by Arkady
“What are you doing here this early?” he asked when he came closer. “Thanks, dear,” he called to the waitress, “I don’t need anything.” And then, again addressing Redrick, “Haven’t seen you in ages. Where have you been hiding? What have you been doing with yourself?”
“Not much …” said Redrick without enthusiasm. “This and that.”
He watched as Noonan, fussy and meticulous as always, settled on the chair across from him, his plump little hands pushing the napkin holder to one side and the sandwich plate to the other; and he listened as he chattered amicably. “You look kind of beat—not getting enough sleep? You know, I’ve been run off my feet myself with the new machinery, but sleep—no, my friend, sleep’s the first thing, screw the machinery …” He suddenly looked around. “Pardon me, maybe you’re waiting for someone? Am I bothering you?”
“No, no …” said Redrick listlessly. “I just had a bit of time, thought I’d at least have a cup of coffee.”
“All right, I won’t keep you long,” Dick said and looked at his watch. “Listen, Red, why don’t you drop your this and your that and come back to the Institute? You know they’d take you back in a second. They just got a new Russian, want to work with him?”
Redrick shook his head. “No,” he said, “the next Kirill hasn’t been born yet. Besides, there’s nothing for me to do at your Institute. It’s all automated now, the robots go into the Zone, the robots, I suppose, also get the bonuses. And lab assistant salary—that won’t even cover my tobacco …”
Noonan disagreed. “Come on, that could all be sorted out.”
“And I don’t like it when other people sort things out for me,” said Redrick. “I’ve been sorting things out myself my whole life and plan to continue that way.”
“You’ve gotten proud,” Noonan said reproachfully.
“I’m not proud. I just don’t like counting pennies, that’s all.”
“Well, you’ve got a point,” said Noonan absentmindedly. He glanced casually at Redrick’s briefcase sitting on the nearby chair and rubbed his finger over the silver plating with the Cyrillic engraving. “That’s exactly right. A man needs money in order to never think about it … A present from Kirill?” he asked, nodding at the briefcase.
“My inheritance,” said Redrick. “Why haven’t I seen you at the Borscht lately?”
“More like I haven’t seen you,” said Noonan. “I almost always eat dinner there; here at the Metropole everything costs an arm and a leg … Listen,” he said suddenly, “how are you doing for money?”
“Want to borrow some?” asked Redrick.
“On the contrary.”
“Then you want to lend some.”
“There’s work,” said Noonan.
“Oh God!” said Redrick. “Not you, too!”
“Who else?” Noonan asked immediately.
“Oh, there are a lot of you … employers.”
Noonan, as if he just understood, started laughing. “No, no, this isn’t related to your primary career.”
“Then what?”
Noonan checked his watch again. “Listen,” he said, getting up. “Drop by the Borscht today at lunchtime, around one. We’ll talk.”
“I might not make it by one,” said Redrick.
“Then in the evening, around six. All right?”
“We’ll see,” said Redrick and also checked his watch. It was five to nine.
Noonan waved and toddled off to his Peugeot. Redrick watched him leave, called the waitress, asked for a pack of Lucky Strikes, paid the bill, and, picking up his briefcase, walked leisurely across the street to the hotel. The sun was already hot, the street was rapidly becoming muggy, and Redrick’s eyes were starting to sting. He squeezed them shut, regretting that he didn’t have the chance to nap before this important deal. And then it happened.
He had never felt this outside of the Zone, and even in the Zone it had only happened two or three times. Suddenly, he seemed to be in another world. A million smells assaulted him at once—smells that were sharp, sweet, metallic; dangerous, caressing, disturbing; as immense as houses, as tiny as dust particles, as rough as cobblestones, and as delicate and intricate as watch gears. The air turned hard, it appeared to have surfaces, corners, edges, as if space had been filled with huge coarse spheres, polished pyramids, and gigantic prickly crystals, and he was forced to make his way through all this, as if in a dream, pushing through a dark antique shop full of ancient misshapen furniture … This only lasted a moment. He opened his eyes, and everything disappeared. This wasn’t another world—it was his same old world turning an unfamiliar side toward him, revealing it for an instant, then immediately sealing it off, before he even had the chance to investigate.
