Incredible Spy Detective. Poets and Liars - Fracta Stella 4 стр.

Richards heartbeat was oddly fast, as if he himself was frightened. His hands and suit were covered in glitter after he had to let her go  because by then, police officers had entered the crypt.

8. Trust

The managers of Träger publishing house responsible for organizing the literary event at the Church of St-Martin-in-the-Fields were tearing their hair out. The literary agent was cursing in Russian but seeking ways to turn the situation to their advantage, and journalists had occupied the lobby and porch of the Whitehall Court hotel.

Dawn was breaking outside the windows of the tower room overlooking the Thames. Alexandra sat on the living room couch, leaning on the cushions, her face buried in her hands.

When she spoke, her voice was muffled by her palms.

I hate all of it! she lamented. Who would need to do this, dammit?!

Richard remained silent. He already regretted listening and accompanying her to the hotel instead of taking her to his apartment, supposedly owned by the actor Richard North.

Now they were enclosed within four walls, under the constant watchful eye of their managers and hordes of journalists. Soon, enraged fans and haters will appear, making it harder for them to escape unwanted attention.

The police had questioned them several hours ago, and the tedious procedure had yielded nothing  but Alexandra finally calmed down. She had been trembling for a long time, so much so that she couldnt even drink water, though she maintained her composure. Her body seemed to react separately from her mind.

Richard understood how she felt. She realized that she had come dangerously close to being in the position of the unfortunate Kristina Matveyeva, whose name she would remember for the rest of her life.

She was angry at the uncontrollable physiological stress reaction and the discomfort they had to endure while waiting for a call from the police or managers who would insist on the specific comments they were to give to specific media outlets.

The lawyer had already been in touch  for now, through McKellen. Overall, things didnt look as terrible as they had initially seemed.

Suddenly, Richard felt angry at himself. How dare he reason like this? The situation was no threat to him  because it was him who had orchestrated it so that a colorless, odorless, fast-acting poison ended up in the glass that Alexandra would take.

And he was the one who had to distract her  so that one of her fans would want to pick up the glass from the noticeable spot. She needed to be scared, believe that she was in mortal danger.

Cowardice was necessary in his profession when it came to choosing between the interests of the state, global interests, and the life of an individual.

Alexandra was frightened, but she had not lost control of the situation. During the conversation with law enforcement, she remained calm, even managing to irritate a Scotland Yard inspector with her questions.

Richard smiled inappropriately at the thought that, if she wanted, she could have been just like him, a spy, with her ability to make decisions, instantly analyze situations, and draw accurate conclusions.

Now she trusted him  otherwise she wouldnt have allowed him to be near her. She was the type to be able to handle problems on her own, no need for a sympathetic shoulder or company to share her worries.

She only accepted help when it was necessary, and he had volunteered to be her personal bodyguard.

She laughed at the wording at the time and merely waved it off.

 could have been anyone  not necessarily a catering employee or someone from the venue, she reasoned, Richard listened without interrupting. If only we knew what this crap was and whether it was in the glass or just on the surface of it.

She reasoned like a detective, systematically, methodically, dissecting the data. He remained quiet, not wanting to betray his knowledge of crime scene investigation.

The cameras will show the waiter carry the glasses, filling them, who could have come into contact  and added poison to the glass, on the glass, or even into the bottle  But if it were the bottle, someone else would have gotten poisoned too.

Alexandra had not changed out of her clothes; the back of the couch and the cushions were covered in glitter. She paid no attention to how the delicate black silk fabric of her wide trousers wrinkled and pulled up on her flat stomach.

Have you thought about taking a shower and then going to sleep?

I have to remember everything, she replied stubbornly. To rewind.

Fatigue reduces concentration and attentiveness. Youll remember everything after some sleep because then it will settle as it should.

For the first time in hours, she looked at Richard  as if she were surprised that he was in her room.

Youre right. Youre right!

Alexandra jumped up from the couch, and glitter rained down to the floor. She took a few quick steps, but then froze in the middle of the room.

But how do I fall asleep?

She looked at him again, as if he could provide an answer.

Richard smiled, got up from the chair where he had sat all this time, and approached her until he was within arms reach. Alexandra looked up at him, trying to understand something, but her emotions and thoughts were already betraying her.

