Despite the development of technology and science, our spiritual development ...
Oleg Divov
LADY WITH A DOG
So, Commander, you agree.
This was the first time General Mimora had seen this man. And the man did not immediately look at him.
Commander Maxime Lukassen, graduate of the Military University. The diploma is a copy with a federal security stamp on the change of name, received six months ago. Certificate from the Office of the Minister of War, certifying the officer rank. He brilliantly passed the qualifying exam for the rank of commander and was appointed. Thirty-nine years old, not married, no children, no information about relatives. It looks like Lucassen broke up with everyone and started a new life under a new name. The army is quite the right place for this. What people are not hiding from in the army: financial collapse, personal tragedies, family troubles ... There can be nothing compromising behind Lukassen, otherwise security would simply block his access to the troops. But it is still unpleasant to deal with a person without a past.
He has no complaints, but is reputed to be too desperate, almost an adventurer. Unsociable, does not make friends, no love relationships. The latter, given the external data, was suspicious. Commander Lucassen was a tall and beautifully built blue-eyed brunette with a haircut according to the charter, and wore a neat black beard. Very romantic. Women are thrilled with such. But the commander had no women. And men too. He did not keep pets, did not plant flowers on the windowsill, did not make contributions to charities, did not attend church, did not gamble. Didn't pay for subscriptions to political and sports channels. He did not even have bad habits: he did not smoke, did not drink, and there was no talk of drugs. He only served.
It was such an officer that General Mimoru was looking for. Robot. The function in the commander's tunic, which no one gets bored of, will not be sad. I was looking for and getting ready to agree to a compromise, because I understood: there are no such people. Found.
And how he did not like the found copy!
According to the documents, the commander was listed as a living person, completely normal, albeit completely devoid of any weaknesses, but with his own eyes - well, really a robot. He didn't give a damn about anything. He was not surprised at anything, was not interested in anything, and had no questions to his superiors. Ready for the task.
At some point, General Mimoru became seriously nervous and almost abandoned the idea of \u200b\u200busing Lucassen on the expedition. This indifference infuriated him. Involuntarily, a suspicion arose: either the commander was still crazy, or he was playing his game, hiding and waiting for something. And then he suddenly clicks in his head, and he does something like that - take off your shoulder straps and get into the noose.
But then the general reminded himself that Lucasin could not seriously harm. Yes, he will be in command of the transport, but his main role is to officially cover the operation. And trusted and reliable people will go with him. And the success of the expedition depends only on them.
And you can get rid of Lukassen if you misbehave. In principle, he is not obliged to return to the base, they will get there fine without him.
Fortunately, no one will look for the commander.
* * *I hope you understand why the search and return of this manuscript is so important, - Carol Monroe said meaningfully.
In five hours, she repeated this phrase eleven times. Somewhere between the seventh and eighth times, I realized that I was keeping my face working only because of my bad mood.
Perhaps Carol Monroe was beautiful. Next to her, I seemed rustic. Carol, with her icy pride, impeccable posture and unexpected grace, looked like a real princess. So bookish and romantic. By birth, she could not claim the title, although she was financially superior to very, very many women from the younger aristocracy.
But in every line of her image, whatever you take, there was a slight, barely perceptible madness. Carol only wore black and white, always combined. She hated melange and gray shades, she was satisfied only with the geometric clarity of the pattern of the fabric and accessories. August once mentioned that for a wedding she wore a dazzling white dress trimmed with black lace; in my humble opinion, a person with a slightly developed imagination, seeing such a bride, would run as fast as he could. When I saw Carol for the first time, she was wearing a tight black dress trimmed with white triangles. Any psychologist would say that Carol is a freak in trouble.
Sometimes I ask myself if there is more than a series of coincidences connecting me to this family. At seventeen, I became interested in Dick Monroe, Carol's grandfather. Dick was a wonderful lover and called himself the devil in the flesh. Actually, it was at his villa that I met Carol for the first time. She arrived without warning, the situation was extremely awkward. Dick was not embarrassed: his vanity was truly devilish. At first, Carol paid no attention to me at all. She just walked in and, without even thinking to say hello, blurted out: "From now on I'm divorced!" Then she glanced over at me and added: “Your new mistress? Even younger than the last one. " And Dick replied: “I’m thinking: should I marry her? I'm tired of you, it's time to start another family, and you, losers, to forget like a bad dream. You couldn't even keep this Scottish ram! " His words struck me as not only tactless, but also cruel. When Carol left, I reprimanded him. And Dick laughed: “Della, I don't have to love people because they are my descendants. I don't have to respect them on the grounds that they need me. They did not choose where to be born - and I did not choose who will be born to me. And I'm not happy with what happened. " Two months later, Dick kicked me out in the hope that I would ask for forgiveness, and I took it and left. They said that Dick was very angry, but, fortunately, I am not his daughter or granddaughter, there is no leverage over me.
