Two and a Half Years Later

If someone someday would have told me I would return to my previous hobby I wouldn’t have believed any of that rubbish. But, as it turned out, I was very much mistaken. But, let’s start from the very beginning, that’s the best way to put it.
 
I have woken up as usual – half of an hour before the school bell would ring, and as usual too, I was in the worst state of mood possible imaginable. I played computer late yesterday, very much late and my head was sore, to be honest though I was to be preparing some deadly boring report on some historical topic. I had the task for a month already but couldn’t put myself to doing it (I’ve told you already how boring the stuff was). So today’s morning, in 3 o’clock, when I’ve already won the Civilization game, yawning desperately but enormously pleased with myself, came up with the idea of borrowing the report from Internet. Wikipedia seemed to me as the easiest way to get the report written. And now, when I overslept beyond any possible boundaries, (as usual in the situation like this the alarm clock refused to make me awake with it’s annoying sort of a screeching), I raced to the computer, and cursing under my breath, was making it work. I am always nervous and think that here it is, the Apocalypse, it has finally came at the situations like this. Thankfully, there still were some money on the modem account, so I without any problems entered the Wikipedia and typed in the words “French revolution 1789” – hell knows whether there were other revolutions in France, but I needed the one when Bastille came down and Louis the Fourteenth was beheaded. Without caring of erasing the links that would easily be spotted by the teacher, I printed the pages and, sighing, went to the loo and ate the breakfast at the top of my speed, coughing because sometimes pieces of pasta and sausages got into my windpipe. 
Finally, when the breakfast was eaten, which actually had taken only a couple of seconds, I was surprised that I had still time to pack my rucksack with school books and other garbage that was needed at school. That lasted longer because I had to find the books first. That was my second problem after laziness. I, actually, do not pay much attention to these bad sides of my character, but now I hated myself for being that empty-headed. Praying God to get rid of this day of my life, I locked the front door and raced to the school. On the corner of the street, I remembered just the thing – this is Friday today, there’s no History lesson this day, and this day was the last before autumn holiday which would last for almost two weeks. Laughing like a maniac, loudly as a supersonic jet taking flight, I understood all the stupidity of today’s morning. This could happen just to me, but if I wasn’t this absent-minded, which I listed to the register of my bad sides too, my life wouldn’t be such a joy for me. On the other hand, my life would be a little bit calmer and I couldn’t refuse that dream-like life that will never happen to me – I was such an unpredictable guy that never knows what stupid thing I’ll do the next moment. 
Having raised my mood and already not being worrying of the day ahead, I, after checking the wristwatch and still having a few minutes before the bell rings, light-heartedly went along the street towards the three-storied building that had already outlined far ahead. For me, it was a jail that killed inside of me all the desire for learning something new. It was the place where you should simply sit dully and dully write the text down from the blackboard and dully answer teacher’s questions and dully do homework. Of course the teachers were not monsters but people trying to teach us something, but I was not eager to go to the school. 
I listened to my thoughts and shuddered – whether everything was so bad? Perhaps, this sort of mood was because of the shock I experienced a minute before – anyway, I’ve woken up afraid as of death itself, worrying of having not written the bloody report, being late to school… and suddenly realising this all was in vain. Anyway, I tried to smile, but I could have sworn it was lopsided and crooked, be happy of the fortnight, school-free fortnight. Feeling better, I walked in the building just when the bell finally rang. Already knowing that this day the teachers wouldn’t be caring to work because of the prospect of holidays, I instead of rushing to the classroom and making up excuses for being late simultaneously, walked calmly and smiling, humming some tune under my nose. 
Knocking at the classroom door slightly and hearing: “Enter please”, I opened the door, stepped into the room and… I thought my heart sank into my heels that very moment. Mrs Ruvinsky, the History teacher, was staying in front of the class, blackboard, all in dates and names at the back of her. I tried to swallow the knot down my throat, but didn’t manage. “Dammit”, thought I, “I’m sure there’s no any History today. Anything of that sort”. 
“So, Mr Voronov, would you please us all with the reason of why you’re late?”
My back sweated immediately. I was not afraid of telling the reason of my being late, but rather of the report with links being not erased. I just couldn’t give it to Mrs Ruvinsky now that she was irritated from waiting the report for a month.
“Cannot make up any excuse, I see”, Mrs Ruvinsky pressed on. “Maybe I can help you, suggesting that you were working hard and late yesterday night and would please us with presenting your report on “Reformation in Europe in sixteenth century””
Reformation? I was shocked. At first, I thought I heard wrongly, but the irritated teacher continued digging my grave.
“I suppose, you can tell us all about Jan Hus and Martin Luther. So, come closer to the blackboard – we’re all eager to hear your report. You may even read it, if you’re still half asleep”
The class giggled, but in no pair of its eyes I saw any hint of their excitement of hearing of something called “Reformation”.
Finally, I managed to make some breath and said:
“But I thought we’re learning French Revolution now, aren’t we?”
“Very right of you, but I think you missed my saying month before that before exams we’ll be revising all the themes we’ve already learnt.”
“But”, I was stunned and nervous, “I made the report on French Revolution, Mrs Ruvinsky”
“What did you do”, her eyes narrowed and lips aligned into a line.
Here it comes, the Apocalypse.
“May I see it?” said the teacher and she outstretched right hand in my direction and I rushed to open my rucksack and handed the report to her.
Mrs Ruvinsky glanced at it for a mere second and then declared:
“I’m not that old or stupid not to know what Wikipedia is, Mr Voronov. I’ve given you all the task of preparing the reports on all the most important themes in History. Everyone made it and got perfect marks, except you, Mr Voronov. I agree that Reformation is not a joyful thing, moreover in comparison with playing computer games. But you could have done just the same what you’ve done today – to borrow the report from the Internet. The only thing you should have done is – to erase the links.”
The class exploded with laughter but Mrs Ruvinsky was having her wooden face on herself and her every facial muscle seemed to have frozen.
Hardly moving her lips, the teacher announced:
“As you may know”, (she stressed the word “may” as if she thought I was a dummy), “the pupils that have any “F” marks on their account are not allowed to pass the exam. Congratulations, Mr Voronov, I give you “F” mark and release you from having to come to the exam. You may take your seat”
The laughter stopped – perhaps nobody wanted to experience that themselves. After I have taken the seat beside Mikhailina, whose eyes were like two pennies, Mrs Ruvinsky went on telling about Louis’s XIV speech on guillotine, a few minutes after which he was beheaded to the joyful applause and shouting of the crowd. I wish I was beheaded instead of the monarch.
“Michael, what do you think you’re doing?” Mikhailina whispered into my ear.
“What do you mean?” I whispered back.
“Do you think it’s you who should ask questions like that?” she said angrily.
“I misheard the theme of the report – so what” – I tried to sound casually but inside of me everything was weeping”
“You had a month to write it and what did you do – you messed it all up, you’re not allowed to take the exams! Do you think there’s nothing to be worrying about?”
“Stop it, please. I’ll find the way how to fix it. Please, shut up!”
“Oh, that’s the way you speak to your friend?” Mikhailina was irritated too.
Finally, the bell rang.
“Get you up, this very second!” Mikhailina punched me in the back and grabbed my arms. “Get up and do fix the thing”
Unwillingly, I stepped to the teacher’s table and opened my mouth to speak, but Mikhailina spoke before I made up what to say.
“Oh, dear Mrs Ruvinsky”, she pleaded, “Is there any possible way to rectify what Michael has done? Maybe he will prepare some other thing or whatever you’ll say him to do”
“Well”, said she, “I haven’t written the “F” mark into the register, but Mr Voronov has to understand that I wouldn’t be silly enough to take this easy. You, Mr Voronov”, the History teacher looked me in the eyes and all my insides froze, “will write the report of 25 thousand characters about life and death of Jan Hus. I forbid you to print the report – you have to handwrite it. If you’ll do it, I’ll put you some other mark instead of “F””.
“Oh, thank you, Mrs Ruvinsky”, Mikhailina continued to thank and plead the teacher, but I felt even worse than before. The prospect of writing the report of twenty five thousand words about some old guy called Jan Hus that started something called Reformation was as good as being not permitted to take the exams. Perhaps it was Mrs Ruvinsky’s way to punish me – not to help me.
“You see, I fixed the thing. You may thank me by the way”, Mikhailina said triumphantly, coming up to me, after Mrs Ruvinsky came out the classroom.
“Yeah”, said I, getting irritated too, perhaps it was destined today that everyone will be getting irritated, “and thank you that I have to write report of, let me see, about fifty pages. It was the best thing to rectify this all – I couldn’t even dream of the better way.”
The girl narrowed her eyes and furrowed her brows.
“Is this your bloody way to thank me? If so, nevermind I wouldn’t be helping you anymore. I even wouldn’t ask you to help me”.
“Oh, Mikhailina, come on. Don’t take it this way. I’m just nervous, that’s all. You see, a moment ago I was being tortured in front of the class and the rest… Please, forgive me. I was never going to insult you. Well, for God’s sake, excuse me, your little stupid rude friend. I am still your friend, am I?”
I set on my chair next to her. Mikhailina was sitting her back to me, so I couldn’t see her face. I patted her back softly, hoping she would turn to me, and then I heard her sobbing.
