That night Gogia had a wonderful dream. He dreamt of a huge and bright concert hall. He was sitting in a big armchair standing on the stage, and playing his own compositions. After each piece the hall stormed with applauds and the stage was scattered with the bouquets of flowers.
He woke up early in the morning, looking happy and content. He felt his way to the table and had his breakfast. He didn’t feel like going out that day. A neighbor boy opened the door and offered to see him to the underground.
“No Datuna, Thanks a lot. I’m staying home today”, Gogia replied quite amazed at his own decision.
He lay on his bed, took the guitar, started to play and even hummed something to the music. It was for the first time in his life, when he tried to sing.
He fell asleep again, with the guitar in his arms.
He dreamt the same dream – the bright concert hall, storms of applauds and flowers. Then, gradually, the lights went out and only the sounds of his guitar remained. He was playing with the utmost delight. The sounds were absolutely perfect, almost divine. By and by it became impossible to follow the melody which now sounded somewhat heavenly, bright, pure and extremely light. None of the earthly instruments could produce such sounds.
The sounds slowly faded away, and then disappeared thoroughly.
In the morning, when the neighbors paid a usual visit to Gogia, they found him lying in his bed with the guitar in his hands. He had a broad smile on his face and seemed to be fast asleep.
Asleep indeed he was, with the pleasant, divine, eternal sleep.
2005
TEMUR
It was late in the evening. Temur was returning home from the hospital where he had visited his wounded friend. To be more precise, he was still standing in the corridor, waiting for the news. Time and again, he enquired the doctors coming out of the reanimation department:
“How is he? Is there any news? If you need something, just tell me and I’ll get anything. I’ll go by car and fetch anything!”
Then he went back to the people standing in groups. All of them were telling different versions. Still there were several details that coincided: Everyone admitted that Lado had been claiming something to some strangers at the party and they had a small argument. That was all they had witnessed.
Nevertheless, an hour later, someone called from the hospital informing Lado’s friends that he had been brought there badly wounded, and had to be operated on within an hour’s time. They also said he could hardly manage to give the phone number before he fainted.
Lado’s mother, Tamara, was standing in the corner with several of her son’s friends. She didn’t utter a single word. She was extremely pale and her eyes were hollow. Each time someone in a white overall passed by, she started to tremble. It was clear, she wanted to ask some questions, but she couldn’t, for she was afraid to hear bad news.
Temur went up to someone in a white overall again.
“What’s going on?”
“He lost a lot of blood. We need the blood of group two, rhesus negative.”
“Where can we get it?”
“At the blood transfusion station. We also need the physiological solution, and gentamicine. There is a risk of peritonitis.”
“Are you a doctor?”
“No, I’m in my fifth year at the medical college, but I am an intern here, and I am on duty today.”
In forty minutes’ time everything had been already delivered.
The nurse said the operation was a success. Two bullets had been removed from the patient’s stomach. The only problem now was that of the peritonitis.
Temur was walking down the street. He could have taken a taxi, but he wanted to walk a little. He had a gun in his pocket.
Those were dangerous times...
“They came with the Shorty,” Temur recalled his friend Gio’s words. “So I can see them tomorrow,” he thought. “I’ll ask them what he has told them. Was it something so terrible as to kill him?”
He found himself at the front door of his house.
“How is he?” Temur’s mother asked him as soon as he entered.
“He’s better now. The only threat is peritonitis.
***
“Hi, Shorty!”
“Hi, Temur. How are you doing, man?” Shorty seemed a bit confused.
“Get into the car; I have a word with you.”
“Nice car. When did you buy it?”
“It isn’t mine.”
“I see...”
Shorty closed the door.
“Too hot, isn’t it? No air at all.”
“Who were those guys yesterday?”
“What guys?”
“Them that wounded my buddy, Lado.”
“O, they are nice guys, I tell you. They were drunk, you know, and your buddy should have left them alone.”
“I need to see them.”
“You’d better wait a little. When your buddy recovers, we shall settle the problem right away.”
“He has to survive first.”
“O, Yeah? Is he that bad?”
“Yeah. There is a threat of peritonitis.”
“Wow! God forbid!” Shorty said crossing himself.
“I need to see them today, Shorty!”
“No, no! You’d better wait for a while! The cops are aware of everything, you know; they are...”
“Didn’t you hear me?” Temura shouted and stopped the car abruptly. In a moment he took his TT out of his pocket and hit Shorty on his jaw.
Shorty screamed. And he immediately got another blow.
“Are you crazy?” he murmured.
His nose was broken. His mouth was full of blood and the fragments of his teeth.
“Sit still! Don’t move or I’ll kill you right on the spot!”
Shorty groaned searching for something in his mouth. Then he spat out some blood and broken teeth.
“Are you in mind? What have you done, idiot?” he murmured and immediately got a third blow. This time on his head.
“Tell me where they are, or you are a corpse!” Temur told him, aiming the gun at his temple.
“Inn Kiev street, near the park.”
Temur started his car. On the way he warned Shorty again:
“Be careful! Don’t do stupid things or you are a dead man!”
They stopped at a yard.
“Here?”
“Yeah.”
“Both?”
“Yeah... A friend of theirs lives here.”
“Call them and tell them to come out.” Temur gave his cell phone to Shorty. “Be careful, ass-hole, they mustn’t guess anything!”
Shorty dialed the number, trembling and looking at the gun.
“It’s me, Shorty... Yeah, it’s my buddy’s phone... Come down, both of you, we need to talk... Yeah, my voice is harsh because I have a sore throat... No way, it can’t wait.”
Temur took his phone, got out of the car and stood near the gate. Shorty stayed in the car. He was so scared that couldn’t even dare to move. Some time later there appeared a tall guy walking lazily, followed by his friend. When he saw Shorty, he waved his hand.
Temur raised his gun and shot three shots. The tall fell down at once; the other one managed to turn round, and he immediately got four bullets in his back. He, too, fell on his back and lay still.
Shorty was running down the street as fast as he could.
Temur started the car, drove upwards, then to the right and straight ahead. He was thinking about his buddy: “Now we need to prevent peritonitis!”
Those were very dangerous and ruthless times, indeed.
2005.
FAR AWAY, IN CARTAGENA
To the memory of Bidzina Kherkheulidze
Camillo Chaver was a tall, broad-shouldered, sun-tanned man.
He lived on a farm, Guapore, 50 kilometres from Bogotá.[5] It was a middle-sized farm, and his sons, Pepé and Miguel, helped him with the farm-work. They had a servant, Minelle, too; Namibian by origin.