When I met Carol the second time, a lot had changed. I managed to acquire the status of Berg's ex-wife, and she gave birth to a girl. I was in my second year at the Military University, Carol in the master's degree in the Department of History and Archives, Humanities. Carol also managed to be known as a terrible bitch. It is not surprising: divorce, the birth of a child, God knows from whom, the death of a father and two brothers (and grandfather was suspected of their death in a whisper) - there is something to be embittered about. She did not forget me and hated me fiercely. Presumably, for the fact that grandpa humiliated her in my presence.
Later, life threw her new reasons for hatred. It was only after working with August that I learned that the notorious Scottish ram that Carol could not keep was he. And the father of the child, I suspect, is the same. At least the girl's name was Augusta, she was quiet and autistic, and from her face she was a blue-eyed little white lamb. August collected red toy cars; the girl showed interest in red toy bicycles ... Dick Monroe had a villa on Tanir, although he rarely appeared here, but from six months ago he suddenly decided that the climate was right for him. Together with him, his granddaughter settled on Tanir. Probably, she hoped to resume relations with her ex-husband, because the daughter must have asked who her dad was. And the likely dad went to all parties with me and looked through his ex-wife.
A month ago, August was shelled. Together with me. They fired masterly: the car was in a sieve, we both had no scratches, only dirt and small fragments had to be combed out of our hair. I had no doubts about the customer. Carol blabbed long ago, as if by chance and in a narrow confidant circle, that she was ready to settle scores if someone did not change their minds. August didn't even raise an eyebrow.
And when today she called and imperatively invited me to come, I agreed. I was in a disgusting mood. Long ago. In this state, it is better not to take on risky projects: it is easy to die. But the paradox is that it is death that does not frighten and even attracts in some way.
Tough year. Empty, ridiculous words. In the fall, I promised my grandfather that I would definitely come home for Orthodox Christmas. I haven’t seen my family for a long time; August took on a complex investigation in Siberia, planning to complete it by Catholic Christmas. Everything turned out badly: a very nice man died, and we did not have time to save him. And of course, they did not meet the deadline, and for a change they also sat in a Russian prison. We returned to Tanira only at the end of January. In memory of that case, we have a special dog Vasilisa - a decommissioned cyborg from the cosmodrome security, trained on cargo robots. She looked like an ordinary Siberian shepherd: fluffy red fur, sweet black muzzle, luxurious tail. Such a positive dog, and what is big is wonderful - there will be someone to hug in a difficult moment of life. The main thing is not to look into the mouth ... And this monster, not having time to fly to its new home, took and bawled happily. How dogs love to arrange such podlyany! We had to suffer a lot with the transportation of the entire menagerie, then - with its arrangement.
Oleg Divov
LADY WITH A DOG
So, Commander, you agree.
This was the first time General Mimora had seen this man. And the man did not immediately look at him.
Commander Maxime Lukassen, graduate of the Military University. The diploma is a copy with a federal security stamp on the change of name, received six months ago. Certificate from the Office of the Minister of War, certifying the officer rank. He brilliantly passed the qualifying exam for the rank of commander and was appointed. Thirty-nine years old, not married, no children, no information about relatives. It looks like Lucassen broke up with everyone and started a new life under a new name. The army is quite the right place for this. What people are not hiding from in the army: financial collapse, personal tragedies, family troubles ... There can be nothing compromising behind Lukassen, otherwise security would simply block his access to the troops. But it is still unpleasant to deal with a person without a past.
He has no complaints, but is reputed to be too desperate, almost an adventurer. Unsociable, does not make friends, no love relationships. The latter, given the external data, was suspicious. Commander Lucassen was a tall and beautifully built blue-eyed brunette with a haircut according to the charter, and wore a neat black beard. Very romantic. Women are thrilled with such. But the commander had no women. And men too. He did not keep pets, did not plant flowers on the windowsill, did not make contributions to charities, did not attend church, did not gamble. Didn't pay for subscriptions to political and sports channels. He did not even have bad habits: he did not smoke, did not drink, and there was no talk of drugs. He only served.
