Текст книги "The Last Gambit"
Автор книги: (IP of the USSR) Internal Predictor of the USSR
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I was partly strike by this change in him and asked him a question, for dampening his ardour and returning to the theme of our conversation: “Excuse me, Eugene, but what “Pauls”, if I’ve heard correctly, were you talking about?”
About those, who were Sauls once and who is able to create the real history of the humankind unlike the fruitless pragmatics, – he grinned awry, forcing this phrase, and then, as though regaining consciousness, added crossly: “I’m joking…” – There’s a novel of the Great Russian proletarian writer, Gorky, it’s called “Mother”. In this novel Nilovna sacrificed to revolution her only son Pavel.
Who was that Nilovna?
Pavel’s mother – in Russia it is accepted to call the eldest by the name of their fathers, not by their own name, and what’s her own name was – I can’t remember.
Eugene’s look again flew away to somewhere, and his lined face suddenly became strangely harsh and weak mouth with slightly swollen lips huddled up in snakish grin. Then he, like remembering something suddenly, returned to the reality, and continued in the tone of relaxed and bored observer of ten-years-ago events, who condescended lazily to enlighten a queer bird-foreigner.
Yes, everything was up on the 21st of August, with the false curfew: the troops stood still, disturbed nobody, waiting for some orders from “putschists”. It seems to me still, that they were frightened by themselves. It was their last day. As it could be expected, and you shouldn’t be a Delphi’s Oracle to predict it, the crowd got excited and was the first to start fight with the troops, which didn’t know what to do. The blood of “democracy defenders” was spilt, which were not attacked by anybody, and then GKChP was doomed to become a “putsch”. And for televisioners, as well as for the crowd, there was the fifth day – August, 22 – when the head of Interior Minister of USSR was “chopped off”, and Gorby’s accomplices have formed OMON – “Interior Ministry Riot Police” within IM of USSR.
I didn’t understand, Eugene, what does it mean – “to be chopped off”?
It means that somebody “polished him off” – Galba made the expressive gesture. But seeing the misunderstanding in my eyes he continued. – It is another idiom, and it means that the last USSR minister of Domestic Affairs – Pugo – had his head knocked off. According to the official version, he had shot himself, but everyone could see on TV that the pistol was laying on the night table, where they say he has put it after he had shot himself. And then there started big shmon of different party committees: oblast, city, rayon and some smaller ones.
What is shmon, Eugene? Explain it, please.
So in Russian jails people call a big search[32], accompanying by shaking out all the contents of cells, prisoner’s belongings, and personal inspection. And all the westerners willingly call Russia “the jail of peoples”. But, frankly speaking, it’s rather hard to grasp who is a jailer in this case; it could be supposed, that Russians are, but they always lived worse than prisoners: simple jail pottage wasn’t enough for everyone.
It was apparent, that Eugene was willing to develop the theme of “jailer” further, but suddenly he, as if stumbling on something in his speculations, stopped unexpectedly. I was so astonished by his story that I started to doubt: didn’t he make a fool of me? The farther he went in his narrative, the clearer I saw the pictures from the first “picnic” in my mind, as fairy-tale illustrations to his story, and I was almost sure – Eugene saw “picnics”.
May be, that’s enough of hints, may be, it’s better to ask him directly, and that’s that, – I thought, – but how can I do that, all the more, he didn’t want to remember “circus Shapiro”, starting to explain me about “circus shapito”. If Galba knows for long everything about “picnics”, and even how they’re connected with the events of September, 11 in New York and Washington, may be, Holmes and I are just wasting time? Eh, no! Our day is not over. It would be better to continue conversation how it goes and to try to draw out as more information as possible from this strange fellow. And at last it’ll be possible to ask about “picnics” directly.
Hopkins left us and approached the counter of the bar, where he animatedly talked about something with longhaired youthful fellow wearing leather coat and shabby jeans. Eugene asked for coffee with Grand Margnet liquor for the second time, and I ordered tea with lemon and honey. While the waiter was serving the table another time, my story-teller, as though having forgotten about my existence, sat, turning away from the window, and, holding the tea-spoon between his fingers, like a crossbeam of child’s swing, tinkled rhythmically with it knocking on the brim of a glass vase with beautifully laid biscuits and chocolates. I decided to attract his attention to me.
