The Killer Rebrov Analysis

3. The killer Rebrov Rebrov woke up, as always too early, it was not yet six. Whenever he went to bed, sober or more often drunk, he woke up at this time, and did not know where to put himself, especially recent years. He slid down from the wide bed and stepping over thick carpet went to the door. Passing by the high mirror, he glanced with no particular interest at his bare thirty-five-year lean and sinewy body. Without closing the door behind him in the toilet, he began to urinate, carefully examining the brown puddle in a toilet bowl. This morning it was almost of brick color, whether from the drugs or from the disease itself. Then for the first time in a day he cautiously,
From the second floor of his mansion he could see the far woods turning yellow, the milky clouds running in the dim morning sky. It distracted somehow his mind from the troubles, and he recalled yesterday's telephone conversation. Telephone rang late at night when he was sitting with the girl at TV set. That was Levko, the President of the bank, his partner, though formally Rebrov was his subordinate. After some standard polite words Levko asked, “Can you drop to me around one o’clock? We can have lunch
Bye.” Rebrov owned half of their bank, more precisely forty-nine percent; the remaining percentages were Levko’s. Levko was the President, and Rebrov was a chief of the bank’s security service. He didn’t care about more prestigious or sonorous positions, and has been bank’s head watchdog already for ten years. Rebrov began to turn over in his mind what else could happen, bad or dangerous, to their bank, or rather to his money. From the recent world financial crisis their bank got out plucked of thousands of unreturned credits, with great losses by depreciated shares in their portfolio, and with huge debts in dollars to foreign banks. Moreover, they were recently caught by Central bank authorities with factual criminal money-laundering business. If they will take away the banking license, it will be finishing smash for the bank and Rebrov’s millions. He always kept all his money in this single bank: twenty million dollars in the beginning, ten years ago. But how much of it was still there? He never understood the bank’s mechanics, and reckoned it should be still there in some vaults, but always felt with dread, it was not so. “And where’s Levko’s money?” Rebrov pondered. “Out in off-shores, and Switzerland.