“Oh, Mikhailina, please, forgive me my stupidity. I was just angry with myself and Mrs Ruvinsky and…”
She turned her face to me. I never saw her like this before, and believe me for almost three years I’ve seen her in thousands of different states of mood. But this time, it was beyond any of the previous experiences. Her eyes were red from crying, tears glistened in them, and lonely tears were coming down her face in tiny streams. She was so beautiful and cute that for a second I forgot that this was because of my rudeness.
“Forgive me”, I whispered and took her arm. It was trembling slightly.
“I’m crying not because of you. I’ve forgiven you the next moment you said the first sentence after Me.”, her voice faltered and trembled as well.
“I’m sorry for being rude towards you”, I whispered again. “What’s happened then, if it’s not my rudeness that made you cry?” asked I softly, never leaving her eyes.
Before she answered, however, the bell rang again and Mikhailina rushed to clean her face with tissues before anyone could see her. Anyway, nobody paid much attention to us and was busied with discussing their future holidays. I made an effort to stop looking her straight into eyes.
Looking through the window into distance and seeing nothing, I started to think. 
If not me, what then made Mikhailina cry? Was it possible that she lied to me, that I hurt her so much that she cried? She helped me just because of me being her friend; she saved my entering to the college and so on. And I thanked her by insulting her. I definitely have to do something to make her forget it. But I couldn’t make up any decent option.
“Michael, it’s really not you who made me cry”, Mikhailina whispered.
I turned to look at her, but she was staring into blackness of the blackboard in front. I decided to copy her – maybe it was better to her to tell everything as if she talked to herself.
“It was a message. Someone wrote that father had stolen something, something important and if it wouldn’t be returned, they will kill him, and mother.” I saw tears running down her cheek. She started to cough and managed to supress it, so that nobody would notice her crying and nothing would distract Mr Fillip from reading his lecture about sound waves. I took her arm again to calm her down.
“They messaged me before, but they never threatened me before now. I tried to talk to father, but he and mother hurried to business trip to Germany and I cannot get in touch with them. Then, I wanted to get into father’s cabinet to have a look into his affairs, but the door appeared to be locked.”
“Is your father a businessman?” asked I.
“Yes, he is. He has something to do with electronics, but I don’t know exactly what he does.”
She stopped talking. I tried to get what the girl said. Something strange had happened. 
“Have you tried to go to police?”
“I’m underage – they wouldn’t hear to me, furthermore there’s no crime”. She finally turned to me and we were looking face into face.
“They blackmail you. Blackmail is a crime, Mikhailina”
“Come on, tell it to the policemen”
“As you know, my father’s friend’s a policeman. Let’s go to him after classes”, suggested I, seeming to have found the best option.
“Mr Voronov, Ms Voronina, I see you’re having a good time talking, Maybe you will tell me who was first to measure the speed of light?” Mr Fillip finally noticed us talking.
“Huygens”, I whispered into Mikhailina’s ear, so that we both said the surname of this Holland scientist.
“Very nice of you”, Mr Fillip smiled,” you seem to be the only ones who pay attention to my lecture”.
After a minute of silence, so that the teacher would lose interest of us, Mikhailina whispered:
“How is it that you know that guy?”
“Well, computer games are having good influence on players anyway”, I chuckled. “I played “Civilization” late at night. You may know of it – the goal of the game is to create the state that would stand the test of time. While playing you have to build new cities, open new technologies, and develop science… Sometimes great artists, scientists, architects are born. Huygens was one of those scientists. I simply remembered his name and this speed of light stuff”.
“So this is what you do instead of writing the report!” Mikhailina whispered triumphantly, giggling.
“How bad of me”, I giggled back.
“Mr Voronov, Ms Voronina, do you want to answer another question?” Mr Fillip asked dignantly.
“No”, we both laughed in answer and the bell rang.
“Okay”, said I when we stopped laughing, “let’s talk about your problem once again, at the cafeteria.
 
In a few minutes, we sat at the table, two cups of coffee and chocolate cakes on it. 
“Have you saved the messages that were sent to you?” asked I.
“Yeah, all three of them”
“Were they sent from the same number?” demanded I, sipping coffee, but Mikhailina could neither drink nor eat – she answered my questions dully.
“I dunno. I paid more attention to the contents of it”
“I see. But anyway, show me the messages. I’ll write them down and go to my father’s friend”
“Don’t do this”, Mikhailina put her arm on my shoulder.
“But how then do you think I will help you?” I was surprised by her reaction.
“I want you to help me”, she smiled at me and patted my shoulder
“I…I”, I stammered and forgot all the words. Like a fish, I was opening my mouth but nothing would come out. “I c-c-ccan’t. Mikhailina – I cannot”
In an instant her cute smile disappeared and she put her hand away from my shoulder. Without saying a word, she went out the room, looking at the floor.
What a strange reaction of hers. I simply stared at the empty chair where she sat a second before. Okay, I tried not to be worrying about it. I will talk to her this lesson.
 
But when the bell rang and I entered the classroom, Mikhailina was sitting by her friend, Kristine, not talking. Well, she’s angry with me for some reason, but I’ll talk to her anyway. But I never had the chance the next time either – she was keeping company with other classmates, avoiding me. When I came and started to talk, she pretended to be laughing from someone’s joke or by other means showed that she doesn’t want to see me. The things went like this even when the lessons were over. Mikhailina never spoke to me since that damned conversation at the cafeteria. I decided to be waiting for her on the school grounds. I spent twenty minutes of waiting, already almost having lost any hope of spotting her coming out the school. Finally, I noticed her coat of sun-like yellow colour in the crowd of pupils. Mikhailina headed out of the school as if it was on fire. I knew that now I had to explain everything to her – why I can’t. 
“Mikhailina!” I called to her when she passed by me. “Wait, for God’s sake, wait. Stop. Do stop! Dammit, Mikhailina, please!”
She stopped dead and turned to me, and I thanked God that He made it impossible for people to kill by glance. 
“What do you want from me?!” she demanded, her brows were so close to her eyes that I could understand that she was deadly angry with me.
“The only thing, the same thing that all this day – to explain”
“I don’t need any explanations”, she said and hurried as usual. I had to run to catch up with her.
“Please, can you listen for a minute, without interrupting? I doubt I would be able to explain everything in one minute’s time, but I count on making you interested in my speech, so that you’ll give me extra time”. I hoped Mikhailina would laugh, or smile at least, but she looked at me with the same irritated and angry look as before.
“Your minute is running away”, she said tonelessly.
Thank God, she listens to me – that was the only thing I needed.
“Mikhailina”, I started without hurrying – I knew her well and if she listens to me now, she would listen to the very end. “You’re my friend, the best one, and I really want to help you, ‘cause I don’t want you being upset. Or when you cry. Or sob. Or weep. That’s why I advise you my father’s friend – he’s policeman and he’d helped me once. Your case is very serious and I just don’t want to…”
“Your time’s up and I haven’t heard anything new or useful”, and she resumed walking away from me.
“You haven’t heard the rest”, I pleaded, running after her. “I don’t want to… to… to mess it up once more!” I cried after her, in all my voice. Tears came down my face from desperation and miserableness of the situation. Spitting on the asphalt, I swore in all my voice too, and went to my another best friend – Max. He’s ill. He’s having pneumonia for already three weeks and, I think tonsillitis too. To distract myself from this, I went to him. I’ve already visited him the day before, but now this idea came into my head all of a sudden, as a save boat. 
Remembering his love of oranges and “Call of Duty” computer games series, I went to the supermarket to buy all the presents. 
In a half an hour, I knocked at my friend’s front door. I wouldn’t wait for long – the door was opened almost immediately. Expecting to see my poor friend, his neck buried deep in a scarf, his gown on him, I outstretched my arm, saying:
“Hi, Max”
But… my arm met Mikhailina’s stomach.
“You!” we cried simultaneously.
“What’s the shouting for?” my friend cried back, then exploded in a fit of coughing. Loud coughing.
“What’re you doing here?” asked we each other, simultaneously again.
“The next thing you will do be simultaneous answering your own questions!” laughed Max, entering into the hall.”  “Hi, Michael, enter. And, by the way, the “Call of Duty” game was already presented to me by Mikhailina, so you’d better go to the supermarket and buy me another version”
“Aha”, answered I. “I’ll buy you the first version of it. I bet you don’t have this!” joked I back.
“Actually, I have it – I collect the series from the very first release. So, what we gonna do?” asked he.
None of two of us came up with any idea – we simply stared into distance, into two opposite distances.
“So, what happened to you two? Why you’re behaving as if you had formatted each other’s computer?” Max was puzzled.
None of us answered him this time too. 
“Well, if you want me to have a guess you’ll be waiting for long ‘cause I’m ill and cannot think well at the moment. And the fact that I’m ill for three weeks doesn’t encourage me either. So, who’s going to be wiser and tell me what had happened”
“He refused to help me!”
“I don’t want to mess it all up!”
We said that together.
“Okay, sweeties, you’ve made the first step, who’s going to continue?” Max was delighted.
“Someone sends me messages that my father had stolen something and they would kill my parents if he wouldn’t return it! And Michael refused to help me!”
“Just because I don’t want to make it worse, I don’t want to hurt you more!”
“Michael, but you’ve already helped me”, Max remembered.
“And that thing in England!” added Mikhailina.   
 “That was different, that was before… before.”
“Before what?” the friends demanded.