Just lie down and sleep. You can do it.

He knew she had sleep problems due to the neurological peculiarities and the intermittent periods of agitation caused by a diagnosis. He knew the medications she took, and he knew she hadnt brought them with her to London because it was prohibited to export them from Russia even with a doctors prescription.

Okay.

He didnt have a chance to do anything  although he intended to embrace her  she had already stepped aside, started unbuttoning and taking off her clothes as she walked. By the time Alexandra reached the bathroom door, the top and trousers were already on the floor, only glitter and panties remained on her body.

Richard stared at her back, a glimpse of the black pattern of tattoos on her left arm, shoulder blade, left side, and thigh  all of which disappeared inside the bathroom. It was both expected and unexpected: she had no reason to either flirt with him or be shy about her body, because she had a damn good body.

By the time Alexandra emerged from the shower  as if reborn, having washed away not just makeup, glitter, and sweat but also the long, odd, rugged day  Richard was not in the living room.

The relief that he might have left flooded over her. Then came the realization that he wouldnt have gone anywhere  he was surely already waiting for her in the bedroom.

Richard was strange  handsome, intelligent, with kind eyes, a dazzling smile, an athletes body  but he seemed empty. He was an actor  not by trade but by nature. It was as if he didnt even know himself  even though he spoke and acted convincingly, everything was congruent, everything was as it should be.

She changed into clean underwear  panties and a tank top  tossed the towel onto the chair with intentional carelessness, and, deliberately stomping, marched to the bed, where Richard lay wrapped in half of the duvet.

Alexandra hoped he understood that if he suddenly thought of seducing her, shed tear his ears off. She sighed, and he turned his head toward her; he was smiling, it was visible even in the darkness.

She threw off the duvet and lay down next to him, on her back, her eyelids heavy with fatigue, her body feeling wooden. She hoped shed fall asleep. Hope was all she could do.

Richard turned onto his side, facing her. She felt his gaze on her skin, but she had already closed her eyes and didnt speak  words would not have come easy to her.

Sleep.

Mm-hmm, Alexandra replied with a mix of annoyance and resignation.

When she held that glass in her hands, she felt dread  if she were a cat, her fur would have stood on end. She sensed danger  and so did he. He distracted her. Intentionally or unintentionally, it no longer mattered.

Intuition doesnt lie; a beast does not deceive itself.

If intuition were to be trusted, this Richard needs to piss off  And at the same time, she managed to see something real under the thick layer of his makeup  when he said he wanted to become himself.

Alexandra opened her eyes and looked at him. His eyelids were closed, his expression smooth, his round bare shoulder in the semi-darkness, with a long old scar snaking down it  he resembled an anatomy template for a painter; tomorrow, hell probably have stubble, his face will have creases from the pillow 

Who the hell are you, Richard North?

She would see and find everything out in her dreams  the most important thing now was to sleep.

9. Circus

Arent you going to at least ask where we are?

The young man in a late 16th-century suit sat at an elongated glass table, his legs crossed, his pointed shoes resting on the tabletop, his full-lipped face smiling.

No, Alexandra shrugged. Does it matter?

Everything matters.

In front of him stood a bottle  labelless and dust-covered  and three goblets.

The young man pointed at the bottle, and Alexandra shook her head. No, Christopher, I cant stand this wine anymore.

Now it was Christophers turn to express disapproval.

Such faint-heartedness! he snorted with a mischievous smirk and clicked his tongue.

Are we waiting for William?

Yeah. Hes running late  a huge commission for Dante engravings.

Alexandra took a seat with her back to the white canvas of the projector screen and looked around. It was a typical conference room for about a dozen people, with a glass door, tall windows through which, if the lamps inside were off, sparse lights from the building across and the glow of streetlamps could be seen.

I can give you a hint about where we are! Christopher persisted.

Go ahead.

Christopher was charming, the way brown-eyed young men, artistic, having had their fair share of entertainment, success and emotion, gifted with rich intellect, can be charming.

We, he theatrically gestured with his hands, are at the circus!

At the circus?

Why specify?

To understand  and remember. I might have to write this down in the red book later.

Youll remember everything; dont underestimate yourself. Forgetting certain things is your defense, a trick of your own mind. You hold the keys.

