«Will do.» Marmarov nodded.
On the table suddenly materialized an open book in textile cover. Finger of Marmarov skated through its lines, his lips went to soft motion.
«The Book Of Fate!» stunned Arseny his amazed colleagues.
As usual, it was difficult to understand was he joking or not.
Boris peered over the shoulder of the guest. On yellowish pages appeared some strange characters and small digits. And on the left, in the corner of the book, emerged a sketch of a circle similar to a compass. Compass\' arrow pointed upward.
Finally, Marmarov turned away from the book and conspiratorially winked. Everybody were huddled over their curious visitor. The shadow of Sherlock Holmes has covered the entire group.«At the time of Zvezditsky\'s birth Uranus got up high, into zenith: from rags to riches .»
«Entertaining.» chuckled Boris.
«This is only a prelude. I can say it in other way: Uranium in zenith is a hymn to a genius, a luck, and take off …»
«Are there many of those whose fate depends on lucky chance ?»
«In a changing world, yes.»
«For example?»
«Marie Antoinette, Karl Marx, Lazar Kaganovich, Saddam Hussein, Boris Yeltsin. Different times, countries, destinies … The trend is one: the rise occurs in overnight, suddenly … Possibility of Uranium at its zenith, akin to a magic wand.»
«Lucky men.» sighed Natalya.
«It\'s hard to say,» shrugged his shoulder Marmarov. «Uranus in zenith is unstable. Unlike stern Saturn, pleasant Jupiter, and the planet of dreams Neptune. They are the ones who rule long– life-ball, without sharp ups and downs. Ah. Here is a trap. Saturn is transit and shadowing Zvezditsky \'s Uranium. And here is the Cross of Fate: depression and spleen. In quadruple froze the Black Moon: someone\'s malicious eye, evil genius, temptation. In the asset – a secret enemy. Wicked …»
«What about treasure?» suddenly applied the voice of Peter.
«Alas. I see there no treasure or other hidden possessions. Its master of treasures is in a shadow. Leading dimension is partnership. Now he is in black zone. But his life is doomed to be supported by business people, wife …»
«Wife? She died …»
«Not a good sign. He had to pray for her, to take care, to cherish … That\'s a payback: his own fear kills him.»
«Zvezditsky and fear are things incompatible.» Nata looked with same prick.
«All the same! Bad luck in his fate is not a fiction. Zvezditsky was born in an eclipse which gives him fatality …»
«And what is for us ?» lodged in Boris.
«I think, Boris, you should try to remind him about an interview. He was led not by aplomb but fear. He is completely taken by it. Your appearance happen to be at wrong time. In the worst case scenario he forgot about you. Most likely, he regrets about having such a reception for you. Call him.» Marmarov threw his wrist out with a massive chronometer on in. «Now! While the Moon is not off its course. A meeting would be good to be scheduled for tomorrow.»
«Why is it tomorrow?»
«One hour later, the Moon will be in very tense aspect with Uranus: volatility and nervousness will not contribute to your conversation. Don\'t burn your fingers twice, Boris. Yah! Here is a such transit to Neptune happening… No. He will not accept you. Im-pos-si-ble. He will be very sleepy and tired. In best case.»
«And in worst?» caught his word Arseny.
«Let\'s stop on that … It is similar to the effect of drugs, to hallucinations. In one hour he will be out of shape.»
Under aim of Fate
Verhny Khutorok Village, June 26, 2009 evening.
«Not even a one move» admitted Ilya after letting branch of nut tree into his open window.
However, voices down below alerted him.
Hey! That was a guard chewing the rag. With someone of those locals…
He could hear only clumps of phrases. Burst of laughter suddenly broke infused by gummy fluids, ominous air. And after sharp whipping words:
«The man went nuts… Only doctor can help…»
Ilya recoiled. Looked around. He felt for it.
Hastily made «cosmetics» highlighted the shabbiness of his place; from freshly painted walls the smell of varnish materials guttered brain into pain. He left in rush forgetting bottle of favorite perfume. It had thrown him off the aesthete image, but apparently didn’t wipe it out completely.
«Back to Moscow! To home!» His heart fluttered.
But then stung by accusations: everything there recall the past. About Inessa. Shacked off unwanted tears. Gasped breath. Even the sky in compassion squeezed a few tears out, but hard to breath.
Inessa … It shouldn’t happen even to a dog. Barcelona. Hotel. Fire. Seventeen victims and Inessa among them.
He killed her, because the idea has to be material. Didn’t thought about all of the pros and cons. Such a fool. Got involved in an adventure with Maestro, with the «flying killer». The price of freedom…
Freedom?! A week after he got an e-maiclass="underline"
The work is done. It is recommended not delaying with the payment. Maestro.
Ilya was taken aback: even paparazzi, who eager for smell of draught, sadly had to agree with investigators: it was an accident.
Ilya sent him to hell…
In response, Maestro pulled off some… a couple of illustrations from the series of «Under aim of Fate» of «CT» fresh issue.
The first one had shown Inessa in her «role» of Joan of Arc, engulfed by the fire. One sec. This is an err! You know, Joan was burned in Rouen. And here … In the background, in dreamy haze, you can see the outline of old catalonian roofs. And to the right there is five centuries long mistake! In watery skies emerged the Gothic Cathedral, the immortal creation of Gaudy. Visit Card of Barcelona. Barcelona!
He suddenly got it: a riot of flame and forks of fire will not shade out milky white skin and green eyes of red-haired Inessa. But will eat her alive! And the look is not of Joan of Arc anymore, but of Inessa! Taken by horrible pain … Burnt alive. In Barcelona. Two months ago.
The revelation fell like snowball onto his head: in the second picture … He himself. In an image of Marat. Bleeding. In the bath …
A lapidary you are the next had plunged Ilya into a shock.
He is here.
How could he manage to find his shack in province of blossom, where there no bathrooms but shower rooms (meter by meter in size). Well, it doesn\'t matter. Ilya has solved the riddle. Maestro lost! Outside of necessary entourage the Devil in the Flesh is pathetic.…Shabby bearded man suddenly turned to a laptop, passed fingers through a keyboard typing: «Have you prayed at night, Desdemona?».
The message has been sent, Zvezditsky is doomed!
The smile intended to the recipient. But mirror in the frame said «you are a freak»! He crumpled his face into grimace and a moment later, released a smile. Easier and touching one. The mirror replied with a grin. He snorted : time for smiles didn\'t come yet. Patience. Patience. Here we go… And the mirror heeded his owner\'s desires.
His hair turned gray in couple of months, his shoulders buckled as if under load beyond a human force, vertical wrinkles are folding face like scars. Why? Old Age? Nope. Gravy thoughts. Global project burns the liver.
Suddenly for a moment the look got brighter under his chubby eyebrows and eyes had flashed in an even light. Reflection trembled, blurring: he seem to be slimmer now, the features had softened turning into an eminent figure. The thought had draw the triumph image with a bright dabs: who would know! Who could think of!! Under the mask of photographer from «Corridors of Time» magazine acting the Maestro himself. Maestro of Resonance.
Damn news from Maestro caused frustration. The victory seemed to be of Pyrrhic. Especially now, on unbearably hot evening. Ilya didn\'t take a favorite perfume with scent of bergamot on purpose. Not give himself a reason to relax, not to fall in love with his own self, not to feel as esthete again. Ah, desire for bath is so irresistible, for bath with herbs and aroma.