It turned out that the guy who was arrested for no reason at all had merely set fire to a nine-story building. And there were witnesses. When Eddie-baby's turn came, he stood up, as is the custom, and gave the major his first and last name – Eduard Savenko.
Major Sakharov gazed intently at the pale youth, as if attempting to remember something, and then he asked Eddie-baby,
"You wouldn't be the son of Veniamin Ivanovich?"
Eddie-baby was indeed the son of Veniamin Ivanovich. That was probably the only time that being the son of Veniamin Ivanovich proved to be an advantage. The major left, but when Eddie-baby was summoned to his office two hours later, to the office of Major Sakharov, the head of the Krasnozavodsk militia precinct, his father was already sitting there. Eddie-baby's father, it turned out, didn't even know that Cadet Sakharov had become a militia major and that he was living and working in Kharkov.
And then from the file of "E.Savenko and V.Gorkun, assault with a deadly weapon on D.Krasnopevtsev, a member of the militia auxiliary forces, with subsequent knife wound to D.Krasnopevtsev," the powerful hands of providence withdrew the principal evidence – Gorkun's hunting knife – and squeamishly handed it over to Veniamin Ivanovich as a souvenir. Veniamin Ivanovich must have hated Eddie-baby for forcing him to use his "service connections" for his own private purposes for the first time in his life as a good and upright man. Whatever the case, henceforth all relations between Eddie-baby and his father ended. They became merely roommates.
It wasn't that easy for Major Sakharov to smooth the affair over. D.Krasnopevtsev was in the hospital, and his family wanted satisfaction. What Veniamin Ivanovich's old comrade did to shut them up Eddie-baby had no idea. Whatever he did, the at least five to seven years in prison looming over Eddie-baby – the fact that he was a minor wouldn't have helped – were ultimately reduced to a fifteen-day sentence, which he and Gorkun were supposed to serve picking up trash and digging an irrigation ditch in Krasnozavodsk Park under the supervision of an old militia desk sergeant. In point of fact, however, since Eddie-baby couldn't move his arm without hurting all the bones that had been beaten by the militia, he and Gorkun remained in the cell, where the latter smoked and told him about Kolyma for days on end and also about how he had saved Eddie-baby's life.
From what he said it emerged that Gorkun had not been beaten but had been quietly sitting by himself on the bench in the vestibule of the Krasnozavodsk militia substation. When he saw that the trashes were enraged at Eddie on behalf of their comrade and had completely lost control of themselves and were close to killing the minor, he decided to intervene.
"I decided to save you, you asshole," Gorkun said didactically. "According to one law of Kolyma, you should have died that day, and I the next. It's dog eat dog, right? But after the business at the dancing area, it turned out you were something on the order of a pal, although I didn't want to have anything to do with you. But according to another law of Kolyma, you're supposed to help out your pals – whatever it costs you in blood. And so I started screaming as loud as I could, 'You filthy bastards! You'll kill the lad! He's still just a lad! You fascists! You goddamn fascists!'
"I was screaming," Gorkun continued, "as loud as I could, but they weren't paying any attention and were still beating on you all at once. So I got up, ran over to them, and punched the lieutenant in the throat! And then they stopped beating you and turned on me. But I've served time," Gorkun said with pride. "You couldn't even imagine how many times I've been beaten, lad. I know what to do… And anyway, what's the point of beating me up, I'm a goner anyway, I've served three terms, whether you beat me up or not. I used to cut my veins every week with a spoon and wipe blood all over the walls in camp… As a protest. It doesn't make any difference to me if they send me back to prison. So they didn't beat me for very long…"
Eddie-baby had no way of checking on what Gorkun said, but he believed him, and not because he thought the bald Victor Gorkun was some kind of splendid Robin Hood. The thing that actually sounded most convincing to Eddie was Gorkun's cynical observation that he had had to intercede on Eddie's behalf because Eddie was bound to him as a pal. Gorkun, it turned out, was a formalist. The code of the experienced criminal required him to hit the lieutenant. And so he did.
After they were released, Eddie and Gorkun didn't go their separate ways but instead went straight to Grocery Store No.7, where they drank in honor of their lucky escape. Gorkun, however, never found out about the great friendship between the cadets Ivan and Veniamin. He thought that he and Eddie-baby had simply been incredibly lucky, that the trashes had mixed up their papers or something.
25
Eddie-baby returns to the usual meeting place, where the other guys are naturally already gathered. Cat and Lyova and Sanya and two others as well – Slavka Bokarev and "Hollywood." Cat and Lyova, each augmenting the other, are giving a detailed account of the capture of the ringleader of the soldiers, while Sanya is looking admiringly at the large gold watch on his wrist.
"How do you like the ticker?" he asks the just arrived Eddie-baby with a little smile.
"Where'd you get it?" Eddie-baby asks in amazement, although he is starting to remember something.
"The sergeant gave it to me," says Sanya. "'It's no use to me,' he said, 'I'll lose it, whereas it's just the thing for you, Red.'" Sanya guffaws complacently.
"Is it real gold?" Eddie asks.
"What else?" Sanya answers. "So, did you turn them over?" he asks Eddie-baby.
"Well, I took them to the precinct like you said, and then I cut out," Eddie answers, shrugging his shoulders.
"You did right," Sanya says encouragingly. "A ticker like this would cost twenty-five hundred in a store. That means I can sell it to the blackasses at the market for at least a thousand, and maybe even more. And what could the goddamn trashes give us, huh? A certificate to stick up our asses? Fuck them and their reward!"
"I didn't even see you take it," Eddie says with admiration.
"I took it when we were bringing him in. I immediately noticed he was wearing gold, but I didn't want us to be the only suspects. Now, if they suspect anybody, they'll suspect the Georgian too. Of course, after a fight and a scuffle like that, it's possible he could have lost it himself. Maybe it fell off his wrist," Sanya innocently intones, and then laughs again.
It's clear to Eddie-baby now why the guys turned down the triumphant return, the opportunity to ride into the militia station on a white horse. The money is more important, of course. Although if the choice had been Eddie's, he probably would have chosen the triumphant return. He would have passed up his share of the watch merely for the pleasure of actually seeing Major Aleshinsky shake his hand and express his gratitude. And Zilberman! To get the better of the Jew Zilberman-Maigret is something that Eddie-baby has long dreamed of. To walk into his office, sprawl on the chair by his desk, light a cigarette, and lazily remark, "Yesterday when I was talking to the major…" Or, "Major Aleshinsky and I…" Eddie grins. Zilberman would have gone out of his mind with amazement.