I see that the events of August of 1991 seemed distasteful to you. But why didn’t you leave Russia at once, but only in two years? Did you hope on something?
He kept silent. Either he withdrew into himself and really didn’t hear what I’ve said, or he became interested in something irrelevant to the theme of our conversation. I caught his, as it seemed to me, absent look, and was rather astonished that he was staring on the TV screen to the right of the bar counter. Evening news by CNN was coming to an end. There was rumble in a bar, usual for such places; but when heeding you could understand something from commentator’s words.
What date is it today? –Eugene suddenly asked, addressing to no one exactly, and not interrupting watching TV.
October 4, if I’m not mistaken. Something interesting in evening news?
Something interesting? – He repeated my question thoughtfully, and, not taking his eyes off TV screen, choosing the words slowly, uttered something completely absurd, – yes, Watson, this evening there will be an interesting story at the Patriarch Ponds!
At this moment he, as if awoken, seeing the bewildered-inquiring expression on my face, started to talk quite consciously.
Oh, Watson, don’t worry. I just remembered something. One Russian writer, Bulgakov, wrote a novel, the most popular novel of 20th century, as your, I mean – western, literature critics say, – it is called “Master and Margarita”, haven’t you read? There, one of the main characters – Woland – answered with this phrase the irrelevant question of one writer. However, Watson, it has nothing to do with you. What about interesting news: they have just reported – today, 13.44 (Moscow time) not far from Sochi TU-134 – the plane of Russian air company, committing a flight №1812 Tel-Aviv – Novosibirsk – fell in the Black Sea; all passengers and crew members perished, searching works have started. The causes of catastrophe are being investigated, though Americans have already reported that the plane was shot down by Ukraine AD in the course of exercises.
Eugene was again looking through the window and seemed totally absorbed in studying the street life of evening London, pondering about something.
Have they really celebrated?! – He grumbled angrily, and a familiar smile disfigured his face again.
What have they celebrated?
It is ‘who’, not ‘what’, that matters, Watson. Today is the eighth anniversary of tragic events near White House in Moscow in October of 1993. You asked why I didn’t leave right after August of 1991. Yes, I was hoping, and very much, that Russians had not so short memory as people here on the West. But they’ve forgotten everything, all the sacrifices on the altar of true freedom in October of 1917. After August putsch we all were sure that nobody was going to build capitalism in Russia in earnest; simply, the well-meaning crowd needed an “inoculation” against capitalistic evil going from the West. And this anti-capitalistic “vaccine” should be driven to such doses, that common people would throw up when only hearing such words as “market”, “capitalism”, “humanity values” and so on. But nothing had happened as we expected. Many people, losing their memory about achievements of Great October, got rid of this “inoculation” and instead of easy walking…
Picnic? – I interjected, in a hope, that this time he would reveal himself and understand what I wanted from him.
May be, picnic, if you like to call it so, – he said, obviously not attaching any special importance to my remark, and after it ended his phrase in passionate tone, – yes, instead of picnic we’ve got a bloody masquerade!
And why the masquerade?
Because there were real werewolves among us, who only hid behind the masks of strugglers for people’s happiness, having made a plan of all this show day-by-day with Eltsin and his command yet for long ago!
And how long did this masquerade last?
13 days exactly.
And when it was the beginning?
On the September 21, when the opposition between the Supreme Soviet of Russian Federation and president’s command reached the top point of boiling.
Boiling of what?
Horrors, of course. As it became clear from further development of events, nobody was able to understand what was happening. Everyone acted spontaneously, as though playing “Russian roulette”, and in such cases he wins who stakes his all for not to loose everything, or he who has nothing to loose really. This day, September 21, Eltsin signed his famous edict №1400 about the abolition of legislative power in Russia, which, frankly speaking, we provoked ourselves, hoping that democratic West imposing those senseless parliaments upon Russia would support us and wouldn’t repeat its 20-years-ago mistakes. But for us all this turned out to be fatal games. We just didn’t understand where the wind of the history blew.
And where does it blow, to your opinion?
I think, Watson, you won’t reject that contemporary civilization became more and more like virus-parasite on the body of our planet, and there’s only one way to get rid of parasite – to wash the body.
