by Pavel Kornev
"Leo, do you really think I wouldn't have managed to run into you on the platform by complete coincidence?"
"So then, your dad was just making your life easier? Why get so mad, huh?"
"You don't understand a thing!" Liliana opened her powder box with a pitiable sigh, looked in the mirror, and powdered her face in a few confident strokes. "I cannot bear when something is decided for me. Is that clear?"
I couldn't hold back an acrid smirk, just said pliantly:
"I'll keep that in mind for the future."
"Please do," Lily nodded with an impenetrable facial expression and suddenly poked me with a lace-gloved finger. "I hope you don't think I headed off on this trip just so I could spend some time with you!" she issued and implored me theatrically: "Leo, don't disappoint me! Tell me it isn't true!"
"You've broken my heart."
"Leo!"
"Alright! Alright! That’s not what I think."
I really didn’t think that, either. I mean, we barely knew each other.
No, there was something else. Fear?
Fear.
A subtle, nearly undetectable fear, meticulously hidden behind a careless smile. And thanks to the Marquess's frankness, I was aware of its cause. Having one’s fiancé get strangled is a significant reason to fear the thugees. But the performances in the cabaret...
"Can we go?" my companion hurried me on.
"Yes, of course!" I pulled her travelling case out from under the table, weighed it in my hand and held back a smirk. "You don't have so very many things."
"Leo, you're confounding me!" Lily rolled her eyes. "I came to the capital to calm my nerves, what need do I have for baggage? I’m coming here to shop! That was the whole point of the trip! Expensive stores! Talented tailors! Fashionable jewelers!"
"Well, well, well," I laughed, coming down the stairs. "Now I understand why your father was so worried!"
Liliana just frowned.
"If you're implying I’m an extravagant spender, let me be so bold as to assure you: everything I buy is with my own funds."
"Rich fiancé?"
"Rich spinster."
Now came my turn to snort in laughter. But by that time, we had already come down to the first floor, and I wasn't feeling like conversating. People, people, people – and all of them in a hurry, like schools of fish in the sea, always in motion.
When a turban flickered by not far away above the crowd, and Liliana started clenching my shoulder tight with an obvious shudder, I didn't show that I felt it, just picked up the pace. The suitcase out in front of me cut through the crowd like the stem-post of a ship and, very soon, we had emerged from the sultry atmosphere of the train station to the red-hot square with the sun hovering overhead.
The city was drowning in a mirage of smog. The sweltering air was clinging to the ground, utterly stagnant. The thing that made it really unbearable was the lack of wind. The bright light suddenly made my eyes tear up, and I hurriedly clipped my dark glasses on my nose. Liliana started coughing and placed her perfumed kerchief to her face.
"How do people even live here?" she sighed.
"They find ways," I admitted honestly and waved a hand at a free cab.
When he'd driven up to us, I helped my companion get into the high seat, then strapped my suitcase on the buggy and sat down next to Lily in the shade of the raised roof.
"Where would you like to go?" the bearded old man in a wrinkled cap with a splitting peak turned to us. The cabby's face was red. Huge beads of sweat were running down his temples and cheeks.
I looked inquisitively at Lily, and she took the reins.
"My good sir, take us to the very best hotel!" she announced.
The cabby scratched the back of his head in confusion.
"I mean, who can really say which is the best?" he asked, drawing out his words. "The most expensive is the Benjamin Franklin, which is on Emperor's Square. Sound good?"
"The most expensive?" Lily clarified.
"That's right," I confirmed the cabby's words.
"Then let's go there!"
The trip didn't take much time, but it was plenty to run profusely with sweat and wish repeatedly for the clean air of the mountain resort once again. Liliana initially looked from side to side with interest but, soon, the heat had also given her the kiss of death.
"I do hope this swelter comes down a bit by evening." she said, fanning herself with a kerchief.
"It will," I confirmed, "but the air won't get any cleaner."
