Читать книгу Albedo Castle - - Страница 12

On the thirty-sixth floor of the Mitsui Tower, a young man in a red hoodie came perilously close to crashing into Adam Bradshaw. Adam staggered back from the bright blotch hurtling towards him, jumping out of the elevator, the man, with a laugh, raised his hands apologetically. They instantly passed each other by, the young man, with springly steps, continued down the corridor, Adam stepped into the elevator.

He had just been talking to Alexandra and was on his way down, but not to his hotel room, for a stroll – because it was boring to sit in the hotel room. He suspected that she had simply sent him out.

These agents were so strange, anyway …

As the elevator doors closed, Adam thought he heard someone scream – in joy, like people do when they unexpectedly run into someone they know. Clearly, the young man in the red hoodie pleasantly surprised someone with his arrival.

Dr. Bradshaw had tried dishes from all the ramen shops in the neighborhood, and Alexandra, who had been keeping him company since day one, while Richard was in his room, was complaining that she’s already tired of soba and udon. Adam was trying to find something to do – it felt like he was disappointed that his assistance was no longer required as soon as Richard started feeling better.

He had no plans to leave yet, he felt that all this – the unplanned trip to Japan, the encounter with MI6 – served some purpose.

Although it could simply be procrastination – and a reluctance to return to Baltimore.

Alexandra had already shut the door behind Dr. Bradshaw, who went off to have lunch alone, but she lingered by the doorway – as there were footsteps approaching up the hallway.

She opened the door without waiting – and immediately cried out, echoing the young man in the red hoodie who rushed towards her with open arms. Christopher yelled without shame – and so did she, uncaring of what the guests in neighboring rooms would think. Soon they let go, appraising each other, the visitor squinted.

“How long has it been since we saw each other – a month and a half?”

“About that,” Alexandra replied.

“How’s Richard?”

“Alive.”

Christopher already knew how Richard was – because partrons are connected even without calls and messengers. He had last talked to Alexandra in the waking life when she came to London – on another reader event organized by the Träger publishing house. They, too, didn’t have to see each other to stay updated – but every in-person encounter became an experience.

They shared a unique ability to find trouble wherever they wandered. Such compatibility even had a name, neither a spy nor an alchemical one – ‘friendship.’

Christopher stepped back, looking around, making it clear he had no intention to spend time in the hotel room.

“I suggest we go to the Museum of Modern Art in the Imperial Palace, there’s bound to be some ludicrousness on display there,” he said. “You haven’t been there, have you?”

Alexandra shook her head: she and Richard only went outside on Sunday, while alone – or with Dr. Bradshaw – she never strayed farther from the hotel than a few miles. The broadcast tower of the Tokyo Skytree had already become an eyesore.

“Tonight we’ll go to an izakaya, it’s been a while since I got shitfaced Japanese-style,” Christopher added. “I won’t let you die of boredom.”

“We’ll sooner die of something else.”

“We’ll find the jag-off and cut him up into yakitori. Do you seriously think he could be dangerous?”

The jag-off – Baer, Medvedev – hired an unidentified man to hurt Richard, now Richard went to Nonoda’s headquarters and is playing the lure again … Alexandra had no doubt that he would be recognized there – but had no idea what would come of it.

By visiting Kuma’s domain – who, for some reason, quoted a specific text – Richard is making a move – and entering Baer’s chess match. He knows what he’s doing, his partner Dario’s with him … He’s still on the mission with the Bulls, and he has the assistance of the Circus behind him.

Alexandra sighed.

Richard was like Wagyu beef – fed select grains, given beer or sake, and vibromassaged to make the meat marbled and tender – but still sent to the table in the end.

“Yes,” she replied. “Baer is the Grandmaster’s student, Baer has personal scores to settle with Richard, and luckily for Richard Baer didn’t find him interesting enough to kill – only to spook.”

“But he doesn’t know that Richard is in Rote Stier.”

Alexandra nodded.

“Yes, I believe so. Otherwise, he would have called him Richard Bateman, not Richard North.”

“Baer knows you.”

“Only as a writer, at most – as a part of Richard’s cover. I don’t think he knows we share a teacher, or put me and Poets together – he never took alchemy seriously.”

“You might be wrong.”

“According to Richard – and Rublev – Baer is a pragmatist. He never believed in alchemy because he couldn’t find an explanation for how it works – and never showed his involvement with the Poets publicly.”

“That means he’ll make a mistake someday – and we’ll cut him up into yakitori.”

“You’re just hungry,” Alexandra chuckled. “Let’s have dinner. Wanna meet our new doctor, the one Dario kidnapped from Singapore?”

Christopher shook his head.

“Doctors and spies – in the evening. I wanna hear about the serial killers from the new book you’re writing.”