An irritated horn blared in his ear; Redrick sped up, then broke into a run, only stopping next to the hotel wall. His heart was racing, so he put down his briefcase, impatiently tore open a pack of cigarettes, and lit up. He was inhaling deeply, resting, as if after a fight, and the policeman on beat walked up and asked anxiously, “Mister, would you like some help?”
“N-no,” Redrick forced out the word, then coughed. “It’s a bit stuffy …”
“Would you like me to walk with you?”
Redrick bent down and picked up his briefcase. “I’m fine now,” he said. “Nothing to worry about, buddy. Thank you.”
He quickly walked toward the door, went up the stairs, and came into the lobby. It was cool, dim, and full of echoes. He would have liked to sit in one of the gigantic leather armchairs, come to his senses, and catch his breath, but he was already late. He only let himself finish his cigarette, watching the people around him through half-closed eyes. Bony was already here, looking irritated and rifling through the magazines at the newsstand. Redrick threw the cigarette butt into a trash can and got into the elevator.
He didn’t close the door in time, and a few people squeezed in next to him: a fat man breathing asthmatically, an overperfumed woman with a sullen boy munching a chocolate bar, and a heavy old lady with a badly shaved chin. Redrick was squished into a corner. He closed his eyes so he wouldn’t have to see the boy, whose mouth was dripping with chocolate saliva but whose face was fresh, pure, without a single hair; so he wouldn’t have to see his mother, whose meager bust was adorned with a necklace of black sparks, set in silver; and so he wouldn’t have to see the bulging sclerotic eyes of the fat man and the repulsive warts on the old woman’s bloated mug. The fat man tried to light a cigarette, but the old lady tore into him and continued berating him until the fifth floor, where she got off; and as soon as she got off, the fat man finally lit up, looking like a man who had defended his rights, and then immediately began to cough, wheezing and gasping, extending his lips like a camel, and jabbing Redrick in the ribs with his elbow.
On the eighth floor Redrick got off and, in order to let off some steam, loudly and emphatically declared, “Screw you, you old unshaven hag, and same to you, coughing cretin, and you, you reeking broad with your snotty, chocolate-covered punk, go to hell!”
Then he walked on the plush carpet along the hallway, which was bathed in the cozy light of hidden lamps. Here, it smelled like fancy tobacco, Parisian perfumes, gleaming leather wallets overstuffed with banknotes, expensive call girls worth five hundred a night, and massive gold cigar cases. It stank of vulgarity, of the foul scum that had grown on the Zone, gotten rich by the Zone, fed, drank, and fattened from the Zone, and didn’t give a damn—and especially didn’t give a damn about what would happen when it gorged itself to its heart’s content, and all that used to be in the Zone settled in the outside world. Redrick quietly pushed open the door of suite 874.
Raspy was sitting on a chair by the window and making a cigar. He was still wearing pajamas, and his thinning hair was damp—but it was already carefully combed over, and his sallow, puffy face was clean shaven. “Aha,” he said, “punctuality is the courtesy of kings. Hello, my boy!”
He finished snipping the end of the cigar, picked it up with
both hands, brought it to his nose, and sniffed it from end to end.
“And where is our old friend Burbridge?” he asked, and lifted his eyes. His eyes were clear, blue, and angelic.
Redrick put his briefcase on the couch, sat down, and took out his cigarettes. “Burbridge isn’t coming,” he said.
“Good old Burbridge,” said Raspy, holding the cigar with two fingers and carefully bringing it to his mouth. “Good old Burbridge had a case of nerves …” He continued to stare at Redrick with his innocent blue eyes and didn’t blink. He never blinked.
The door opened slightly, and Bony squeezed into the room. “Who was that man you were talking to?” he asked straight from the doorway.
“Oh, hello,” said Redrick amiably, flicking his cigarette ashes onto the floor.
Bony stuffed his hands into his pockets and walked toward him, taking long strides with his giant, pigeon-toed feet, and stopped in front of Redrick. “We’ve told you a hundred times,” he said reproachfully. “No get-togethers before the meeting. And what do you do?”
“Me—I greet you,” said Redrick. “And you?”
Raspy laughed, and Bony said irritably, “Hello, hello.” He stopped glaring at Redrick reproachfully and collapsed on the couch next to him. “You can’t do that,” he said. “Got it? You can’t!”
