I lay on the bed in my hotel room and examined the stirring landscape on the wall opposite. I was stirred and troubled by «Sunrise in Oceania», which very vividly recalled an analogous event on San Marco. The subequatorial bliss was depicted very true to life, hyperrealistically. Especially the palms at the sides, by the little frame. Some persistent soul had not begrudged the labor of scrupulously coloring in, dot by dot, a photograph from “National Geographic”. “I must ask how much the picture cost and where they got it,” I thought, and shifted my gaze to the wall clock.
Exactly eight.
Just the time to remember about “Commerzbank”, opening in an hour, and the hopes connected with that fact. I hoped for a great deal. Perhaps groundlessly. Or perhaps with good reason. Everything could become clear in sixty minutes.
I sighed and sprang out of bed. Ran to the bathroom, held my body under the springy jets of cold water. Then cleaned my teeth, shaved, freshened up with “Cool Water”*, combed my hair and all the rest of it. Put myself in order.
After the water procedures I put on a severe black suit and went down to the restaurant. I went down on foot, feeling over the corridor with my eyes, the stairs, the citizens coming towards me and going my way; very attentively I examined the hotel lobby, every person dining in the restaurant. Nothing and nobody suspicious. The relaxing morning drowsiness had not yet dispersed, it was leaving its serene imprints on the faces that fell within my field of vision.
As soon as I sat down at a table, the waiter Vacek set two salads, mashed potato and a glass of juice in front of me. What I usually breakfast on he had learned by heart. A good lad. One could always buy some necessary document off him, very strongly resembling the real thing. Interesting – could he arrange a New Zealand passport? Deep in thought, I poked at the contents of the plates with my fork. Part I sent into my mouth, part I rejected for no reason and pushed into separate heaps. Then I sipped at the juice. Then simply sat at the empty table. Killed forty minutes. Then thought it was time to go back to the room. The millions were not waiting.
I left twenty marks on the table and set off back to the room by the very same route. Went up to the third floor on foot, walked slowly, noiselessly along the corridor, stood in front of the door of the room, waited a while. All was quiet. All seemed to be quiet, but my heart was thumping faster. Was it sensing an imminent meeting with an enormous pile of money? Perhaps.
I opened the door with the key, took two steps and fell.
A powerful blow to the back of the head, vaguely familiar, knocked me to the floor. As I fell, I caught my cheekbone on the corner of a chair. Very unexpected. Very painful. Very unpleasant. Consciousness was not lost, but just in case I kept my eyes shut. I was quickly frisked, the pistol was extracted from my inside pocket and I was left in peace. Not for long. There reached my ears:
– Hello, handsome.
What a dear, remarkable voice. I raised my head from the floor and opened my eyes:
– Anechka? Hello. I didn’t expect to see you, – I greeted the unforgettable darling, or rather her little shoes. The pain in my neck did not allow me to see all of Anya. It was very hard to lift my head. I fussed a little with my arms and legs, sat myself up on the floor and examined first Anechka. A beauty! Then the enormous gorilla-like fellow behind her back. Impressive. It seemed it was he who had clouted me on the head. Fists like kettles.
I rubbed my aching cheekbone. The cheekbone answered with a wild fit of pain. Probably a problem had occurred with the bone. A crack? I blinked, getting rid of the merry sparks waltzing in front of me. Shifted my gaze to the far corner of the room and discovered yet another fellow. Not even a fellow, but a youth with characteristically eastern features. Having placed his little spectacles on his nose in a cultured manner, he was examining the papers extracted from my suitcase. Probably looking for the password I had obtained. I had nothing against it. Let him look. Maybe he’ll find it.
Scattered about the floor were the parts of my wardrobe, torn to shreds. They had treated it boorishly. Not nice.
I got to my feet and sat down in the armchair, right under the wall clock. As I sat, I threw a quick glance at the dial. Nine fifty-two. Just the time for a chat with my girlfriend:
– I can’t believe you’re alive.
– You’ll have to.
– So you staged it all.
– You’re a clever lad. You catch on quickly.
– What for?
– I need the money in a certain person’s account. Without the seal and the password it’s impossible to get at it. Only you could obtain them.
– I see.
– Where are they?
– Two million, – I answered.
– What does a corpse need two million for?
– I’ll arrange a magnificent funeral for myself, – I smiled.
Anechka threw me a predatory glance:
– Five hundred thousand and your life.
– A million. And the money up front.
– A million after the fact. Shake on it?
– Anyuta. I don’t believe you.
– Makes no difference to me. I haven’t got a million.
– That can’t be. You worked with Mamon for a year and a half. I won’t believe you panned out less than he did.
– Panned out no less, perhaps. But he cheated me, the dog. So here I am wriggling about, getting the money back.
– Tell me how he cheated you. Maybe I’ll believe you and hand over the seal for free. Out of sympathy.
– It’s a long story. Better hand over the seal out of good sense. In ten minutes they’ll make a cutlet of you. You’ll hand it over anyway.
Hm, she’s threatening me. And groundlessly at that. What sort of feather cushions has she brought with her? The pumped-up mug behind her back was definitely no fighter. The fellow had taken up a strange position. You could see at once, a pumped-up simpleton. How is he going to fight me? Between us there’s a living shield in the form of Anya. I smiled:
– I propose the following variant. You write me out a check and get the seal with the password.
– A check for a million? – Anya smiled. Her comrades-in-arms smiled. They took me for a thickhead. Fine. I couldn’t propose anything else anyway.
– Yes, Anya. I’m prepared to take a check for a million.
– And where will you cash it? – Anya made surprised little eyes.
– With you, – I constructed honest peepers in reply. – When we get the money, you promised to hand one mil over to me.
– Logical, – Anyuta was disconcerted for a second. – Only you know, I haven’t got a checkbook.
– Write an IOU.
Anya shrugged her shoulders, took a sheet of paper off the table and, to my dictation, scrawled that she, so-and-so, Andrea Claudia Lenhoff, hereby certifies and so forth.
I hid the scrap of paper in my pocket and stood up:
– Let’s go.
– Where?
– To the airport. The seal with the password is in a left-luggage locker.
– Are you out of your mind?
– Foresight.
Anya got up and left the room. I followed her. The fellows followed me. Incidentally, there were rather few of them. Only two, and at that as clued up in hand-to-hand matters as I am in fretwork. Fighting them off could be done easily.
Try it right now?
Later. Maybe another dozen or two fighters are keeping watch on us. Anechka always thought two steps ahead.