Original subtitles

Yeah, and then I say, have you seen the phone bill, you silly woman?

Fudge! There's Internet, for God's sake!

Videoconferencing and all...

That's right! And her?

What about her? She spends all day on her phone!

Chatting with some aunt from Zhitomir!

Come on. They are all like that. What do they know, eh?

Where? Here, I think. The map says here, right?

- You mean here? - Yes. Go on!

Here.

Academia

Galina Sumina

Maxim Bityukov

Yelizaveta Lotova, Alexander Konstantinov, Vladimir Yumatov

Alexander Yatsko, Igor Yurtaev, Eric Yaralov

Director of Photography - Dmitriy Konchev. Production designer - David Dadunashvili.

Music by Igor Krestovskiy

Written by Arkadiy Vysotskiy, Vasiliy Abdrashitov.

Directed by Vyacheslav Lavrov, Alexander Sozonov.

Creative producer - Valeriy Kochkin. Executive producer - Oksana Furtseva.

Co-producers - Nelli Yaralova, Roman Atanesyan.

Produced by Alexey Moiseev, Oleg Piganov, Yulia Razumovskaya

Academia

Well, what can I say? Male, Ethiopian.

About 20 years old, 187–190 centimeters tall, physically well-developed.

Staff forensic scientists have already determined that.

The real question is... The sports centre was reconstructed and repaired repeatedly.

For more than half a century...

Well, apparently, someone took advantage of the situation during yet another repair and...

Apparently.

The cost sheet of the work performed and the list of employees at the site have been preserved.

I'll work on that.

And you try to determine the exact death date.

This will help us narrow the circle of suspects.

Right. Judging by the foot X-rays, our deceased ran a lot.

Perhaps he was a professional athlete.

And how about this: our runner died in the Moscow region in the second half of August.

Anastasia Vladimirovna. It has to be him.

Otherwise how does he know all this? Huh, Ed?

Elementary, Shura. Pollen!

You chemists don't understand.

Where did pollen come from?

There were pass-through holes in the wall.

There was brickwork there. And it isn't a concrete monolith.

The corpse was in the constant stream of air coming through these cracks.

The flesh dried up, not having had time to decompose.

There's also plant pollen and other foreign substances.

Oh...

I see. Shurik, what about the clothes?

Polyethylene terephthalate fabric...

What?

Polyethylene terephthalate... Polyester, lavsan.

You anthropologists won't wise up to it.

Guys, to the matter at hand.

To the matter at hand. A tracksuit made of synthetic materials.

Judging by the color, not imported.

OK.

They made sportswear from pure lavsan

at the factory "Mogilevchemfiber" in the late fifties.

Then switched to more modern materials such as nylon.

Wait. What do we have here?

A black runner in a soviet tracksuit?..

Immured in a wall of a sports centre about sixty years ago.

Really strange.

There's nothing strange.

Your mummy was a visitor of the fourth world festival of youth and students.

In the summer of fifty-seven.

- Yeah, uh-huh. - Split.

So, a strong black guy was immured in a wall.

Not voluntarily, of course.

We need a specific "modus operandi".

Well, if he was immured alive, then it's probably asphyxiation. I mean, he suffocated.

And without "probably"?

In half a century, traces of asphyxiation in the tissue completely disappeared.

The occipital bone was crushed.

The blow was probably fatal.

And the type of weapon?

A heavy blunt object.

I'll be more precise when I separate the soft tissue from the skull.

Dr.Lemke, Gnatiuk asked for us...

Go. I'll do it.

Hello.

Kirill, come in! Anastasia, how is it going?

Are you nice to my employees?

I try to be.

Professor, is it something urgent?

I have a personal request. You need a psychologist for the Academy, isn't that right?

Psychologist? Why do we need a psychologist, huh?

Well, it depends what kind of psychologist.

Dr.Rotkin. You must have seen him around.

He occupies the room next to the laboratory.

That's where his practical classes are held.

As well as psychoanalysis and hypnosis demonstration sessions.

