A keepsake photo

Dubin was sitting in the kitchen of his small St. Petersburg apartment, calmly drinking Sunday morning coffee and looking at some information on an old laptop. The doorbell rings. Thunder looked in. Must be for some documents on a new case? Very unexpected. Does this person ever rest at all? He works even on weekends and for a few pennies. Although it is worth noting that for Igor, finding his colleague's apartment was still an adventure. How does he navigate in space at all? By card? Or does he have some kind of miraculous echolocation ability? Otherwise, it must be a shame to be a simple cop in a superhero universe. Dubin put on a sleeping slipper with a light gesture of his foot and walked to the front door. “Who's there?”What is it?" he asked. And then again and again, until finally I heard the answer, muffled by the thick door and the barking of Dima's dog. And the truth is Thunder. Dima opens the door and the dog rushes to lick Igor from head to toe, although this is a strong word, since this “dog” is not capable of licking anything above the ankles. — Do you have a dog? Igor asks in surprise when he realizes exactly what kind of piece of trichobezoar has just attacked him. Dima just picks up the dog and says that “yes”, they say, “there is” and why did Igor honor him with his presence at such an early hour today and even on a weekend, because all normal people sleep off at this time, even if it's one o'clock in the afternoon. And Igor came to drink friendly tea and casually pick up the remaining documents on Razumovsky. Dubin had to put the kettle on. While the kettle was boiling, he finished his coffee so that he could drink tea. The kettle is boiling. Mugs, spoons, tea bags and sugar cubes - all this was disintegrated into two and put on the table as soon as possible. At this time, Thunder was squeezing Dima's shih tzu, saying, “Well, what kind of dog are you? If you're a dog, then I'm a general.” However, Zyuzya was still a dog, and Grom was not even a lieutenant colonel. — What are you doing? – Igor throws looking into the open laptop. Dima hesitated a little, thinking what to answer and what to come up with if, after all, the option of “saying it as it is” disappears. As a result, I said it as it is. — I'm trying to figure out my pedigree, it's very entertaining. — And why would you do that? Thunder raises a friendly eyebrow. — Well, how is it? Do you know a lot about your family? Igor seems to be thinking. — All I know is that my mother died, and my father... died a little later. — I'm sorry. And I don't know anything about my father at all. — Doesn't he live in Kirov? I remember you saying something like that. Did you take time off to come to his anniversary? — Well, yes, I did, but as it turned out, it's not really my father. Mom says he was killed on a mission. I was able to find his sister. Dubin unfolded the laptop on which the vmeste profile of a middle–aged woman was open. – Margarita Pavlovna Smirnova. I'm thinking of writing it. Igor had seen a lot of Smirnovs in his work, but the woman on the screen vaguely reminded him of someone, even though Grom was sure that he had never seen this lady before. Some features of the face seemed familiar to him. — Is there no photo of the father himself? Dubin nodded and took a quarter-folded piece of paper out of his pocket. The time-stained photograph showed two men in uniform. Dima pointed at one of them. — This one. — I get it.… The other one is my father...