Haven’t I heard something like that before? – I allowed myself one more remark – hint on the “Defence Picnic”, but again – no reaction.
Don’t rack your brains; these are the words of some character from the film “Matrix” which have seen more than 1.5 billions of people on the Earth. By the way, this film is your production…
Sorry, Watson, but it’s time for me to go. It was very interesting to have a chat with you about passed days, but the future calls for us, – he threw into passions again, and ended with the phrase from some drama unknown for me: “Let Providence fulfil its Predetermination, and then it’ll be our turn to act!”
And, Eugene, from what famous Russian novel is this?
This is not a novel, Watson, this is drama by “Russian Byron” – Lermontov – it’s called “Masquerade”, – he answered very seriously and with great dignity.
Just one minute, Eugene. What did you mean, when you were speaking about 20-years-ago mistakes of the West?
Santiago, Watson! Chile, September-October of 1973. And though you’ve let Pinochet go, and didn’t allow to force payment of old debts, but … evening hasn’t come yet, as we in Russia say. Everything is just starting, Watson!
And what happens in Russia now, Eugene?
What should happen in Russia, now takes place in America. In past century Russia and America played the role of agitation points for the world public opinion. Well, you probably don’t know again, what the “agitation point” is. In your association the “agitation point” means an “advertising campaign”, when firm distributes its products for gratis right and left, for future increasing its sales by using the increasing of demand on the market.
And if the agitation point of socialism was eliminated, the same must have happened with the agitation point of capitalism, or in opposite case the world couldn’t keep in balance. Hopkins said to me, that you, Watson, was in Afghanistan for three years with humanitarian mission, where we had been trying for twenty years to move our ideas forward to Muslim world, by Russian hands. The establishment of USA didn’t like it, and they devoted to the idea “America, America is over everything…” started counteracting to the USSR in Afghanistan. And that mad Brzezinski babbled even that it was him who had driven Russians into Afghanistan and that it was a revenge for Vietnam. Everybody should have his right to err and make mistakes. If to think, it is one of the so-called rights, which secretly attend the principle “divide and rule”. Let now Yankee try the role of progressors themselves. The scales of Themis rocked to the opposite side and we interchanged our places, for priceless experience obtained by Russia with such difficulties wouldn’t become lost for nothing. And only after Yankees have to do at theirs what they weren’t able to do in Russia, we will continue our single deed in this world.
But what single deed, Eugene, can unify interests of Russia and the West?
Let you forget about interests of Russia and the West once and for all, when dealing such themes, – he answered abruptly, and continued: “Don’t you see, Watson, that America is finishing its games with democracy. It stands on the threshold of totalitarian society, and of such scale, that USSR totalitarianism will look the model of democracy comparing with USA civic society. Such “civic society” will become the fig leaf, covering real fascism in American version.”
Fascism in America? – I asked again. – It’s something new, though… publications about American fascism I met in the press. But it seems to me, that it’s fashion tribute mostly. Eugene, how do you imagine national-socialism in America, where the ideas of internationalism have found the most abundant ground, I wonder?
But why did you consider, that I was talking about American national-socialism? I meant American international-socialism, which didn’t happen in former USSR, and may be it was the cause of its collapse.
I didn’t understand. Why, do you agree with many western historians, that there was no difference between fascist Germany and Soviet Russia?
You know, Watson, I’m internationalist and I’m proud of it. Stalin scored a victory on the national-socialism under the banners of internationalism, but, having won the war with Hitler, he started to fall into out-and-out Russian nationalism, of which Hitler might cure him: as Russians say, “like cure like”. And all this, you see, took place in multinational country. It will be difficult for me to explain you the struggle between some tendencies in USSR under Stalin and all the more after his death, when he ceased to personify them, and on which we – the heirs of true revolutionists having gone through Stalin’s purges – were relying a great deal. But everything was going wrong and at last, naturally, ended in 1991 with the nightmare in madhouse, which we mentioned in the beginning of our conversation.
His speech became nervous and incoherent: either he held something back, or he himself ceased to understand and started to be afraid of what he was saying.
According to you, the USA has to realize the ideas that were unsuccessful in USSR? – I decided to return him to prospects of international-socialism in the United States. – May be, you can at least indicate the symptoms of imminent American fascism?
