You don't know how to sell your work for a profit. It would be simpler, dauber, to share bread with your friends over here for the health of Sidor Petrovich from Magnitogorsk. Besides, I have to go. My wife probably already got a caviar mosque on Kazansky
With these words, he thrust several crumpled gold pieces into the wet palm of Naum, who still did not believe in his luck. He pushed those present with his elbows, clutching his briefcase under his arm. Like an icebreaker, he gradually made his way to the exit, vaguely looming in the pale spot of tobacco smoke.
Those few coins, by local standards, might as well have been Flints mysterious treasure. Andrey watched with interest as some of the forever cash-strapped local regulars started circling Naum like sharks around a shipwrecked sailor.
Naum quickly put his magical watercolor deeper into a large black folder he always carried around, but more for the show, since he rarely sold anything here. Furtively looking around, he made his way through the crowd and showed up at a table close to Andrey. Andrey swiveled and placed a mug with a foam cap in front of the artist, who was still crazed with his unexpected wealth.
Naum took a royal sip and stood there for a while, blissfully savoring the first sensations. Only then did he turn to the student and ask him:
Well, Physics, can you do that?
Andrey laughed:
You are a lucky man, Naumushka. Youve made a killing!
Naum looked offended, which made his already brown eyes completely dark:
He wanted to buy my Rain on the Arbat.
And yet he didnt! He just felt sorry for you!
Naum took another sip of beer and winked at Andrey:
Well, physicist, I see you seem to be popular.
What are you talking about? Andrey jumped up, looking around the lilac twilight of the hall.
Oh, yes, said Naum, pointing his unshaven chin at a dark corner, Over there. Hes been looking at you for half an hour.
Come on! Andrey stared at the stranger. He was dressed in a simple suit of a worker from the Moscow suburbs. On his head was a cap with a hard visor, breeches of an army cut were tucked into not too new, but neatly polished cowhide boots. A sturdy jacket over a clean, ironed shirt. In appearance about thirty, thirty-five. His face was unfamiliar.
To Andrey's surprise, the stranger intercepted his interested glance, smiled, and winked at him. His smile was kind and open. Andrey involuntarily smiled back. Naum eyed the student warily.
Be careful with him, the artist whispered hotly in Andrey's ear. What if he is one of them?
Naum vaguely waved his hand in the air, portraying these unknown people. Andrey only grinned condescendingly: the alarmist character of his friend was well known.
From somewhere inside the mess of smoke and beer fumes emerged the figure of a lean peasant with a mint in his mouth and an empty mug in his bony hand. Looking for buddies with dog-like eyes, he bleated:
Splash a little something in the mug of a venerable participant in the heroic defense of Sevastopol! My throats on fire, its unbearable!
Andrei gave by him a scornful look and turned away, and Naum glanced askance at the 'hero' and half-whispered his advice:
Kindly get lost, Timon. My pal here, his uncle died at the ninth battery. Guys like you, who were rats in the rear, he kills in the alleyways. With his bare hands, no less.
Timon's eyes widened to the size of a five-dollar coin. Grabbing his mug, he disappeared into the tavern's haze. Naum nudged his comrade with his elbow:
What are you thinking about, good fellow?
Ill get my diploma tomorrow or the day after. Then what? Distribution? In all likelihood, theyll find me some hole in Upper Pupinsk, beyond the Urals. In that case, I can kiss all my dreams goodbye
Oh, that. Naum savored another foamy sip. What did you expect, brother? That Moscow will greet you with open arms? There are enough engineers here.
And then some. Andrey butted his stubborn head against his mug. But I still hoped for the best, so to speak, all these five years. Yes, and the last course washed my head, so
"And why? his pal laughed. From what has accumulated in it over the past four? No, the rumors that youve been laying about this winter have been going around even here, in the Pit.
So what? Andrey jumped up, shaking his blond locks. That diploma is still almost with distinction!
During the argument, the two did not notice as the stranger picked up his mug and moved closer to their table. Behind a heavy beer and a newspaper with his leftovers a little to the side, he listened with interest to their conversation. At some point, Naum glanced around and spotted him.
'Hey, comrade, we didn't invite you to our table,' he grumbled. The stranger flashed a broad smile:
So? This spot wasnt reserved, so I can sit here if I want.
Andrey grabbed Naum by his sleeve and said:
Come on, Naum, the comrade is right: in the pub and the bath, everyone is equal.
Indeed! I can get you a beer. How about that? We can drink and get to know each other at the same time.
Beer is good, the artist said, as he tempered his anger with forgiveness.