It was such an officer that General Mimoru was looking for. Robot. The function in the commander's tunic, which no one gets bored of, will not be sad. I was looking for and getting ready to agree to a compromise, because I understood: there are no such people. Found.
And how he did not like the found copy!
According to the documents, the commander was listed as a living person, completely normal, albeit completely devoid of any weaknesses, but with his own eyes - well, really a robot. He didn't give a damn about anything. He was not surprised at anything, was not interested in anything, and had no questions to his superiors. Ready for the task.
At some point, General Mimoru became seriously nervous and almost abandoned the idea of \u200b\u200busing Lucassen on the expedition. This indifference infuriated him. Involuntarily, a suspicion arose: either the commander was still crazy, or he was playing his game, hiding and waiting for something. And then he suddenly clicks in his head, and he does something like that - take off your shoulder straps and get into the noose.
But then the general reminded himself that Lucasin could not seriously harm. Yes, he will be in command of the transport, but his main role is to officially cover the operation. And trusted and reliable people will go with him. And the success of the expedition depends only on them.
And you can get rid of Lukassen if you misbehave. In principle, he is not obliged to return to the base, they will get there fine without him.
Fortunately, no one will look for the commander.
I hope you understand why the search and return of this manuscript is so important, - Carol Monroe said meaningfully.
In five hours, she repeated this phrase eleven times. Somewhere between the seventh and eighth times, I realized that I was keeping my face working only because of my bad mood.
Perhaps Carol Monroe was beautiful. Next to her, I seemed rustic. Carol, with her icy pride, impeccable posture and unexpected grace, looked like a real princess. So bookish and romantic. By birth, she could not claim the title, although she was financially superior to very, very many women from the younger aristocracy.
But in every line of her image, whatever you take, there was a slight, barely perceptible madness. Carol only wore black and white, always combined. She hated melange and gray shades, she was satisfied only with the geometric clarity of the pattern of the fabric and accessories. August once mentioned that for a wedding she wore a dazzling white dress trimmed with black lace; in my humble opinion, a person with a slightly developed imagination, seeing such a bride, would run as fast as he could. When I saw Carol for the first time, she was wearing a tight black dress trimmed with white triangles. Any psychologist would say that Carol is a freak in trouble.
Sometimes I ask myself if there is more than a series of coincidences connecting me to this family. At seventeen, I became interested in Dick Monroe, Carol's grandfather. Dick was a wonderful lover and called himself the devil in the flesh. Actually, it was at his villa that I met Carol for the first time. She arrived without warning, the situation was extremely awkward. Dick was not embarrassed: his vanity was truly devilish. At first, Carol paid no attention to me at all. She just walked in and, without even thinking to say hello, blurted out: "From now on I'm divorced!" Then she glanced over at me and added: “Your new mistress? Even younger than the last one. " And Dick replied: “I’m thinking: should I marry her? I'm tired of you, it's time to start another family, and you, losers, to forget like a bad dream. You couldn't even keep this Scottish ram! " His words struck me as not only tactless, but also cruel. When Carol left, I reprimanded him. And Dick laughed: “Della, I don't have to love people because they are my descendants. I don't have to respect them on the grounds that they need me. They did not choose where to be born - and I did not choose who will be born to me. And I'm not happy with what happened. " Two months later, Dick kicked me out in the hope that I would ask for forgiveness, and I took it and left. They said that Dick was very angry, but, fortunately, I am not his daughter or granddaughter, there is no leverage over me.
Oleg Divov
Lady with a dog
© Divov O., 2014
© Design. LLC "Publishing house" Eksmo ", 2014
All rights reserved. No part of the electronic version of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means, including posting on the Internet and corporate networks, for private and public use without the written permission of the copyright holder.
© The electronic version of the book was prepared by Litres (www.litres.ru) * * *
“So, Commander, you agree.
- Yes, sir.
This was the first time General Mimora had seen this man. And the man did not immediately look at him.
Commander Maxime Lukassen, graduate of the Military University. The diploma is a copy with a federal security stamp on the change of surname, received six months ago. Certificate from the Office of the Minister of War, certifying the officer rank. He brilliantly passed the qualifying exam for the rank of commander and was appointed. Thirty-nine years old, not married, no children, no information about relatives. It looks like Lucassen broke up with everyone and started a new life under a new name. The army is quite the right place for this. From what people are not hiding in the army: financial collapse, personal tragedies, family troubles ... Behind Lukassen there can be nothing compromising, otherwise security would simply block his access to the troops. But it is still unpleasant to deal with a person without a past.
