Читать книгу Incredible Spy Detective. Poets and Liars - - Страница 4

[Russia, Moscow, Domodedovo]

“Excuse me. Would you mind switching seats with me? My seat’s near the emergency exit, 13C, there’s a lot more room there.”

The man whom Richard approached from the back was throwing his luggage up onto the rack. He turned around in confusion, his typically Russian sullen face didn’t smoothen even when faced with the stranger’s white-toothed smile.

“I’d really love to sit next to my girlfriend—” Richard motioned at the seats between them and smiled even wider. “Please.”

The head – with a messy chestnut-haired bun on top of it – didn’t budge, and the sullen man nodded after a second’s pause.

“Fine,” he grumbled and went to get his bag back down.

There was no catch – he would really be getting the better seat.

“Thank you,” sighed Richard with relief.

A few moments later, as if it was nothing, he took his seat besides the young woman in headphones who didn’t even raise her eyes at him, busy writing something into a red notebook.

Her handwriting was unintelligible, littered with crossings-out, but she didn’t mind. Richard’s eyes slanted to her hands, her face and bangs, the dark long lashes, the sharp nose with a ring between the nostrils. Stella Fracta looked different without makeup.

Her real name is Alexandra Stern, she’s thirty, her pen name is only for her books – and it, too, has special symbolism.

“Bad call,” she spoke. “It’s a four-hour flight, you’ll rue the day.”

She heard. Richard agreed with her – but appearing foolish was to his advantage.

His knees, spread to the sides, were pushing up against the back of the seat in front of him, he was uncomfortable already – and they hadn’t even left the airport yet … He was over six feet tall, he felt like he was in an incommodious dollhouse.

“An emotional call,” he said.

They crossed gazes. His eyes were blue, hers – brown.

Alexandra shook her head.

“You can always ask to switch back,” she smiled.

“Yes, I can, but I don’t want to. I’m Richard.”

She was looking at him closely: sculpted features, a clean-shaven chin, blue eyes, a long narrow nose and thin lips; dark brown hair, wide shoulders, a dark gray unzipped jacket, a blue jumper.

A fresh but unimposing perfume, even and calm breathing, a direct and open gaze, the iris – if looking at an angle – appears to be lit up from the inside.

“Alexandra,” she replied.

There were three kinds of her smile: just with her lips; with her lips slightly parted – but so that her fangs wouldn’t be visible; and with a fully open mouth, unashamed. Richard knew all of them – and now she had simply spread her lips.

He extended his hand for a handshake, Alexandra, in a returned gesture, gave him her hand – with long nails that resembled sharp claws.

Her hand was cold, his – warm, both had a firm handshake.

“The damn air conditioner,” noted Richard.

She laughed – and now he had time to see her fangs.

“My hands are always cold,” Alexandra shrugged, putting her hand over the closed notebook. “Even without an air conditioner.”

He could act out a fuss, try to turn the air conditioning off – despite the rules – he could even ask the flight attendant for a blanket … But something told him she wouldn’t fall for that.

He had a feeling she can see right through him – even though it was impossible.

“You’re going to London for work?” he inquired.

Alexandra looked at him again – on her face, he read faint displeasure: a stranger opting to distract her with idle chit-chat. She was still wearing headphones – though since the moment he approached her row, there was nothing playing in them.

“Yes,” she confirmed. “A meeting with readers.”

“Readers?”

“I’m a writer. I have books. Readers read books.”

“But ‘Cats Don’t Drink Wine,’” Richard smiled, putting on a show of bashfulness. “I’m sorry, I’m joking. I got it. I know you – I mean, I know your books.”

“Wonderful. I’m very glad.”

Her friendliness was neutral. It was a balancing act between indifference and gratitude, but it wasn’t arrogance or disdain for excessive attention. Before he had the opportunity to see how warmly she greets fans, readers, those wanting to take a picture with her or tell her their opinion – of any kind … And for some reason she didn’t react to him the way he’d anticipated.

He didn’t expect her to appreciate his attractiveness right away, but he assumed she’ll consider his attention appropriate – and that’s how he’ll start the conversation. She was open to dialogue – with all who approached her … And yet she’s barely looking at a blue-eyed dreamboat.

It wasn’t in his habit to reflect upon his attractiveness – but it was his habit to compare fact to consistent patterns.

Richard knew that at the moment she had neither a long-standing partner nor an object of romantic interest.

“I won’t distract you if it’s inappropriate, sorry.”

Richard breathed hard through his nose, tried to settle in the seat to get into a comfortable position, hugged himself by the shoulders, touching his elbow with his neighbor’s. He saw Alexandra smile from under his lowered eyelashes.

“It’s okay,” she said, and, after a pause, she added. “It’s just that I’m tired – so living humans – even cute ones – don’t ignite a desire for conversation.”

“Living?”

He passed off the statement that he’s cute. Of course, he’s cute – it seems he’s never smiled so ingratiatingly!

“Living. I prefer robots.”

Alexandra was being serious – she always was, even when she was making her odd – sometimes creepy – jokes. If this was the first time he’d met her – and if he was not an agent of MI6 – she would have succeeded in scaring him off.

She’s a misanthrope – she said that in both interviews and articles, and the characters of her books were mostly autistics, psychopaths, evil geniuses wearing masks and murdering people.

Monsters in human skin – and alternatively, humans in bodies of monsters.

“It’s a pity I’m no robot,” Richard complained almost in earnest, staring at the back of the seat ahead of him with loathing.

“You can still go back.”

The flight attendant’s voice began announcing that the plane was getting ready for take-off through the speakers. Richard clicked the safety belt.

“Not a chance,” he smirked.

Alexandra took off her headphones, switched the phone to airplane mode, leaned back and closed her eyes. He was glancing at her – nearly always voluntarily.