Authors: Vasily Klyukin
Maybe
they should shoot a video of the way he looked and behaved when he was a
Veggie? Yes, they definitely ought to do that. Let him get an eyeful of that.
The
doubts tormented Isaac so badly that he was even afraid to share them with
Bikie. He would only twist everything again.
“Bikie,
have you ever had any real friends?” Isaac asked, coming at things indirectly.
“I
had one. Even two.”
“And
where are they now?”
“One
went away to California. His parents moved there. We were teenagers back then.
We stayed friends until twenty-one. We used to race our mopeds like crazy.”
“And
the other one?”
“The
other one turned out to be a scumbag.”
“How
come?”
“I
thought he was my friend. But apparently he was not. David Suleiman. I trusted
him, and he used my trust to rob me. Turned out to be a bastard. When I was
restoring my Harley, he offered to buy some spare parts for me. Said it was
interesting to see how to make a super-stylish bike out of an old frame and a
heap of metal. And then I found out he had been ripping me off big-time on the
parts. Bastard. Some friend. Like they say, with friends like that, who needs
enemies? I would have smashed his head in, but he didn’t cross my path for a
long time, and I cooled off. Screw him, I reckon it’s bad for your karma to
touch filthy scum.”
“I
see. I’ve only had Pascal. And to be honest, it’s really bothering me right
now. We’re putting his life on the line. It’s not like a friendly thing to do.”
Isaac
started telling Bikie again about their friendship, how they had fun and fought
shoulder to shoulder. He got so carried away that Bikie started getting angry.
“How
come you guys didn’t get married, if you loved each other so much?”
“Drop
it, Bikie,” said Isaac, catching the note of jealousy. “He was a great guy and
you would like him”
“I
doubt it, you make him sound so perfect, and it’s sickening.”
“Not
perfect, just my best friend. He was,” Isaac added, after a moment’s thought.
“Until he became a Veggie.”
“I
don’t give a shit. Right now we need him for business.”
“Bikie,
I’ll tell you honestly, I don’t know what he’ll be like after being a Veggie.
He might even go running to the police. He’s so straight and proper now. We
can’t imagine what changes have taken place in his brain these last few years.”
“Then
I’ll definitely smash his head in.”
Isaac
stopped talking and didn’t bring the subject up again: Bikie was too crabby.
But the thoughts about Pascal didn’t go away. Bikie was clearly also musing on
the possible consequences, but neither he nor Isaac wanted to discuss them.
“And
another point. I didn’t want to mention it in front of Link, and then it
slipped my mind. I got a call from the police about that old incident. Some
commissioner who emphatically requested me to contact him when I get home.”
“You
were right not to tell Link. The old fogey would have shit himself. What was it
they wanted?”
“I
don’t know, nothing special. Just, call us when you get here.”
“Well,
that doesn’t mean a thing. Why would they scare you ahead of time? What have
they got on you?”
Isaac
related the events of that day blow by blow, recalling all the details he
could.
“So
no one knows the board’s decision went your way?”
“Nope.
That crazy Elvis-guy isn’t likely to have told anyone. Again, in their eyes
he’s just an ordinary madman.”
“OK,
I’ll think about it. So far I don’t see any problems, to be honest. I was
surprised how easy it was to copy the lists onto the computer. Usually
information like that is kept on the server or in the cloud. The guy in the
office who copied it onto his computer is a common idiot. He either won’t
remember what was there, or just to be on the safe side he won’t admit he kept
the lists on his own machine instead of on a protected server. I found all
sorts of other trash on that card, terabytes of files and folders. The absolute
mess some folks have on their computers is worse than the history of the Middle
Ages.”
The
next half hour they drove in silence and Isaac fell asleep. After a few
kilometers, Bikie shook him awake and they swapped places. Isaac took the wheel
and struck up a conversation.
“What
kind of world do you want to live in?”
“You
keep going on about the world, the world. Why don’t you think about chicks
instead? Or about how to sell your invention for more dough? If you have money
for drinking and eating, you can live in a world of dreams if you like, or in
Hollywood, or set up Hollywood at your villa, like Wolanski. You and I don’t
have any money, we have different concerns, but we can live in a world full of
struggle and adventures. For a good job, for a girl, for our own thoughts and
ideas. Or you can become an ordinary nine-to-five guy, living on a schedule
like a robot. But then what’s the point?”
“What
are you talking about?”
“Richard
Bach has this book called Running from Safety. At fifty-nine, Bach mystically
meets himself, at the age of nine, and they spend time together. The boy takes
him to task very strictly for the life he’s lived: What have you achieved, have
you stuck to your principles, what wishes have you realized and, most
importantly, what dreams ‘of mine/of ours’ have you made real? The grown-up
Bach can’t really answer, just makes excuses. Almost across the board he got
caught up in work and the problems of the day and he didn’t achieve much of
what he wanted as a child, he forgot all his childhood dreams. He tries to
prove something to the little kid who is he. He gives him advice, explains
something. But he can’t overcome the starry-eyed boy’s disappointment, and the
boy rejects this version of himself in the future.
“Gradually
they start patching things up and then, looking back over the years, the man
points out his own mistakes and gives the boy tips.
“The
main conclusion of the book is one should not live a sated, contented life in a
straight line, but take initiative. Life is not a preset route like a railway.
Life is a movie and living it like a humble extra in it is the most boring
thing that can possibly happen to you. Run from a full belly, tranquility and
safety. By the way, that is what our Prince Albert is like: he’s been to the
North Pole, competed in the Paris-Dakar rally, even taken part in the Olympics
five times.”
“Why
are you telling me all this?”
