The Suitcase / Чемодан. Книга для чтения на английском языке

“Watches,” Fred replied. “It’s not important. I brought him the goods at least ten times. He wouldn’t take them. He came up with a new excuse each time. In the end, he never did take them. I kept thinking, ‘What’s he playing at?’ And suddenly I realized that he didn’t want to buy my watches, he just wanted to feel like a businessman who needed a shipment of brand-name goods. He wanted an excuse to keep asking me, ‘How is our arrangement?’”

The waitress took our order. We lit up our cigarettes and I asked, “Couldn’t you be arrested?”

Fred thought about it and replied calmly, “It’s not out of the question. I’ll be sold out by my own people,” he added without anger.

“Then maybe you should stop?”

He frowned. “I used to work as a shipping clerk[14 - shipping clerk – экспедитор].

I lived on ninety roubles a month…” Then he suddenly stood up and shouted, “It’s a farce!”

“Prison isn’t any better.”

“What can I do? I have no talents. I refuse to cripple myself for ninety roubles. Well, all right, so I’ll eat two thousand hamburgers in my lifetime. Wear out twenty-five dark-grey suits. Leaf through seven hundred issues of the local newspaper. And die without scratching the earth’s surface. Is that it?. I’d rather live only a minute, but live it right!”

Our food and drink was brought.

My new friend continued to philosophize. “There’s nothing before our birth but an abyss, and there’s only an abyss after our death. Our life is but a grain of sand in the indifferent ocean of infinity. So let’s try to keep the moment from boredom and despair! Let’s try to leave a scratch on the earth’s crust. Let the average Joe[15 - average Joe – средний человек] pull the load. He’s not going to perform miracles. Or even commit crimes…”

I almost shouted at Fred, “Then why don’t you perform any miracles!” But I controlled myself. He was paying for the drinks.

We spent about an hour in the restaurant. Then I said, “Time to go. The pawnshop will close.”

And then Fred Kolesnikov made me an offer. “Want to get in on the share? I work carefully, I don’t take hard currency[16 - hard currency – (зд.) иностранная валюта] or gold. You’ll improve your finances and then you can quit. How about it? Let’s have a drink now and talk tomorrow.”

The next day I thought my pal would stand me up, but Fred was merely late. We met near the idle fountain in front of the Astoria Hotel. Then we went off into the bushes. Fred said, “Two Finnish women will be here in a minute with the goods. Grab a cab and go with them to this address.”

He handed me a scrap of newsprint and went on. “Rymar will meet you. Easy to recognize – he’s got the face of an idiot and an orange sweater. I’ll be there after ten minutes. Everything will be OK!”

“But I don’t speak Finnish.”

“That doesn’t matter. The important thing is to smile. I’d go myself, but they know me here…” Fred suddenly grabbed my hand. “There they are! Go to it!”

And he disappeared into the bushes.

I went to meet the two women, feeling terribly nervous. They looked like peasants, with broad, tanned faces. They were wearing light raincoats, elegant shoes and bright kerchiefs. Each carried a shopping bag as swollen as a soccer ball.

Gesticulating wildly, I finally led the women to the taxi stand. There was no line. I kept repeating, “Mr Fred, Mr Fred,” and plucked at one woman’s sleeve.

“Where is that guy?” the woman said angrily. “Where the hell is he? What’s he trying to pull?[17 - What’s he trying to pull? – Чего он нам голову морочит? (от выражения to pull a fast one – обмануть, провести)] ”

“You speak Russian?”

“My mama was Russian.”

I said, “Mr Fred will be coming a bit later. Mr Fred asked me to take you to his house.”

A car pulled up. I gave the address. Then I started looking out the window. I hadn’t realized how many policemen there could be in a crowd of pedestrians.

The women spoke Finnish to each other. They were clearly unhappy about something. Then they laughed and I felt better.

A man in a fiery sweater was waiting for us on the sidewalk. He said to me with a wink, “What a couple of dogs!”

“Take a look in the mirror,” Ilona said angrily. She was the younger one.

“They speak Russian,” I said.

“Terrific,” Rymar said without skipping a beat, “marvellous. Brings us closer. How do you like Leningrad?”

“Not bad,” Maria said.

“Have you been to the Hermitage?”

“Not yet. What is it?”

“They have paintings, souvenirs, and so on. Before that, tsars lived in it,” said Rymar.

“We should take a look,” Ilona said.

“You haven’t been to the Hermitage!” Rymar was shocked. He even slowed his pace a bit, as if being with such uncultured people was dragging him down.

We went up to the second floor. Rymar pushed open the door, which wasn’t locked. There were dirty dishes everywhere. The walls were covered with photographs. Colourful dust jackets of foreign records lay on the couch. The bed wasn’t made.

Rymar put on the light and quickly neatened up. Then he said, “What have you brought?”

“Why don’t you tell us where your pal with the money is?”

There were footsteps at that moment, and Fred Kolesnikov appeared. He was carrying a newspaper that had been in his mailbox. He looked calm, even indifferent.

"Terse,” he said to the Finns. “Hello.”

Then he turned to Rymar. “Boy, they look pissed.

Have you been hitting on them?”

“Me?” said Rymar indignantly. “We were talking about Art! By the way, they speak Russian.”

“Wonderful,” said Fred. “Good evening, Madame Lenart; how are you, Mademoiselle Ilona?”

“All right, thanks.”

“Why did you hide the fact that you speak Russian?”

“No one asked.”

“We should have a drink first,” Rymar said.

He took a bottle of Cuban rum from the closet. The Finns drank with pleasure. Rymar poured another round. When the guests went to use the bathroom, he said, “All these Laplanders look alike.”