“I wouldn’t tell anyone of you. But you should understand: I don’t want to risk the lives of Mikhailina’s parents. If I was unable the last time, I even cannot imagine what mess I’ll do this time!” I started to shout and pacing the room back and forth. The friends obviously understood that I wasn’t putting on airs.
“Oh Michael, please calm down”, Mikhailina pleaded, stepping closer to me and putting my arm in hers. “Please, tell us what happened ‘before’. We’ll understand”.
I looked her in the eyes and I suddenly understood I wouldn’t be able to have secrets from her. But, anyway, two years ago I promised I shall never mention the thing even to myself. Mikhailina probably noticed hesitation in my eyes and continued:
“Michael, sit, please. Have a rest. Relax and, please, tell us what happened to you”
I suddenly obeyed to her pleadings and sat on the edge of the sofa, the friends took their sits on either sides of me. 
“Well”, I started, “you may laugh at me…”
“We wouldn’t laugh”, the friends assured me.
“If so”, I breathed heavily, “two years ago, during summer holidays, I went to a camp on seaside…”
“You never said anything of that”, Max said grumpily, then coughed a few times and blew his nose with a tissue.
“Don’t interrupt him! Don’t you see that Michael makes an effort to tell us the story”, Mikhailina stopped Max and stroked both my arms encouragingly.
“So there in the camp… okay, to put it short, someone was stealing the money. I wanted to solve the case and failed. And since then I promised myself I wouldn’t put my nose into anything fishy”, I cut the story that short ‘cause I wanted to get over it as fast as possible.
“So you were not able to solve a crime. So what?” asked Max, after having blown his nose again.
“Well, that was sort of punch in my nose”, said I tonelessly, cursing myself with having broken my oath. I should have known that friends would ask me questions after I’ve told about my failure.
“Don’t take this too close to your heart. Only the one who doesn’t anything makes any mistakes. You have to get over it, to live on. Do you think I do not notice how much have you changed. You’re the different person. All this time I thought you lacked something, and now I see what it was – you lost your hobby, what you always wanted to do but you suppressed your desires.”, Mikhailina was looking me straight in the eyes while she said this.
“But I doubt I really can do this”
“Michael”, Max got to his feet and turned to me. “If I would stop playing “Call of Duty” when some German bastard killed me in the first place, I’d be watching the TV dully!”
I had just a foggy idea about what this sentence meant, but Mikhailina got to her feet either and said firmly but softly:
“Max’s right. You should not stop doing something just after your attempt failed”
So, this is what it means, Mikhailina’s translation of Max’s speech was clearer than the original.
“Actually, it was my third attempt. I just think…”
“You lost your abilities”, the friends said that instead of me, in unison.
“That’s not true”, Mikhailina said and stood on her knees before me. “I believe you will be able to help me…”
“Okay, I wouldn’t be hanging around here and disturb the sweeties”, said Max and went somewhere in the depth of his home.
“Do you think we’re sweeties?” asked I Mikhailina while sitting beside her on the floor.
“I simply like you”, she whispered almost inaudibly.
“I really don’t what to mess the things up”, pleaded me, hoping against hope she’ll accept my father’s friend’s help.
“And I want to experience the excitement you experience every time you’re busied with solving cases”, she was whispering again.
“I think it all was just childish. I never thought I do something useful. It was just the way of spending time. Just like playing computer for Max”
“And I thought it’s cool”, she leaned towards me.
I was feeling the excitement I never felt before. 
I swallowed nervously, but tried to do it as unnoticeably as possible.
“Will you help me?” asked she smiling, her forefinger touching my lower lip.
I hesitated just for a half of a moment.
“Yes”, murmured I, inaudibly too.
Mikhailina leaned towards me even closer, her face a mere inch from mine.
“Are you going to be sitting there forever and to forget about your poor ill friend?” Max shouted all around the house. “Come you here, have your tea and make me a company!”
“I thought that happens just in movies”, Mikhailina sighed sadly, smiling her charming smile at me.
“You’ve forgotten who our friend is. He values moral purity”, tried me to joke, getting to my feet and outstretching my arm in Mikhailina’s side to help her up.
“I think, Max wouldn’t mind me giving you a friendly hug”, she seemed to be smiling for an eternity. She stepped closer to me but at that very moment when she almost swung her hands around my neck, something began to beep.
“What’s that?” asked I, irritated of the interruption.
“My mobile”, she answered lazily, her hands slid from me. She searched for her phone hurriedly, finally found it and looked at the screen. In an instant, her eyes were full of fear and tears came to them. She seemed to have frozen, she never blinked.
“Another message?” demanded I.
Mikhailina did not respond in any way – she simply stared at the wall; neither trembling nor about to cry. 
“You definitely have forgotten what good manners are! You have come to visit your poor friend but you pay any attention neither to him nor to his hospitality. You know what, if someone of you will get cold I will do just the same – come to you and without saying ‘Hello, how are you going?’ I’ll go watching the telly!” Max came to the living-room saying these words loudly.  “Hey, what she’s staying like this for?”
“She’s received a message, from those who’re blackmailing her”, explained I. Then I walked to Mikhailina and put my hand on her shoulder and stroked it lightly, whispering her into ear:
“What was it, what did these bastards write?”
“Language”, she mumbled barely audible.
“Why, you said nothing when Max…” said I, distracted.
“You’re not Max”, said she simply.
“Hey, I’m still here, besides have you not heard what I said about hospitality!” Max wasn’t angry, but relieved of Mikhailina’s reaction.
“What did they write?” asked I the same question, when she finally sat on the sofa.
“They wrote…” Mikhailina stammered and started to weep a moment after.
“Bring her water, and tissues”, turned I to Max.
“Maybe cognac’s better?” the friend suggested.
“Water”, repeated I firmly.
Max got to his feet and headed to the kitchen, while she was sitting, crying freely, her back trembling.
“Mikhailina”, I was trying to distract her. “Please, hear to me. I’ve already agreed to help you, and if I’ve agreed I will do anything to fulfil the agreement.”
Finally, Max entered the room and handed me a glass of water.
“Drink it, I pray.”
“Maybe cognac’s better, anyway?” Max asked grumpily, then coughed, then again, and again.   
“I think that’s Max who needs that glass”, Mikhailina uttered, smiling, but never stopping to cry. 
“Take it”, Max handed her a tissue, clearing his throat after the fit of coughing.
While she was drying her face, I asked once again:
“What did they write?”
Without stammering this time, she said in a soft voice:
“They wrote that if the thing wouldn’t be returned to them, they’ll hurt my parents. They’ll torture them.”
“Was there any hint, what the thing is?” Max demanded after having drank the glass and putting it on the coffee table. 
“No”, Mikhailina shook her head.
“So how then are we going to figure out what the thing is really is?” Max asked the question I’ve been busied with since Mikhailina mentioned it the first time.
“Really, it can be anything. It may be connected to his business, or not. It may be something he found by accident, something what was really not your father’s but extremely important for those… bad guys”.
“However”, I continued. “This all is so unclear”.
“Even more than before?” the friends asked sarcastically. 
“Yes. Whoever sends you these messages behaves strangely. If they know it’s your father who stolen the thing and they managed to get your number”, I nodded at Mikhailina’s side, “why then they’re working through you. This is what unclear. They want to use your influence on father, but they don’t know of your parents being away…”
“They may have kidnapped them!” Max interjected, and Mikhailina started to sob again. 
“Mikhailina, how big is your father’s staff?”
“About half a hundred of people”, she answered, her voice quivering. 
“Did your parents go to Germany alone?”
“No, with some lawyers and father’s deputy.”
“You see,” said I thoughtful, “if someone kidnapped Mikhailina’s parents someone out of those fifty workers would make a fuss about disappearance of their director. Surely, someone would inform his daughter, but nothing of that happened. What is the conclusion?”
“The kidnappers know their job and make everything clean”, Max suggested his version. 
I saw Mikhailina’s rounded eyes then heard her crying heart-breakingly and felt the desire of kicking Max with all my might.
“Oh, Mikhailina”, I hugged her and stroked her ink-black hair. “Stop crying, for God’s sake. Max is idiot.”
“One more word and I’ll kick you out for breaking all hospitality rules!” Max laughed but looked insulted.
“I believe everything is easier. Your parents are in save and everything’s okay with them. I guess, someone just wants to get money, the ransom for them. They are just manipulating you.”
“But they never mentioned money!” Mikhailina objected and got to her feet that rapid that I fall on the floor. “I will contact them and ask them directly what they want. I cannot risk my parent’s lives.”
“Mikhailina, don’t you understand, they’re telling lies! They never did such a thing! They never kidnapped you parents!” I yelled from desperation. Obviously, she was too tired and feared so couldn’t understand clearly.
“I tried to phone them, to my parents, to my mother and father, but the operator told me the number is unobtainable”, the tears were running down her face, but she seemed not to notice it.
“Did you do it after you received the first message?”
“Yes, but…”
“Did your parents phone you after they landed in Germany?”
“Of course, they did”
“So, your parents phoned you after they flew to Germany, then after some time those guys messaged you and you phoned back your parents?” I seemed to have found the trace of my proving that it was everything all right with Mikhailina’s parents.
“Yes”, Mikhailina stopped her hysteric and looked dumbfounded.
