Бесплатный фрагмент - The fourth president

I could lead a wonderful, joyful life if I weren’t a fool.

Johann Wolfgang Goethe. «The sufferings of young Werther»

Chapter 1. Sauna

Once, after looking at the «Black Square», Vasily Petrovich Lomakin decided to relax and meditate alone: what is the most important thing in life when people are scared of coronavirus from everywhere? You have to ask yourself this question when you have everything — both a university diploma and parliamentary immunity. The immersion session started in the thinking room of Vasya’s mansion, more precisely, the thinking room was located in the sauna. Where it is warm and quiet, and, most importantly, without female temptation, so as not to distract with their charms, because concentration and detachment are the first and necessary condition! And, secondly, to have a table with hot sausages and vodka next to it — and what’s the big deal, and what’s the big deal? This is just not superfluous! Lomakin respects the poetic creativity of Andrei Makarevich, the author of the text of the popular song «For those who are at Sea», especially since this topic was methodologically close and understandable to Vasily. The bard retired, took a bottle of cognac and began to write different words under a glass… It turns out that everything is ingenious, you need to have in your pocket at one time only eight rubles twelve kopecks for three stars. If he’s not lying, of course. And if vodka is the equivalent of cognac in the sense of the possibility of meeting the Muse.

— But the last thesis needs to be tested experimentally, — Vasily decided. There was a pause, so necessary in a bold experiment.

— No, he’s not lying — Vasya unequivocally confirmed after the first one, feeling familiar movements in the skull. — And it looks like the equivalent.

The problem ceased to be abstract and even began to acquire some elusive tangibility. To remove this logical contradiction, he had to bite the second one. It became stuffy, Lomakin loosened his tie and unbuttoned his jacket by one button, but no more — the position obliges even in the sauna. The process went on, and Vasily quietly began right from the chorus:

— I drink to the bottom, for those who are in the sea.., — after chewing a cucumber, he boldly developed the topic and reached the main idea, — Ta-ram, pam-pam -pam, ta-ram, pam-pam -pam!

The right rhythm was found, things were getting better, the creative process was activated, even the face turned red. He’s brainstorming! Oh, how the linguist Lomakin hated this word, all these Anglicisms are cursed, but there’s nothing to be done: the method is the method. Or maybe it’s easier to express in Russian: brainstorming? And then the thought suddenly twisted: and on the other hand, well, how to replace the concept of «dollar», well, not the ruble? This sudden, sinful, obviously unpatriotic maxim distracted Petrovich from the main route of his neural brain communication, thin associative connections were torn… That’s the devil, his machinations! Immediately it became somehow uncomfortable, the euphoria disappeared. There was a causeless, panic fear, because the installation was lowered: we’re getting rid of the dollar! Well, have you forgotten, or something… Lomakin sagged slightly and automatically loosened the belt on his trousers — just in case… Vasily’s right hand suddenly treacherously reached for the bottle, realizing the subconscious reflex of supermen — the desire to add, but the left hand, which was still obeying reason, stopped her halfway to the cherished goal. It was necessary to get out of the stupor urgently, and, fortunately, a wise thought sounded again somewhere in the convolutions:

— Treat like with like!

Yes, that’s right, a song is a song, — Vasily agreed with Professor Woland, although he did not understand the essence of his saying, and again began, but with pathos:

— Where does the Motherland begin? From the picture in your primer…

Just in case, he finished to the last line, trying to somehow rehabilitate himself, and, if possible, heartfelt, like Mark Bernes. True, Vasily’s voice did not differ in strength and overtones, but a subtle soul, he sang with it… She, my dear, suddenly trembled, unable to withstand the depth of emotions inherent in the melody and simple words understandable to every Russian, and burst into tears. And then Vasily’s right hand got out of control again and splashed half a glass at once. He had to drink, to fill his soul with something…

Well, and then? And what’s next is next as always. In general, shameless women dreamed at night, the next day the fool buzzed decently, he had to polish with beer and take a sabbatical from himself for one day.