Great! Why dont you take this, he pulled Naums right hand closer and shoved some money into it, and get a couple of chervontsy, and a beer for each of us. Oh, and ask old man Theophanes for a crawfish. Ive heard he keeps a couple of buckets in the back. Tell him to get his shit together.
Right, like hed listen to me, said Naum with a crooked grin. He loved crawfish but didnt want to deal with Theophanes. All the Countertops admired him for his cool temper and his enormous fists.
Just tell him the Cat is begging and begging. Im sure he wont refuse, the stranger said. But youll need to hurry, or theyll close and well have neither crawfish nor beer!
Despite glancing over his shoulder every so often, Naum went to the counter to confront the formidable Theophanes. The stranger leaned in closer to the recent student and raised his mug:
Good evening, so to speak.
Andrey looked at him gloomily.
I don't drink with strangers in public places.
Oh! the newcomer laughed. Well, let's get acquainted. Kotov is my surname, common enough, of course, but I'm so alone, young and handsome. You can call me the Cat. The whole Arbat and Zamoskvorechye call me that.
Andrey chuckled:
Experienced, then. You from the thieves?
The stranger shrugged.
It depends on what you call a thief So, in a way.
Andrey shrugged his shoulders.
Sounds complicated. For me, its easy: Im Andrey
Fomenko, Andrey Grigorievich, twenty-two years old, worker-peasant from the Chelyabinsk province, graduate of the Moscow Mechanical Engineering. Noticing the astounded look of the future physicist, he shrugged his shoulders. Have I got it wrong?
On the contrary, and this is disturbing, Andrey muttered. Will you surprise me further, or should we immediately part ways?
Why run, Andrey, if Im here for you? The Cat took a sip of his beer and looked cheerfully at his new acquaintance. Dont make your eyes round, boy. I'm not a devil from a snuffbox! Let's get some fresh air, and well talk. I know more about you than just your origins. I can tell you about your mother, born a noblewoman. To her parents attracting the disfavor of the authorities, she married a metalworker and taught physics at a school. This is where you got your thirst for science. Your father, Grigory Kuzmich, perished in the war, buried near Rzhev as a senior sergeant, order-bearer and hero. Just like your uncle, who really died near Sevastopol. And his brothers, who almost reached Berlin. I also know about your three escapes to the front and your successes in that English entertainment, which we call boxing. Easy now! He raised his hand when he noticed Andrey putting his hand in his pocket. Piggy dont bother. First, because Im here strictly on business. My knowledge of some things should make you uneasy, on the one hand, and on the other, make you wonder where in a Soviet country such an informed comrade might come from. Now, if Im, shall we say, an enemy spy, then you are right. There is simply nowhere without the lead. But what if its quite the contrary, comrade future physicist-engineer?
Andrey carefully pulled his hand out of his pocket, in which there really was a respectable lead-filled cosh. This cosh was quite the substitute for brass knuckles and, unlike the latter, not illegal to carry. Fomenko did not dare risk it in the Pit without his little helper. He had a nasty experience before. But how did the Cat know about this? Or was he really one of them?
Very well, how are we going to leave, comrade Cat? Naum is about to return with the crayfish and beer. What will he think?
He wont think anything, laughed the Cat and there was something in it that Andrey liked. We'll leave a couple of red ones for him on the countertop, and he'll forget about everything right away.
With these words, he pulled out a pair of chervonets from a leather shovel purse and pushed them under the plate with the crayfish remains.
Let's go, he nodded to Andrey and, without looking back, moved through the haze to the exit. Andrey looked around helplessly, grabbed his crumpled cap from the counter and some pickled fishtails that were nearby, and followed him outside.
Naum arrived at the table only a quarter of an hour later but found only empty mugs and plates, from which the local punks even dared to clean the fish bones. Just a couple of lonely coins under the plate.
Naum put the mugs and crayfish on the marble countertop and looked around, just in case. Andrey and the mysterious stranger were nowhere to be found.
Oh well, said the artist to himself. Looks like Im lucky today!
And he knocked away the first mug. Ahead was a wonderful evening, worthy of a genuine servant of the muses.
And then we Comrade Kurchatov gave his lecture, and I finally realized that my vocation is nuclear energy. Andrey stopped and stared at the Cat. He looked at him with a mocking squint. Why are you so interested in this? You dont look like youve even been through seventh grade, and now youre talking about splitting atoms.
The man pushed back his cap and threw some careful glances at either side of them. The Moscow evening was noisy all around. Girls in light dresses flocked along the Tsvetnoy Boulevard alley. Under the tree canopy, the old men crowded around the benches in groups, concentrating on their chess games played out, probably for years, since the pre-war days.