“I think you were scared…”
“Of course she was”, Max interjected. “Sorry for interruption, I see by the look on your face, Michael, that you want to kill me, but… Anyway, as I believe, you want to suggest that that time Mikhailina simply typed the number wrongly”
“Yes”, said I, surprised.
“But that was once. I…”
“You’ve mistaken once, yes”, I nodded at her, “but the phone number you typed in in the first place was automatically saved in your phone, so all the time you were phoning the wrong number”.
“However mom and dad did not phone me since they came to Germany”
“And now”, Max spoke once again, “I want to hear an answer to the question that bothers me all the time – ‘When did your parents arrive to Germany?’”.
“Yesterday morning”, she answered.
“And you said they went on a business trip, right?” it was my turn to ask.
“Right, so…”
“Your parents phoned you, understood that you’re all right and they set to work. They know nothing that they’re abducted, because they’re not abducted. They’re busied – that’s why they’re not calling you”, Max explained what I wanted to say.
“You’re right, both of you”, she breathed out, relieved.
“There’re two things that left to figure out – who’s messaging you, and why”, got I to my feet.  “We have to detect the personality of that who mails you. And get into your father’s cabinet– maybe he really had stolen something, but those bastards…”
“Language, Michael!” laughed both my best friends.
“…want to work though you, believing they would get it faster”, finished I the sentence, smiling.
“Max, you mentioned something about tea, at the most suitable moment”, Mikhailina was beaming. She seemed to have pulled herself together. Her eyes glistened from crying, her cheeks were bright red. She was so charming.
“Finally!” Max clapped his hands. “Unbelievable has finally happened – my friends have finally paid attention to their poor, loudly coughing, throat aching friend.
“Don’t be babbling, Max, and make us tea”, I clapped my friend’s back, laughing.
“Okay, let’s go”, Max agreed, laughing too.
 
It was half to seven in the evening, when we have finally finished drinking tea, eating chocolate cakes and some other sweeties that we found in Max’s refrigerator. 
“Okay, I’ll probably go”, said Mikhailina lazily, with a stain of chocolate cream on her nose.
“You have cream on your nose”, said I, never leaving my eyes from her – I couldn’t help noticing how beautiful she was.
She blushed slightly and wiped off the stain with her finger, then licked it.
“Thanks for seeing me. You made me a perfect company”, said Max, and then blew his nose with a tissue noisily.
“Recover soon”, Mikhailina wished to Max, and I shook his hand.
“See you soon”, Max said, closing the door after us.
The weather has changed noticeably – it was not windy, but still and warm. The sky was grey and the sun was drowning behind the horizon. I made a few steps from Max’s home, but not hearing clattering of Mikhailina’s shoes, stopped and turned to her.
“What’s wrong?”
“Shall you walk me home?” she asked, but without looking at me.
“Of course, I’ll walk you home”, agreed I, but sounded scared.
“It’s just that… I. We spend the time so cool together. I’m just afraid of coming home”
“But we have already figured out that everything is all right”, said I manner-of-factly, as I walked by her side.
“I simply cannot understand what I would do if that…”
“If that were true”, finished I her sentence.
She nodded, unable to choke out any words. We walked slowly, without talking. I was not looking at her; maybe it will be better for her to get over it. The sunset was beautiful, breath-taking. The sun was half-closed with a transparent cloud, which made the sunlight even brighter and more magnetising. The nearest to the sun clouds were deep scarlet, as if burning. 
“I don’t like sunsets”, I heard Mikhailina saying weakly.
“Why?” asked I her, suddenly disinterested in what I was observing and admiring a moment before.
“It reminds me of death, and blood”, her voice was impressionless. “Like the sun dies in pain, suffering and crying with desperation. Like all life dies on the Earth, like dies the last hope. And soon after the sun disappears, the surroundings drown in blackness”.
“Mikhailina, stop!” said I loudly, trying to bring Mikhailina round. She stopped, but did not look at me. So I grabbed her shoulders and turned her to me.
“Mikhailina, listen, your parents are okay!” I was speaking directly at her, clearly saying every syllable. “Please, believe me. I will prove it”.
“I know they’re okay”, the girl responded, looking at me too. “I simply said what I think about sunsets – that’s all. This has nothing to do with the messages, believe me. Now I understood you were right, both of you – you and Max, I mean.”
“Sorry”, laughed me, “I am too nervous because of you. I don’t want you to be upset”.
“I know, either you don’t like me sobbing or weeping. I think, I overreacted a bit too”, she sighed and took my hand. “You’re still walking me home, are you?”
“Y-yes. So,” spoke me to her once again, when we resumed walking along the sidewalk, “what are you doing on the holidays?”
“I dunno what I’ll do on the holidays, but I know perfectly well what you will be doing”, laughed she.
“And?”
“You will be solving the case, the blackmail of your best friend”, she looked at me and smiled. I caught the sight of dimples on her cheeks in a ray of setting sun.
“I meant apart from this. This’s obvious, isn’t it?”
“That I know too – you’ll be writing report on History, about Jan Hus, by hand”
“Damn it, I have almost forgotten about that!”
“Don’t worry – I won’t let you forget it”, Mikhailina giggled. “When you’ll come to me tomorrow? For investigation, I mean”
“As soon as I wake up. Anyway, you better ring me up when you’re ready to see me.”
She nodded and we walked in silence for some time, hand in hand. I’m sure she felt my pulse raised and my heart pounding loudly in excitement. Though I looked far ahead, her smiling face was before my eyes. To say the truth I was in love with Mikhailina since the very first time I saw her, two and a half years ago. But that was in secret, even in hide from myself, however that was, and from time to time I had fits of sweet delirium of imagining her. And now this is real – I am really walking near her, holding her hand and feeling her breath smelling of chocolate. I think, she feels something of that herself, but we never spoke of this and behave as usual, in general. But sometimes our true feelings were coming to surface, like today, and we took that for granted, never thinking of the two of us as a couple. I’m sure, Max thought of us as a couple and we did not object. Suddenly, sad tears filled my eyes, tears of happiness that appeared in time when I felt emotional excitement, when I felt extremely in peace with the world. I blinked a few times to shed the tears, but that didn’t help – a small salty stream of tears ran down my face, and I felt a knot down my throat. 
“Are you cold?” croaked I, addressing to Mikhailina, trying to distract myself.
“No, I’m okay”, the girl responded. “Furthermore, we’ve reached the final point of our trip”
“So soon”, sighed I disappointedly, not willing to let go of Mikhailina’s right arm. I was still clutching it, pleasantly warm and soft, almost transparent.
“You can still have extra fifty meters”, Mikhailina smiled, never going to take her arm away.
“The stairs!” exclaimed I, praising that wise staircase-inventor.
Mikhailina lived in a posh newly-built block of flats, the City Park nearby. It consisted of ten floors and penthouse. We walked to two-and-a-half-meter-high oak front door with two enormous copper handles on each side. As usual, I opened the door, with great difficulty to say the truth, before the girl, and she entered - I’m not a member of society thinking that good manners are obsolete attributes of the XVIII century. I was careless enough to let the door hit the doorframe with a tremendous bam!-noise. 
“Michael, why can’t you learn to close the door!” concierge cried at me, laughing simultaneously. “It’s the tenth time you come here this month, and it’s the tenth time when you make this dreadful sound with the door. It’s not a plastic one – it’s an oak, a natural material, and when it hits solid surfaces, it bams!”
“I promise, the eleventh time will be more quiet”, said I half ashamed, half cheerfully.
“Michael, I think it’s better that I will open the door before you”, Mikhailina whispered into my ear, while we were climbing the stairs walking to the elevator, after having passed dreadfully elegant ornate carpet, woven with red and golden material.
Mikhailina pressed the needed button, and the lift came after ten seconds of waiting.
“It’s a pity”, said the girl when we entered the cabin and the door closed after us.
“What’s a pity?” asked I, interested.
“It’s a pity that the elevator comes that fast and I wouldn’t be able to finish giving you a hug”, she slid her hands around my neck and rested her head on my shoulder.
“Finish giving me a hug?” repeated I in bewilderment, my mouth dry.
“Max interrupted us, don’t you remember”, she whispered softly. At this very moment, the elevator door slid open with a slight beep. “That is exactly what I said”, she sighed and looked me in the eyes, her face was a one tenth of an inch from mine, and now I felt the urge of kissing her. 
“I’ve been waiting to tell you…” started I, but…
“Your behaviour was saying for yourself”, she rested her hands on my neck, leaning my face towards her; her breathing was burning my skin. 
“Are we not going to leave the elevator cabin?” I asked in whisper the stupidest question possible, and the most suitable.
“Are we not going to kiss?” she whispered back, smiling and closing her eyes suggestively. 
From excitement and fear, I closed my eyes too and lowered my face to Mikhailina’s. At first my lips felt as usual, but then something burned them, something soft, warm and slightly wet. I pressed my lips against this something, foggily guessing those to be Mikhailina’s lips. The girl’s arms squeezed my neck and I moved my hands down her back and placed them on her waist. After kissing for, I think, ten seconds, I opened my eyes, seeing her doing the same. We looked in each other’s eyes as if coming to our senses, then separated, stepping a pace from each other. I slid my hands from her waist, but Mikhailina took my hands in hers.
“Why is it me?” uttered I barely moving my dry tongue.
“Sorry?” she repeated surprised, losing her smile immediately.