"You're killing me, Leo!" Lily drew out her words bitterly and led her hand across the square our carriage had just emerged onto. It was so long, it could easily have been mistaken for just an avenue. "Is it always so deserted here?"
Somewhere not far away, a clock rang out twice. I compared it to my timepiece and assured Liliana:
"Not at all. It's just too hot right now."
"All the dignified public has gone off to the springs. And those who have not won't set foot out of their house before sunset," the cabby turned to us and pointed at the substantial stone hotel with open terraces on the fourth and fifth floors. "We've arrived."
I paid up for the trip, helped Liliana down to the paving stones, then picked up the suitcase and carried it under the cloth overhang at the hotel's entrance. The doorman threw the high door open obligingly for his new guests, and a boy in uniform livery jumped outside, freezing unconfidently in place, not sure whether he should pick up the baggage.
I took the suitcase in my left hand, beckoned the boy after me and followed Liliana to the porter stand.
In the hall, it was surprisingly cool. A fountain hummed with thin streams of water. A little yellow canary was singing away desperately in a cage surrounded by flowers. With only one thought in mind, that I would soon have to go back out into the red-hot oven outside, I started feeling unwell.
I placed the suitcase on the floor, pointed it out to a porter and joined Liliana, who was setting her passport on the counter. She declared assuredly:
"I need a room. The higher up the better."
"I can offer you a deluxe room on the fourth floor, Miss Montague," the porter smiled pleasingly, her passport opened. "How long do you plan on staying?"
Lily started thinking.
"I don't know yet," she said and glanced inquisitively at me. "What do you suggest, Leo?"
"You'll leave when you leave," I shrugged my shoulders and warned the porter: "The lady will need a cabby for the duration of her stay in the hotel. Can that be arranged?"
"We do provide such services for our guests, yes," the employee confirmed.
"Shall I write a check?" Liliana asked, having placed her bag on the counter.
"There's no need for that, Miss Montague," the porter assured her, stashing the passport in a safe. "Will this be all your baggage?"
"Yes."
"It will be brought up for you. Here is the key."
Liliana took the key and asked:
"And you? Where will you lay your head tonight, Leo? I do hope we can see one another!"
I looked in sorrow at the entrance, sighing fatedly and turned to the porter.
"My good man, could you please tell me if that was the last free room?"
The man sized me up with an attentive gaze, exerted a bit of effort over himself and confirmed:
"It was not."
"Great!" I unfolded my newspaper and carelessly tossed my new passport on the counter, placing two hundred-francs atop it.
Money solved it.
"Another deluxe on the fourth floor?" the porter offered.
"That will do," I nodded and carelessly leaned my elbows on the counter. "I'll be spending a day or two with you. I'm quite unlikely to stay longer."
"However you like, Mr. Shatunov."
"You're just full of surprises, my friend!" Liliana shook her head with sincere surprise and lured me with a finger. Then, when I was up close, she whispered quietly: "That money is, after all, not from my dear old dad, right? He was ne
ver marked by such intoxicating extravagance."
"Of course it isn’t!" I smiled.
"So then, he wasn't wrong about you."
"I won't take it upon myself to corroborate anything, but the Marquess has impressive powers of observation."
"Ugh, you're telling me!"
The porter couldn't hear our exchange, but that didn't stop him from coming to a very obvious conclusion on our relationship.
He cleared his throat, drawing our attention, and smiled.
"Sir and mademoiselle! By complete coincidence, on the fourth floor, there are two rooms available with an internal door. Locking from both sides, of course! It's just that, if it's appropriate, I could give you those two rooms..."
"That would be wonderful," Lily smiled. "What do you need from us for that?"
"Only your key, if you please..."
The porter took the already-assigned keys back and extended us two new ones.
"Now, you'll be shown to your rooms." And he waved his hand to the baggage handler.
The boy quickly grabbed up the suitcase and carried it to the elevator.
"Fourth floor," he commanded the elevator operator, following after us into the spacious cabin.
