Alex Ivey knew about that, but he did not want Mr. Gregory Goodiear to find his memories of the Ivy family, that someone would publish the dates on the backs of the glossy sheets against the photographer, because there was something very personal there, he was afraid for his profession, and decided to avenge the pain, for the fact that he was forcibly forced to go to all those indecent acts, which are better not to talk about. All that remained was simply to give Jack Waiton something that did not concern his personal life, but to destroy the valuable, by all means, despite his regrets. It is impossible for someone with unclean intentions to get to the bottom of the night work in the basement of a private building. Any way you need, just need to permanently turn off the red light in the room so that no one sees, does not recognize.
So burned, charred to the limit, all the photographs and photographs from Alex Iive's first, most necessary during the hours of grief, because he so decided, he did so for the sake of his family, girlfriend, and a prosperous future. Or maybe someone in this day is studying the action, taking pictures through the window, leaning against the poster column? Rather! Burn what is left and as inconspicuous as possible!
They should not even know about it! He gathered all the pictures in a heap and threw them into a violet flame, directly into a furnace in the basement, where nothing but it could be. The flash, as in a camera, but only realistic and dangerous, and all the scatters randomly shone in the blink of an eye, dying down and burning again, like the light of a searchlight in a film projector. Soon there was not a single whole, not a single one.
Now it is necessary to close the flap imperceptibly, move the glass away from the frame, air the air, and get out of here. Alex for the third time lit a lighter above the burner, the burner lit up with a blue flame, and the guy put the kettle on, clean, not offended, made himself a paprika soup, as if by chance came, and ate a little to calm down.
How so, make an irreparable gesture! In any case, he regretted his deed. If someone comes in after him, he will have a chance to escape before something becomes known. Alex is gone. He slammed the entrance of the entrance with brick pieces and, wiping off the sticky and unpleasant pink dust, silently walked up the stone degrees, up the stairs, into the living room. It was night, but not yet morning, somewhere around six o'clock. Veronica slept, or read her favorite book until late? He did not think to go to her. Not out of fear, but just like that.
Chapter fifteenth.
Once, in the Past, in a few long years below, he was young boy, who not know about something, besides the small flying butterflies. Now, after the twenty three years, as grown up man, he forgot about all, what was in the early life, besides the photos, so many photos, what could be any-when and anywhere.
Veronica Tence became his wife, and they together often walk in the Green Park about the Fourth Street, in Darlington, met with other outsiders, ask about the abroad life and news, drink tea in clean glass glasses and enjoy in the cinema, watching the films and cartoons. They feel theirselves great.
But Walter could broke anything again, waiting on the parts of burned photos, which his helper found in the Ives`s house last nights. He never forgive and never forgot that, what were any-when in his brave arms. Who could know that? No-who.
Jack Waiton thought about the deeds and actions created by Alex Ives, listened to the audio recordings of his conversations with him in the headphones, and what Alfred Berrow said, but it was difficult to understand the meaning of the confusing words and the memorized sentences used by this photographer, Alfred, as with Attorney turned out to be easier:
“A person can do feats. However, he and other people do not need any feats, especially if it doesn’t matter. Why? Who likes it? Who needs feats? What is this word "feats"? This is something good everywhere need meaning, reason and explanation.
If you do not have time or somewhere, then no one will help you achieve this or that. The time just passed. How many minutes does it take to do something? The numbers on the display or dial? Here is not the speed of rotation of the mechanism, but only the movement of the arrows.
This is not time, time is something that changes you, changes your attitude, changes everything.
Patience is the time that exists in communication, which helps to do something. If there is no patience, there is regret about what happened or what happened. There was another option, but it was not applied on time, this is a choice. And why? Why is this or that action so expensive? And in money, and in time, and in general.
Why? If someone could deceive anyone, then he would not pay for anything, even conscience is not required. "Conscience" - what is it? This feeling is pressing on emotions, on the brain, on relationships, on your time.
Betrayal is a step that is not noticeable at first, but, becoming obvious, is palpable not only for the betrayer, but also for the devotee. There is no patience here. There is a time - memory, friendship, and fragments of those minutes when there was trust.
Trust is what time spent together, a common cause, common values, shared memory, common feelings mean. If there is no trust, the person will not cope alone. Or he can cope when, besides his conscience, he has a lot of things that could be necessary for a person loyal to them. Anyway, a traitor can live for some days, but conscience will still affect and destroy the traitor. Then why betray? Do you need it? Everywhere has its own philosophy.
A person knows about evil, knows who can do it, but does not think about utility, not losing a second chance and any good changes. Only ordinary conversations with arguments give knowledge and feelings of security.
Who will protect you if someone wants to take your good life and wants to send it to yourself? Who can say and make for you any useful solutions against difficult questions and problems? "
The train of thought ended with the appearance of Mr. Raymond, judging by his appearance, much fake, but he did not notice the detective story, because the sleepy state interfered with the usual business orientation in space. Either he regretted about something, or was happy about something, although the versions did not lead to relevant really important circumstances, because his presence did not obstruct the topic of reflection, and in the case of opposition, the antiseptic in ampoules can help. After standing a little near the window, the guest turned and, staggering, walked back to the corridor, inaudible and not noticeable.
Chapter sixteenth.
After a long silence and ignoring, Alex Ives decided to print a message on his smart phone, attaching a brief voice message with the “Do not be sad” wish, and sent the attachments and text to Mr. Jack Waiton.
It turned out that the guy was not insane, but on the contrary, he rather considered changing the situation before events would take an inevitable and unchanged turn. "So as not to get worse!" - He repeated twice, pressing the "Enter" key.
"I am better than others, I have more cultural humor, the topics are not intrusive, the public leaves to expect better, but the rating is not as important as the realization that someone needs you as just a friend. Someone reads yours essays, and on the other side of the screen applauds you, knowing that you look at the reading statistics with respect to the reader. This is not just some kind of thoughtless “like”, from which goose bumps appear at night, this is a good grade, like an exam, surely "five."