And he's like... ummm, right?

Yes. That's him.

He's a doctor?!

I hope his appearance won't confuse you, Kirill..

Are you asking us to accept this, umm... eccentric person into our group?

Do me a favor, okay?

Take a closer look at him, please.

They say he really is a master of his craft.

Viktoria, with all due respect, I'm recruiting staff myself and I won't tolerate string-pulling.

Kirill, what string-pulling?

Such a specialist doesn't need string-pulling! He is a real Prize. Do you understand?

But that's not why you're putting him forward?

Do you always have to look for a hidden agenda?

You said it yourself: this is your personal request.

OK, you got me! Fine.

Here's the story. Doctor complains about you being noisy...

Let him find another room.

He won't go anywhere. He's stubborn.

Actually, he really likes it when you're quiet.

Says such atmosphere sets his patients in the right mood.

"Memento Mori," as he put it.

So let him enjoy it. Earplugs will help with the noise.

He's always playing his music at a deafening volume. He's a fine one to talk.

He isn't talking. He's raging.

Confrontational?

High-conflict.

He's threatening to file a complaint with the administration. But I found a compromise solution!

To dump him into our team, huh?

Not dump, Kirill.

Attach him to the team. Feel the difference?

I think the role of a forensic psychology expert would be very suitable for him.

Questions?

- No questions. - Don't let me keep you.

Have a nice day.

Goodbye, Viktoria!

Anastasia Vladimirovna.

Well, in a nutshell, my tasks include examination of remains in case...

Stuff experts can't manage.

So, are you, like, the smartest guy there?

Yeah, kind of.

And the most humble one.

No reason to be humble!

Exactly.

Kirill is doing useful work! He's helping people!

Well, unfortunately, it's too late for some people.

Like today, there was this case.

During the reconstruction of Luzhniki, workers found a dried body in the wall.

Let's not talk about this at the table.

Wait... So he was killed and immured?

Poor guy spent over half a century in the wall.

Since 57.

Dear God. So who did it?

We don't know that. Yet.

We only know that he was a participant of the festival of youth and students.

A black athlete.

Tell grandma about your school. She's much more interested in that.

School is fine.

Andrey, do you remember the year 57? The whole country was going crazy!

What was going on?

Foreigners came to Moscow.

From over a hundred countries, I think?

- So what? - What do you mean - so what?

Until 1957 no one was allowed to visit the USSR. Well, almost no one!

The Iron Curtain!

And then - thousands of people from another world!

It seemed like some kind of miracle to us.

New faces, new culture, right?

There was this girl next door.

- She went to Moscow, to that festival. - There you go.

Then gave birth to a black baby.

How?

Ahem. OK, Fedya. Tell us about school.

What about it? No D's or C's.

Good morning everyone!.. Where is everyone?

Out, should be back soon.

Huh.

Oh! Thanks for the coffee.

Yeah, I decided to buy everyone a delicious morning latte.

Ooh...

Awesome.

Thanks.

Really, it's awesome.

He looks like Eddie Murphy. But this one is somewhat sad...

Show some respect for the deceased. What they did to him is terrible!

Young lady!

Don't scold the boy. He simply uses humor as a protective response.

That's right. I'm sorry, who are you?

Dr.Rotkin. Looking for Dr.Lemke.

You're a doctor?!

I am. A therapist.

Huh. Dr.Lemke and Anastasia Vladimirovna went to the IC.

Well, you can wait, of course, if you want.

I do. I do, I'll wait...

And you, I beg your pardon...

I'm Oksa.

Oksa, short for Oksana. Pleased to meet you.

I'm Ed.

Arkadiy. Arkadiy.

Is this your creation?

Yes.

Interesting. Interesting...

You know what, young man? You picked the wrong time to pursue the girl.

Why is that?

If you look at the result of her work from a scientific point of view, you can say the following:

Oksana is now at a crossroads.

She's experiencing a very difficult moment of her biography.

As she has problems in her personal life.

