"Alexander Abramov, Sergei Abramov. Journey Across Three Worlds (англ.)" - читать интересную книгу автора

embroidered with duckweed and water-lilies; but for some reason I know it is
a pond and that the road will now turn right along the bank, and that I ran
here as a small boy - though neither the pond nor the road belongs to my
real childhood.
It was these dreams that awoke Olga's doubts of my psychic balance and
made her so insistent that I consult a psychiatrist. But I was more inclined
to follow Galya's advice. The ill-starred sheet from the notebook with the
names of Zargaryan and Nikodimov gave me no peace, because I was absolutely
sure I had never, under any circumstances, hoard of these particular names.
As for subconsciously absorbing them from talk overheard in the underground
or on the street, naturally I didn't believe that. A normal memory preserves
what is overheard in the conscious mind, not in the subconscious.
"All right, I'll call Zoya," Olga agreed.
Zoya worked in the Institute of Scientific Information and, according
to her, knew all the 'big shots'. If Nikodimov and Zargaryan belonged to
this highly-attested category, in one minute I should get an earful of a
good dozen anecdotes about their way of life. However, I didn't need
anecdotes, but precise information as to their particular fields arid latest
activities. I had to make sure that they wore my Nikodimov and Zargaryan.
I decided to ring up Klenov first of all. He is head of the science
department at our editorial offices. I'd known Klenov from the time we were
at the front together.
"I need some dope, old man. The exact whereabouts of two giants:
Nikodimov and Zargaryan."
Laughter came from the receiver.
"Even yesterday I thought you were a bit off your rocker."
"When was that?" I asked, surprised.
"When I bumped into you in Pushkin square. About six o'clock. When I
told you about Mikhail.."
I licked my overdry lips. So Klenov had seen Hyde and talked with him.
And had noticed nothing. Very interesting.
"I don't remember," I said.
"Don't play games. About Mikhail stopping behind, don't you remember?"
"Where did he stop off?"
"In Istanbul. I already told you once. He asked for political shelter
at the American Embassy. "
"He must be crazy!"
"He's got all his buttons, the snake. They should have kept an eye on
him. They say 'the human heart is a mystery'. They should have guessed his
little plan before it was too late. Now we're writing a collective letter
not to let him come back when he comes crawling to us on his belly. What's
up with you? You honestly don't remember?"
"Honestly. My mind is a complete blank about yesterday from around five
in the afternoon to ten in the evening. First I fainted, and I don't
remember a thing about what happened afterwards - what I did or what I said.
I came to when I was being brought home. Must be a souvenir of that
concussion I got near Dunafoldvar, remember?"
As if Klenov didn't remember the time we forced the Danube. Oleg was
with us. And Mikhail Sichuk, incidentally, was there too. Only he was
foresighted enough to get into the rear: headed the editorial office of a