He has no complaints, but is reputed to be too desperate, almost an adventurer. Unsociable, does not make friends, no love relationships. The latter, given the external data, was suspicious. Commander Lucassen was a tall and beautifully built blue-eyed brunette with a haircut according to the charter, and wore a neat black beard. Very romantic. Women are thrilled with such. But the commander had no women. And men too. He did not keep pets, did not plant flowers on the windowsill, did not make contributions to charities, did not attend church, did not gamble. Didn't pay for subscriptions to political and sports channels. He did not even have bad habits: he did not smoke, did not drink, and there was no talk of drugs. He only served.
It was such an officer that General Mimoru was looking for. Robot. The function in the commander's tunic, which no one gets bored of, will not be sad. I was looking for and getting ready to agree to a compromise, because I understood: there are no such people. Found.
And how he did not like the found copy!
According to the documents, the commander was listed as a living person, completely normal, albeit completely devoid of any weaknesses, but with his own eyes - well, really a robot. He didn't give a damn about anything. He was not surprised at anything, was not interested in anything, had no questions to his superiors. Ready for the task.
At some point, General Mimoru became seriously nervous and almost abandoned the idea of \u200b\u200busing Lucassen on the expedition. This indifference infuriated him. Involuntarily, a suspicion arose: either the commander was still crazy, or he was playing his game, hiding and waiting for something. And then he suddenly clicks in his head, and he does this - take off the shoulder straps and get into the noose.
But then the general reminded himself that Lucasin could not seriously harm. Yes, he will be in command of the transport, but his main role is to officially cover the operation. And trusted and reliable people will go with him. And the success of the expedition depends only on them.
And you can get rid of Lukassen if you misbehave. In principle, he is not obliged to return to the base, they will get there fine without him.
Fortunately, no one will look for the commander.
* * *“I hope you understand why the tracing and return of this manuscript is so important,” Carol Monroe said meaningfully.
In five hours, she repeated this phrase eleven times. Somewhere between the seventh and eighth times, I realized that I was keeping my face working only because of my bad mood.
Perhaps Carol Monroe was beautiful. Next to her, I seemed rustic. Carol, with her icy pride, impeccable posture and unexpected grace, looked like a real princess. So bookish and romantic. By birth, she could not claim the title, although she was financially superior to very, very many women from the younger aristocracy.
But in every line of her image, whatever you take, there was a slight, barely perceptible madness. Carol only wore black and white, always combined. She hated melange and gray shades, she was satisfied only with the geometric clarity of the pattern of the fabric and accessories. August once mentioned that for a wedding she wore a dazzling white dress trimmed with black lace; in my humble opinion, a person with a slightly developed imagination, seeing such a bride, would run as fast as he could. When I saw Carol for the first time, she was wearing a tight black dress trimmed with white triangles. Any psychologist would say that Carol is a freak in trouble.
Sometimes I ask myself if there is more than a series of coincidences connecting me to this family. At seventeen, I became interested in Dick Monroe, Carol's grandfather. Dick was a wonderful lover and called himself the devil in the flesh. Actually, it was at his villa that I met Carol for the first time. She arrived without warning, the situation was extremely awkward. Dick was not embarrassed: his vanity was truly devilish. At first, Carol paid no attention to me at all. She just walked in and, without even thinking to say hello, blurted out: "From now on I'm divorced!" Then she glanced over at me and added: “Your new mistress? Even younger than the last one. " And Dick replied: “I’m thinking: should I marry her? I'm tired of you, it's time to start another family, and forget you, losers, like a bad dream. You couldn't even keep this Scottish ram! " His words struck me as not only tactless, but also cruel. When Carol left, I reprimanded him. And Dick laughed: “Della, I don't have to love people because they are my descendants. I don't have to respect them on the grounds that they need me. They did not choose where to be born - and I did not choose who will be born to me. And I'm not happy with what happened. " Two months later, Dick kicked me out in the hope that I would ask for forgiveness, and I took it and left. They said that Dick was very angry, but, fortunately, I am not his daughter or granddaughter, there is no leverage over me.
When I met Carol the second time, a lot had changed. I managed to acquire the status of Berg's ex-wife, and she gave birth to a girl. I was in my second year at the Military University, Carol in the master's degree in the Department of History and Archives, Humanities. Carol also managed to be known as a terrible bitch. It is not surprising: divorce, the birth of a child, God knows from whom, the death of a father and two brothers (and grandfather was suspected of their death in a whisper) - there is something to be embittered about. She did not forget me and hated me fiercely. Presumably, for the fact that grandpa humiliated her in my presence.