She's impulsive, prone to mood swings.

Are you done?

No. I must say she's a sensitive kind, prefers to hide her emotions.

Now I'm done.

The deceased came from Chad. His name is François Mundu.

From a rich and wealthy family of diplomats. Athlete, Sorbonne student.

It says here that he was supposed to return to his homeland in late 1957.

But he didn't, so he was declared missing.

Uh-huh.

During the festival, he showed himself to be open,

progressive-minded and politically competent.

He correctly assessed the CPSU struggle for world peace.

I completely forgot all this Soviet stuff.

Maybe the academy should hire a historian?

Yeah. We'll gather minds for all occasions.

Gnatiuk probably has a whole squad under her desk.

She already suggested some psychologist.

So what? Maybe we could use a psychologist.

Yes... But first we need to talk to him somehow.

God knows who she picked for us. Preposterous.

A compromise solution...

Kirill, do you want ice cream?

What?

Well, ice cream... Do you like it?

I'm indifferent to it.

Oh. And cookies?

I baked them myself. Oatmeal.

Really? You know, I can't stand this stuff.

Sorry. I don't mean you're a bad cook. I just... don't like it.

I see. I wonder what this psychologist is like.

You know, I like this mummy story.

Interesting times.

Moscow festival of youth and students...

I don't remember it, obviously. I wasn't born yet.

But my parents told me...

There were militsiya everywhere back then.

The majority of the population was very friendly toward those who came to the festival.

But robbers, they have their own rules.

A well-dressed foreigner could get robbed, even beaten.

There were Soviet coins in the mummy's pockets and a "Slava" watch on his wrist.

Apparently, a gift. So I doubt it was a robbery.

And what if our mummy was the victim of the struggle beween internal political elites in Chad?

Back at the time in Chad there was a struggle for independence from France.

And the society was strongly polarized.

You just sparkle with erudition!

I do my best…

You said this guy was from a wealthy family, studied at the Sorbonne? Right?

Right.

And what if his family was against autonomy?

And in conflict with the supporters of the future President

Ngarta Tombalbaye, who was gaining power at the time?

You have a new version every minute.

I don't want to upset you, but there's only one person reponsible for versions here.

Don't try to infringe her power. She'll kill you right there.

Oh Kirill... Why do you hate me so much?

I love you.

You promised me oatmeal cookies.

You hate oatmeal cookies.

Forget oatmeal cookies.

All I'm saying is, everyone should stick to their work.

Our work is evidence analysis.

Analysis is a good thing. But why not try to interpret this evidence in your own way?

If there's an opportunity to formulate a good interesting version, a beautiful idea.

Especially if it doesn't contradict the data?

A beautiful idea always contradicts the data.

Ah, so you're a materialist?

About halfway.

Well then, don't be shy. What are your ideas?

Why did they kill our poor African friend?

God knows why! It could even be cherchez la femme.

I'm sorry, Nastya, he forced me.

I did it under hypnosis.

Right. Kirill... Why not?

Internationalism is good, of course.

But if he actually picked someone's Russian girl,

he could easily have gotten a blow to his head for that.

Kirill Andreyevich, Ed and I found something.

Finally.

This is a flight ticket to Paris. The names on it are François Mundu and one Irma Myakinen.

With the passport details. I found this in our mummy's stomach.

Why wasn't it digested, eww.

Yes, because when a person dies, digestion stops.

So François ate these tickets right before his death?

Yes. That's right.

Congratulations, Doctor!

It was your version that worked out.

Well, friends? Let's look for the hot Finnish girl Myakinen!

By the way, Myakinen means «Living on the hill»!

This is very bad.

What is?

The fact that Irma Myakinen is a very common name.

There are over a hundred of them here. Besides, she may no longer be alive.

She's nearly eighty!

Nope!

Our Irma is alive. And well.

Lives in Helsinki.

By the way, there's her home address, also her e-mail.

And there's her phone number... and Skype.

How did you find all this?

Asked my grandpa.

He kept resisting, of course, but I pushed a little...