Chapter 2. Closed opening

— Well, what is the principle by which various state-scale institutions are awarded with the names of famous people in Russia? — Vasily Petrovich was puzzled in the morning with a hangover. His head buzzing with pain set him up to criticize everything and everywere.

— It is clear that those associated with science, technology and production are the names of great scientists and designers: Korolev, Tupolev, Vernadsky. The surnames of outstanding writers and artists adorn the Academy of Arts — named after Repin, the Institute of Russian Literature — Pushkin House. Logically, — the academician debated with himself, lying on a feather bed in his luxurious blue bedroom.

The pain slowly drifted away, returning normal feelings and sane thoughts. By the evening, when the unclouded consciousness of the researcher returned to Vasily Petrovich, the conclusion was formed that the sauna, as a platform for developing ideas, had, alas, exhausted itself. The benefits of this were undeniable — the next morning, the emboldened Lomakin broke away from his fence and went to the people. Despite the cognitive dissonance, he rushed on a blue Bentley, matching the color of his eyes, according to the correct political course, to Yeltsinka library, where he hoped to find accurate and truthful information. Well, it’s not like driving to Leninka bibliotheca, all the books there must have deviated from the correct course of history…

On the subscription, read, on guard, the bespectacled librarian turned out to be vigilant, scarier than a traffic cop with a badge, she demanded a passport, a phone number, only she did not offer to breathe into a tube (and in vain!). After each question, she carefully, with a squint, looked at the academician’s reaction, and then analyzed his answer like a lie detector. While it was tedious, mockingly long to fill out a reader’s ticket with personal data, Vasily had the earth go out from under his feet several times, how bad it was with a hangover in the library stuffiness, even felt like a spy sent, and of course, from stress he wanted to add alco again. That’s how women ruin us, and you write off everything for the 1990s and cataclysms…

But thank God, the dialogues finally ended, the catalogs began. Where to start the search? Of course, with the definition of the concept! You need to know the enemy by sight, and to know his name is also a good start — linguistic turbidity, coronAvirus. In short, Vasily took a couple of folios on emidemiology and virology, walked through them with a professorial glance and quickly learned the essence. Thesis: what is the enemy like? The answer is a virus. What is a virus? This is a poison, a tiny formation, not even a cell, invisible in an ordinary microscope, but only in an electronic one. And, allegedly, this non-cell gets into an ordinary cell and multiplies there, releases the devil into the body, changes something there, and here you are: headache like now, fever, cough, and sometimes adeiu: order a wooden mackintosh, as the student Shurik used to say his partner. And the size of this non-cell is from 50 to 200 nm, that is, NANOMETERS. It was a lead… From a premonition of luck, a sudden discovery, the back of Vasily Petrovich’s head ached, like Gruppenfuhrer Muller, in the movie, in a word.

— From my father’s old budenovka, which we found somewhere in the closet.., —

Vasily quietly started the melody for some reason from the middle of the fifth verse, scratching the top of his head with his left hand, not even realizing at that moment where he was. With his free, trembling right hand, he instinctively groped for a cigarette, and in the deathly silence of the reading room, a cigarette lighter suddenly clicked loudly. From surprise, the bespectacled readers sitting at the tables jumped up in their chairs in unison. Petrovich took a savory drag on the Camel and vividly, purely automatically, expressed himself in Polish, and exclusively within the bounds of decency, as he later insisted and noted in the police report:

— Kurva takes two!

This exclamation testified that Vasily Petrovich had touched the Truth, it was somewhere nearby, very close…

Seeing a column of smoke in the reading room and a man speaking in a foreign language with a pistol in his hand, the bespectacled snake (as described by citizen Lomakin in an interview with the investigator) called a fire carriage and a police squad. We are decent people, and we will not relish further details of all the drinking and misunderstandings that happened to our hero this ill-fated evening. Well, yes, he hindered the capture and detention, well, he waved off and touched two, but he didn’t see what was in the uniform, so it wasn’t out of malice! In a warm conversation, sitting on a government stool, Vasily asked to treat this with understanding, referred to his academic status and knowledge of foreign languages, and a certificate from a psychiatric clinic saved him from serious problems. After all, what was fifteen days compared to the discovery he had made in the library?

