"Arkady and Boris Strugatsky. The Final Circle of Paradise (англ.)" - читать интересную книгу автора

Even on vacation, the general remained an eagle. With his
feet planted well apart, he stood an the beach sporting
tiger-stripe trunks, as he scanned the misty horizon through a
pair of binoculars. At his feet a child of three or four was
digging in the sand. The general was wiry and muscular.
Croutons and cream did not spoil his figure. I started to wind
my watch noisily.
"And here..." began Aunt Vaina, turning the page, but at
this point, a short portly man entered the room without
knocking. His face and in particular his dress seemed strangely
familiar.
"Good morning," he enunciated, bending his smooth smiling
face slightly sideways.
It was my erstwhile customs man, still in the same white
uniform with the silver buttons and the silver braid on the
shoulders.
"Ah! Pete!" said Aunt Vaina. "Here you are already.
Please, let me introduce you. Ivan, this is Pete, a friend of
the family."
The customs man turned toward me without recognition,
briefly inclined his head, and clicked his heels. Aunt Vaina
laid the album in my lap and got up.
"Have a seat, Pete," she said. "I will bring some cream."
Pete clicked his heels once more and sat down by me.
"This should interest you," I said, transferring the album
to his lap. "Here is Major General Tuur. In mufti." A strange
expression appeared on the face of the customs man. "And here
is the major general on maneuvers. You see? And here -"
"Thank you," said the customs man raggedly. "Don't exert
yourself, because -"
Aunt Vaina returned with cream and croutons. From as far
back as the doorway, she said, "How nice to see a man in
uniform! Isn't that right, Ivan?"
The cream for Pete was in a special cup with the monogram
"T" surrounded by four stars.
"It rained last night, so it must have been cloudy. I
know, because I woke up, and now there is not a cloud in the
sky. Another cup, Ivan?"
I got up.
'Thank you, I'm quite full. If you'll excuse me, I must
take my leave. I have a business appointment,"
Carefully closing the door behind me, I heard the widow
say, "Don't you find an extraordinary resemblance between him
and Staff Major Polom?"
In the bedroom, I unpacked the suitcase and transferred
the clothing to the wall closet, and again rang Rimeyer. Again
no one answered. So I sat down at the desk and set to exploring
the drawers. One contained a portable typewriter, another a set
of writing paper and an empty bottle of grease for arrhythmic
motors. The rest was empty, if you didn't count bundles of