So here's the result. He loves me very much.

Is he Hottabych?

Sure.

Also a retired KGB colonel.

There's our Irma. She's offline though.

Your office is ready, by the way.

Let's go take a look.

OK.

Well, here it is. Come in.

There was an unoccupied room here. Viktoria allowed to occupy it...

Well, naturally, we cleaned it up. What do you think, eh?

What do I think? I had a desk in the common room at the IC!

And here – a whole office.

And the view!

Yes... Well, we tried to make it cozy for you.

I like it. Thank you.

Still working?

Uh-huh.

Here.

You'll run yourself ragged. You need to learn how to relax.

Nastya... Nastya...

Toot!.. This is Earth... Toot!.. This is Earth!.. Earth calling for Nastya!

It's nearly midnight on the planet Earth!

Don't disturb me, please. I can miss very important information.

What is it you're searching for?

An article about track and field.

Preferably with a picture.

With an African American in it.

International student team defeats Metrostroy combined team.

This guy?

I think so.

- Yelizaveta Nikolayevna? - Yes.

- Hello. - Hello.

Thank you.

I apologize for making you come here.

Sure. That's fine. I'm glad I got out of the house.

Let's go.

- Are you counselor Zorina? - Yes.

So young...

Thanks. Please.

Maybe some sugar?

No, thank you.

Yelizaveta Nikolayevna, don't get nervous.

This is not an interrogation. This is just a conversation.

Fine.

As far as I know, you were part of Metrostroy team in the year 1957.

Yes. I was captain.

And you played against François Mundu's team?

Yes. He was a talented athlete.

Do you remember Irma Myakinen?

Yes. I remember her well. She was a shot putter.

Is it possible that François and Irma had an affair?

I doubt it.

Why? He asked her to go to Paris with him.

Really? I wasn't aware.

In fact, all our girls really liked Mundu.

But he only courted Valya.

Do you have any idea who might have killed him?

No! I can't even imagine who could wish him such evil.

This Valya, how do we find her?

Valya married a guy from their crew.

Andrey Prikhodko.

Well, the festival was over. The guests left.

We also parted ways.

So I don't know where to find her.

Thanks. I have one last question.

I have a list of those admitted to work on the construction site.

Valentina, Andrey and you are on this list.

There are also foreign students.

- Irma Myakinen. And François Mundu. - Uh-huh.

Tell me, was it obligatory?

It was called labor force.

It was voluntary, but no one shirked.

The trade union committee and the Komsomol committee really encouraged this event.

Because it corresponded to the spirit of internationalism and mutual understanding between nations.

Thank you, Yelizaveta Nikolayevna.

Valentina?

Hello.

My name is Dr.Lemke. I'd like to...

She's not going to reply.

Valentina Alexeyevna suffered a severe stroke.

She never recovered her speech, unfortunately.

Sorry. I didn't know.

Yes. Poor woman. Completely confined to bed.

God bless her relatives. They visit regularly.

Both husband and son.

Interesting. She has a very lively look.

It's cozy here.

Your nurse says you're not very talkative.

Can you hear me?

I see. Sorry for bothering you.

Come on, dear. Let it dissolve, sweetie, let it dissolve. Let's try harder.

Shurik and I have reconstructed François's death. And determined the murder weapon.

- This is a framing... - Hammer.

So someone lured the guy into the sports centre, which was under construction,

hit him in the head from behind with this hammer and immured the body in the brickwork.

He wasn't robbed or beaten, he didn't have enemies either.

Sviridova would have remembered. Is this really politics?

François is just a student. Why would they get rid of him?

Especially in the USSR?

Let's talk to Valentina's husband. They're from the same clique anyway.

We've reached Irma.

Wow!

Great, hurry!

You see, I'm fascinated with the history of the Soviet Union.

I'm now working on a novel,

where the events unfold during the Moscow festival in the year 1957.

Oh yes. You know, I was a participant of this festival!

I know, I know. That's why I'm calling you.

