Рита Тальвердиева - Нотка бергамота
An elegant elderly gentleman was sitting by the coffee table flipping through a binder of local press. A couple of phrases exchanged with Arseny had gave out his Moscow accent.
«Well,» Boris set himself at ease. «Looks like brain washing will not last long».
And he was wrong. They left the office by the dusk. But in a completely different mood. The tonus of Arseny was boosted up by their guest — master of astrology Mikhail Danilovich Marmarov. And not just toning up. The guest breathed a thrill, an enthusiasm and a courage into him! Without all of it any reporter sometimes degenerates into a servant.
«Let's start all over» asked Arseny. «Slowly».
«As I said» Boris gave uneasy look. «I was only for one minute at the meeting with Ilya Zvezditsky. Even less than that. Then … then I was suddenly kicked out».
«Star syndrome of Zvezditsky as a title?» added devoted Natalya with apprehension.
«Your title has more words than facts: I came, I saw, and fired out, » chuckled Arseny. «How terrific, I'm shocked! And not even one phrase?»
«Not a word.»
«And you?!» shot a question Marmarov.
«Yes, I did,» Boris flinched. «I've asked where could I wash my hands.»
«Well!» Arseny throw his head up. «Have you been invited to Zvezditsky's dinner? Or was it an interview?!» he was ready to blow.
Boris sighed.
«On the way to his shack,» he began, «I nearly fail over, look, the skin on my palm is badly scratched. All hands were in dirt.»
«And?!»
«And I asked where is the bathroom. Zvezditsky suddenly turned pale. Yes. He looked at me in a very strange way. At the same instance a bodyguard came in. Get out, he said. Apparently, Zvezditsky pressed the call button.»
«Stop!» Marmarov snapped his fingers. «Did you asked where's the bathroom? or where can I wash my hands? »
Boris gazed in silly manner:
«What's a difference?»
«Answer the question!» Arseny gave a stern look.
«I've asked about the bathroom. Where is a bathroom? I said. That were my exact words. So what?»
«In-te-res-ting.» stretched his word Marmarov.
Natalya smiled. Boris rolled his eyes. Only eyes of the newbie flashed with sparkles.
«What were you saying about Zvezditsky's shack ?» Marmarov sat himself by the table. «Or is it new fashioned slang for a palace ?»
Boris smiled:
«Zvezditsky has gone crazy: for a summer he rented a real shack in the village. He occupied it completely. Three families which huddled there, he sent to Anapa. Until September…»
«What kind of shack?» Arseny got a hiccup. «Excuse Me.»
«Creepy one, pre-revolutionary building of a hotel type. When I was… am… asked to leave, I could manage to talk to some people there.»
«With whom?»
«With locals.»
«And?!»
«People laughed at Zvezditsky, real loco your man, they say… Now brace yourselves! Next door to that shack stays a super-duper boarding house, named Sunrise. Cozy. Private. Jacuzzi, pool table, mini pool, in short high standard.» he cocked his thumb up. «The owner of those suites is so freaked out. Look! He offered to Zvezditsky a whole suit free of charge! Obviously, for promotional purposes.»
«Didn't pull off?» mumbled Arseny.
«Nope!» Boris smiled victoriously.
«Why didn't you tell me that before?!» resented Arseny. «Such a theme! a potential slant for the next article.»
«I had no chance to drop a word on the briefing. Only verdicts went through, sort of screwed up, failure …»
Arseny waved his hand.
«We've got some issues.»
«Just one on a different frets: How dare you to fail the mission? What was the question, that was the answer. I learned it on my first year of the University.»
Boris scrambled his boss.
«I know! I got it!» Newbie suddenly jumped up, his eyes blazing. «For Sure … There's a treasure!»
«Where?» Boris and Natasha starred at Peter.
«There! In the shack, in the bathroom … That hovel is pre-revolutionary…»
«Calm down» dismissively waved Arseny, but came across a choppy gesture of Marmarov.
«What if…» The guest mysteriously remarked and lifted his bushy eyebrow.
It felt like fixed on each other eyes will ignite the spark.
«Let me check it out,» suddenly started Arseny and reached out for the laptop. His nostrils shivered like as of hound on its trail. And fingers were hovering above the keyboard already.
«Such a friend! With one glance got it all!» Boris scrabbled his two-day stubble.
Peter and Natalya listened attentively.
