He gave Mr Nameless a keen look and decided a man like that wouldn’t lie. His heart suddenly felt lighter. ‘But how can Death help us?’ he asked, switching to a brisk, practical tone. ‘If she knew anything about this Treasure Hunter, she’d have told us. She don’t approve of that savagery like that.’
Masa grunted suggestively, as if to say: Get ready, now I’m going to tell you the most important part. Senka turned towards the Japanese, but he said something Senka couldn’t make out at all: ‘Taifu-no meh.’
But the engineer understood. ‘Exactly. A v-very precise metaphor. The eye of the t-typhoon. Do you know what that is, S-Senya?’ He waited for Senka to shake his head and started to explain. ‘A typhoon is a t-terrible kind of hurricane that races across s-sea and land, spreading destruction and t-terror. But at the very centre of this st-storm there is a spot of serene t-tranquillity. Within the eye of the typhoon, all is p-peace, but without this static centre, there would be n-no raging whirlwind. Death is not a criminal, she d-does not kill anyone – she just sits by the window and embroiders f-fantastical designs on cloth. But the m-most ruthless villains in this city of more than a million p-people swarm round her, like b-bees round their queen.’
‘Also goo’ imaj,’ Masa said approvingly. ‘But mine betta.’
‘Well, m-more romantic, certainly. During the last few days I have p-paid several visits to the house on the Yauza B-Boulevard and had an opportunity to g-get to know this lady better.’
Ah, have you now? Senka was scowling again. ‘Well, Erast Petrovich, you sly dog, you find time to get everywhere, don’t you? What does “get to know her better” mean?’
‘The last t-time we met,’ Mr Nameless went on, obviously not noticing how badly Senka was suffering, ‘she said she c-could tell she was being f-followed, but she d-didn’t understand who was following her. When I went out on to the b-boulevard, out of the corner of my eye I also spotted a shadow lurking round the c-corner of a house. This is encouraging. Mademoiselle Death is n-now our only chance. By killing Tashka, Mr Treasure Hunter snapped the thread l-leading to you with his own hands. And now, like the old couple in The Golden Fish, he is left with a broken tub . . .’
‘Eh? Sorry, I mean, I beg your pardon? What tub’s that?’ asked Senka, who had been listening with bated breath.
All of a sudden Erast Petrovich turned angry: ‘I told you to b-buy a volume of Pushkin’s works and read the f-fairy tales at least!’
‘I did buy one,’ Senka said resentfully. ‘There were lots of different Pushkins. I picked this one.’
And to prove what he was saying, he took out of his pocket the small book that he’d bought two days earlier at a flea market. It was an interesting book, it even had pictures.
‘“The Forbidden Pushkin. Verses and p-poems previously circulated in manuscript”,’ said the engineer, reading out the title. He frowned and started leafing through the pages.
‘And I read the fairy tales too,’ said Senka, even more offended by this lack of trust. ‘About the archangel and the Virgin Mary, and about Tsar Nikita and his forty daughters. Don’t you believe me? I can tell you the stories if you like.’
‘No n-need,’ Erast Petrovich said brusquely, slamming the book shut. ‘What a scoundrel.’
‘Pushkin?’ Senka asked in surprise.
‘No, not Pushkin, the p-publisher. One should never publish what an author d-did not intend for publication. Who knows where it will end? Mark m-my words: soon our gentleman of the publishing t-trade will start publishing intimate c-correspondence!’ The engineer flung the book on to the table angrily. ‘And b-by the way, correspondence is the very subject that I wanted to t-talk to you about, Senya. Since Death is being f-followed, I can’t show myself at her p-place any more. And it is not really f-feasible to keep the house under c-constant observation – any stranger would be sp-spotted straight away. So we shall have to c-communicate from a distance.’
‘How do you mean, from a distance?’
‘Well, by epistolary m-means.’
‘You mean we’re going to set up an ambush, with pistols?’ Senka asked. He liked the idea. ‘Can I have a pistol too?’
Erast Petrovich stared at him absent-mindedly. ‘What have p-pistols got to do with it? We are going to write l-letters to each other. I can’t visit Death any more. Masa can’t go –