He immediately perked up, like a person who was nurturing the idea for long.
You see, Watson, all symptoms are on hand, – he started to turn up his fingers on the left hand, – terrorist act in New York and Washington is committed, many people take it as an analogue to the arson of Reichstag – one; American Gestapo is in a march – all intelligent services are forming such a fist, of which even Stalin’s KGB and Hitler’s Gestapo have never dreamed, – two; censorship is introduced in mass-media – three; the image of enemy is represented by Muslim terrorists – four; little war in Afghanistan is impending – five. Should I go on further?
This all happens by itself. Don’t you consider that the process of bringing to fascism is controlled?
All depends on from what positions you’re observing the process: if you’re within it, you most probably will consider it to be spontaneous or “self-governing”; but if you are out of it, you may see what’s not obvious for everyone: those, who manage this process.
Eugene, I suppose that you are already out of the process and so you see who rules the process of bringing fascism to the America.
I said, that “you may see”, but I didn’t say it’s guaranteed.
May be, you say about such vision which raises your Inner Predictor? – I decided at last to check his reaction directly.
On Eugene’s face there appeared suddenly a strange grimace of surprising and anger, like on child’s face when he is caught at improper deed.
Oh, it’s very curious, Watson. I see that you’re really interested in Russia affairs if you’ve reached the Internal Predictor already. How do you know about it? Ah, of course! You are acquainted with the site www.dotu.ru and its analytics.
Unfortunately, Eugene, I’m not so good in Russian, as to read the analytical notes of the site, though I’ve read two notes in English, and they seemed extremely interesting to me. But the vocabulary and style are so unusual for me, that I had an impression – it’s some other civilization and culture. I know, Eugene, I took a lot of your time, but if we were able to talk about the materials of Predictor particularly, especially about the Sufficiently Universal Theory of Ruling, I’d be rather grateful to you.
Galba’s face, by this moment expressing patronizing superiority and self-confidence, became sunken somehow at once and a squeamish expression appeared on it, destined to represent indifference.
Excuse me, Watson, I can’t help you here. What about the works of the above-mentioned Internal Predictor and its “Dead Water”, it’s thanks to your fool Gorby today in Russia everyone can speak and write everything he wants to – no bans, the limitations are just financial. In one word, “за что боролись, на то и напоролись[33]”, – he summarized our conversation in Russian.
This phrase I’ve heard not once from conversations between Russians in Afghanistan, but its hidden sense remained incomprehensible for me. I decided to use the chance, and asked Eugene to explain it, using some western analogues of this saying. He kept silent for a while, looking at street landscape behind the window, but then, as though remembering something, selecting words slowly he uttered:
You have such analogue. Do you know, Watson, something about the magic of “monkey’s paw”?
No, Eugene, – I became alert at once, because I remembered the fragment of the third “picnic”, – my profession always made me keep far from any kinds of magic, and all the more – of monkey’s one.
The face of my companion became alive again, and returned the expression of lenient patronizing, characteristic to a person who is used to teach people around him.
One of your writers, Jacobs, if I’m not mistaken, wrote a story, called “Monkey’s paw”, by the subject of which the owner of dried monkey’s paw obtain the right for fulfilling three desires of him. Thus, for example, the owner of the paw expresses his first desire – ₤200 immediately. The next moment a firm officer comes and reports him that his son is killed and hands him the compensation for his son – ₤200. The unhappy father wants to see his son here and now. Knock at doors – the ghost of his son enters. Poor owner of the paw desires in horror that the ghost must disappear. In other words, the effect of “monkey’s paw” means that besides the expected positive results your unrestrained desires and deeds, tended to realize them, inevitably lead to consequences, the harm of which excels the positive result and lessens the its value. In Russian this version of ruling is described by the saying: What we were fought for has been out undoing.
And what concerns the above-mentioned Predictor, which you’re interested in – there always were plenty of odd men in Russia. These strange people write in Russian language such way, that a person with elite higher education, who has his own unordinary scientific works, simply can’t understand this delirium: and there’s nothing to break your head over for, because almost everything they say is more or less trivial or goes without saying. So don’t interfere into it, nice, naïve Watson. Please, don’t consider my words familiarity, but you’re really nice and naïve: your level of Russian and understanding of Predictor’s materials – are incompatible subjects. So, now I should say “good bye” to you, Watson. Excuse me; I’m in a hurry. I hope, we’ll meet later and speak about Russian affairs, if you don’t mind, of course.