A closed opening? It sounds like nonsense at first glance, but let’s figure it out in a simple way, on our fingers. Discovery, in a nutshell — the fundamental knowledge of previously unknown consequences of the laws of nature. For example, physicists have established the phenomenon that when exposed to electromagnetic forces, the velocity of a certain elementary particle accelerates by some amount. The example, of course, is conditional. And now these scientists are publishing an article in a scientific journal about a new pattern, proving its validity and repeatability. On this basis, the authorized state institute, after conducting special checks for compliance with the criteria, including novelty, issues scientists a document recognizing this pattern as a discovery, describes its essence, authors and the date of its establishment (priority). Imagine, however, that scientists have made a discovery, but they do not want to, and cannot, report it to the whole world — in particular, in the field of nuclear technology or weapons of mass destruction. Then they send their materials to the same national agency to recognize the regularity as a discovery, but make it inaccessible to an indefinite circle of people, that is, secret. In this case, all materials, including the decision to recognize the discovery, are also secret (or top secret, but this is not essential). Thus, this discovery is unknown to all other scientists of the world and is closed, unknown information for them. And such cases have taken place in practice. Here’s a closed discovery for you: a linguistic paradox, as Academician Lomakin would say, like a coronavirus.

Chapter 3. Beauty Plastic Clinic

Moscow, June 17, 2020, Wednesday. A young brown-haired woman in a business gray suit with a brown vintage Lakestone bag entered the building at 16 Miklukho-Maklaya Street, the office of the famous Beauty Plastic plastic surgery clinic, and proceeded to the reception desk. The receptionist, a personable middle-aged lady, Galina Sergeevna, as it followed from the badge on her robe, after a polite greeting on duty, inquired about the purpose of the visit.

— I have an appointment with Dr. Dekanosidze for 12 o’clock, — the brown-haired woman coldly informed.

— Wait a minute, I’ll clarify now.

The administrator logged into the computer schedule of appointments and found the appropriate line.

— Yes, hello again, Elena Nikolaevna, — she smiled professionally at the cute visitor with big gray eyes. — Irakli Davidovich is waiting for you in his office. Please, this way — she gestured to the door at the end of the corridor. As if on the runway, Elena Nikolaevna with a bag over her shoulder floated with an elegant, athletic gait on the marble floor. Galina Sergeevna watched her go-once she was like that…

Irakli Davidovich Dekanosidze, the owner and scientific director of the Beauty Plastic clinic, at the age of fifty-two, undoubtedly achieved success as a businessman and recognition as a scientist. Born in Moscow, his mother is Russian, graduated from the First Medical State University named after Sechenov and already in his twenties began to build his career. After completing his residency, on the advice of his supervisor, he began to specialize in cosmetology and plastic surgery. Rapidly developing his business, he found a unique niche in this highly competitive business, protected from the attacks of various «brothers» by reputable people from Georgia who settled in the capital, earned a well-deserved image of a talented surgeon among clients — businessmen, artists, officials and, of course, their wives. He had seen a lot of women in his lifetime; not having the appearance of Alain Delon, Irakli, and over the years, Irakli Davidovich, attracted many ladies with his bright image, so different from the already tired husbands and lovers of the local spill: a burning brunette, sharp facial features and pitch-black, burning eyes. But the main thing that the weaker sex felt at first sight, at the subconscious level — financial success and intelligence. He conquered women’s hearts with his unshakable confidence, low voice, the pressure of a hungry male and gentle manner. The ladies were destined to drink all this cocktail with Irakli as their relationship developed. His youth was passing away, but over the years his scientific weight grew as a specialist who mentored young medical staff, sometimes as a qualified manager, sometimes as the owner of the company; he did not exclude friendly relations, but more often they grew into closer ones. In other words, women for Irakli Davidovich were not an end in themselves, and even more so an object of sporting interest, but a natural, harmonious part of his personal life. Having secured a decent financial well-being, Irakli did not become a fan of the «golden calf», moreover, his clinic conducted a course of charitable operations that provided him with unshakable authority not only in the medical community, but also in power circles. Curiously, he lived in the center of Moscow in a large apartment with a retired mother full of worries about her only son, whom she raised alone almost all her life and still hoped that someday her Irakli would marry and introduce her to his chosen one.