They went on foot to the Kitanomaru Park, a part of Kokyo Gaien – the outer garden of the Imperial Palace – but never made it to the Museum of Modern Art. They just strolled, lingering for a long time without even entering Edo Castle and seeing the twin Nijubashi bridge and the white watchtower Fushimi-yagura.

Alexandra had already finished her coffee and was holding the paper cup, Christopher was chewing a to-go onigiri from a café near the concert hall, behind their bench birds squabbled in a Japanese dialect. The setting sun descended behind the skyscrapers lining the horizon and surrounding the oasis of parks in the heart of the capital.

“Did it really not bother you that he talked to me more than to you?”

Christopher licked his fingers and took the next portion as he waited for an answer.

“No. He wanted to separate work and … me,” Alexandra shrugged. “It helped him focus.”

“He didn’t separate me and work.”

“Well, you’re a former agent.”

“That’s just an excuse. It’s easier with me. With you … To him, it matters what you think of him.”

Alexandra shifted her gaze from the colorful red-yellow-green bushes to her interlocutor.

“Are you for real right now?” she winced. “He didn’t talk to me because he didn’t want me to see him be unable to do something?”

“Yup.”

“And he told you that himself?”

She hoped that it was just Christopher’s imagination … But he nodded, as if reluctantly.

“He flew to you as soon as he found a reason to … As soon as he realized what’s really important to him.”

“And what could that be?”

“You.”

“Now that’s just peachy,” Alexandra scoffed. “What you’re describing is some kind of love addiction and idealization. Richard has his own things to do, I have mine, he knows I’m always there even when we’re apart – and he definitely doesn’t need me to meddle in his work.”

“You’re meddling in his work now.”

“Because he let me.”

“And now you see that he’s not doing well.”

“Why isn’t he?”

Christopher pretended to be busy chewing his food, then reached for the poison-colored soda, Alexandra was looking at him expectantly.

“I doubt Richard would be happy about me and you discussing our relationship behind his back,” she added. “He didn’t ask you to talk about it.”

Christopher smiled, the bottle hissed as he turned the cap.

“He won’t tell you that himself,” he said finally.

“He will if he needs to. Weird conversation … Imagine William telling Richard about me – things I can’t bring myself to say directly.”

She winced ironically, Christopher grinned.

“Imagining. ‘Richard, Richard, stop thinking about her exes, she’s not thinking about yours,’” he portrayed a soft, discreet tone. “‘Richard, Richard, stop querying Christopher about her – she’s not asking him about you.’”

Alexandra laughed, placing the paper cup on the bench beside her.

“Resembles. No, even if you’re not exaggerating, he has nothing to worry about.”

“You never told him that you love him.”

“Of course I did!” she objected. “Of course I— No, Christopher, you’re definitely pulling my leg,” she kicked his shoe, he laughed, nearly spilling the contents of the bottle he held to his mouth onto himself. “He knows that I love him – he doesn’t need all this sentimental rubbish.”

“Rubbish, you say …”

“What do you, yourself, think?”

“Me, myself?”

“Does Richard need this sentimental rubbish?”

“He said it, not me!”

“Liar!”

“No! There – you made the decision for him, about what he needs and what he doesn’t.”

“Don’t twist my words,” Alexandra protested. “In any case, we’ll discuss it without you.”

“He’ll tell me everything later anyway.”

“Look elsewhere for melodrama plots!”

“Just take note of what I said,” Christopher leaned back on the bench and took a sip. “He’s not bulletproof.”

Alexandra has never considered Richard bulletproof – even when he expertly lied and pretended.

“Okay,” she agreed.

Christopher pursed his lips.

“I envy you two sometimes.”

“What, specifically?”

“Infatuation, love, passion, romance,” he drawled. “Heroism – not for the sake of work …”

“Leg-pulling again.”

“I mean it. You don’t appreciate a bloody bit about what you have. You landed such a man for yourself, and it’s like you don’t even notice it.”

Alexandra gasped.

“So that’s how it is!”

“It is indeed!”

At first, she wanted to say that his world had long become hers – and vice versa; that for Richard, she would tear anyone to shreds – and, because of that, would move Heaven and Earth no worse than Circus agents. At first, she wanted to ask: isn’t that the measure of love and engagement … But then she understood that Richard is perfectly capable of handling everything himself – so her assistance, the only love language she was capable of, wasn’t always of use.

He wanted her to be there for him, to help – and yet to avoid appearing helpless.

But she always told him he can do everything – and knows everything – himself. He just misses some things due to inexperience …

She also misses things – that she forgot to add alchemy into her relationship. The instructions are always the same, the recipe is personalized.

Christopher watched Alexandra’s expression change – from pensively sad to mysteriously sly. He raised an eyebrow questioningly when she looked at him.

“Got a prophecy for you, Christopher,” she smiled. “The Lovers card.”

“For me?”

“I know how it works. It’s contagious.”

“I don’t understand,” Christopher frowned, now it was his expressions’ turn to change as he ran through guesses.

“You will. Just start noticing.”