The boy turned the handle, and the steam propulsion unit honked into action. The floor shook underfoot, and we started unhurriedly upward.
The elevator cabin was richly gilded. There was a thick rug on the floor, and one of the walls was occupied by a full-length mirror. Liliana quickly started looking at her reflection in it; I smiled with the corner of my mouth and turned to a faithful reproduction of the famous battle portrait The Great Maxwell Kills a Fallen One, which was hanging on the opposite wall.
Soon, the box shuddered and came to a stop. The handler threw open the doors and led us down the long corridor. As surprising as it may be, there were no electric lights. The gas lamps on the walls, though, were burning bright.
This was a respectable establishment for respectable gentlemen, not novelty-chasing lunatics. Once again, remodeling to install electric wires wouldn't have even taken one day, but the guests here couldn't bear the noise, much less the presence of strangers.
After placing the suitcase outside room forty-three, the handler asked Liliana for her key, unlocked the door and carried the baggage into the entryway. I awaited his return and slipped him a franc.
"Will you join me today?" Lily asked.
"I won't be able to," I shook my head in reply with no small measure of pity. "I really do have a very busy schedule. For today, that is certain."
"I don't doubt it," the girl smiled. "You're so mysterious..."
"Business meetings," I answered the pure truth, unlocking the door of the neighboring room. "I say we have dinner this evening."
"Then that's just what we'll do," Lily agreed.
She ducked into her room and I walked into mine and took a look around. The window of the spacious guest-room looked out onto the historic city center, but the ancient buildings were now covered over with a thick smog.
The walls of the room were papered with gilded patterns. There was also a disjointed series of pictures from artists I didn't recognize, a carved buffet table and wardrobes that impressed with their grandeur. I even somewhat regretted that I'd given in to the temptation and decided to stay in such a posh place, but sound reflection led me to conclude that it was better to rest up than prowl the scorching streets in search of an appropriate hotel.
After glancing out the hotel window at the terrace where I could walk to through the bedroom, I took off my jacket and hung it on the back of a chair. As soon as I'd pulled the swollen folded newspaper from my pocket, a knocking came at the door.
"Leo!" Lily called me.
"Has something happened?" I called out, not wanting to show my face to Liliana in my wrinkled and sweat-soaked shirt.
"Well, do you know a good restaurant? Maybe we should reserve a table."
"Believe you me, that won't be a problem."
"I'm counting on you!" Lily shouted.
I took a seat at the table, unfolded the newspaper and found my checkbook among the stacks of fresh bank notes of various denominations. Incidentally, I didn't expect to need it for some time: my attorney had given me two and a half thousand francs and, even considering the advance for the room, I had more than enough money.
Having taken a decanter of water from the buffet table, I drank my fill, then got undressed and spent a few minutes standing under a cold shower. On my way from the bathroom to the bedroom, I grabbed the newspaper containing my money from the table and flopped down on my huge, queen bed. The springs gave slightly under my weight, and the curtain of the balcony door was fluttering in the light breeze. It was then that I decided the Benjamin Franklin wasn't so bad after all. I even started to like it here.
The newspaper was a morning edition of the Atlantic Telegraph. The top headline was devoted to the expedition of the Imperial Military Fleet to support the people of Rio de Janeiro, who were rising up against Aztec tyranny. But politics was of no interest to me, and I immediately set about studying the crime blotter. There wasn't even a word about yesterday's murder in the resort town. In fact, Montecalida was mentioned just one time, in connection with the death of a certain German chemist named Günther Klosse, a specialist in inert gasses, who was found hung in his hotel room. The article said he had been vacationing at the hot springs, and was due to return home soon. The death was chalked up to love gone bad; vacation romances souring was a commonplace occurrence.
I threw the paper onto the coffee table and spread out onto the bed. Based on that, the police weren't the only people not to believe that Kali worshippers were involved in the death of the provincial newspaperman. News agency clerks, it seemed, shared that view.