So, Commander, you agree.
This was the first time General Mimora had seen this man. And the man did not immediately look at him.
Commander Maxime Lukassen, graduate of the Military University. The diploma is a copy with a federal security stamp on the change of name, received six months ago. Certificate from the Office of the Minister of War, certifying the officer rank. He brilliantly passed the qualifying exam for the rank of commander and was appointed. Thirty-nine years old, not married, no children, no information about relatives. It looks like Lucassen broke up with everyone and started a new life under a new name. The army is quite the right place for this. What people are not hiding from in the army: financial collapse, personal tragedies, family troubles ... There can be nothing compromising behind Lukassen, otherwise security would simply block his access to the troops. But it is still unpleasant to deal with a person without a past.
He has no complaints, but is reputed to be too desperate, almost an adventurer. Unsociable, does not make friends, no love relationships. The latter, given the external data, was suspicious. Commander Lucassen was a tall and beautifully built blue-eyed brunette with a haircut according to the charter, and wore a neat black beard. Very romantic. Women are thrilled with such. But the commander had no women. And men too. He did not keep pets, did not plant flowers on the windowsill, did not make contributions to charities, did not attend church, did not gamble. Didn't pay for subscriptions to political and sports channels. He did not even have bad habits: he did not smoke, did not drink, and there was no talk of drugs. He only served.
It was such an officer that General Mimoru was looking for. Robot. The function in the commander's tunic, which no one gets bored of, will not be sad. I was looking for and getting ready to agree to a compromise, because I understood: there are no such people. Found.
And how he did not like the found copy!
According to the documents, the commander was listed as a living person, completely normal, albeit completely devoid of any weaknesses, but with his own eyes - well, really a robot. He didn't give a damn about anything. He was not surprised at anything, was not interested in anything, and had no questions to his superiors. Ready for the task.
At some point, General Mimoru became seriously nervous and almost abandoned the idea of \u200b\u200busing Lucassen on the expedition. This indifference infuriated him. Involuntarily, a suspicion arose: either the commander was still crazy, or he was playing his game, hiding and waiting for something. And then he suddenly clicks in his head, and he does something like that - take off your shoulder straps and get into the noose.
But then the general reminded himself that Lucasin could not seriously harm. Yes, he will be in command of the transport, but his main role is to officially cover the operation. And trusted and reliable people will go with him. And the success of the expedition depends only on them.
And you can get rid of Lukassen if you misbehave. In principle, he is not obliged to return to the base, they will get there fine without him.
Fortunately, no one will look for the commander.
* * *
I hope you understand why the search and return of this manuscript is so important, - Carol Monroe said meaningfully.
In five hours, she repeated this phrase eleven times. Somewhere between the seventh and eighth times, I realized that I was keeping my face working only because of my bad mood.
Perhaps Carol Monroe was beautiful. Next to her, I seemed rustic. Carol, with her icy pride, impeccable posture and unexpected grace, looked like a real princess. So bookish and romantic. By birth, she could not claim the title, although she was financially superior to very, very many women from the younger aristocracy.
But in every line of her image, whatever you take, there was a slight, barely perceptible madness. Carol only wore black and white, always combined. She hated melange and gray shades, she was satisfied only with the geometric clarity of the pattern of the fabric and accessories. August once mentioned that for a wedding she wore a dazzling white dress trimmed with black lace; in my humble opinion, a person with a slightly developed imagination, seeing such a bride, would run as fast as he could. When I saw Carol for the first time, she was wearing a tight black dress trimmed with white triangles. Any psychologist would say that Carol is a freak in trouble.
Sometimes I ask myself if there is more than a series of coincidences connecting me to this family. At seventeen, I became interested in Dick Monroe, Carol's grandfather. Dick was a wonderful lover and called himself the devil in the flesh. Actually, it was at his villa that I met Carol for the first time. She arrived without warning, the situation was extremely awkward. Dick was not embarrassed: his vanity was truly devilish. At first, Carol paid no attention to me at all. She just walked in and, without even thinking to say hello, blurted out: "From now on I'm divorced!" Then she glanced over at me and added: “Your new mistress? Even younger than the last one. " And Dick replied: “I’m thinking: should I marry her? I'm tired of you, it's time to start another family, and you, losers, to forget like a bad dream. You couldn't even keep this Scottish ram! " His words struck me as not only tactless, but also cruel. When Carol left, I reprimanded him. And Dick laughed: “Della, I don't have to love people because they are my descendants. I don't have to respect them on the grounds that they need me. They did not choose where to be born - and I did not choose who will be born to me. And I'm not happy with what happened. " Two months later, Dick kicked me out in the hope that I would ask for forgiveness, and I took it and left. They said that Dick was very angry, but, fortunately, I am not his daughter or granddaughter, there is no leverage over me.