“Then name a meeting place where I don’t have any friends,” said Redrick.
“The boy is right,” noted Raspy. “Our mistake. So who was that man?”
“That was Richard Noonan,” said Redrick. “He represents some firms that supply equipment to the Institute. He lives here, in the hotel.”
“You see how simple it is!” said Raspy to Bony, picking up an enormous lighter, shaped like the Statue of Liberty, from the table. He looked at it doubtfully, then put it back.
“And where’s Burbridge?” said Bony, sounding completely mollified.
“Burbridge is out,” said Redrick.
The other two quickly exchanged glances. “May he rest in peace,” said Raspy warily. “Or maybe he got arrested?”
For some time, Redrick didn’t reply, leisurely puffing on his cigarette. Then he threw the butt on the floor and said, “Don’t worry, everything’s fine. He’s in the hospital.”
“That’s what you call ‘fine’?” Bony said nervously, jumping up and walking to the window. “In which hospital?”
“Don’t worry,” repeated Redrick. “In the right hospital. Let’s get down to business, I need to sleep.”
“In which hospital, exactly?” asked Bony, already sounding irritated.
“I just told you,” answered Redrick. He picked up his briefcase. “Are we going to do business or not?”
“We are, we are, my boy,” Raspy said cheerfully. Showing unexpected agility, he jumped to his feet, briskly pushed a coffee table toward Redrick, and in a single motion swept the pile of newspapers and magazines onto the carpet. He sat down across from Redrick, putting his hairy pink hands on his knees. “Show us,” he said.
Redrick opened the briefcase, took out the list of prices, and laid it on the table in front of Raspy. Raspy looked at it and pushed it away with one finger. Bony, standing behind his back, stared at the list over his shoulder.
“That’s the bill,” said Redrick.
“I see that,” replied Raspy. “Show us, show us!”
“The money?” said Redrick.
“What is this ‘ring’?” Bony demanded suspiciously, jabbing his finger at the list over Raspy’s shoulder.
Redrick was silent. He held the open briefcase on his knees and kept staring into the angelic blue eyes. Finally, Raspy chuckled.
“Why do I love you so much, my boy?” he cooed. “And they say there’s no love at first sight!” He sighed theatrically. “Phil, buddy, how do they say it around here? Pay the man, give him some moola … and pass me a match, already! As you can see …” And he shook the cigar still gripped between his fingers.
Bony grumbled something unintelligible, threw him a matchbox, and went into the neighboring room through a curtain-covered doorway. Redrick heard him speaking, irritably and indistinctly, saying something about a pig in a poke. Meanwhile, Raspy, having finally lit his cigar, kept examining Redrick with a fixed smile on his pale, thin lips and seemed to be considering something—so Redrick put his chin on his briefcase and stared back, also trying not to blink, although his eyes were burning and he was tearing up. Then Bony returned, threw two bundles of cash down on the table, and, looking sullen, sat next to Redrick. Redrick lazily reached for the money, but Raspy gestured him to stop, unwrapped the cash, and stuffed the wrappers into his pocket.
“Now you’re welcome to it,” he said.
Redrick took the money and, without counting, shoved it into an inner pocket of his jacket. After that, he spread out the swag. He did this slowly, giving them both a chance to examine each item and check it against the list. The room was silent, except for Raspy’s laborious breathing and a barely audible clinking coming from behind the curtain—probably a spoon tapping a glass.
When Redrick finally closed and locked his briefcase, Raspy looked up at him and asked, “All right, and our main object?”
“Nothing,” answered Redrick. He paused and added, “Yet.”
“I like that ‘yet,’” said Raspy affectionately. “And you, Phil?”
“You’re muddling things, Schuhart,” said Bony with distaste. “Why the secrecy, I ask?”
“This business is full of secrets,” said Redrick. “It’s a difficult business.”
“Well, all right,” said Raspy. “And where’s the camera?”
“Oh, shit!” Redrick rubbed his cheek with his hand, feeling his face turn red. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I totally forgot.”
“Over there?” asked Raspy, gesturing vaguely with his cigar.
“I’m not sure … Probably over there …” Redrick closed his eyes and leaned back on the couch. “No. I really can’t remember.”
“Too bad,” said Raspy, “But did you at least see it?”
