Gravilet Tsesarevich. Rybakov V.

Something happened. Not in the "Kingdom of Danish", but in the prosperous, happy Russian constitutional monarchy. Something happened - and continues to happen. And then the investigation of an absurd, seemingly unmotivated sabotage in the gravel of Tsesarevich becomes only the first link in a whole chain of crimes. Crimes of mysterious, mysterious. And then the answers to the questions are much more incredible than the questions themselves. And the still not very prominent seams of Russia are still cracking, in which there was no Bolshevik coup. Only now - wasn't it? Or? After all, no one knows if Zhuang Tzu dreams that he is a butterfly, or a butterfly, that she is Zhuang Tzu? Perhaps this is the real principle of a butterfly?