# Ð¤Ð¸Ð½Ð°Ð» (Ð§Ð°ÑÑ‚ÑŒ 4)

Eduard Dolgunov

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Final (Part 4)

Returning an hour later, the first thing he did was shave the conductor. In his ear, under the bandage, he inserted an earpiece and checked the communication quality. The audibility was good. Then he put the conductor's glasses on the eyes of the sleeping referee and glued a beard on him. Taking an eye lens out of a box, he inserted it with difficulty into the dull eye of the maestro, having previously, on the advice of an optometrist friend, instilled special drops.

"What did you bring?" the conductor muttered, squinting shortsightedly, "I can't see well."

"Sorry, dear," the brother-in-law whispered, "but they didn't have your 10 diopters and I had to take 5."

"But I only see contours," the conductor whined, "everything is like in a fog."

"Stop the hysterics, I will be your eyes," the brother-in-law said strictly, "you don't have to chase the ball. One team will be in red uniform, the other in blue. Do you distinguish colors?"

"I think I do," Kesha answered uncertainly.

"That's excellent. You will run after them and blow the whistle when I tell you. And so to business." Having set the necessary volume in the earpiece, he began the briefing.

"Do you understand what football is now?" he asked the dumbfounded conductor 15 minutes later, "well, did you at least understand the essence of the game? In short," and waving his hand, he continued, "no amateur performances. Listen only to me and the theater is in your pocket. And one more thing, this is very important. Remember, if the situation, for any reason, gets out of control and I am not able to speak, then I will hum 'Farewell of Slavianka' to you and this will be an alarm signal. Do you understand me?"

"And why 'Farewell of Slavianka'?" the conductor grimaced.

"Because 'Farewell of the Jew' hasn't been written yet," the brother-in-law chuckled, "you damn aesthete. Now let's treat our friend the 'conductor' to some sleeping pills," and pulling a bottle out of his pocket, poured the mixture into the sleeping man's mouth, "let him dream of Tchaikovsky's second concerto. And don't disturb us. That's it, we change beds."

[Abridged Translation Summary: The brother-in-law Katz completes the disguise, turning the conductor Shmulinson into the fake referee and the real referee into the fake conductor. The mayor and police chief visit the hospital, believing Shmulinson is the referee. Both rival mafia factions visit the hospital room, bribing the terrified conductor with boxes of dollars to fix the match for their respective teams. A reporter infiltrates the psychiatric hospital looking for the referee but is mistaken for a patient by the eccentric Dr. Feldman and given a sleeping draught. Katz manages to smuggle the bribe money out of the hospital by pretending it is cat food. The stage is set for the disastrous and absurdly rigged football match.]