When I met Carol the second time, a lot had changed. I managed to acquire the status of Berg's ex-wife, and she gave birth to a girl. I was in my second year at the Military University, Carol in the master's degree in the Department of History and Archives, Humanities. Carol also managed to be known as a terrible bitch. It is not surprising: divorce, the birth of a child, God knows from whom, the death of a father and two brothers (and grandfather was suspected of their death in a whisper) - there is something to be embittered about. She did not forget me and hated me fiercely. Presumably, for the fact that grandpa humiliated her in my presence.
Later, life threw her new reasons for hatred. It was only after working with August that I learned that the notorious Scottish ram that Carol could not keep was he. And the father of the child, I suspect, is the same. At least the girl's name was Augusta, she was quiet and autistic, and from her face she was a blue-eyed little white lamb. August collected red toy cars; the girl showed interest in red toy bicycles ... Dick Monroe had a villa on Tanir, although he rarely appeared here, but from six months ago he suddenly decided that the climate was right for him. Together with him, his granddaughter settled on Tanir. Probably, she hoped to resume relations with her ex-husband, because the daughter must have asked who her dad was. And the likely dad went to all parties with me and looked through his ex-wife.
A month ago, August was shelled. Together with me. They fired masterly: the car was in a sieve, we both had no scratches, only dirt and small fragments had to be combed out of our hair. I had no doubts about the customer. Carol blabbed long ago, as if by chance and in a narrow confidant circle, that she was ready to settle scores if someone did not change their minds. August didn't even raise an eyebrow.
And when today she called and imperatively invited me to come, I agreed. I was in a disgusting mood. Long ago. In this state, it is better not to take on risky projects: it is easy to die. But the paradox is that it is death that does not frighten and even attracts in some way.
Tough year. Empty, ridiculous words. In the fall, I promised my grandfather that I would definitely come home for Orthodox Christmas. I haven’t seen my family for a long time; August took on a complex investigation in Siberia, planning to complete it by Catholic Christmas. Everything turned out badly: a very nice man died, and we did not have time to save him. And of course, they did not meet the deadline, and for a change they also sat in a Russian prison. We returned to Tanira only at the end of January. In memory of that case, we have a special dog Vasilisa - a decommissioned cyborg from the cosmodrome security, trained on cargo robots. She looked like an ordinary Siberian shepherd: fluffy red fur, sweet black muzzle, luxurious tail. Such a positive dog, and what is big is wonderful - there will be someone to hug in a difficult moment of life. The main thing is not to look into the mouth ... And this monster, not having time to fly to its new home, took and bawled happily. How dogs love to arrange such podlyany! We had to suffer a lot with the transportation of the entire menagerie, then - with its arrangement.
And when I, freed, called my grandfather, I found out: it's too late. My grandfather died on January 22nd, without waiting for me. Melanoma. Damn it. One of the few cancers that are curable only at an early stage. The grandfather simply did not pay attention to the first symptoms. He did not tell anyone that he was dying. I wanted to say goodbye to everyone I loved. But we didn't understand, didn't feel.
I don’t know how my relationship with Max would have turned out if not for the death of my grandfather. Last summer we made up, soon I caught him with another woman, then we made up again ... He wanted to revive our marriage. I took time out for reflection. I was going to give an answer when I return from Siberia. Naturally, I was informed that in my absence Max wasted no time. I already felt abandoned, and now it is illogical, but with all my heart, I was offended by Max: he was having fun, enjoying life, and my grandfather was dying there. I lost one of the most dear people, and this incorrigible womanizer pesters with the wedding, clung to it like a tick. I'm not up for fun, okay? After all, if Max wanted to get married again, he could be more interested in my family! In short, I said enough. Stop torturing each other. We're not a couple and ... and in general. Perhaps our love had not yet died, but reason - especially mine - kept repeating that it was time to scatter. To hell with reason! I knew for sure that I would no longer wear Princess Sonno's family ring, and Max was not satisfied with any other relationship. He wanted me to be his, and I want to be mine. And the devil tear me apart, my heart was crying with blood, but I said: put an end.
