He went down the stairs into the underground walkway and almost immediately heard “Melodie” by Gluck.
He pushed through the crowd. He didn’t know whether to hug her or hit her. Or pretend that nothing had happened?
He turned the corner and stopped. A girl of about twenty played indifferently and steadily. In front of her in an open violin case Aspirin saw a few coins and a stack of discs with a photo on the cover. For a few minutes Aspirin stood near her, trying to catch his breath. A curly-haired young man with a pleasant, slightly saccharine smile sauntered over.
“Would you like to purchase a CD?”
Aspirin said no.
Twenty-four hours had passed since Alyona called him on the air. It felt as if years had gone by. Aspirin had a cup of coffee at an underground café, ate a sandwich, and smoked a cigarette.
He tossed the empty cigarette pack into the trash.
Whiskas called after midnight.
“Good news—she is still alive. At least she’s not among the dead bodies that had been found and accounted for in the last twenty-four hours. There had been no major accidents, and she hasn’t been part of any criminal episodes. That bitch is hiding somewhere. Or she’s on her way back to the institute. Let’s hope she’ll be located tomorrow.”
“What should I do now?” Aspirin asked.
“Go home, get some sleep,” Whiskas advised. “Your convulsions are not doing anyone any good.”
Aspirin parked the car in the courtyard. All the windows were dark, in both his and Irina’s apartments.
He unlocked the apartment door. Irina slept on the sofa, curled into a ball. She sat up and blinked, squinting at the hallway light.
“So?”
“Nothing.”
“That’s good,” Irina yawned spasmodically. “No news is good news, isn’t it?”
Aspirin had no energy to respond. He nodded.
“Have you eaten?”
“Yes. Has anyone called?”
“A lady named Zhenya who was shocked by the fact that I answered your phone. The editor of Macho magazine. That’s it.”
“Thanks.” Aspirin leaned against the wall. “What if we never find her?”
“We will find her,” Irina said without conviction. Then she repeated firmly, “We will keep looking until we find her.”
He woke up not quite aware of where he was and what was happening. Then, remembering, he sat up in bed.
It was the middle of the night. The building and the courtyard were asleep, the moon, half hidden behind a cloud, hung outside. The door to his bedroom was open, and the kitchen lights were on. Aspirin looked at the clock: it was 3:30.
He had slept for only about forty minutes.
Why did he wake up? He had a very distinct feeling of something happening. Right this minute. Could it be something with Alyona?
He jerked the cord of the table lamp, squinted, turned his head; his eyes met Mishutka’s plastic gaze. The toy bear sat on the nightstand by the bed, his head leaning to his shoulder, staring at Aspirin.
Aspirin swore. He rubbed his eyes and swore again: where did he . . . Oh God! He couldn’t remember if he had brought Mishutka home, or left him on the backseat. He wasn’t quite himself when he came home. But was it possible that he would bring the bear home and place him on the nightstand, a few inches away from his face? Seeing how much he hated the thing, it seemed unlikely.
He recalled locking the door behind Irina when she went back to her place. She’d had a rough night as well.
So who’d brought the bear into his bedroom?
“Alyona!” Aspirin yelled.
He ran into the kitchen, turned on the lights in the living room, peeked into the bathroom, knowing full well that it was empty. The front door was locked. Alyona hadn’t come back.
The bear was still sitting on the nightstand. His eyes glimmered in the light of the lamp. Aspirin faced him. The bear stared back, dull as plastic.
“Where is she?” Aspirin whispered.
The bear did not answer.
“What kind of a beast are you? You,” Aspirin reached for Mishutka. “Stuffing. Plush. A rag . . .”
He jerked the bear up by the front paw. Mishutka hung passively, making no attempt to free himself. Aspirin grunted and threw the toy against the wall with brute force. A soft impact; the toy fell on the floor. Aspirin looked down and only then saw by the foot of the bed a handful of discs, a cell phone charger, a recorder box, a newspaper—everything that lay on the nightstand before the bear made himself comfortable. As