would find that the room was almost full of old men. Yes, there was only Chernenko, a young man. Markov's eyes floated to Chernenko from time to time. If he walked to Chernenko at this moment, he bent down and looked carefully at what he was doing. He would definitely be so angry that he might burst out on the spot. Chernenko was painting a portrait of Markov who was dancing and talking nonsense. People growing in Leningrad were always full of artistic cells, and Chernenko was no exception. Although he used a fountain pen, he still painted vividly, perfectly presenting Markov's angry expression. Under the portrait there were also uncivilized words that Markov had just used.

Markov looked at the absent-minded Chernenko and became more and more angry. His voice became hoarse. The little bastard was still doing what he said, just like he didn't hear it. So Markov raised his voice again and said loudly: "Some of our cadres and comrades have been wasting their energy on some trivial small cases recently. So many major cases have not been solved. Do you still know which one is important? Now the detention room is full?"

"And the most annoying thing is that he actually caught the hooligan who rewarded his relatives. The Interior Bureau was run by your family? What do you do if you want to do something? Don't think you are a small leader, and do whatever you want if you have a little power in your hands. I'm not dead yet, I have the final say here."

Chernenko was still indifferent, but the portrait of Markov in his paintings was a few more strokes. Under his big head was a small body with a crutch, and his body was no longer wearing a police uniform, one with a white and one black one. No matter how you look at it, it looks like the clothes worn by a prisoner. Chernenko seemed very satisfied with his work, and a smile appeared on his face.

Markov looked at the smile on Chernenko's face. He knew that his generous speech was completely in vain. He could no longer control his emotions. He picked up the meeting documents in front of him and threw them at Chernenko hard, yelling loudly insulting: "Cherenko, are you TMD listening to me?"

Chernenko looked up at Markov and said indifferently: "Yes, I'm listening, please continue." After that, he continued to do what he was just interested in.

"Then can you put down your damn pen and repeat what I said just now?" Chernenko did not intend to let Chernenko go so easily, he asked Chernenko.

"TMD, GRD, I bought a watch last year or something!" Chernenko said innocently. Several colleagues tried their best to not let themselves laugh, but their trembling shoulders betrayed them. Markov immediately looked at these people fiercely. These people immediately restrained their expressions, but they couldn't control them for a while, which was really uncomfortable.

Markov kicked the conference table, pointed his trembling finger at Chernenko and roared, "Get out immediately, get out!" This roar almost exhausted Markov's physical strength.

At this moment of inextricable moment, the door of the conference room was pushed open, and Markov's secretary walked in with a nervous look on his face. Markov was even more unhappy when he saw that it was his secretary coming in and was about to have an attack. Suddenly, there were a few more people behind the secretary.

"Markov, we belong to the KGB. We need to find out some things to you, and others are leaving here." said the person behind the secretary.

The people in the room quickly left the conference room like a ghost, including Markov's secretary. Chernenko was the last one to leave. Markov no longer cared about Chernenko, and he had already noticed that he was going to be in big trouble soon. He looked at these KGB personnel, with fear and a little flattering expression on his face, and a layer of cold sweat oozed out of his forehead.

"What do you want to know when you look for me?" Markov tried his best to relax himself. He did not dare to look at the KGB's faces.

"Have you written a letter to your son recently? This letter has been intercepted by us. There are some words on it, and we think you are challenging the authority of the leader." said the leader KGB.

"What is it?" Markov felt a little confused.

"Your letter reads, you, a lazy and greedy fat man, knows racing, hunting, and watching movies all day long (Master Bo’s three major hobbies). I really don’t know what God made you live in this world? We think your words are alluding to our respected General Secretary Brezhnev." The KGB replied.

"No, I definitely don't mean that. I'm just teaching my son a lesson in my heart. I'm definitely not suggesting the leader." Markov felt that he was simply wronged, and just because of these few angry words that taught his son a lesson, the KGB actually caused.

No one in the conference room listened to his explanation. A KGB agent took out the handcuffs. Markov suddenly retreated and subconsciously tried to avoid him, but was subdued by the young agent. He handcuffed Markov, and several KGBs drove him out. Markov's face was ashamed and he had no strength to walk.

A middle-aged KGB agent saw Markov at such an old age and felt that she was a little pitiful, so he comforted him and said, "You should feel lucky. If it were in the Stalin era, you would have been shot 100%. Now, at most, you can only stay in Gulag for a few years."
Chapter completed!