Moscow recovered from its long sleep. The first sunbeams fell on the Baikal Hotel. It was a September Sunday in 1995, and the weather seemed to be mild that day. Andrey Malcovich lay on his bed in one of the deluxe suites, clasping the pillow with his hands and pressing it down himself, and smacked with his lips in a childish manner. When the sunbeams touched his face he opened his eyes, turned around reluctantly and looked at the digital clock. Six minutes were left till the ringing of his alarm-clock.
It was quiet in the room and outside. Andrey closed his eyes again and made an attempt to return to the magic world of his night visions. «Well, What was your name, you, night enchantress, the girl from my dream?» – he thought. Then Andrey Malcovich remembered he had fallen asleep during the TV-show dedicated to Mata Hari, the beautiful dancer from the early XX century. And his brain gave in to the television wave. This amazing image from the past penetrated into Andrey’s subconsciousness and was still there. The contours of a naked girl were wrapped around with mist. She was standing on top of a rock and stretched her arms to Andrey. He came closer without any word. Coiling around him like a snake, with all her entity, she awakened his desire. The dawn coolness was spilt in the air.
Suddenly there was no air to breathe any more… The thick mist beset him like a ring. Her lips were like fire. Andrey felt as if her heart itself had penetrated under his skin and was beating there. Just a gulp of fresh air he needed now! He tried to release himself. The girl stepped backward and vanished. Andrey was alone. That horrible silence again. And it was before. But now Malcovich felt that silence, he even heard it! The sense that he had lost something forever made his heart shrink and freeze for a while.
He could hardly make a single step forward. And then he felt himself falling down the precipice.
His strong and sunburnt body lay still and stretched on the bed. His Blanket slipped down on the floor. So Andrey woke up. It was high time for him to be off.
Half an hour later, after handing in the keys to a charming receptionist girl, Andrey inserted a plastic card into the door-slot so that to leave the floor. But behind the door he saw two ugly guys. They asked him rudely to insert the card once more and let them in.
Still imagining the young receptionist’s eyes full of innocence, Andrey went straight to the elevator. But all of a sudden the ugly guys blocked his way, and Andrey noticed one of them taking something out of his bosom harshly. «It must be a gun» – he thought. It scared Andrey. But he reacted instantly hitting the first at his jaw and right after that kicking the second’s belly with his right knee.
It was enough to overcome them. They were lying on the floor. Andrey looked under the edge of the first bully’s jacket. Well, he wasn’t mistaken: the bully had a gun on him. So Andrey took the gun, put it into the pocket of his leather jacket and without waiting for the lift coming jumped over the fallen and ran downstairs clutching the rail.
On the ground floor Andrey stopped for a while, breathed away and went up to the exit. Then as if by chance he stopped at the security guard’s desk and made a thoughtful remark:
– The last sunny days we are having! – and, squinting a bit, andrey leaned to the sentinel’s face and whispered:
– On the eighth floor I was attacked by two bastards. Tried to get in. Perhaps, they’re armed.
Before the guard could ask anything Malcovich started to the door. The automatic doors slid apart noiselessly and closed up behind his back.
The sturdy guard hurried to the telephone to call the militia.
Fifteen minutes later four militia officers convoyed those two bandits in handcuffs, and Malcovich, the former navy captain, sitting in his silvery Buick, drove away from the parking lot. He was on the way to a city where he could make a packet of money, the city that was a real gold-mine. Grozny was its name.
