The United States of America
It was the third month, and Pushkin still did not come up with the plot of the future detective. The idea seemed simple after the adventures in a Swiss bank, but the story turned out to be so short that there were not enough events for a full-fledged work. He already thought that it was for nothing that they were set free by Dostoevsky, that it was necessary to resist the attackers, then everything would have turned out differently and he would not have to rack his brains now. To revive his fantasy, Alexander Sergeevich re-read some of the works of Agatha Christie, Georges Simenon and Daria Dontsova, and also reviewed the series "Secrets of the Investigation" and "Petersburg Secrets", but everything seemed to him insipid and hackneyed. “And the brand must be kept!” - thought Pushkin, once again turning off the TV.
One frosty February morning, while browsing the news on the Internet, Alexander Sergeevich came across a note about the American writer Frank Miller. Yandex quickly found information about the author and his works. "That's what I need!" - leafing through page after page, Pushkin repeated aloud. "Sin City" was a graphic novel with text comments - the unusual format of the work immediately interested the poet. “There is a crime at every step - that's where the scope for the detective is,” Pushkin thought as he closed his laptop and dialed Onegin's phone number.
- Hello, dear! - he joyfully turned to Yevgeny and asked without unnecessary introductions, - are we flying to America? Pushkin asked without further introductions.
- I'm ordering a ticket. Where - in Washington or New York? - Onegin was not in the mood for a long conversation.
- While in New York, and then we'll figure it out. In general, we are going to Basin City. Order - call. - Alexander Sergeevich hung up and was going to find Frank Miller's contacts in order to arrange a meeting.
It was not possible to fly away quickly, since Onegin had an expired visa and had to wait another three months until the turn for an interview came. Alexander Sergeevich even managed to write an article for Sovremennik:
“For some time now, the North American States have attracted the attention of the most thinking people in Europe. It is not political accidents that are to blame: America calmly pursues her career, safe and flourishing to this day, strong in peace, her geographical position strengthened by her, proud of her institutions. But a few profound minds have lately taken up the study of American manners and ordinances, and their observations have raised again questions that were supposed to have long since been settled.”
- “Deep minds” - are you talking about us? - Eugene asked again, reading the article on the plane.
The Boeing landed at JFK right on schedule. Frank Miller greeted Pushkin and Onegin cordially and offered to go straight to his house to discuss everything on the spot. Frank rented an apartment in the Hell's Kitchen area, on the way he said that he spent his childhood there and that he worked well in this area. Entering the apartment, they settled in the living room and Pushkin began a conversation:
- We would like to go to Basin City, live there for a month or two. Can you help us get there?
Frank nearly fell off his chair. Surprise turned to horror on his face.
- For the first time I see people who are so tired of living! Yes, even foreigners! Yes, and from Russia! Do you have any idea what Basin City is? Power in the city belongs to thoroughly corrupt politicians who have divided spheres of influence with mafia clans with the connivance of corrupt police. There are no laws, no human relations, no pity and compassion - no wonder this is a city of sins.
After taking a few sips of cola, Frank continued:
- I understood! You have read my works, and the searching, romantic nature of the poet wanted adventure! Well, he is, - Frank nodded at Pushkin, - but what do you want there? he asked Onegin.
"He believed that friends were ready
For his honor to accept shackles, ”-
Yevgeny answered thoughtfully.
- So, for the company, tired of living! Frank exclaimed, raising his hands and looking up. Only Russians could come up with such madness.
“What are the chosen ones by fate,
People sacred friends;
That their immortal family
By irresistible rays
Someday we will be enlightened
And the world will bestow bliss,
said Alexander Sergeevich with a fiery gaze fixed somewhere into the distance.
- Listen, Miller. You take us there, and then we somehow ourselves. You can not call in the city, drop off on the outskirts. And if we perish, then so be it. With these words, Pushkin looked inquiringly at Onegin.
- Take it, Frank, - Eugene supported his friend.
- I'll take you in three days, you have time to change your mind. If anything, I won't get you out of there. In the meantime, we are going to a restaurant tonight. - With these words, Frank, seemingly distraught from communicating with new friends, showed the rooms where guests can spend the night before the trip.