A gang of boys cheerfully drove a shabby bicycle rim without a tire in front of them. It rattled desperately along the gravel of the path and strove from time to time to run off into the roadside acacias. Still, the boys deftly guided it with a branch in the right direction.
The capital was moving away from the nightmare of war. Men in shabby tunics with bandaged wounds were becoming increasingly rare, and the city filled with crowds of workers eager to take their places behind the machines, which had missed those hands so much during those four terrible years.
Almost all the enterprises were working again. The morning crowds of workers hurried to the factory gates. In the evenings, tired but satisfied they lived through another peaceful day, the freshly painted subway trains delivered them to their homes.
Stalinist skyscrapers rose skyward. The new MSU building would soon adorn the Lenin Hills, just as the giant apartments on Kutuzovsk and Kotelniy Embankment reached for the heavens. And on Smolensk Square, the new building of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs stood tall and proud. Moscow grew and expanded, throwing off the last traces of the recent fighting with her discarded blackout camouflage.
Andrey noticed a moments confusion in his new acquaintance but interpreted it in his own way.
Whats up, comrade? Haven't you been to the capital recently?
Kotov turned to Andrey and laughed.
Look at that No, comrade Fomenko, I havent been out of here in a while. Business, you know. I just can't get enough of a peaceful Moscow. How everything has changed here. For the better, Andryusha, for the better, of course. Where is all this dullness, constant fear of bombing, balloons in the cloudy sky?
Andrey laughed.
So when was it? Five years already have passed since then, or even more. If you recall, when the Germans have driven away from their trenches.
Thats what Im talking about, laughed Kotov. "But before my eyes, theres still that Moscow, unbroken, belligerent. But what am I talking about? Lets move on to something more serious. So, you say, Comrade Kurchatov lectured you.
Andrey gasped as he remembered the quiet talk of a lecturer that was not familiar to anyone. It was later that they were simply fascinated by this unknown speaker. At first, against the background of eminent professors, he was merely a modest man with disheveled hair. To them, he seemed to be an assistant professor, a loser who accidentally came out to replace one of their venerable teachers. But only until that moment when he uttered the first sentence of the first lecture: My friends, remember: man's life is not eternal, but science and knowledge cross the threshold of the centuries! And then the journey to the fantastic country began, where the atom reigns.
Yes, he was amazing!
Didnt you want to work in this scientific field? The Cat looked deep into Andrey's eyes, which made chills run down his spine, not from fear, but from the anticipation of significant changes.
Of course, the young man choked, suddenly frozen. Who are you, comrade? We must now say goodbye, and it would be better if youll never cross my path again. Ill surely turn your over to the first militiaman I can find and let them deal with you as they see fit.
The Cat raised his hand.
But, but, young man, you want songs, and I have them, as they say in Odessa. The organs are already nearby.
He pulled a red booklet out of his inner pocket, and Andrey's eyes were drawn by the gold-embossed blue letters: The Ministry of State Security of the USSR. He slowly raised his head and looked into the eyes of this mysterious man.
Thats what this entire show was for? You couldnt just introduce yourself, and then theres the suspicious conversation, hints In fact, what have I done to interest your institution in the first place? I did nothing, couldnt have done anything, nor was I ever involved in anything until now, as they say.
The Cat burst out laughing:
What do you think were doing, youngster? Despite the films you may have seen, we dont spend our days jumping about the roofs. No, buddy, we have a lot of things to do in other areas as well. To begin with, I will introduce myself in the full form: Major of State Security Kotov, Sergey Vladimirovich. You, my friend, I know all about right back to the seventh generation, so dont bother introducing yourself.
That much is clear, Andrei muttered. Even so, why am I here?
Kotov scanned the surrounding area and nodded towards an empty bench:
Shall we sit down? And talk?
Andrey shrugged his shoulders and headed in that direction.
When they both settled down in the shade of a spreading willow, the major suggested in a conspiratorial tone:
Would you like to work for the good of the socialist motherland?
Andrey laughed, and Kotov liked his laugh: such a pure laugh, without mockery, open.
But Ill work for her benefit according to the distribution. Then I'll just get my diploma first. Im going to some giant factory; they are building so many of them now. Ill work hard and make the most of it.
Kotov chuckled:
Cheeky. A cheeky young man, taking into account who youve just involved in this philosophical conversation.
Why, I know who Im talking to, comrade Major. Its just that I have nothing to fear before Soviet law.
Kotov looked absentmindedly at the sky: in the high June blue, cirrus clouds crawled lazily, slightly tinted by the sunset sun. He took his cap from his head, crumpled it in his hands, then put it next to him.