He stretched his flabby and moist palm of the hand to me and hurried to the exit.
It seems like I was dealing with true Trotskyite today, – I thought. And how should I understand his summing up at the end: from one side – delirium incomprehensible to well-educated people, and from the other side – all there is trivial? From one side – “don’t interfere into it”, and from the other – “we’ll meet again and speak about Russian affairs”? “The grape is green…” or “what we were fought for has been our undoing”? Or, may be, I should invite John to the next meeting, who was my partner in the University rowing eight, and who became flabby since then, but also became the prosperous psychiatrist?
It was clear, that to ask this strange Galba about “picnics” was senseless. I could see from his eyes that he was not pretending and so simply didn’t react on my hints-remarks. Well, but what does it mean then? In effect, he told me everything, at least about two first “picnics”. But at the same time I was sure – he knows nothing about the pictures from “picnics”. What should I think: either I was conversing with some extraordinary actor, or…? I was at a loss, but at the same time felt, that I encountered by chance with what Holmes was significantly hinting before his departure.
My head was dizzying. The more I tried to leaf through the issues touched in our conversation, the less I understood what had happened. And this plane, fallen in the Black Sea right in the eighth anniversary of completing the second picnic? I cast a glance at a public in a bar. Besides the counter Hopkins was standing still, this time with a lady of indefinite age. The waiter approached. I paid the bill, and came to Hopkins to thank him for the meeting.
Well, what do you think about my Galba?
Interesting fellow, it seems, that he says less than he knows.
Or more than understands, – significantly smiled Hopkins at parting. – If you’ll have any problems, call me, Watson. Always at your disposal.
Thank you, Hopkins. See you later.
The last remark of Hopkins I ignored, and as future events showed, I wasn’t right doing this.
All the evening I was restoring in my memory our conversation with Galba, trying not to lose any detail, and only after that I put the “picnics” on my desk, and also copies of the backsides of appropriate newspaper pages with the lists of films. There were no doubts. Eugene told me everything about the first and second “picnics” and even touched the third a little, knowing nothing about it, as if by the way. I started to guess vaguely, that both pictures represent something like the plan of some event by prepared in advance, may be, multi-versioned, script. But, however, the first plan was successfully realized; the second (and it was noticed by Eugene too) was going somehow wrong. But who could describe them with such scrupulosity and even in pictures, two months before the supposed event? And how can one plan serious events having two years ahead? Well, let us assume, that someone can, but how could he got rid of the effect of “monkey’s paw” in the course of realizing his plans?
I was ready to have a conversation with Holmes. Tomorrow will be two weeks after he’s left for Switzerland, and since that time there was not a single call from him, not a single e-mail letter, and I need his aid so much for moving forward in our investigation. This very moment the telephone rang.
Good evening, Watson! How are you getting on with our “picnics”?
Where do you call me from, Holmes? I was just addressing you in my thoughts. It looks like some mystics!
No mystics, Watson. Ordinary telepathy: all of us, who don’t resist it, are instinctive telepaths. I’m calling from Madrid, and I’m going to warn you, that perhaps my business will delay my return for one more week. Were you successful in understanding Russian rebus?
Yes, Holmes, it seems to me, that I understood something in two first “picnics”, but the third is a more hard nut, and I’ll hardly crack it without your aid.
Fine, Watson. I wasn’t wasting time too. I can say that necessary information finds you by itself, if you go in for necessary activity in time. Have you seen today in the latest news report about the crash of Russian airliner TU-154, and have you managed to learn something about the events on September 7? I mean not only 1994, but other years too.
Yes, Holmes, I’ve heard about the tragedy on the Black Sea, but haven’t seen it by myself, for I haven’t turned on my TV set yet. And the affairs of September 7 I haven’t even touched, I simply had no time for it. Mostly I was studying books and notes you’ve left for me, but I promise you, that I will do it necessarily. I remember about “Queen of Picks”.