Alexandra leaned her elbows on the glass surface, sighed  in the same theatrical style as her interlocutor. They exchanged glances, chuckled, and Christopher continued to rock in his chair, leaning back with his legs still on the table.

What kind of beasts are there in the circus? Alexandra asked.

Oh, the young man said with a conspiratorial look. Various ones.

Are we part of the circus too?

No. We live in the wild  no one forces us to jump through fiery hoops, dance for a piece of sugar or dental insurance

Poor animals.

You dont say! They dream of being themselves, but theyre not allowed to.

Alexandra frowned, Christopher didnt consider her contemplation a hindrance to their conversation.

By the way, you promised to find me a partron, he mentioned.

I remember.

Hows that going?

Christopher, where am I supposed to just find you a spy gathering intel for the British Queen in France?

The young man didnt have a chance to respond. They both turned to the glass door simultaneously as an older man entered.

William! Alexandra threw her hands up, getting up from her chair.

Christopher continued rocking.

William was of short stature but youthful and robust, his posture straight, he was dressed in an early 19th-century suit. People like him always drew attention to themselves  as soon as they entered a room.

Alexandra! he mirrored her tone.

How are you? Hows Catherine? Hows Dante?

Good, Catherine is my hope and support, and Dante is a work in progress.

Their embrace was warm and friendly, Alexandra immediately livened up  Christopher, on the other hand, squinted.

You didnt hug me!

Because youre not her partron, William replied forgivingly, as if speaking to a child.

Dont worry, Ill hug you too.

Alexandra walked around Christopher and positioned herself so she could lean down with her arms outstretched, while Christopher continued to lean further back.

Circus, William commented as he walked further inside and sat in Alexandras chair.

She never did get the chance to hug Christopher  both of his chairs legs slipped on the linoleum, he fell to the ground with a loud crash.

While Alexandra helped him up, William, lost in thought  as Alexandra was before him  looked off into the distance, past the bottle and the three goblets.

Even if you dont like chess, youre already playing, William began when the woman and the young man finally settled down at the table. Youre on the board.

He pressed his finger on the glass surface of the table, and Christopher swallowed.

Both of you are playing  you and Christophers partron.

They exchanged glances. William continued.

Nows your move, Alexandra. Such is the nature of the game  you represent the forces of chaos.

And me? Christopher widened his eyes.

Your partron desperately clings to order, but soon he will understand that there will be no more old order  because he has already begun his path to becoming.

Hooray! Christopher exclaimed. I mean, I hope it doesnt tear him apart and all, and Ill finally get to meet him.

So whats going to be my move? Alexandra spoke.

Any  it depends on your wish to move the plot along. To push whats already moving.

Christophers partron, Alexandra concluded. He came into motion.

William nodded.

So I need the one who acts in a circus, jumps through fiery hoops, spies for the British Queen, and hes on the first stage of the Great Work already?

Exactly, William agreed.

What should I do with the wine  and the fact that someone wanted to kill me?

Trust your intuition. They didnt intend to kill you  it was a counter-move, an attempt to provoke a reaction.

Why a counter-move?

Youre successful, Christopher answered for William. Theyre afraid of your radiance. Your existence is like a red flag to them.

After what happened, there will be even more resonance.

Theyre foolish. Theyve read your books, but they didnt understand anything.

Thats how it always goes

Our lot, Alexandra, is to be out of time and place in our era, William rose from the chair, adjusted his jackets lapels. And to get slaps on the back of our heads from those who speak a different language.

Its a wordplay, Christopher added. They can speak our language just fine.

Christopher repeated after William as he stood, Alexandra watched them walk to the exit, as always, no goodbyes.

The young man turned around.

Circus, he reminded.

Alexandra nodded. When they disappeared, she mouthed the word  to make sure she remembers.

10. Breakfast

Alexandra was in the bathroom, Richard was leafing through the red notebook that she left on the table, brows furrowed on his handsome face. The words arranged into formulas, in English and Russian, the notes were divided into chapters, sectioned by associative array.

Keys, lists of names and phrases  sorted by the stages of the Great Work, according to her system of symbols  Turning the notebook over and opening it on the other side, Richard found conventional notes, sorted chronologically.