“So
you’d realize that by taking a risk with Pascal, you’re doing him a favor. He’s
playing an extra’s part with no highs or lows. If you offered him a chance to
switch from being a desk drone to being the lead character in a wild financial
venture, what do you think he’d say? You’ll be betraying him the same way he
did you, if you don’t hoist him out of there, or, at least, try. What sort of
friend are you if you won’t lend him a hand?”
Isaac
said nothing for a long time, then he pulled over onto the shoulder and gave
Bikie a hug.
“You’re
a real friend, Bikie.”
“More
slobbering. I already know I’m a real friend,” Bikie remarked, but without a
drop of his trademark acidity.
Italy,
the border, France, Monaco. And then there was the house up ahead. The road
back had seemed really short. They reached Wolanski’s villa running on
adrenalin they each felt in their own way, but essentially they shared one
feeling – the excitement and joy of success and the anticipation of what comes
next.
Isaac
dashed straight to the hospital to see Vicky, where he learned that her
condition had not changed, and she was still stable. He was relieved that she
has not gone worse while he was away.
Previously
he had been thinking all the time about her surgery and the money he didn’t
have. Now his head was more occupied with Link and Michelle. It came to his
mind that it was cowardice on his part to be glad that everything was still the
same that Vicky had not gotten worse.
He
sat down by her bed, the sensor measuring her pulse rate chirped quietly. The
transparent mask over her mouth and nose made it hard for Isaac to imagine that
she was simply asleep. Isaac realized how badly he missed her. He took Vicky’s
hand and started talking to her quietly. He told her about Sardinia and the
vigilant old woman. About how he met a man who was unique. About Bikie’s stupid
jokes. He told her everything he would have told her if she could hear him.
Apart from one single thing – that he’d had a hallucination, a moment when he
thought of Vicky as not his sister, but as a coveted girlfriend. That absurd
delusion was completely gone by now, thanks to Michelle. He told his little
sister about his new relationship too.
And
suddenly his mobile phone rang. The number wasn’t identified and it was
Pellegrini.
“Already
back in Monaco? Can we meet?”
“Yes,”
Isaac replied as neutrally as he could, trying not to transmit his agitation
over the phone.
“I’ll
expect you tomorrow at eleven. Don’t be late,” said Pellegrini and then,
feeling pleased, he filled out the paperwork for another trip to Monaco.
He
ought to call Grace Kelly Hospital later and thank them for their assistance.
Pellegrini had learned that Isaac was back in Monaco the moment the hospital
called and told him Monsieur Leroy had come to visit his sister. In the most
polite tone that he could muster, Pellegrini asked them to always call him in
the future when Isaac shows up and also, if he does not come alone, to take a
note of the names of the people with him.
In
the evening, Isaac and Bikie discussed the summons to the police, but came to
the conclusion that nothing terrible could happen. If Isaac insisted that he
hadn’t been given anything – and no one could prove he had – there wasn’t any
particular problem, they thought. He could go with a lawyer, but that would
arouse the police’s suspicions of something shady. They decided that Isaac
would go alone, but just to be on the safe side Bikie promised to clean up the
computers and erase all traces of the lists including the results of the search
and other indirect evidence.
The
interest from the police had to be snuffed out before it took hold. The last
thing they needed was for the police to decide to visit Isaac at home, with
Link just about to arrive.
***
The
commissioner asked various questions, seemingly innocent. To most of them Isaac
had the answers ready.
“Have
you remembered anything after the terrorist attack that you didn’t mention
before?”
“No,
nothing.”
“Have
you suffered any post-traumatic syndrome?” “No, I’m fine, thanks.” “Any
nightmares?”
“No,
they don’t bother me.”
“Where
are you staying now?”
“At
Peter Wolanski’s villa.”
“Just
taking it easy at Wolanski’s place?”
“Working.”
“What do you?”
“Security,
we keep an eye on the house, the pool, the lawn.”
“Who
with?”
“Bikie,
Just a friend. We work together.”
“Have
you known him for long?”
“No,
we met at the job.”
“How
did you find the job with Wolanski?”
“From
an ad.”
“Who
do you spend time with?”
“No
one in particular.”
“Where
did you go to?”
“To
Spain, to Ibiza. Then to Italy, Napoli. To see a friend.”
“What’s
the friend’s name?”
“Alfredo.”
“Does
he have a surname?”
“Yes,
of course. Martinez.”
“It
must be a nice place.”
“For
a break, not for working. Of course it’s nice.”
“Did
you talk to Elvis?” Suddenly said the commissioner, changing his tone abruptly.
“Who
is Elvis? That schizo?’
“Yes.
The terrorist. You were in the same cell for several hours. Did you talk on
that day?”
“My
head was killing me. Your idiots – sorry for that – clouted me so hard I got
concussion.”
“You
mean to tell me you didn’t say anything at all to each other?”
“He
muttered something. The screwy freak but I didn’t listen to him. I just wanted
him to shut up quick.”
“Did
he give you anything at all?”
“No,
he didn’t.”
“Maybe
he did and you don’t remember?”
“How
could I not remember? I came home afterwards. They gave me back my things. If
he’d given me anything while I was out of it, I would have found it afterwards
for sure.”
“I
don’t have anymore questions. On behalf of the police, I apologize for the
incident once again. I hope you’re well already and your sister recovers.
Here’s my card and if you remember anything, call me.”
Isaac
left the police station in an excellent mood, thinking the devil wasn’t as
black as he was painted. He went into a café two blocks away, where
Bikie was waiting, told him everything in brief and handed over Pellegrini’s
card. Bikie decided to look up just who this commissioner was.