Mr. Dekanosidze was sitting in a comfortable chair behind an empty work desk, his strong muscular surgeon’s hands resting freely on the polished tabletop. To his left is a pedestal with a large monitor, a beautiful writing device, pieces of paper and a cool smartphone. The walls of the office are hung with certificates, diplomas, awards of the company and its owner — Elena Nikolaevna immediately appreciated it, sitting in the chair opposite after the traditional greetings and invitations of the owner to the conversation. Irakli Davidovich rarely received guests himself, usually the visitors were consulted by specialized surgeons who led the patients along a technological chain developed over the years: consultation, diagnosis, treatment regimen, preparation of surgery and its conduct, rehabilitation. The financial side was determined at the initial admission and was legally fixed by the contract for the provision of medical services. Beauty Plastic Clinic valued its reputation, all current issues were solved by the deputy director of the clinic, whom the business owner trusted unconditionally as a friend, a medical professional, and as a commercial director. It was more reasonable and effective to educate good specialists and decent people without interfering in details and without imposing your opinion — in this Irakli was scrupulous and principled. Freedom from routine allowed him to look into the future, go to foreign medical centers, study their technologies, equipment and experience, and, as a result, be successful. Therefore, today’s consultation was a rare event for him, figuratively speaking, a curtsy to a beautiful lady. He no longer even remembered who asked him for an audience — either from the Moscow government, or from the Department of the Ministry of Health. And what’s the difference?

Careful study of each other, politely concealed by the parties, began after the first phrases. The ease of movements and the pose of the visitor in the chair — a straight back, a high-raised head with a slight arrogance in the gaze of huge, almost transparent eyes — were immediately appreciated by the owner of the office and testified to confident manners and good athletic form. A white silk blouse of excellent cut (brand Brunello Cucinelli — we will add) was gently combined with the tone of the clothes, creating a harmonious appearance, indicating a well-developed sense of taste and financial well-being. A minimum of cosmetics, jewelry and pathos — this style pleased Irakli. He could not stand the empty chatter and show-offs of the wives of some Russian multimillionaires with «greedy, like hungry wolves, eyes,» as one respectable Swiss publication deigned to put it.

Elena Nikolaevna — that’s how she introduced herself to Irakli Davidovich. Her name and patronymic were expected to be combined with her natural Russian beauty, but were only an operational pseudonym. In fact, her name was different, she worked, or rather, served as an employee of a special unit, a consultant psychologist in a solid organization that does not advertise itself and reliably hides its goals and methods with a legend about the charitable assistance fund «Good Doctor» and its noble mission. A school gold medal, a presidential scholarship to a medical university and extraordinary ranks in the service testified to the extraordinary abilities and determination of this gifted young woman. Sometimes the deceptive image of a frivolous beauty, like a mask, was deliberately used by Elena Nikolaevna to solve tasks with representatives of the «stronger» sex, many of whom stood in a hunting stance for the seductive «game» in her face (and body, let’s be honest to the end). Successfully exploiting this image in communication with narrow-minded, narcissistic narcissists, she still did not fixate on its universality in relation to self-sufficient men. At first glance, from the first minutes of communication, she regarded the owner of the office as a worthy rival — well, the more valuable the victory will be. Elena Nikolaevna answered standard questions in a calm, melodious voice, not including a single gram of charm and admiration for a scientific luminary; Irakli Davidovich, in turn, leisurely conducted a professional conversation and did not exchange compliments, not wanting to shorten the distance.

