NINE by unknow

Author:unknow
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Glas Publishers
Published: 2003-02-01T05:00:00+00:00

Bruskov led the circus folk to the railroad yard, tarrying next to a train car with a little tablet on it that read, «Glass hauler.»

«Open up!» he demanded, rapping on the wall.

«Go to hell, you alkie!» echoed a voice from inside, in an Eastern accent.

«Police,» Bruskov clarified.

A dark, shaggy, unshaven head showed itself through a tiny window under the roof, disappeared, and bolts started banging within. The door slid open with a rumble.

«Everything is in order, chief, yes,» an Armenian stood in the doorway.

«Oh, yeah? Drugs, weapons?»

«They checked it out just yesterday. Took two bottles of brandy for inspection, yes.»

«We're gonna make you lose sleep. Another inspection.»

«Why lose sleep? I am as calm as Mount Ararat, yes.»

«Really? By the way, you'll be giving these fellas here a lift to Communist Future.»

«I do not get it, chief.»

«You know, it's going by Capitalist Prospects now.»

«You mean we will be sticking around there after all, yes?»

«More'n likely you'll just tear on through, but who knows…»

«Yes,» nodded the Armenian.

«Yes, indeedy,» sighed the policeman.

Alex and Orest picked up Mollie. Bruskov started to help, but the dog thwacked him in the face with a grimy paw. With a muttered «Bon voyage!» he pushed off for home.

Inside the car, wooden crates of brandy bottles towered from floor to ceiling.

«I am hauling them from Armenia,» said their escort. «Abroad. To Moscow.» He added, indifferently: «Hamlet.»

«The Danish prince,» Alex let out.

«Shakespeare,» Orest assented.

«Name is Hamlet. Please, joinme at table, yes.»

The table was a structure of overturned plank crates in the corner of the car. They sat on matching overturned crates. With a stately gesture Hamlet produced, out of a large box, a huge ripe tomato, followed by a pimply cucumber, some greens, and some sort of flowery root. He lovingly set all these things on a plate and carefully sliced them. Alex and Orest looked on as if hypnotized. For a finale he took out a bottle ofbrandy, looked it over delightedly from all sides, raising it slightly overhead, uncorked it and poured a little into each glass.

«We don't drink,» Alex hastily mentioned.

«What do you mean, 'don't drink'?!» Hamlet flew into a rage. «Cognac like this, yes? Even if they are calling it 'brandy' now, it is primo stuff! Yes?!»

«Alright, alright,» said Alex, getting embarrassed. She took the glass, put it to her lips. «Mmm, what a wonderful flavor! Really, very nice, mmm…»

Hamlet calmed down and handed a glass to Orest.

Someone unexpectedly stirred in the corner, someone lying on a straw mattress. The figure rose with a wheeze. A boy. He grew shy and hid himself behind Hamlet, who drew him out for a look.

«My youngest. He is Hamlet, too. I brought him with me. To show him Russia. What if he never gets another chance, yes.»

«Do you like Russia?» lisped Orest.

«No,» the boy shot back, unperturbed. «Dirty.»

Hamlet smoothed the child's hair.

«But the people are kind.»

Outside, someone frenziedly banged on the car paneling; some «kind soul» clamored:

«'Ey, ya foreign piece'a crap, hand over the vodka!»

Hamlet gloomily sighed:

«There is no vodka, yes.

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