It was such an event...

The Internationale, new friends from all over the world...

You even had guys from Africa there.

Like that runner from Chad, for example...

Who?

François Mundu. Remember him?

I checked the old newspapers, turns out,

he was almost captain of your team...

I don't know. Maybe.

I'm sorry, this isn't a good time.

Goodbye.

I didn't understand anything. But she looked upset.

Yes, she did.

That's me here. Valya.

Irma, and that's François.

François was killed in the autumn of 1957.

And recently we found his body immured in a wall on the territory of Luzhniki.

François?

Is that why you called me?

I'm afraid it is.

I loved Valiusha since we were schoolchildren.

When she started dating François, I was so jealous.

But she was so happy with him!

That I made my peace with it.

I won't lie, I had no warm feelings for François.

I even wanted to clean his clock.

For what?

He swept Valya off her feet.

And then dumped her.

Anyway, I was supporting Valya.

And our friendship grew into love.

We had a son. Alyosha.

I'm sorry. And Valya, Valya...

And Valya suffered a severe stroke fifteen years ago.

Can you tell me what caused the stroke?

She had problems... with blood vessels.

Well, among other things, our son Alyosha wrote us on his way back from a voyage, I'm coming home soon, wait for me.

We'll celebrate my wedding.

Then he arrived and said, there'd be no wedding.

And went on another voyage right away.

Valya was upset. She had been looking forward to that wedding.

She somehow found out that girl's address, so she went there.

When she returned, she took to her bed, and two days later she had a stroke.

I'm going to ask you not to leave the city.

Well, I have nowhere to go.

I must stay with Valya.

Looks like we're stuck.

Yes, Prikhodko had a motive, an opportunity.

They were both training at the same stadium.

He is from Metrostroy, his first profession is a house painter.

Besides, Mundu knew him very well.

And he had an opportunity to lure François into a secluded place.

Hit him from behind and immure him in the wall.

Now try to prove all that.

After so many years.

All evidence is circumstantial, and the motive is still strange.

Judging by the photos, Valentina was a beautiful girl.

She must've had a lot of admirers, suitors.

So what, each of them was supposed to get hit in his head and stuffed into a wall?

Tell me, doc, can you determine an early stage of pregnancy from a photograph?

Well, it depends on the stage... In the case of Valentina and François, definitely not.

Mundu arrived in early July. Was killed in early September.

Even if Valya got pregnant with him...

It was an early stage. You can't tell from the pictures.

But the baby was born white! Which means, he's Andrey's.

And our Mundu guy has nothing to do with it.

But what does it prove?

Look, a girl is dating two guys.

At some point she realizes that she got knocked up.

And it's the year 57.

There's no ultrasound.

So no one can estimate the exact date of conception.

She could have thought that the father was Mundu.

Andriusha found out and grabbed a hammer!

Mind you! The fact that Alexey's son is white doesn't prove anything.

It's classic genetics, guys. The laws of Mendel and Morgan.

Prikhodko has a different personality type.

He is clearly a phlegmatic. No neurotic, not a psychopath.

It's very difficult to throw him off balance or bring him to the affective state.

He can kill defending himself, protecting his family. In battle, at war.

Or protecting a victim, for instance.

Imagine that Valya tells Mundu about her pregnancy.

And he's going to elope to Paris with that Finnish girl!

So Valya asks Andrey to take revenge. But Andrey defends the victim.

Then why did he eat the ticket? If he was going to Paris with the Finnish girl?

It would help if we found out who the father is.

I think that the version Oksa and I had...

What? It's my version!

Ooh…

Got it?

OK! Oksa's version is very easy to check with the help of the same genetic laws.

Even if the son is white, the recessive gene will surely show up in the third generation.

So we have to find out whether Alexey Prikhodko has children?

And what their color is.

We know that Alexey was going to get married.

Then suddenly changed his mind.

Maybe he changed his mind because his fiancee had a black baby?

He thought she'd cheated on him. Didn't tell his parents.

But his mother found out anyway and got it right.