— What brings you here? — The owner asked with a slight smile. — Have you got the wrong address?

There was a slight irony in his question, a test arrow launched into the very heart of a woman’s self-esteem. The answer puzzled him somewhat:

— I came exactly to the address where specialists do miracles, — Elena Nikolaevna said without false piety. Then she paused to say the main thing, and the unexpected. — Irakli Davidovich, my husband needs an operation.

Then reasonable questions followed: why didn’t he come himself, who he is, what he complains about and what he wants to achieve as a result of treatment — ideally, of course. Here, according to the scenario of negotiations, Elena Nikolaevna had to pause, sigh, as if thinking — should she reveal herself to the end? — and then continue quietly, as in confession, periodically casting a pleading glance at the interlocutor. So she played, and Irakli did not suspect insincerity in her words and the almost pleading look of those hypnotizing female eyes. It’s not that he swam under the influence of an involuntary and alluring charm, no, I just felt the request of a good person — how easily we are deceived, how easily!

The smartphone buzzer sounded, but Irakli Davidovich ignored it. A good sign, his interlocutor automatically stated. She moved a little closer to the table, bent down a little and confided:

— My husband, Vasily Petrovich, did not want this operation, but I had to insist (pause) to preserve our marriage. You, Irakli Davidovich, will probably be able to understand me. My husband is a solid businessman, financially secure, a deputy of the State Duma in the past, so material issues do not bother us at all, we are interested in the possibility of an urgent operation under your leadership, and preferably by you personally, within the next dates. Is it possible?

— I need the patient’s ideas on the types of operations: rhinoplasty, blepharoplasty, facelift. We need a photo of your husband, how old, to begin with, we need facts, specifics, — insisted Irakli, professionally accustomed to dictate conditions. The situation intuitively ceased to please him.

— We have previously consulted on medical aspects, all three types of operations will be required, there are no contraindications.

— Then, taking into account the urgency and VIP service — one million 920 thousand rubles. Are you ready to conclude an agreement now? — Irakli Davidovich was already pushing, who wanted to get rid of this assertive lady as soon as possible and merge her to the administrator for paperwork outside his office, compensating with an inflated amount for some intuitive dislike of the transaction.

— Great! I’m paying you right away, now … — the brown-haired woman opened her briefcase, pulled out six bank packages with five thousand rubles bills and carefully laid them out on the table in front of Irakli. — There are three million here, a million for confidentiality.

The case smelled of kerosene, as they say in Odessa.

— What kind of confidentiality? — Mr. Dekanosidze could not contain his indignation, raised his voice and looked piercingly at Elena Nikolaevna. He had not been humiliated so abominably for a long time. — Take YOUR money and bother to leave my office!

— Hush, Irakli Davidovich, they can hear us! — his interlocutor repelled the attack with a suddenly changed, commanding tone. Bewilderment and confusion appeared in the doctor’s eyes. After a short pause, she continued pumping:

— Here is my certificate, — Elena Nikolaevna showed the astonished Irakli a red book with her photo, seals and credentials. — I am a representative of a special service, and the operation — I mean not only the medical part of it, is carried out in the public interest. I repeat: in the interests of the state. You are a participant in it, as an extra-class specialist, as a citizen of the Russian Federation, and as part of the overall plan. We could operate in medical institutions of the Ministry of Defense or the Ministry of Internal Affairs, but, unfortunately, there are no specialists of your qualifications there either. We have analyzed everything, if events develop in the opposite direction, they will not follow this trail — it is too risky from the point of view of secrecy, but this is at first glance. Your history, your personal file (Irakli shuddered internally) — the questionnaire, friends, connections, business and lifestyle have been thoroughly studied, and, in our opinion, there can be no misfire on your part. Of course, this also applies to the patient. That’s why I’m here today… By the way, here are the photos you asked for: a photo of your husband and the ideal to strive for, the requirement is identity of at least 95 percent, since we are talking about numbers.