I started falling asleep slightly, but got myself together and sat up in bed. I got dressed, clipped my timepiece on my wrist and picked up my jacket from the back of the chair. The pistol in its pocket knocked against the edge of the table.
Mauser? I took out the weapon and twirled it thoughtfully in my hands.
Despite its small size, the pistol outsized my beloved Cerberus, but the steel slide and lack of electric igniter for the powder round made it too vulnerable to otherworldly manipulation. What was more, twenty-five caliber weapons were never known for their particular stopping power. Why would I need a thing like that?
I put on my jacket, walked back to the mirror and carefully combed my hair. After that, I stood at the adjoining door and knocked.
"Lily!"
In reply, I heard the bolt slip.
"Come in!" she allowed.
After throwing open the door, I hesitated in the doorway. Lily was standing at the window in a long robe with a towel wrapped around her head. Based on the color of her face, she had just finished bathing.
"It seems I've come at a bad time..."
"Come off it, Leo! Was there something you wanted?"
"Do you know how to use a gun?" I asked, showing her the pistol.
"Daddy taught me to shoot," she told me. "Why?"
"New Babylon is not the most tranquil city," I warned her, placing the pistol on the table along with a reserve clip. "Put it in your bag. But before shooting, you have to pull back the hammer."
"Alright."
"Do you know how to aim?"
"I can manage," Lily reassured me. "So, you don't need it anymore?"
"I'm going to buy something more... formidable."
"Big boy needs big toys?"
"That's right," I smiled and returned to my room. I set the tin that once contained sugar drops on the table and patted down my pockets, then put on my glasses and went into the hall. I didn't use the elevator, going down into the foyer by the stairs.
"Have a nice day, Mr. Shatunov!" the receptionist wished as I handed him my room key.
I went outside and immediately winced in vexation at the heat. The air outside hadn't gotten a bit cleaner. Summer in New Babylon is its own type of never-endin
g nightmare. All reasonable people, at the very least those who can afford to, will have gone to the springs.
Wiping the perspiration from my face with a kerchief, I walked across the square and turned into a coffee shop. After choosing a tin of sugar drops with a flashy label that read "Tutti Frutti," I paid up and sorted out a telephone. The concession worker didn't refuse such a trifle to a client who'd left him such a generous tip, and placed the device on the counter.
I waited for him to walk away and called Ramon Miro.
My former colleague picked up almost immediately, as if he was expecting a call. And perhaps he really was. I’d told him I was coming, after all.
"Hi, Ramon," I greeted him. "Did you find anything out?"
"I did," Miro muttered. "But nothing to brighten your day."
"Nothing at all?"
"That's right. I didn't see anyone matching your description at Central Station yesterday. At Western either. But that doesn't mean anything yet. Without an adequate description, this was all a bit foolhardy."
"I have a portrait."
I heard static chirring away on the other line for some time, then Ramon asked after a long pause:
"You still want to find him?"
"That's right."
"I'll talk with some people, but that will cost money."
"Go then," I answered without the slightest hesitation.
The fleeing Indian could shed some light on the reason for my misfortunes. If I managed to interrogate him, lots could be explained away just like that. And as for money... I had money.
"Call after nine," Ramon suggested.
"Are you gonna be working late?"
"I'll have to. And you owe me two hundred francs for yesterday. Don't forget."
"Come on," I grumbled, hanging up and walking outside. There, I looked carefully from side to side and walked to the nearest steam-tram line. I didn't try to catch a cab – coachmen are known to have loose tongues. If someone really was planning to wipe me off the face of the earth, they could simply bribe a carriage to drive me right into an ambush.
I walked up to a shady boulevard and immediately sensed the earth shaking underfoot. Afterward, I heard a metallic clanging and the plunk of iron wheels on rail joints. The spectacle that revealed itself was most curious. The car under the hill lacked a smokestack and didn't give off any exhaust. The back half of it had a towering iron box that took up nearly a fifth of the total length. This self-propelled behemoth was certainly not a steam tram.