 “Why is it me whom you kissed?”
“What is wrong with that?” Mikhailina was definitely nervous.
“I was just wondering why you are behaving like this towards me. I… I simply cannot understand. I cannot understand why it is me.”
“I like you”, she stammered. “You are the one with whom I want to kiss” said she simply.
“I’m not a good kisser anyway”, I blushed. “Actually, it was my first time when I kissed”
 “Mine too”, she looked at me with a shy expression on her face. “I just want to be with you, and this is not because of you’re helping me. I do really like you”
“Thanks”, giggled I. “I’m happy when I’m with you. When I simply look at you”
“Me too”, said she and stepped to me, putting her arm around my neck and I put mine on her waist, and we linked in a kiss again. 
At this very moment the elevator cabin shook a little and started to move.
We separated from each other and laughed out loud.
“I think, elevator is not the best place for privacy”, noticed I, laughing.
“I couldn’t refuse seducing you in the elevator!” she laughed back
“So that was seducing!” I tried to play an insulted one and turned my face from hers. “Don’t you know that seducing is a crime”.
“I promise you I wouldn’t break law for that anymore”
“So you won’t kiss me anymore?” I turned my laughing face to her to see Mikhailina crying from laughing.
“Only in private places”.
The elevator shook again and the door slid open with a beep, revealing a man standing in front of us. He was obviously the one who called the elevator. The man was dressed in a grey suit and smelt strong of tobacco. As I went past him, I noticed his jaws moving up and down slightly. When the man was out of my sight, I heard him entering the elevator cabin. At that very moment I lost interest in the man and turned to look at Mikhailina. When she turned back, she smiled lopsidedly, and then yawned.
“I thought kissing with me was not a boring thing”, noticed I with mixed feelings.
“You’re so funny when you’re jealous, Michael”, she responded, yawning widely and managing to smile simultaneously.
“And when was I jealous?” asked I her, irritated a bit, almost having lost notice I was climbing the stairs.
“Now. And I’m yawning not because I’m bored. Have you noticed the man?”
“He was difficult not to be spotted”
“He smelt of tobacco. I think he doesn’t smoke. His clothes didn’t smell of tobacco, but as his jaws were working and his lips were curled a bit, I think he chewed tobacco”.
“Incredibly!” murmured I, with my mouth hanging open with surprise.
She shrugged: “That was easy to notice”.
“What was the last book you’ve read – ‘Adventures of Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson’? I’ve noticed it too, but I paid almost no attention to it. But, anyway, why are you yawning?”
“That’s my reaction on tobacco – sort of an allergy. It’s a good thing it’s not coughing or a running nose. And kissing you is far more pleasing than you might think", she smiled that suggestive smile again, and then closed her eyes the way it made me go mad. 
Right in the middle of the stairs, we linked in a kiss. It was a feeling which I have never experienced before. Her hand was wandering on my chest, and I was holding her other hand with both my arms, wanting never to leave her, wanting to be staying like this for eternity. I was calm, though my heartbeat was raised; I was happy, though I wanted to cry… 
She broke a kiss and raised her head so she looked me in the eyes. “You’re crying?” asked she with a questioning tone in her voice. “What’s …”
“That’s okay. I’m happy… You’re so charming… the biggest treasure I have… the happiness”, I stammered after every piece of phrase. She took my cheeks in her hands, drew in her breath and said the three words, the words which seem to be said so easy but the words which need the feeling to be said: “I love you”.
“I love you too”, and a few more tears ran down my face. She patted my head and pressed her lips against mine. My head went spinning, I even felt like I was hearing music, like somebody was playing violin inside my head. 
“What’s that?” asked the girl, still kissing.
“Vivaldi, Antonio. ‘Four Seasons’, ‘The Autumn’”, answered I kissing her back. “Why is it not stopping?” 
“’cause it’s your mobile ringtone. Somebody’s calling you, Michael.”
I got the phone out of my pocket and looked at it.
“Damn”, breathed I out into Mikhailina’s mouth.
We separated, and she asked: “Who’s it”.
“Mum”, I sighed.
Meanwhile the electronical version of Vivaldi started replaying the extract of “The Autumn”.
“Answer it”, she said, as we resumed climbing the stairs up to Mikhailina’s flat.
“Hello, Mum”
“Michael, where are you? Do you know what time is it?”
I glanced at my wristwatch, “It’s half to eight”. For a few seconds I tried to regain my breath. “Mikhailina and I visited Max. He’s still ill and bored”.
“So you’re at Max’s?” 
“No, I’m walking Mikhailina home. We’re almost there”, said I glancing at Mikhailina turning a key in the keyhole and opening the door.
“Okay, there’s no food in the house. Buy some groceries…” something beeped and Mum’s voice disappeared. Not understanding what’s happened, I looked at the phone. Mikhailina noticed my confused face. “What’s wrong?” asked she, standing in the doorway.
“No signal”, answered I. “It’s weird”, said we together. 
After a few seconds of looking at her and unwillingly understanding that I’ll see her again only tomorrow morning, I said in whisper: “So I’d better go. Mum’s really furious” She nodded, stepped to me and gave me a good-bye kiss on the cheek. “I’ll miss you”, she said. 
“I’d never wanted a night to pass that fast”. Mikhailina nodded in response and simply turned to close the door, never stopping to look me in the eyes as she did so. She smiled and closed the door after her, leaving me standing alone in the corridor. After checking my wristwatch again, I started to descend the stairs, wondering whether I should go to the supermarket and buy the food. After all, my conversation with mum ended so abruptly that I even didn’t understand what I should buy.  I have been passing the second storey already when Vivaldi started playing violin again. I took the phone out of my jeans pocket and looked at it, seeing that there was signal again, at maximum. Not quite understanding what is the weird thing that happens to the signal, I pressed the green button and heard Mum’s worried more than before voice. 
“Why did you interrupt the conversation?” Mum’s trembling voice asked. “Did anything happen to you?”
“No, don’t worry”, I rushed to reassure Mum, knowing her quite annoying habit of becoming worried because of the smallest reasons.  “The signal disappeared of some reason but now it’s okay. You asked me to buy some groceries, but haven’t said what exactly” I tried to make the conversation flow the different, more productive, course. I got my notebook, a pencil and, leaning onto a wall, I wrote down a long list of what mum had dictated. After promising Mum I’ll buy everything according to the list, I tore the sheet of the notebook and continued descending the stairs. I smiled at the elevator, remembering the recent events and walked through the entering hall, noticing the concierge slumbering with a pencil in her right hand and a paper on her chest.
The cool night autumn air was welcoming to my suddenly hot face and I took a deep breath, feeling how the air was filling my windpipe, bronchuses and lungs. I stayed like this, breathing deeply and enjoying the fresh air, for a few minutes, then, without turning my head to look at the block of flats, went straight ahead, to the brightly lit supermarket to the left of me. After having bought the groceries, I went home, and already in ten minutes I was turning the key in the keyhole and opened the door to my apartment. The house was full of people, as usual. And, as usual, it was as noisy here as at the football field. The sisters were playing Mario PlayStation game, loudly arguing about the right tactics of clearing up the next level. They’ve been stuck there for a day or two, unable to get how to pass the level. Father was too busied – he was watching some sporting event on the TV. Mum and granny have almost finished cooking dinner, for the delicious smell of some roasted meat has already filled the kitchen and the dining room and was already creeping to the living room. 
After greeting with everyone, I’ve washed my hands and sprayed my face with cold water, for I felt extremely hot in the face. I have already placed the groceries in the fridge when mum said to me: “Thanks, Michael, you’ve helped me so much”. I smiled a weak smile in response. Somehow I was tired as a dog and preferred not to speak. 
“Dinner’s ready”, granny announced. In an instant all the noise stopped all at once. Not a surprise. The dinner time is not the right moment for minding your own business in our family – you risk missing the food and stay hungry. Everyone took their seats around the round family table in the dining room. Kate and Alexie, my two little sisters who went to the second form already, were still discussing the clearing up tactics in loud voices. Mum and father were shushing them from time to time and then the girls pretended to be busied with chewing bits of fried chicken. The family was talking about how their day had passed, but I could not follow their conversation. I felt enormously weak; however I tried to think the situation with Mikhailina over once again. 
“Why did you say Mikhailina’s parents are in save? Did you say this to calm the girl down or you had some particular reason for thinking and saying this?” the familiar, but for so long absent, voice asked me. The voice, I’m sure, is not a sign of some psychological disorder, but is that part of me that subconsciously makes decisions and thinks while I’m solving a case. Okay, I sighed, almost not noticing I was moving the fork absentmindedly along the plate full of food but touched nothing, the fact that it’s Mikhailina who receives the messages from the blackmailers (or the blackmailer) show one simple thing – the bastards want to work through her. If they are able to find their victim’s daughter’s phone number and with no means threatening her parents, it shows that the blackmailers intent to threaten Mikhailina alone. If so, they don’t want to harm her parents. “Okay”, the voice sounded inside my head very loudly, I thought it would shatter my head into billions of pieces. “Okay, the fact they’re working through Mikhailina doesn’t say they chose her as the target – they could have kidnapped her parents ‘cause they’ve told nothing”. I sighed and closed my eyes, there, in the darkness, coloured circles were dancing. What kind of parents will put their child under such danger? “I think”, I sighed again, my headache was building up. “Mikhailina’s father would never risk hers life and would tell his kidnapper where’s what they’re looking for.” 