Elena Nikolaevna carefully laid out six photographs on the table with her thin fingers. The light scent of her expensive perfume could be regarded as a mild anesthesia, but it caused a backlash in Irakli, another attack of internal protest. Three photos of an unfamiliar man in his thirties — full face, profile on the left, profile on the right — nothing unusual, and from the point of view of the surgeon, complicated: blond, average face. And here are the others… When looking at them, Irakli Davidovich, who had seen the sights, had a loud, intermittent heart that went somewhere sideways. Alexey Navalny was depicted in the photo.

— That’s how it happens in life — you go, you go, everything is fine, bang!, and everything is derailed, and you are not there, — Irakli flashed through his brain, looking at the impenetrable face of this one… — he couldn’t even find the right definition right away, — this…

He didn’t see a way out, didn’t know what to do. And where did the soft feminine charm of the visitor sitting opposite him go? The mask is thrown off, the beautiful face has been transformed, a hard, piercing look. «With greedy, like wolves, eyes…» — a metaphor that is quite appropriate now surfaced from memory.

— Do you agree?

Arguments for and against. Well, he has connections with the Moscow government and the Ministry of Health, and Caucasian authorities — just whistle. But, as an intelligent and experienced person, he understood that everything that was happening to him now was an event of a completely different level, and hardly anyone from his entourage was able to really help.

— Well, and if you go to the Lubyanka, report blackmail, write a statement… — His thoughts were racing in search of a solution. — No, not really…

Irakli began to deflate. Meanwhile, his interlocutor professionally monitored his vasomotor reactions, the whitened skin of his haggard, suddenly aged face, which had lost its usual confidence and majesty. Now it’s time to bring the final arguments developed in the training and conduct a quick briefing, expressing sympathy for the victim:

— Dear Irakli Davidovich, I understand you, a difficult decision, exceptional in its importance… But surely it does not contradict your moral principles and professional ethics? You see, we are offering, even asking you to perform an operation that is familiar to a surgeon with your experience, and nothing more… Do you hear me?

There were no objections, so he agree, now is the time to cut off the way to retreat:

— Your verbal consent is enough for us. Do you agree?

The critical moment has come. In the recruitment scenario, there were two options: either consent after ten seconds, or (unlikely) pounces on Elena Nikolaevna with the desire to tear her into small pieces. Dekanosidze made it in ten seconds and squeezed out something like «yes». But the uncertainty did not suit his tormentor, and she demanded to confirm her word again, but more clearly and firmly, which was done. Irakli felt himself on the edge of a precipice, he no longer wanted anything: neither to hear her, nor to see her, nor to breathe, and even to live. He hated himself for his cowardice. Time has stopped, and let it continue to flow without me — these were the unspoken emotions of a morally shaken person. But professionals are professionals, and the next step was prepared for this case.

— We understand your condition and are trying to help you, but do not interfere with it yourself. For your safety and support, we will attach to you our employee, a young woman, a psychologist, by the way. She won’t disappoint you. Introduce her to Mom as your fiancee, stay with her overnight. She will accompany you and protect you from unnecessary accidents. Tomorrow you and she will come to the clinic, and we will bring the patient, Vasily Petrovich. And your new friend has a higher education and is also an interesting conversationalist. You can talk to her on any topic. My advice to you: relax, life is wonderful! Look at the world more optimistically! In my opinion, many men would envy you, — she said with a smile. The client matured, it took only forty, no, forty-two minutes. Now acquaintance:

— So, am I calling her?

— Yes — Irakli answered quietly. Elena Nikolaevna took her mobile phone out of her bag, contacted someone on the phone.

— You can envy someone, — Elena Nikolaevna predicted cynically. And out loud:

— Ask the administrator to let Tatiana come to us.

And now we need to take the final chords:

— Irakli Davidovich, pay a little more attention.