Thus her stroke.

Anyway, I didn't get through to Alexey. I contacted Andrey.

He said Alexey is on some training ship in the Sea of Okhotsk.

With cadets.

Can't we get in touch with them?

No. They'll only be able to communicate in a couple of days.

When they enter a port. And now there's a storm, all hands on deck.

We'll have to wait, we have no one else to ask.

Yeah.

Listen, what do you think of Dr.Rotkin? He seems cool.

Dr.Lemke doesn't think so. Won't stop picking on poor guy...

Maybe he's just jealous?

Of whom?

Of whom? You and Doc Rock. That's the nickname we gave him. Doc Rock.

Me?

Yeah.

Well, he... Doc is quite courteous...

He was when we met. Maybe that made Lemke jealous?

Why would Dr.Lemke be jealous of me? He has a family, a child.

What about the oatmeal cookies?

What do the oatmeal cookies have to do with it?

Well, what he said? "I love you. You promised me oatmeal cookies."

Oksa, what are you implying?

We were just talking about oatmeal cookies, that's it.

Yes. It happens.

Not in a hurry to go home, huh?

My parents are visiting.

And I'm not in the mood for a long table talk. They go to bed, then I'll go.

Then maybe we'll take a look at Oksa's reconstruction?

Fine.

Interesting young lady. A real find for a psychoanalyst.

Really?

Nice job, by the way.

What do you think happened to that hammer afterwards?

I don't know. The bandit wiped the blood off and threw it away.

Threw it where?

Well, I don't know. Into the window.

If Oksa's reconstruction is anything to go by, this is the dead end of the corridor.

There are no windows here.

Well, on the floor then. The body is immured, and there are lots of hammers lying around the construction site.

But it's rather strange from a psychological point of view.

To immure the body carefully, remove traces of the crime, and then throw the murder weapon on the floor?

I don't believe it.

I don't know. I, for one, would've thrown it on the floor.

The builders will come, pick it up and put it to work.

And this hammer will be lost in a million of others.

I would've immured it along with the body.

Well, we found the body. No hammer, just the mummy.

Did you look for the hammer? How did this hammer thing even come up?

You made a suggestion about the cause of death and the murder weapon.

I'm calling Zorina.

Are you sure you have to do that?

Have some decency, Kirill. The lady has the right to privacy.

Well, yes. After all, the hammer has been lying for half a century, it can lie until tomorrow.

Uh-huh.

And what if Andrey killed the African guy? He knows where the hammer is.

They took the body, wrapped the crime scene in plastic and went home.

Yeah. And there's only external security there.

Some old man with a whistle. Nibbling on sunflower seeds and watching hockey.

Yeah, anyone can just come in, take whatever they want and go.

No one will even notice!

I'm calling Zorina. We need to collect the evidence while it's still there.

Kirill, I don't understand your motives. Is it personal?

You're a doctor. You shouldn't be interested in all this police fuss.

I think you should regard everything that's happening here

with healthy cynicism of a surgeon.

Why are you doing this anyway?

You know, they asked for my help, so I'm helping.

Maybe who asked you is much more important to you

than the fact that you were asked?

Sorry. I'm not following.

Why are you so interested in the fate of some

mummy that lay in a wall for fifty years?

You're willing to do god knows what instead of spending all this time with your family.

Or do you simply need an excuse?

What excuse, do you think I want to suck up to someone?

Well, not suck up, maybe, but do a service?

A service?

Well, we're adults.

Kirill, do you like Nastya?

She is good-looking. She is smart. She is honest.

And the fact that she's smart and honest is much more important than the fact that she's good-looking.

God damn it, I think you also need a therapist, eh?

Really? Well, let's get going.

Where?

To Luzhniki! Let's violate the instructions, fool the guards and serve a beautiful lady!

Have you ridden anything like this?

No.

This is my first time as well.

Hold it.

Are you sure it won't fall apart on the move, eh?

We'll see! Be not aftaid, I'm brave by nature.