Max ... Max accepted my answer. And I swore mournfully that I would never hear of him again. He kept his word. His sister Tatiana stopped calling me, the gossip reporters did not bother me. Moreover, the name of Maximillian van den Berg has completely disappeared from the news, including even financial ones. I suspected that he had locked himself in the estate and thought deeply about what to do next. Well, he has a lot to overestimate. Loneliness is a good thing, especially in our situation. I would like that too. But I knew it wouldn't help me. And Max - he can handle it. I was not at all afraid that he would commit suicide or get drunk. Then I would definitely have heard about him, albeit in the context of death, and he promised that he would disappear. Bergs are persistent: if they decide something, they will regret it a hundred times, but they will keep the brand.
I forced myself to live. She even started something like a romance. Investigator Ian Johansson, talented and handsome, is three years younger than me. We met, he courted touchingly, I laughed at his jokes and encouraged his still youthful love. Alas, I didn't love him in the least. Our kind of romance came to naught without quarrels, not having time to reach intimacy. As Dr. Morris had predicted, Ian was offered a federal security seat. He hesitated, but everyone was trying to persuade him to agree, even Inspector Kruger, and I - more than anyone. Ian went to Earth, I stayed on Tanir. He seems to understand everything. Occasionally he wrote, called, called for a visit and promised to come himself. We both know this is just politeness.
By the summer, I began to come to life. “Time heals everything” is a terribly sad phrase. It cured me too.
And a month ago, I suddenly dreamed of Max. I'm actually unique, I rarely see dreams, and Max had never appeared in them before. He was cheerful, behaved like an old friend, but with a wisdom unusual for him. I woke up in tears. For some reason I was sure that Max was no longer there. He came to me from over the edge. Yes, I am practically an atheist, but I know for sure: after death, life does not end. And the dead often visit the living and try to tell them something important, which they did not manage during their lifetime. Max didn't tell. Until.
Today he dreamed again. He said he was terribly bored. This was already a disgusting omen - perhaps my own near death. And when he asked me to come to him, I realized even in a dream what it meant. The dead man calls to him. Worst of all, the prospect was not particularly daunting.
This is probably why I agreed to meet with Carol Monroe, knowing full well that the bitch hates me and will stop at nothing.
Almost guessed: Carol tormented me with family history for five hours. This was, perhaps, more terrifying than August's monologues about typewriters. An unprepared person can be driven into a coffin.
I hope you understand… ”Carol began for the twelfth time.
Yes, Miss Monroe, I understand perfectly. With your permission, I will answer tomorrow.
Why is it tomorrow? Carol asked icily. - It seems that I didn’t call you to think!
I have unfinished business. Tomorrow I will know exactly when I can be at your complete disposal.
Good. - She did not hide her displeasure. “I'm expecting your call tomorrow at twelve-thirty.
I went outside and looked longingly at the sky. It was going to rain. For some reason, since I settled on Tanir, it always rains before an important matter.
Max, you fucking son of a bitch, why die ?!
And only when my eyes stung, I realized that not the first drops of rain were running down my face, but tears.
* * *
McKinby, you will find him, ”Dick Monroe said forcefully.
August-Alexander Paul Nicholas and twelve other names McKinby, first-class inquisitor, thought that after visiting Monroe, he should go to the surgeon. And the devil pulled the same to fight with Della! What is the point of fighting an opponent who is not capable of hitting? This little girl jumps like a fox terrier: without a run, from all four paws - and immediately onto her shoulders. We should have thrown it out the window, since it is really not high there, thick soft bushes, and it has recently been raining. You look, it would have cooled down. And it so happened that he closed and occasionally pushed Della away, and she broke his eyebrow. Whom you say, they will not believe. His eyebrow is twenty centimeters above the top of her head. And there is no one to be angry with but himself: he is to blame. Mom is right: this is frustration. He tries to forget himself with other girls - he can't, they take revenge on Della, she rips evil on him, and he - on her. Vicious circle. She hates titled people, and he can't give up the title. She also loves Berg, although she will never live with him.
And McKinby can't find the strength to tell Della that Berg was killed.
Just afraid to hurt her ...
The honor of my family is hurt, ”Dick Monroe pressed. - My granddaughter is a fool. I know you think so yourself. This is the only thing I agree with you. I was against your marriage. But a divorce was not going into any gate. Nevertheless, I said nothing. And you want me to endure this too ?! Some bastard knocked up my granddaughter and lives happily ever after, and Carol is raising a daughter without a husband! You will find him and bring him here.