Elena Nikolaevna was watching him closely, and he met her gaze for a second — the gaze of a wounded animal deprived of freedom. She continued:

— It is necessary to withdraw all the videos of the office for today and give them to Tatiana. Of course, about everything — about the operation, about the patient and about Navalny, about my visit, about me, Tatiana, not a word to ANYONE. I repeat, no one. Not my mom, not my friends, not the police, not the FSB, not anyone. We sincerely don’t want you to get hurt. Do you understand me?

— Yes.

— What can be discussed: the usual things that happen in the prescribed manner in the clinic, including the treatment of Vasily Petrovich; by the way, sign a contract for two million and make this amount yourself. For everyone, he is an ordinary patient, there is no need to strain the staff too much — this may arouse suspicion. Behave naturally yourself, relax today, Tatiana will accompany you everywhere outside the office. Treat her like a bride — you have to get some kind of moral compensation! Your administrator saw me — send her on vacation for a couple of weeks from tomorrow, buy her a ticket to an exotic trip to the Dominicana, here is the business card of the travel agency. My husband visited there in March, he really liked it. By the way, is the receptionist your mistress? I mean, won’t this create obstacles for Tatiana?

— The former, … (pause), will not create, — it seems that Dekanosidze has become more accommodating.

There was a knock on the door, and on the threshold stood a young woman of about twenty-five, in a light summer dress and a frivolous straw hat with a ribbon matching the color of lipstick on her juicy lips.

Chapter 4. Fifteen days

Shortly before these events, on June 9, 2020, the magistrate of the Tverskoy District Court of Moscow promptly considered the accusation of the former deputy, hooligan academician V.P. Lomakin and soldered him the fifteen days of administrative arrest required by law to stay in the special detention center No. 1 on Petrovka street. The place is gorgeous, it’s not a sin to sit here, all cultural points are nearby: the Bolshoi Theater, the Central Department Store, the National hotel, the native Duma, and the Kremlin is also not far away. Upon arrival, he was issued, and not as strictly as in the Presidential Library, but the mobile phone and lighter were seized.

He got into a cell for twelve people — iron beds, three meals a day, there is no forced labor, sit and read books — consider that he is back in the reading room. Or in the sauna, that is, the thinking room. Why waste precious time? Concentrating, disconnecting, Lomakin entered a trance state, and the creative process, as they say, began again. Vasily Petrovich’s reasoning was based on the following logical chain: coronavirus — nanometers — nanotechnology — Rusnano — Anatoly Chubais — resignation — closed opening — appointment as special representative of the president — resignation. Unaccustomed to working with large amounts of information, and even in such conditions, it is very difficult. Lomakin leaned back on the cot, not in a hurry to make any hasty conclusions. His head was buzzing with incredible tension; our hero was subjected to severe trials in the name of humanity, over which the threat of a nasty covid pandemic loomed. He devoted himself to analyzing and compiling a chain of facts, he is free in his flight of thought, and no bars on the windows could prevent this. Each link stubbornly matured in Vasya’s brain all day (with a break for breakfast, lunch and dinner), and the next day was spent on building a neural bridge to another link, so that during the period of solitude eight links were connected, inexorably leading to a solution. Perhaps, if the term of imprisonment had been longer, there would have been more links, but this number also caused periodic overflow of brain activity, and only one thing helped — the iron will of the thinker. Suddenly, there was a persistent premonition that the truth was about to be revealed in the process of relaxation and complete fusion with the universal mind. A mixture of beer and vodka would be Vasily Petrovich’s reliable guide to the world of truth, and the more guides there were, the faster the journey to the shining peaks of knowledge would go. But jail is not a theater, there was no buffet, so he had to think dry, and thoughts rubbed against each other without lubrication, causing a strong grinding in his head. It is possible that these sounds no-no and burst out through the auditory passages, and the ears, as natural resonators, amplified them so much that the neighbors in the cell began to look strangely at Lomakin. But this did not bother the pioneer of science: he was no longer in this physical dimension and did not notice anything around. Suddenly something tickled in Vasily’s head, and all the obstacles receded at once, there was a straight, shiny road ahead to the snow-capped peaks, then the road went down somewhere, like an airfield runway, and Lomakin was already soaring in the sky, directing the flight of his wings to a shining circle in the blue firmament. In order not to disrupt the clairvoyance session, Vasily made a few more swings with his hands in flight. Flying closer, he saw that the circle had turned into a round revolving door, just like at the Angleterre Hotel in St. Petersburg, and there were no guards at the door, neither apostles from paradise, nor angels from the FSO. Strange… But there was no point in stopping, just go ahead! Just in case, Vasily took another sip for courage (and where did the vodka come from?) and took two steps towards the bluish glass. The door went somewhere to the side, the blue illumination turned on and a voice said:

— No entry with with a bottle!

— No entry with with a bottle!

He had to finish his drink (and it won ’t take long to get drunk — Vasily Petrovich automatically noted) and fearlessly enter the Other World. This visit through the national digital tax system of scanning and control of the consciousness of individuals became known in the charitable assistance fund Good Doctor.

On June 18, at Domodedovo Airport, on the second floor, in the check-in departure area number 38, Galina Sergeevna, the administrator of the Beauty Plastic clinic, was waiting for an invitation to board. At her feet was a large blue suitcase on wheels, in her hands she was holding a brown Lakestone bag, which effectively matched the color of her gray pantsuit of the company… — however, we can’t tell from here. In five hours, according to the schedule, her Boeing will land at Santo Domingo airport. According to the manager of the company issuing the voucher and tickets, it is the best tourist center and resort in the world.

Chapter 5. Clinic again

The operational service of the charitable foundation «Good Doctor» on the morning of June 25 urgently searched for citizen Lomakin Vasily Petrovich. The subject was not at the place of residence, the mobile phone was not answered. An unofficial request to the reference department of the Moscow Police department gave information about the stay of the said person for re-education in the special detention center on Petrovka, 38. By two o’clock in the afternoon, a Mercedes Vito official minibus with darkened windows and a license plate issued to the bakery No. 22 of Moscow, on Akademika Pavlova Street, arrived at the specified address. The academician came for the academician — you can’t think of such a thing on purpose. The brave guys promptly resolved the issue with the authorities (unsurprisingly), took the prisoner’s personal documents, pulled the unfading Lomakin with his little things and conclusions from the place they had already settled in and sat him in a car salon chair. Vasya had a feeling that this march was just a new regime of imprisonment.

— It’s good that at least I had time to have lunch, — he rejoiced. — Where are they taking me now?

The driver and the escort turned out to be serious and non-contact men, they did not pay attention to the harassment and showed their unwillingness to talk purely with all their behavior. Vasily was guided by the stars that they were taking him somewhere to the south, away from the Polar Star and the Big Dipper.

— So, not to Sheremetyevo, and not to Venice in the north, — Vasily longed. Last year, he and the St. Petersburg guys had a decent walk in the Nevsky Palace: a rich restaurant, rooms, girls… It’s nice to remember.

The bus was already rushing in the traffic along the Trade Union Street and turned right onto Miklukho-Maklay Street. We drove up to a complex of gray six-story buildings forming a kind of honeycomb in the plan, on the fifth floor the neighboring buildings were connected by a twenty-meter steel corridor. Judging by the concrete walls and the absence of architectural excesses, some kind of government department or hospital, most importantly, there were no bars on the windows. Well, a prisoner of conscience does not have to choose much: where they were sent, there is an ambassador. We drove through the metal fence into the yard, the car stopped. The guards were silent, they say, think yourself out! Lomakin unhurriedly got out of the bus with a leather suitcase, stretched his cramped legs and said with feeling:

— Hasta la vista, baby!

For some reason, these two oaks treated him like an idiot, from whom you can expect anything, so they did not react to his remark in any way. They obviously did not know about Lomakin’s academic status, and they did not hear Spanish every day, so they could not catch the nuances of the authentic Catalan dialect performed by Vasily Petrovich. The unholy trinity stomped to the steps of the porch in front of the glass doors, above which was a neon sign «Beauty Plastic Clinic».