Basin City met the guests with cloudy weather, black clouds left no chance for the sun's rays to illuminate the streets of the city. Evening came imperceptibly, and then night - it seemed that Frank's gloomiest predictions were about to come true. Without knowing it, they wandered into the Old City - the most disastrous place, and settled in a local hotel. No sooner had they entered the room than a squad of police visited them, although representatives of the law had never come here. And then an attractive, but very unusually dressed girl appeared on the threshold with an offer to rest.
- Began. First, they checked where we were from in order to inform the boss, and now they are checking whether we are agents - Pushkin commented on these visits with knowledge of the matter.
- What a nice young lady. It will be necessary to get acquainted - Onegin said, looking out into the corridor.
- Do not take it into your head, not in St. Petersburg. Here you will quickly cut off what they consider superfluous. Here, read for now - Pushkin gave Yevgeny Miller's book "Sin City", which he downloaded and printed out before the trip.
Quickly scrolling through and selectively reading the work, Onegin shook his head and said:
- Sasha, I'm ready for anything, but I just can't understand, what have we got to do with it? They simply won't let us out of here, so that we don't talk about local customs. Everyone thinks Miller made it all up. Here we are, what next? I remember that you were going to write a detective, but this is not a detective - this is a noir thriller! No tomorrow! - With these words, Onegin went to the window, trying to see at least something in the darkness behind the glass.
- Zhenya, Marv and Hartigan are dying at Frank, although they, for all their shortcomings, are decent guys. Well, not in our opinion it is Zhen, agree. We must track them down and warn them to take care of themselves while I change the plot and move them to other realities. Just meet them and talk, and if they agree, then I will get a theme for the work, and they will remain alive.
“Sash, what if we don’t find them, if Cardinal Roark’s and Senator Roark’s men—both Roarks, by the way—catch us early and kill us.” They probably already know about our arrival. What then?
- I do not know. We are already here, let's sleep, we will try to cope quickly, I changed my mind about staying here - with these words Pushkin fell asleep.
The next morning was as gloomy as the day before. The friends had breakfast at the hotel restaurant. The staff looked with interest at Pushkin, who was in a top hat and with a cane. Onegin noted that the food is very decent and inexpensive. On the way out, they ran into a group of girls, one of whom was of Asian appearance and with a samurai sword. “Probably an actress, acting in films,” thought Onegin. “Probably an artist,” thought Miho, adjusting her sword, following Pushkin with her eyes.
On the streets of the city, they met passers-by, outwardly ordinary inhabitants, each hurrying about their own business. After dinner, friends wandered into a local club. It was very difficult to approach Marv and Hartigan unnoticed - many knew them. Pushkin was advised not to approach them directly, but to somehow give a sign and meet them outside the institution, simulating a casual acquaintance, otherwise the Roarks would immediately find out about their meeting, and then the Russians would not be let out of here alive.
In the evening, Onegin went to the club, and Pushkin was waiting for him around the corner, pretending to be drunk. Onegin began to stick to Goldie, Marv's girlfriend, and when he was about to crush his jaw, he quickly said that a drunk was waiting for him and Hartigan around the corner and that this was very important. A minute later, a drunken company was standing around the corner and Pushkin, barely on his feet, explained his idea, periodically switching to songs to make the performance more natural.
Friends returned to the hotel after midnight. The policemen knocked on the door and said that it was necessary to go with them to the police station. Pushkin and Onegin looked at each other, words were superfluous.
When entering the corridor, the friends only managed to notice how a graceful girl of Asian appearance cut off the policemen's heads with a wave of her sword and, shouting “He is waiting for you below!”, Disappeared.
Frank Miller's car was parked in front of the hotel entrance.
- We don't have time, you have a flight to St. Petersburg tonight if we get out of here - Frank stepped on the gas.
Pushkin closed his eyes, remembering all the saints with a request for salvation. In his head, as for the last time, the image of Arina Rodionovna and the landscapes of his native Mikhailovsky flashed by. He had never been so scared before.
Then there was a chase with shooting, in which Frank's car lost its windows, and Onegin was scratched by a dashing bullet.
Pushkin realized that he missed romantic images, that he needed to fall in love. But this is after the detective.
05/08/2020
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Where will my prankster jump? Who will he start with? It doesn't matter: it's no wonder to be in time everywhere.
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