I swallowed my first bit of chicken, admiring the Bavarian sauce granny made.
And what they’re doing this for? The voice asked again.
“Well”, I stammered even in my imagining voice, “I think, they thought Mikhailina won’t stand the pressure they put her under. They thought in a day or two of being under such circumstances she’ll give up and will phone them. I think that’s why the blackmailers are sending their threatening messages by phone – they planned Mikhailina will contact them and ask them directly what they want. And maybe that’s why they don’t say what exactly they need – nothing scares one more than unknowingness. And Mikhailina has almost done it, sighed I in my imagining voice. I closed my eyes and Mikhailina appeared before in the darkness, her red desperate face, her eyes full of tears, wanting to grab her mobile and call asking what those bastards demanded.
My temples were about to explode. I didn’t know what was happening. I guess, I was just so much overwhelmed with events that couldn’t cope with this.
What are you going to do? The voice again ringed in my head.
I swallowed another bit of chicken and started to chew another one lazily. “I plan to check the messages the blackmailers are sending to Mikhailina. Furthermore I will try to find personal data of the sender by the mobile number from which the messages were sent. And one more thing, Mikhailina mentioned that she tried to get into her father’s cabinet but it was locked. It seems weird to me, don’t you think?”
The voice mentally agreed with me.
“Michael! Michael!” father, who sat beside me, was shaking my right shoulder. Being busied with this mental discussion, I was at first not aware of that, but now, when everything was thought over, I decided to come back to the physical world.
“Yes, Father”, sighed I, feeling heat in my cheeks, and turned to him.
“How’s your day passed? You have again visited Max, haven’t you?” Mum asked with a note of worry in her voice.
Having decided not to mention that History lesson and wrong report thing, I said: “Everything’s as usual. Max’s really ill. He has pneumonia and tonsillitis, and big temperature. He’s coughing all the time and it’s difficult for him to swallow. But he’s as joyful and live as he used to be. I think he will be going to school after the holidays.”
“Poor Max”, Mum noticed. She wanted to say something else but Granny was quicker.
“I hope, you both were wearing medical masks? I don’t think you’re anticipating catching cold and spend the holidays lying in the bed ill.”
Stunned, I looked on the show-white tablecloth. Struggling not to open my mouth with surprise risking the half chewed chicken would drop onto the table. I picked a napkin and pretended to be wiping my lips to prevent that unpleasing situation. Suddenly my state of health was clear to me: I have infected from Max. Of course, he’s been coughing every other minute.
“Y-yes”, I mumbled, and continued to eat my helping, almost not touched.
“Being ill on the holidays is just wasting time”, Kate noticed.
“I agree”, Alexie nodded. “What I will be doing on the holidays is playing Mario all the time”.
“Aha”, father chuckled, backing on his chair to have a look at the TV screen to see whether his football team has succeeded in a goal. “If you manage to get through the fifth level”, said he, after stretching on his chair and sipping a little orange juice from his glass.
“Fifth level… Are you stuck on the fifth level, girls?” asked I them with a funny voice I’ve never spoke and with a funny feeling in my head. It was not a headache – it has suddenly disappeared. I felt as if I was on a tail of something but I didn’t know what it was, I had not a slightest idea. 
Kate and Alexie looked at me with a surprised look on their faces, as if I asked something stupid or something what was known to everyone else except me. “Yes, it’s the frenzy fifth level we can’t get through”, Alexie snarled. “Was it so difficult to notice when we asked everyone in the family to help us and nobody did? We asked you too, but you said not to disturb you ‘cause as you said it’s easy to pass. I bet you don’t know it as everyone else”.  For a few seconds I looked dumbfounded at excited Alexie, then I looked at Kate, and, fearful, I saw her equally half angry half desperate face. Mum and father shushed them again, but judging by the look on their faces it was clear that the girls are on the edge. They loved the game from the very first look at the CD cover, and now they’re stuck. However the strange feeling did not disappear, it only intensified, and I even started to feel myself better. It obviously has something to do with the fifth level of the Mario game. Thankfully, I’ve completed the game at the first day Father bought it for the sisters – so the game’s really easy to pass, though its plot’s a little bit strange. The feeling was still inside my head. So I decided to continue talking about the game.
“Fifth level, you say”, I mumbled again, with my mouth full.
“Yes, the bloody fifth level”, Kate burst out.
The easily predicted words: “Language!!! One more word about the game, and you’re prohibited to play it!” flooded the air in the dining room. The words were said in unison by Mum, Father and Granny. Afraid of losing something I’ve suddenly grasped, I continued: “Is it where the crocodiles placed secret radar, so you can’t see the exit? Kill them, switch off the radar and the exit will appear randomly on the screen”
Not wanting to attract attention, Alexie and Kate widened their surprised eyes so much that I thought there was already no room for them on their faces. They have almost gasped, cried out something, but they suppressed it. This time the dining room was flooded by other words, and they belonged to another’s lips: “What! What, damn it!”. The girls laughed: “Language!” but nobody of the trio – Mum, Father or Granny – paid attention to them. Their three pairs of eyes were staring at me, firing phrase after phrase at me:
“What! How do you know? Where did you find it out from?”
I shrugged: “The radar was placed right in the centre of the screen, it was highlighted. If it was placed there, it was made for some reason. It was really easy to figure out.” Through my parents and granny were staring at me, I was looking at the sisters. They were still shocked a bit. Seeing that nobody’s paying attention to them, Alexie and Kate started to get up from their chairs to rush to play, but the trio has already pulled themselves together, so Mum shushed them again, telling them we haven’t yet eaten the dinner. So the two had nothing else to do than to sit back grumpily and finish their helpings.
“It’s not fair”, Kate uttered with her mouth full of the last bit of chicken and potatoes.
“What’s not fair, eating with your family?” Granny asked irritably.
“No”, Alexie sobbed in response. “Placing radar that makes the exit invisible is what not fair. I’ve… We all have been trying to pass the level for two days, not understanding how. And Michael told us nothing. Except saying it’s “easy to pass””.
“But it was really easy to pass”, I responded, suddenly realising the feeling that made me tell the others the way of passing the level everyone had to figure out by oneself had disappeared. I did not notice, when. 
Everyone grimaced and went on eating. 
 
1
 
After Mum took the dishes away and Granny brought in the tea and chocolate cake, I was desperate to understand what feeling was worrying me, and why it has gone. At first I thought the feeling was connected to the Mario game, but while drinking the tea and eating a bit of the cake I couldn’t find what exactly interested me. The fifth level was the first one in the game where elements of logics were added to the gameplay. But it was not the last level and not the most interesting. However it was on the fifth level debate when the feeling came. Thinking for more few minutes I came up with nothing worthy, so I stopped thinking of this at all – if it’s really important, it will return. But it’s better not to busying myself with things like this. 
Making the last sip of tea and having wiped a chocolate stain from my nose, I walked into the living room. There, around the PlayStation, the other family members were playing the Mario, loudly. Understanding, that I will not have peace here, I went to my bedroom. The unknown excitement that came to me during dinner passed, and I felt that the virus I caught from Max was stronger than my immune system. In the other words, I felt miserably ill. To know how it is bad, I took my temperature – one hundred and one degrees. Quite awful, isn’t it? I looked at the alarm clock standing on the bedside table – it showed ten minutes to 11p.m. With my head sore, with my muscles sore, with my whole body sore, I sighed and crawled into the bed, covering with multiple blankets. I didn’t want to take anti-fever medicine, but I knew that perspiration helps to take the viruses and toxins away, so I preferred this way to recover.
Remembering that I can oversleep because of the illness, but needing to wake up early enough to go to Mikhailina, I wound up the alarm clock on 9a.m. And, I closed my eyes and fell into darkness. Usually, I don’t remember the dreams I have, but this one I remembered. I remembered maybe because it was a surrealistic dream. There were coloured crocodiles in there, the crocodiles all chewed tobacco and were placing radars around Mikhailina’s block of flats. Then there appeared Alexie and Kate and they were shouting at me because I haven’t told them something, they were shouting loudly, acquiring strange tonality, screeching tonality, until… I opened my eyes abruptly, the next instant I wanted to shut them back ‘cause a heavy press of sleepiness was persuading them to close. I fought that urge, wondering why the sisters were still shouting at me, rather they were… Then I laughed – it was alarm clock informing me that it’s nine o’clock in the morning.
I remembered I was ill yesterday and checked how I felt. It was definitely better in comparison with yesterday night, but something subconsciously told me I was not healthy. Having switched off the alarm clock I got off the bed and went to the bathroom – after all night perspirating I stinked as the hell. Not wanting to worsen my state of health, I opened the hot water tap in the shower wide enough to shower myself with warm, but still cooling water. I hate taking shower in warm water – it makes me feel sleepy, and that’s the last thing I need, especially now, when I need my brains work in their full ability. And taking into account my absentmindedness and slight stupidity (and my sudden illness), I can’t afford being distracted. In five minutes I got out of the shower cabin, wrapped a towel around my waist and went back to my bedroom. I felt myself better now. Still my muscles were sore and I felt some pain when I swallowed. I’ve taken my temperature again – it was one hundred degrees sharp. I’ve managed to reduce my body temperature on the whole degree, which means something.