Listen, let's get on a first name basis, eh?

Fine, fine. Just go slowly, okay?

OK. I'll try.

You're buying me champagne, brother!

Just admit that you put it here.

A cynic and a nerd. And girls love romantic and funny guys. Here you go.

OK, will you change the subject already?

Let's go.

- Hi. - Hi.

What happened?

Nothing. We just got a reason to drop in.

It couldn't wait until tomorrow?

Of course it could. I told him, maybe tomorrow?

And he was like - no, today. I must, I have to.

Is this a joke, guys?

We found something important.

Ooh! Hi.

Are you Kirill? Nice to meet you. I'm Olya, the little sister.

Nastya told me so much about you.

Arkadiy.

Nice to meet you, Arkadiy.

Said hello? Now go to bed. It's about work.

Kirill, where is your wife?

- Olya. - Did you ask her permission to leave?

I... I... I mean, I...

Wait, I... I don't get it. Are you guys drunk?

Not yet! But we have the stuff with us.

Yeah, this really isn't a good time...

Come on, enough hiding! Give the trophy here!

Here.

What is this?

Evidence. Or, to be precise, the murder weapon.

I figured we should take it before Prikhodko thinks of it.

By the way, Nastya, how about oatmeal cookies?

Kirill says you have reserves here.

That's so cute! You baked cookies for Kirill?

Good morning.

Good morning.

Working hard, I see.

Yep.

Anyway, I lifted fingerprints. Here's the catch.

The fingerprints stayed on the hammer. After fifty years.

Most likely, at the time of the murder

a layer of cement dust mixed with sweat on the hammer.

Anyway, all fingerprints were preserved.

Here are the fingerprints of our villain.

Let me see.

What is it you have there?

And these are Prikhodko's fingerprints.

Where did you get them?

I take fingerprints from all my suspects.

I don't know. I think these are different fingers.

There's a double loop on Prikhodko's index finger. And here there's none.

OK, this is impossible.

We have a computer! Where's Oksa?

Who do we need a computer?

You can see with your naked eye that the fingerprints are different.

Here, this one and this one, for instance, look. Different.

Oksa "is not available".

Yesterday she went home, wanted to try contacting

Alexey Prikhodko with the help of some radio amateurs on the Internet.

I remembered something, look, I've only got three fingers here.

The little finger is missing.

So the murderer was holding the hammer, deliberately sticking out their little finger.

It's weird, don't you think? No one holds a hammer like that.

A shot glass maybe!

But definitely not a hammer.

Yes. We need Oksa. She has some kind of feature that models the bend of a wrist.

She also wanted to go to Andrey's place yesterday.

In case he remembers the name of his son's bride. I talked her out of it.

Hey, hey, hey.

What if he... with a hammer as well?

Shut up!

Hey.

Oksa, where have you been?

We're all going crazy here.

Not all, mind you.

I don't get it. What's going on here?

It's all right, I'm here. I just stayed long at Prikhodko's.

Then I spent, like, half the night trying to reach Kamchatka.

I found some mad radio operators on the Kuril Islands, who

tried to find his ship via emergency frequencies.

But there are mufflers everywhere. Couldn't get through.

Nothing with Prikhodko Sr. as well.

He has no grandchildren, his son never got married.

I have another task for you. Here are Prikhodko's fingerprints.

And here are the fingerprints from the murder weapon. Compare them.

Also try to model the palm from the handle of the murder weapon.

No matches found.

Told you!

Our killer is missing a finger. That's right. Look.

It's impossible to stick out a finger so that a fingertip doesn't touch the handle.

Look. Well, of course.

Colleague, you owe me another bottle!

Well, you aren't lucky, my friend, when it comes to love or betting.

- Just a second. - You have some work to do on yourself.

Mrs.Myakinen, we know you killed François Mundu.

My client intends to wait for the verification of the evidence provided.

You know perfectly well, Irma, that this is just a delay.

We found your fingerprints on the murder weapon.

Besides, we have a flight ticket to France.