Dick Monroe pointed to the floor under his feet. McKinby examined the proposed site carefully. He dreamed that Monroe would shut up as soon as possible. Looking for Guy Verona, the true father of the child, is pointless. He went missing two years ago. He disappeared somewhere in the Dark Forest, in the territory that ours do not control. Most likely dead. If he is alive, he will not get out of there. McKinby remembered this quiet, weak, but intelligent and pleasant man in his gentleness. He didn't want to bring him to Dick Monroe. Because Monroe is an old pompous moron. Considers himself a devilishly cunning mafioso. We have seen such ... in a coffin. He does not have enough brains to understand how Guy Verona is the ideal husband for Carol. Guy will endure everything - and continue to love her. And he will never betray. It is a pity that he disappeared.
Fee - so be it, I will forget that you treated my granddaughter like the last scoundrel. They say you are a genius. You understand what my goodwill is worth.
McKinby was not listening. A sore eyebrow occupied him. Two weeks does not heal. Della seemed to have sewn it up right. Doesn't heal. The scar will remain. Let him stay: McKinby was not shy about his wounds. One more, one less.
I must tell Della about Berg. Take it and say it. Today. Yes, she will be hurt. But she will find out sooner or later.
Why did she divorce him? McKinby believed she didn't remember. Bergs remember, but scribbling information out of them is a tedious task, and most importantly, searches cannot be kept secret. What if Della doesn't want to remember herself? Hysterical amnesia. However, what was Berg supposed to do if she, the scout, had amnesia?
In theory, you could ask Nick Berg. He's aloof from family matters, but he knows for sure. He is a journalist not only by profession, but also by vocation.
Right, Nick.
Send whatever you have on this person to my house. McKinby got up. - I won't take it now. I need free hands and a clean head, I want to walk.
Dick Monroe straightened up and gave him a look.
And by the way, where did you get the idea that he ran away? Maybe he died a long time ago?
His happiness, if so. Then you will bring me his corpse.
McKinby never addressed a potential client as "you", even if he had known him for a thousand years. And Dick Monroe never said "you" to anyone.
I have nothing else to do, ”McKinby said calmly,“ how to carry Guy Verona's bones. I need to bury Berg in a human way, and you and your Verona are here.
Dick Monroe froze and asked in a completely different tone:
Berg ... everything?
Damn ... When?
A week ago. I found out the day before yesterday.
Anything known?
As usual, almost nothing. Except that he himself is to blame. Posthumously accused of treason.
Oh, our military's favorite excuse for all occasions. Sold out to dissidents, yeah Or is someone there digging under the Bergov in general?
I doubt they even understood who they were dealing with. He changed his name and was very withdrawn. All this will not affect the reputation of the family. And what exactly happened ... I think he, as usual, decided to play his game on a foreign field.
Give my condolences to Della.
She doesn't know yet. I don’t have the heart to tell her.
Dick Monroe looked at McKinby very closely.
Think of me what you want, I am, of course, the devil, but somehow I also do not want to be a black messenger.
McKinby said nothing.
And now she also idealizes him, ”Dick Monroe suddenly sighed. - McKinby, what do you say if I pay you for the dirt on Berg? Of course, Della will not know who collected ...
McKinby raised a healthy eyebrow in irony.
-… and it is not the first time for me to act as a defiler of shrines. - Dick laughed: - She shouldn't have contacted him.
Lady with a dog Oleg Divov
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Name: Lady with a dog
Author: Oleg Divov
Year: 2014
Genre: Science fiction, Detective fiction, Social fiction
About the book "Lady with a Dog" Oleg Divov
The future is new opportunities for everyone. In the galactic cesspool you cannot see where the bureaucrat ends and the pirate begins. The generals on the star frontier steal entire planets, burn evidence with the fire of an atomic explosion, and sell people into slavery along with ships and crews. Just don't think that they are trying for themselves; this is all at the request of relatives and friends - after all, corporations are very fond of cheap resources and free labor ... And the most inveterate state thieves are engaged in the fight against piracy.
Inquisitor August McKinby is not interested in such matters, for this there is federal security. But August knows: from day to day, his assistant Della Berg will climb into the mud. One person died, the other went missing - and traces of both were lost where ordinary people do not fuss. Della will not be able to stop: it is a family matter. She will have to fly to a place where there is no order or law. And maybe even further, where the hazard index is "zero" and the ships are crushing into pancakes.
A Russian counterintelligence officer and a Siberian cyborg will go with Della. Good company if you need to “find and neutralize”.
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