I’ve clothed myself and went into the living room. As usual, everyone was busied with different affairs. Alexie and Kate were playing Mario again, Mum and Granny were cooking, Father, despite weekend was talking on the phone with someone, apparently on his job matter.
“Morning”, I greeted with everyone.
“Morning, Michael”, Mum, Granny and Father replied.
“Hey, what the hell you are doing! He’s going to swallow you and you don’t notice it!” Alexie cried out.
“I know what I’m doing. I’ve got a plan. It’s my turn and I play the way I want!” Kate retorted.
“It’s the twelfth time it’s your turn, and you’ve not passed!” Alexie snapped back.
“Better say for yourself. You yourself can’t pass the bloody level. It was your thirteenth turn when you fell down from that block right into the crocodile’s mouth! At least, I’m not losing that miserable!” Kate was furious too. The parents, it seems, got used to the quarrel as they even didn’t try to calm the sisters down.
“Morning, girls”, said I, louder this time, when I walked to them.
“Don’t distract us. We’re busied”, the sisters answered surprisingly simultaneously.
I sat beside the girls in time enough to notice how a crocodile swallowed a figure Kate directed.
“The thirteenth time. We tail.” Alexie clapped her hands sarcastically.
“I see you’re successful”, said I.
“Don’t distract us – we’re playing!” the girls shouted in unison.
Alexie took the joystick out of Kate’s arms roughly and started to direct the figure on the screen. In fact, it was an easy goal – to reach the exit in the bottom of the right side of the screen. If not a small detail – there were five crocodiles that ate the figure before the girls managed to get to the exit. 
“Hey, jump, they’re surrounding you!” Kate shouted in horror but it was too late, and a crocodile ate the poor figure of a girl. The sisters had only one more life, or they have to start the game from the first level. 
“Now hear to me”, said I sharply. “You, Alexie, put the joystick on the floor and look on the screen for a minute”. The girls looked at me like I was insane, but something in my voice made them do as they were told. 
“And what do you see?” asked I. Both girls peered at the screen, then Kate said, mesmerized: “The crocodiles, they stopped. They’re not moving!”
“Yes, they stopped on the places they’ve been staying when I stopped pressing the buttons on the joystick”, Alexie was equally surprised, her mouth was hanging open.
“What does this mean?”
“We’re doomed”, Kate answered immediately in a harsh voice. “The crocodiles will go after us, and eat”.
“Almost, but not exactly”, I smiled. “Now, look what else can you see”.
“There’s a block, right before the exit. It moves up and down”, Alexie said.
“We’ve lost there two lives. That block smashed us twice”, Kate sobbed.
“Warmer”, said I Then I moved my finger to the upper side of the screen. “What is there?”
“Dunno. The ceiling of the cave”, Kate answered carelessly.
“Look, from the left of the screen till there”, I pointed a thing placed in the upper centre of the screen, “there’s no ceiling, and from the centre till the right side there’s nothing too”.
“So what”, the girls grumped, but were still all ears.
“If it was placed there”, started I.
“It was done for a reason”, sisters fired back. “Tell us directly what you want to say”.
“Okay, look”, I gave up. “There’s a red thing on the block Kate fell down from. And look again on the thing on the top. What it reminds you of?”
“Dunno, another block”, Alexie proposed.
“No, it’s not solid. It’s half transparent. It’s like…” she stopped speaking for a moment, furrowed her brows and said: “It’s like a cage”.
“Okay, is there something below the cage?” asked I.
“No, only the damned crocodiles”, Alexie said.
“So, what you should do?” I was beaming.
“Jump onto the block with the button, press it, the cage would fall over the crocodiles, and we’re free”, the girls laughed and clapped their hands in triumph.
“Almost. But the button not only makes the cage drop, it also stops the block near the exit. The instant you press the button block stops, and if you’ve chosen the wrong moment you risk stuck here forever”.
In bewilderment, Alexie took the joystick, jumped onto the block and put the joystick back. The crocodiles still did not move. It was Kate’s turn now: she moved the figure of a girl, touched the button, and the cage landed on the crocodiles, imprisoning them; the block at the exit stopped high enough to let the figure go through.
With their eyes wide, sisters jumped on their seats and cried out in their full voices: “We’ve done it! Michael, you’re the best brother ever!”
“The only”, answered I, stroked their heads with both my arms, when Mum said: “Hey, gamers, breakfast’s ready!”
 
I had no appetite. Though my state of health was quite bearable and the illness was not reminding me its existence with constant coughing and a running nose, I knew I was ill. Slight soreness of my muscles and uneasiness in my throat when I swallowed was still depressing. So I had not eaten almost anything during breakfast. Though, maybe not illness was the reason for absence of appetite – it was that Mikhailina has not phoned me yet. Taking into account the circumstances, I had all rights to be more than a little worried. Unable to be waiting more, I phoned her first. But to no avail – after a few seconds of waiting a mechanical voice informed me: “The phone number you’re calling to is currently unobtainable. Try to call later”. My back sweated, and that meant nothing good. Could have happened something bad, or worse than bad? 
Hesitating just for a half of a moment, I put on my coat and uttering: “I’m going to Mikhailina; if something happens call me then” rushed to the girl. Overwhelmed with fear, I could not calm down and was practically running to Mikhailina’s block of flats. I was getting more agitated with every passing second and could not get out of my head dreadful images that my imagination was filling my brain with. Could the blackmailers stop threatening their target and start more active actions? If so…
For god’s sake, the voice inside my head erupted; stop scaring yourself before you know nothing. Remember, what happened in that camp and why you’ve not been a detective for two and a half years!
These remarks were like a barrel of icy cold water pulled on me. They made me stop dead at once, lucky enough, so I haven’t jumped in front of a red Mercedes when I about to cross the street. I found myself staying at the edge of the road, and then I felt cold rain was showering me, and then I noticed I had not put my coat properly and one sleeve was hanging free. I laughed, but that was a suppressed and somewhat trembling laugh. Okay, I took a deep breath, as if steadying myself, then another one, and one more. I looked into distance, waiting when the signal on the streetlight will allow me to cross the street. 
“It is impossible to use your senses but not your brains while solving the case…”
“When you question people you manage to do it like you’re a complete idiot…”
“Finally, unable to analyse what people answered on your questions and understand the situation you used your feeling and, eventually, got into the swamp of wrong conclusions and ignorance…”
“You’d never catch me if I knew you had insomnia…”
These phrases were jumping in my head when I was crossing the street. Completely distressed, I sat on the first bench I noticed in the City Park. It turned out to be soaked to the core but this did not bother me – I was about to cry. The phrases have already been said to me once; it was a parody on Professor Moriarty I heard them from. It was a fourteen or fifteen years old git that managed to stole almost two hundred hrivnas without being caught. I was trying to find the robber, I even suspected that git. But he managed to outsmart me, so I had been making one wrong conclusion after another. And eventually I put myself into a dead end. That’s why I’ve not been solving any mysteries and crimes for almost three years since then, though there were some fishy things I encountered. That’s why I didn’t want to help Mikhailina by myself and was proposing her to go to the policeman that helped me once. It was still unclear to me why she had not accepted my proposal and was that desperate me to help her. 
I coughed and got out the world of thinking. Cold wind and a heavy rain met me when I was able again to comprehend the surroundings. I found myself clutching my mobile phone in my coat pocket. Cursing myself for not having taken an umbrella, I dragged to Mikhailina’s block of flats. The sound of raindrops hitting the asphalt was almost deafening, but I heard Vivaldi’s “Autumn”. It was Mikhailina that was calling me. Without waiting, I answered the call.
“Oh, hello, Michael, finally!” the girl cried out happily. Her voice sounded worried.
“Are you okay? Why didn’t you call me? Why I couldn’t call you? Are you really okay?” I flooded Mikhailina with a deluge of questions.
“There’s still no signal. I’m calling you from the entering hall”, the girl replied.
“Interesting”, murmured I being deep in thought when I heard the answer. “Yesterday night when I was going home mum called me. I was two stories down from yours, and the signal was perfect.”
“Do you think this has something to do with the messages?”
“Maybe yes. After all there’s no signal only on your storey.”
“Michael, where are you? I can barely hear you”, Mikhailina asked a bit scared.
“I’m going to you, and it’s raining on the street. By the way, is the chemist’s near your block of flats is working already?”
“I think so. Why?”
“I’ve infected from Max, my temperature’s one hundred. I want to buy a few medical masks, so I wouldn’t infect you. Are you okay?”
“I’m quite fine”
“What about the Internet connection. Is it on?” another idea came into my mind.
“Yes, it’s okay. By the way, I’ve found a few books about Jan Hus for you. I never thought the guy is so famous!”
“Thanks. To say the truth I wanted to find information about him in Wikipedia and then write as much times as it would be enough!” I laughed; in fact that was my plan.
“Are you kidding?! What if Mrs Ruvinsky read it?”
“My plan was founded on the idea she’d never do such a boring thing! Okay, let’s go back to the topic we were discussing. So, there’s no mobile signal, but Internet’s working as usual”
“Yes, I’ve already told you.”
“But why then haven’t you written on your father’s email to get sure your parents are all right or call them now?” I proposed another solution.
“I’ve not thought of this. I was…”
“Distressed, I understand. Okay, I’ll come to you now and you’ll call, or write them, fine?”
“Fine. I’ll make you a chicken bouillon. It’s the best remedy from fever.”
