Argentine Archive №1. Магомет Тимов

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      “What are you thinking about, good fellow?”

      “I’ll get my diploma tomorrow or the day after. Then what? Distribution? In all likelihood, they’ll find me some hole in Upper Pupinsk, beyond the Urals. In that case, I can kiss all my dreams goodbye…”

      “Oh, that.” Naum savored another foamy sip. “What did you expect, brother? That Moscow will greet you with open arms? There are enough engineers here.”

      “And then some.” Andrey butted his stubborn head against his mug. “But I still hoped for the best, so to speak, all these five years. Yes, and the last course washed my head, so…”

      "And why?” his pal laughed. “From what has accumulated in it over the past four? No, the rumors that you’ve been laying about this winter have been going around even here, in the Pit.”

      “So what?” Andrey jumped up, shaking his blond locks. “That diploma is still almost with distinction!”

      During the argument, the two did not notice as the stranger picked up his mug and moved closer to their table. Behind a heavy beer and a newspaper with his leftovers a little to the side, he listened with interest to their conversation. At some point, Naum glanced around and spotted him.

      'Hey, comrade, we didn't invite you to our table,' he grumbled. The stranger flashed a broad smile:

      “So? This spot wasn’t reserved, so I can sit here if I want.”

      Andrey grabbed Naum by his sleeve and said:

      “Come on, Naum, the comrade is right: in the pub and the bath, everyone is equal.”

      “Indeed! I can get you a beer. How about that? We can drink and get to know each other at the same time.”

      “Beer is good,” the artist said, as he tempered his anger with forgiveness.

      “Great! Why don’t you take this,” he pulled Naum’s right hand closer and shoved some money into it, “and get a couple of chervontsy, and a beer for each of us. Oh, and ask old man Theophanes for a crawfish. I’ve heard he keeps a couple of buckets in the back. Tell him to get his shit together.’

      “Right, like he’d listen to me,” said Naum with a crooked grin. He loved crawfish but didn’t want to deal with Theophanes. All the Countertops admired him for his cool temper and his enormous fists.

      “Just tell him the Cat is begging and begging. I’m sure he won’t refuse,” the stranger said. “But you’ll need to hurry, or they’ll close and we’ll have neither crawfish nor beer!”

      Despite glancing over his shoulder every so often, Naum went to the counter to confront the formidable Theophanes. The stranger leaned in closer to the recent student and raised his mug:

      “Good evening, so to speak.”

      Andrey looked at him gloomily.

      “I don't drink with strangers in public places.”

      “Oh!” the newcomer laughed. “Well, let's get acquainted. Kotov is my surname, common enough, of course, but I'm so alone, young and handsome. You can call me the Cat. The whole Arbat and Zamoskvorechye call me that.”

      Andrey chuckled:

      “Experienced, then. You from the thieves?”

      The stranger shrugged.

      “It depends on what you call a thief… So, in a way.”

      Andrey shrugged his shoulders.

      “Sounds complicated. For me, it’s easy: I’m Andrey…”

      “Fomenko, Andrey Grigorievich, twenty-two years old, worker-peasant from the Chelyabinsk province, graduate of the Moscow Mechanical Engineering.” Noticing the astounded look of the future physicist, he shrugged his shoulders. “Have I got it wrong?”

      “On the contrary, and this is disturbing,” Andrey muttered. “Will you surprise me further, or should we immediately part ways?”

      “Why run, Andrey, if I’m here for you?” The Cat took a sip of his beer and looked cheerfully at his new acquaintance. “Don’t make your eyes round, boy. I'm not a devil from a snuffbox! Let's get some fresh air, and we’ll talk. I know more about you than just your origins. I can tell you about your mother, born a noblewoman. To her parents attracting the disfavor of the authorities, she married a metalworker and taught physics at a school. This is where you got your thirst for science. Your father, Grigory Kuzmich, perished in the war, buried near Rzhev as a senior sergeant, order-bearer and hero. Just like your uncle, who really died near Sevastopol. And his brothers, who almost reached Berlin. I also know about your three escapes to the front and your successes in that English entertainment, which we call boxing. Easy now!” He raised his hand when he noticed Andrey putting his hand in his pocket. “Piggy don’t bother. First, because I’m here strictly on business. My knowledge of some things should make you uneasy, on the one hand, and on the other, make you wonder where in a Soviet country such an informed comrade might come from. Now, if I’m, shall we say, an enemy spy, then you are right. There is simply nowhere without the lead. But what if it’s quite the contrary, comrade future physicist-engineer?”

      Andrey carefully pulled his hand out of his pocket, in which there СКАЧАТЬ