“No, we didn’t,” said Redrick with vexation. “That’s the thing. We didn’t even make it to the furnaces. Burbridge got into the slime, and we turned right back. You can be sure that if I saw it, I wouldn’t have forgotten.”
“My God, Hugh, take a look!” Bony suddenly said in a frightened whisper. “What the hell is this?”
He was sitting with his right index finger extended tensely in front of him. Spinning around his finger was that same white metal bracelet, and Bony was staring at it wild-eyed.
“It won’t stop!” Bony said loudly, moving his astonished eyes from the bracelet to Raspy and back again.
“What do you mean, ‘won’t stop’?” Raspy said cautiously, and drew back slightly.
“I put it on my finger and spun it once, just for fun. And it’s now been spinning a whole minute!”
Bony bolted up and, holding his extended finger before him, ran through the curtained doorway. The bracelet, shimmering with silver, continued to rotate steadily in front of him, like an airplane propeller.
“What’s this you brought us?” asked Raspy.
“Hell if I know!” said Redrick. “I had no idea. If I did, I would have charged more.”
Raspy looked at him for some time, then got up and also disappeared through the doorway. Redrick immediately heard the murmur of voices. He took out a cigarette, lit up, picked up a magazine from the floor, and absentmindedly flipped through it. The magazine was full of tight-bodied beauties, but for some reason looking at them right now nauseated him. Redrick flung the magazine down and scanned the suite, searching for a drink. Then he pulled the money out of his pocket and counted the bills. Everything was fine, but in order to stay awake, he also counted the second pack. As he was putting it back in his pocket, Raspy returned.
“You’re in luck, my boy,” he announced, again sitting down across from Redrick. “Have you heard of perpetual motion?”
“Nope,” said Redrick. “D
idn’t do that in school.”
“Just as well,” said Raspy. He pulled out another bundle of cash. “That’s the payment for the first specimen,” he declared, unwrapping the cash. “For every new specimen of this ring of yours, you’ll get two such bundles. You got it, my boy? Two bundles. But only under the condition that no one but us ever finds out about these rings. Deal?”
Redrick silently put the money in his pocket and got up. “I’m going,” he said. “When and where next time?”
Raspy also got up. “You’ll get a call,” he said. “Wait by the phone every Friday from nine to nine thirty in the morning. They’ll send regards from Phil and Hugh and arrange a meeting.”
Redrick nodded and headed for the door. Raspy followed him, laying his hand on Redrick’s shoulder.
“There’s something I want you to understand,” he continued. “This is all very nice, really quite charming, and the ring—that’s just lovely. But what we need most of all are two things: the photos and a full container. Bring us back our camera, but with the film exposed, and our porcelain container, but full instead of empty, and you’ll never need to enter the Zone again …”
Redrick shifted his shoulder, shook off the hand, unlocked the door, and left. He walked along the soft carpet, not looking back, the entire time feeling the angelic unblinking gaze on the back of this head. He didn’t wait for the elevator and instead walked down from the eighth floor.
After leaving the Metropole, he hailed a cab and took it to the other side of town. He didn’t know the driver, a new guy, some pimply beaked kid, one of the thousands who had recently flocked to Harmont looking for hair-raising adventures, untold riches, international fame, or some special religion; they came in droves but ended up as taxi drivers, waiters, construction workers, and bouncers in brothels—yearning, untalented, tormented by nebulous desires, angry at the whole world, horribly disappointed, and convinced that here, too, they’d been cheated. Half of them, after lingering for a month or two, returned home cursing, spreading news of their great disappointment to almost every corner of the globe; a rare few became stalkers and quickly perished, never having made any sense of things and turning posthumously into legendary heroes; some managed to get jobs at the Institute, the brightest and best-educated ones, capable at least of becoming lab assistants; the rest founded political parties, religious sects, and self-help groups and idled away their evenings in bars, brawling over differences of opinion, over girls, or just for the hell of it. From time to time they organized protests and petitions, staged demonstrations, went on strike—sit-down strikes, stand-up strikes, and even lie-down strikes—enraging the city police, administrators, and established residents; but the longer they stayed, the more thoroughly they calmed down and resigned themselves to things, and the less they worried about what exactly they were doing in Harmont.