Thank you, Watson. Tomorrow I’m flying for Cairo, and if everything is all right, by the end of the week I’ll be in London. In any case, we’ll meet the next Saturday, and I’m sure, we have a lot to talk over! Good-bye, Watson, see you soon!
Good-bye, Holmes, I’m looking forward to see you.
I hanged the receiver. The clock was beating midnight. There were a lot of reasons to be deeply thoughtful. I turned on the TV automatically, absently listening to the last news by NBC: USA Army is preparing to the operation in Afghanistan; some details of investigating the tragedy in New York and Washington, demands for the extradition of Bin Ladin – everything as usual. Aha! Versions about the causes of the crash of TU-154. On the screen there appeared a map of the Black Sea with the coordinates of liner’s falling at it. I don’t know why, but I copied them: 42°11' of northern latitude and 37°37' of eastern longitude. Also it was reported that the plane fell 182 km to the west of Sochi at 13.44 by Moscow time. There were 11 crewmembers and 6 passengers aboard, among them: 51 Israel citizens, 15 Russian citizens. 11 bodies of 77 people perished are being found yet. Recording almost automatically the numbers from the screen, I watched the shots of news items from Novosibirsk and Tel-Aviv: faces, distorted with woe, and patter of swift commentators, the most part of which were inclined towards the version of terrorist act. Before me on the table the pictures of “picnics” were lying. My glance unintentionally stopped at the “Post Historical Picnic”, where on the black background of the “Swan Lake” under the frightening face with the inscription on its forehead: ”Bank Krot”, there floated the huge dead fish with its stomach upwards. From the notes of Internal Predictor I’ve already learnt, that the epoch of biblical civilization, whose symbol was a fish, comes to an end. 11 dead bodies on the surface of the Black Sea in the points with coordinates of 42.11 and 37.37. I started to be afraid that a mysticism of numerical magic was seizing me: the number 42 associated with 42 years of Jewish wandering along the desert, and 11? Oh! It was associated with plenty of materials I’ve collected in recent time. For example: there were 22 hierophants in the “Historical Picnic”. They divided into two groups, 11 men in each, and governed the southern and the northern parts of ancient Egypt; and the day of truncation of the head of John the Baptist, which was indeed the September 11; and Hitler’s speech on the party congress in Nuremberg on September 11, 1935; and the foundation of Pentagon building in Washington, September 11, 1941; and putsch of Pinochet in Chile, September, 11, 1973, who is considered by some people a fascist, by others – a democrat, defending his country from maintaining of the fascist tyranny under the banners of Marxism. Isn’t it what Holmes meant, when he was speaking about numerical measure? But the numerical measure of what? Perhaps, it’s what we’ll have to investigate.
The whole next day I was occupied by the statistics of September, 7 events. This day wasn’t as much different from the others: sufficient amount of murders, fires, robberies, rapes – usual statistics of crimes for such mega polis as London. But in the department of unsuccessful crimes my attention was attracted by the numerical measure of one of them: on September 7 there happened an incident between security officer and the first pilot on the board of airliner belonging to Iran Air Company and committing a flight Teheran-London. One of passengers was trying to penetrate into the cockpit, assuring the security officer that he was acquainted with the first pilot. There followed a fight, in which the first pilot was involved. The plane, with 430 passengers aboard, made an emergency landing in Frankfurt am Main. I was astonished by resemblance of this situation with one of planes-killers of flights №11 and № 175, attacking two towers of WTC on September 11 – the sum of number of passengers coincided with the date of catastrophe. In other words, in unsuccessful catastrophe with Iran airliner was founded the same numerical measure with which was marked 11 September tragedy (September 7 – 430 passengers: the sum is seven in both cases).
All week before Holmes’s return I was reading a lot. “The Invisible Hand” by Ralph Epperson was filled with facts, which I was a little interested in earlier. But from studying it, I understood that everything was not so fine, as mass media tried to assure us. Thus, I’ve found there with great interest the little known facts of many-centuries political activity of Rothschilds, the backstage side of Russian Revolution and both World Wars history; the detailed story about real aims and practice of using the Federal Reserve System in USA. I was rather surprised, that lightning of these facts differs a great deal from propaganda clichés, abundant in our press.