«March 15th, 1969,» a minute later started Arseny, glancing at his guest. «Here is the place of his birth and it is blurry: Zvezditsky was born in Transbaikalia.»
«Will do.» Marmarov nodded.
On the table suddenly materialized an open book in textile cover. Finger of Marmarov skated through its lines, his lips went to soft motion.
«The Book Of Fate!» stunned Arseny his amazed colleagues.
As usual, it was difficult to understand was he joking or not.
Boris peered over the shoulder of the guest. On yellowish pages appeared some strange characters and small digits. And on the left, in the corner of the book, emerged a sketch of a circle similar to a compass. Compass' arrow pointed upward.
Finally, Marmarov turned away from the book and conspiratorially winked. Everybody were huddled over their curious visitor. The shadow of Sherlock Holmes has covered the entire group.
* * *
«At the time of Zvezditsky's birth Uranus got up high, into zenith: from rags to riches .»
«Entertaining.» chuckled Boris.
«This is only a prelude. I can say it in other way: Uranium in zenith is a hymn to a genius, a luck, and take off …»
«Are there many of those whose fate depends on lucky chance ?»
«In a changing world, yes.»
«For example?»
«Marie Antoinette, Karl Marx, Lazar Kaganovich, Saddam Hussein, Boris Yeltsin. Different times, countries, destinies … The trend is one: the rise occurs in overnight, suddenly … Possibility of Uranium at its zenith, akin to a magic wand.»
«Lucky men.» sighed Natalya.
«It's hard to say,» shrugged his shoulder Marmarov. «Uranus in zenith is unstable. Unlike stern Saturn, pleasant Jupiter, and the planet of dreams Neptune. They are the ones who rule long— life-ball, without sharp ups and downs. Ah. Here is a trap. Saturn is transit and shadowing Zvezditsky 's Uranium. And here is the Cross of Fate: depression and spleen. In quadruple froze the Black Moon: someone's malicious eye, evil genius, temptation. In the asset — a secret enemy. Wicked …»
«What about treasure?» suddenly applied the voice of Peter.
«Alas. I see there no treasure or other hidden possessions. Its master of treasures is in a shadow. Leading dimension is partnership. Now he is in black zone. But his life is doomed to be supported by business people, wife …»
«Wife? She died …»
«Not a good sign. He had to pray for her, to take care, to cherish … That's a payback: his own fear kills him.»
«Zvezditsky and fear are things incompatible.» Nata looked with same prick.
«All the same! Bad luck in his fate is not a fiction. Zvezditsky was born in an eclipse which gives him fatality …»
«And what is for us ?» lodged in Boris.
«I think, Boris, you should try to remind him about an interview. He was led not by aplomb but fear. He is completely taken by it. Your appearance happen to be at wrong time. In the worst case scenario he forgot about you. Most likely, he regrets about having such a reception for you. Call him.» Marmarov threw his wrist out with a massive chronometer on in. «Now! While the Moon is not off its course. A meeting would be good to be scheduled for tomorrow.»
«Why is it tomorrow?»
«One hour later, the Moon will be in very tense aspect with Uranus: volatility and nervousness will not contribute to your conversation. Don't burn your fingers twice, Boris. Yah! Here is a such transit to Neptune happening… No. He will not accept you. Im-pos-si-ble. He will be very sleepy and tired. In best case.»
«And in worst?» caught his word Arseny.
«Let's stop on that … It is similar to the effect of drugs, to hallucinations. In one hour he will be out of shape.»
Under aim of Fate
Verhny Khutorok Village, June 26, 2009 evening.
«Not even a one move» admitted Ilya after letting branch of nut tree into his open window.
However, voices down below alerted him.
Hey! That was a guard chewing the rag. With someone of those locals…
He could hear only clumps of phrases. Burst of laughter suddenly broke infused by gummy fluids, ominous air. And after sharp whipping words:
«The man went nuts… Only doctor can help…»
Ilya recoiled. Looked around. He felt for it.
Hastily made «cosmetics» highlighted the shabbiness of his place; from freshly painted walls the smell of varnish materials guttered brain into pain. He left in rush forgetting bottle of favorite perfume. It had thrown him off the aesthete image, but apparently didn’t wipe it out completely.
«Back to Moscow! To home!» His heart fluttered.
But then stung by accusations: everything there recall the past. About Inessa. Shacked off unwanted tears. Gasped breath. Even the sky in compassion squeezed a few tears out, but hard to breath.
