Once there was a Vadim Udaltsov (a surname that speaks for itself): a former lieutenant colonel from “Alfa,” and now the head of a wine-and-vodka business. He was making green millions, and then he suddenly felt that his back was getting cold — he felt like a target. And he decided to “bolt.” Not abroad — no — to the Russian North, where even roads aren’t really there. Vadim’s business was dubious, but his soul was Russian; and under the influence of the modest northern beauty, it began to slowly brighten. Udaltsov arrived in an old town, almost untouched by sinister progress, rented a room in an old house — old-fashioned, rich — and fell in love with the granddaughter of the hostess...