„What?” Zargan froze for a moment, and it hit him that he truly didn’t know his father. He simply didn’t know wether his father, a true Chechen, working for the Russian government, could’ve been involved in a murder attempt of a politician.
„Where are you now?”
„I’m in ’Sibirsk, I’m working a case.”
„The insurance investigator, always working cases. Is dad also a case to you?” Zargan felt the mix of anger and frustration change his voice, and he knew he shouldn’t have said that even before finishing the sentence. Only a strange breath sound came as a response, before the line was dropped.
„I’m sorry,” he said to his feet.