Inessa … It shouldn’t happen even to a dog. Barcelona. Hotel. Fire. Seventeen victims and Inessa among them.
He killed her, because the idea has to be material. Didn’t thought about all of the pros and cons. Such a fool. Got involved in an adventure with Maestro, with the «flying killer». The price of freedom…
Freedom?! A week after he got an e-mail:
The work is done. It is recommended not delaying with the payment. Maestro.
Ilya was taken aback: even paparazzi, who eager for smell of draught, sadly had to agree with investigators: it was an accident.
Ilya sent him to hell…
In response, Maestro pulled off some… a couple of illustrations from the series of «Under aim of Fate» of «CT» fresh issue.
The first one had shown Inessa in her «role» of Joan of Arc, engulfed by the fire. One sec. This is an err! You know, Joan was burned in Rouen. And here … In the background, in dreamy haze, you can see the outline of old catalonian roofs. And to the right there is five centuries long mistake! In watery skies emerged the Gothic Cathedral, the immortal creation of Gaudy. Visit Card of Barcelona. Barcelona!
He suddenly got it: a riot of flame and forks of fire will not shade out milky white skin and green eyes of red-haired Inessa. But will eat her alive! And the look is not of Joan of Arc anymore, but of Inessa! Taken by horrible pain … Burnt alive. In Barcelona. Two months ago.
The revelation fell like snowball onto his head: in the second picture … He himself. In an image of Marat. Bleeding. In the bath …
A lapidary you are the next had plunged Ilya into a shock.
He is here.
How could he manage to find his shack in province of blossom, where there no bathrooms but shower rooms (meter by meter in size). Well, it doesn't matter. Ilya has solved the riddle. Maestro lost! Outside of necessary entourage the Devil in the Flesh is pathetic.
* * *
…Shabby bearded man suddenly turned to a laptop, passed fingers through a keyboard typing: «Have you prayed at night, Desdemona?».
The message has been sent, Zvezditsky is doomed!
The smile intended to the recipient. But mirror in the frame said «you are a freak»! He crumpled his face into grimace and a moment later, released a smile. Easier and touching one. The mirror replied with a grin. He snorted: time for smiles didn't come yet. Patience. Patience. Here we go… And the mirror heeded his owner's desires.
His hair turned gray in couple of months, his shoulders buckled as if under load beyond a human force, vertical wrinkles are folding face like scars. Why? Old Age? Nope. Gravy thoughts. Global project burns the liver.
Suddenly for a moment the look got brighter under his chubby eyebrows and eyes had flashed in an even light. Reflection trembled, blurring: he seem to be slimmer now, the features had softened turning into an eminent figure. The thought had draw the triumph image with a bright dabs: who would know! Who could think of!! Under the mask of photographer from «Corridors of Time» magazine acting the Maestro himself. Maestro of Resonance.
Damn news from Maestro caused frustration. The victory seemed to be of Pyrrhic. Especially now, on unbearably hot evening. Ilya didn't take a favorite perfume with scent of bergamot on purpose. Not give himself a reason to relax, not to fall in love with his own self, not to feel as esthete again. Ah, desire for bath is so irresistible, for bath with herbs and aroma.
So what am I waiting for? Suites of Sunrise are around the corner.
Rain of cats and dogs bursted suddenly. Purring and growling like a voracious beast, spilling bubbles out. An alert? Damn it.
Lightning came to act, raging in fury. Thunder echoes in awesome growl… Damn it.
Wind, playing with a window, broke a glass.
Damn it!
Now the light went out. An edgy blow of signs? In pitch darkness a branch of tree began squeaking, ringing with the broken glass' fragments.
Damn it!
What if Maestro is a myth? Someone's stupid joke?! Oh my God, his fuse is blown. As one had say : if Jupiter would punish he would deprive a man of reason .
* * *
«For that reason I've been appointed as stroke of fate to turn everything back to order. The mask of mercenary is merely a mask for the Carnival of life. Yet the essence of the brand is to lead the ball, you can't just pull the mask off. Yet. So much worse for those who forgot to pay. And the killer's mask dictates to careless: the work is done you must to pay! Didn't pay in three days — you've got to wait! I'll take the payment myself. And not in Franklin's portraits but in life.
It's so funny. But after „evidence“ were sent to withholders they are ready to triple the return payment, to tenfold it. I'll be adamant. Money is not the key to happiness. Dura lex sed lex… The rest of them will learn the lesson …