For you and François.

I think you have something to tell us. Now's the time.

Mrs.Myakinen won't be talking to you.

You can address me.

Irma, how did you live with it all these years?

You loved that guy. Why did you do it?

Who do you think you are?! Show some respect!

My client is an elderly woman! She wouldn't hurt a fly!

Please, stop!

She's right.

Mrs.Myakinen, not a word. We'll discuss everything privately.

No.

I'm tired of living with it.

I have no idea how she knows all this...

I did love François.

But when we came to Moscow, François met Valya...

And got a crush on her.

Everyone in our crew admired their beautiful romance.

You were jealous.

Of course.

They wanted to get married, but back then it was impossible

for a Soviet girl to get a permission to marry a foreigner.

Then François had an idea.

My features are similar to Valya's.

Valya would take my passport and leave with him.

And I would declare the loss of the document later.

Excellent plan. Isn't it?

And you agreed to help?

Not really. I had a plan of my own.

I was going to report to KGB.

This is what I pictured.

They detain Valya right at the airport and send her to prison.

François gets expelled from the USSR.

Then I comfort him.

And François comes back to me...

But something went wrong?

Right before their departure, François decided to stay in the USSR.

He apologized to me, gave me back my passport.

I threatened to expose him.

And François?

He grabbed the ticket, crumpled it and swallowed it.

Then I lost it, grabbed a hammer...

Anyway, Arkadiy, what made you realize that Irma was the killer?

It's pretty simple.

All my conclusions are based on psychological

profiles and the resulting "Modus operandi".

In this case, it was the character's ability

to switch abruptly from positive to negative.

Well, you rememer Irma's behavior during our Skype chat.

At first everything was nice and wonderful.

I reminded her of her youth and all, the festival, the amazing events...

Then I asked her a question about François. And suddenly she changed.

Well, that's true. There was no transition, not a second of confusion.

Instant transformation into cold rage.

Her personality type is paranoid.

Well, there was also some circumstantial evidence.

Actually, Oksana's reconstruction helped a lot.

I made the only possible conclusion in this situation.

Our criminal is an absolute pedant.

And does everything with paranoid meticulousness.

Irma was capable of such a murder. Prikhodko wasn't.

Prikhodko could only resent and threaten. Maybe punch the guy in the face.

But Irma with her personality type, yes. She was capable.

Of hitting a man in the back of his head with a hammer.

Hello, my name is Katya.

I came to see my grandma. I've never seen her...

Grandma?!

Yeah. Alexey must acknowledge his daughter now.

And maybe reunite with his fiancee. Whom he can't blame for anything.

The dark-skinned girl is not the result of betrayal,

but one hundred percent scientific confirmation of fidelity.

According to Mendel's laws.

Dr.Rotkin, you're officially part of the team!

I don't support any kind of protégé, but this time I decided to change sides.

It was the last staff position allocated to the team by the IC.

There won't be any more positions.

Actually, I wanted a graphologist on the team.

And I wanted a dog handler. With a cute doggy. Woof!

Also, having a professional trasologist wouldn't hurt.

We could learn a lot from them, by the way.

Hello!

I would like a ballistician. With an arsenal of test weapons...

I love shooting!

Yesterday over a pool game, Arkadiy,

without any microscopes or gas analyzers, located the key evidence.

But that's not the most important thing.

The most important thing is that he figured out the killer by personality type.

I think he will be indispensable for the academy!

How about asking me?

I love to win a bet, of course, I like the complany.

But I'm not going to make a deal with that schemer Gnatiuk.

If they're only hiring me because you need to solve your problem with the office...

You shouldn't count on me, my friends.

It's not about the office. But I think I'll speak for the team.

You belong in the academy.

And I promise that I will keep the noise level in check during your sessions.

Fine. You don't have to persuade me.

Besides, there's never a dull moment with you.

I suggest we celebrate this with a cup of fragrant coffee.

Dig in!

Thank you.

Cheers, academicians.

- Cheers. - Yippee!