“I’m not that much ill”, I started to say, but Mikhailina has already hanged the phone…
I sneezed again, and shuddered – it was freezing cold here on the street. I bought a few medical masks and went to the girl. Cautiously, I opened the door as quiet as possible.
“Morning, Max”, the concierge told me. “You’re really quieter this time. And wetter”
“It’s raining. Good morning to you too, Mrs Ebberson.” And I rushed to Mikhailina.
I hadn’t to knock – the girl was staying in the doorway, smiling.
“Oh, Michael, you’ve soaked to the bone, come faster here. Why haven’t you taken an umbrella?” With these words she pushed me into her apartment which smelt pleasantly of chicken and red pepper. “Put your coat off and give it to me”. I handed her the coat and she stocked it into the drying machine. “Sit here, faster, and eat”, said she after succeeding in pushing me into the dining room.
 “I’ve already taken breakfast this morning”, I started to say, but Mikhailina cut me off – “You should eat it. There’s a rule: if you’re ill you eat chicken bouillon – no exceptions”
I smiled at her – she was so nice, and cute, and kind, and… and I loved her with all my heart. She gave me a spoon and sat in front of me, as if going to control my every movement. I stared at the pale yellow liquid with pieces of chicken and carrot. It smelt pleasantly delicious.
“It’s fantastic”, said I after having swallowed a few spoons of the “remedy”. “By the way, if you’re so serious about my illness, you better put this on” And I handed her a snow white mask. She’d wrapped it on her mouth without discussing it.
After I’ve eaten my helping, she asked: “How’s it?”
I put a medical mask on my mouth myself and said:
“The bouillon’s fantastic. I feel positively better now”
“I hoped it will help you. It always helps to mum and dad. I always do it for them if they’re ill”, she sighed.
“Okay, let’s get started”, said I in a confident voice. I wanted to help her as fast as possible. I looked at her – she was carrying the plate away to the kitchen to wash it – though she was smiling there was the feeling in her eyes that was difficult to misunderstand. Mikhailina was very much distressed. I had neither right nor mental power to see her in such a state of mood.  But something in this entire story was worrying. It was not the fact of blackmailing – I could cope with that. It was the silence from Mikhailina’s parents. Of course, they were on a business trip, they were busied but they could find a few minutes to call to their daughter. 
Unless, the voice again erupted, unless they were really kidnapped.
I had no time for quarrelling with myself, as Mikhailina shouted from the kitchen: “Michael, Michael, faster!”
I rushed to the kitchen, having thought over millions of possible reasons why she would cry for me. “What’s wrong?” asked I when I reached the room.
“Look, here” she said, staying near the windowsill.
“What?” asked I again. Mikhailina was pointing me at something but it was blocked from my side with a kitchen table. I stepped closer. It turned out that the girl was pointing me to… a broken vase. It was half a meter high, amphora-like, I mean it had wide middle part, but was narrowing in the neck. The vase was made of thin china and decorated with pictures made of gold foil. Now it was broken, rather shuttered into sand-like pieces.
“Well”, said I stammering. “Don’t be afraid, I think your parents would understand. If you want, I can say it’s me who’s broken it” 
“I even didn’t touch it. Nobody touched it for three days. Mum says it’s very valuable and fragile, so only she cleans it. And this morning it was okay”. Mikhailina was almost crying, but I was too busied with thinking to reassure her straightaway. If she’s not touched the vase, if, what’s even more important, it was intact this morning, how could this happen?  The simplest and the most obvious explanation crept into my mind – somebody got into her apartment and was looking for the object they wanted to steal. If so…
“Michael, what’s with you?” Mikhailina said through crying.
“I think, someone got into your flat when you were talking with me by phone. We’ve been talking for ten minutes. The intruder had enough time, hadn’t he?”
“The intruder… got into… my apartment???” Mikhailina instantly turned white, even her lips became pale. She was about to faint.
I caught her in time enough and she didn’t fall onto the parquet. 
“I’m fine”, said she barely audible. She opened her eyes faintly and tried to sit on the floor. But she was too weak and instead she leaned on the wall. I ran to the sink, grabbed a glass and filled it with water. “Take it”, I handed the glass to Mikhailina.
Weakly, she took the glass and made a few sips.
“Sorry, Mikhailina. I shouldn’t had said this to you”, said I softly.
“It’s not your fault. I’m just…” she said in a soft quavering voice.
“I know. You’re overwhelmed with the events. You can’t cope with them. But I’m here to be with you and help to you and protect you. Furthermore, the intrusion makes our task easier”
“How?” she seemed to have pulled herself together, and though tears still glistened in her eyes, her voice was not trembling anymore.
“The intruder was obviously looking for something, for something that was small enough to fit into the vase with such a narrow neck”, I explained.
Mikhailina rested her head on my shoulder and said: “What could he be looking for?”
“Dunno. Something small…”Then my sight fell on her father’s cabinet door. “You said your father’s cabinet was locked, didn’t you?”
“Yes, so what”, said she sleepily.
“Maybe the intruder was seeking a key that opens that door, believing the thing they intent to find is there”. 
“What makes you think he hasn’t found the key?” Mikhailina said with a note of hope.
“I’m not sure in this. I just hope he hasn’t. But there’re ways we can check it.”
She placed her hand on my stomach: “What are they?”
“Firstly, if the key had been found, I doubt the intruder would close the door after him. Secondly, if the key had been found, I doubt the blackmailers would send you more messages. By the way, show me them. Damn it, we have too many things for today.”
“Yes”, she sighed. “I’d better sweep the floor”. She got up and went to the hall. At this very moment something beeped. “It’s my mobile. Bring it to me, please”. I took the mobile from the coffee table and looked on the screen – there was one incoming message. Being interested, I opened the message and read: “Hey, you bitch! Have you not gotten your behaviour can make you an orphan?! Your parents already can apply for a social and medical payment for being invalids! You have two more days, or you’ll get your parent’s insides in a shoes box!” It was clear the intrusion hadn’t helped them and the key still was not found.
“Who’s it?” Mikhailina took her mobile out of my hand. I was too distracted to stop her, so the girl read the message too. “So, they haven’t found the key”, she said in a quavering voice, a nasty expression on her face.
“Apparently, yes”, agreed I. “And this gives us the opportunity. By doing as they’ve done, they exposed themselves. The thing they’re looking for is here, in your apartment.”
“What makes you think they were looking for the key – nnot… not me?” she asked, her voice trembled heavily.
I took her hand and said: “Stop thinking this way, hear to me: stop thinking like this. By the way, if they’d wanted to kidnap you too, they would wait for you”.
“Very funny!” laughed she in a somewhat struggled way.
“Okay, calm down. Sorry, I never meant to insult you. It’s just…” stammered I.
“Relax, I’m fine. I have to sweep that pile of china-sand”
“I have to copy the phone number from which the messages were sent”
“Do whatever you want”, said she sweeping the remains of the vase.
“The messages really were all sent from the same number. Now, if the number’s registered, we’re able to detect the personality of the owner of the number. If not, we can know the position from which the messages were sent. Please, give me a piece of paper and a pen, or pencil”
“Take on the upper shelf. Mum keeps there a notebook and a pen for recording recipes from the TV show”, the girl replied.
I’ve already taken a pen to copy the messages, but sudden thought stroke me, like electricity shock: “Mikhailina, they’ve sent you a message!” cried I out, rapidly turning to her.
“I have noticed”, said she coolly. “Is something wrong with you?” 
I stood on the same spot and repeated in the same weird voice: “They’ve sent you a message, by phone!” At first the expression on her face was same cool and annoyed, then passed a few moments, and she saw that too. She opened her mouth to say something, and I nodded feverishly to encourage her.
“They have sent me a message when there’s no signal”, she mumbled mesmerized. “Is it still absent?”
I made a few paces in her direction with her mobile in my outstretched hand to let her see there’s still no signal.
“But how is this possible?” asked she in a desperate tone – she could not comprehend what the hell was happening here, and neither could I. I put a phone back on the coffee table and started to go back and forth the kitchen quietly. Mikhailina’s finished sweeping and sat on the kitchen chair, crossed her legs and watched me. Seeing her desire for information and any explanation, I began to think aloud.
“You said you couldn’t call to your parents since they’ve landed in Germany, after they’ve phoned you and said they’re okay”, I could not make up any decent chain of conclusions so I started to think over those little facts I had. “Maybe something in the conversation seemed unusual to you, uncharacterized for your parents? Something that made you think…” I have not ended the sentence when Mikhailina interjected:
“I have suddenly pressed on the record button when I answered the call, so the conversation was recorded”
“So we can listen to it and find whether something is suspicious?”
“Yes, let’s go to the living room and listen. But I still can’t understand, what this is for?” said she in a surprised voice.
I too was not getting what was directing me at that moment. Maybe, it was the feeling that again appeared inside my head.
“Okay, the conversation was actually really short, and I doubt it would lead you to something”.
And we went to the living room. It was the room I liked the most in Mikhailina’s apartment. It was really huge – I had a feeling I could play football here (if not taking into account my dislike in sports and expensive furniture and antiques that can be easily broken and not so easy paid for. There were three big French style windows, the windows from floor to ceiling facing east, which meant the room was very bright in sunny days. I liked the room in that weather, but now, as it was raining, the room was dim and uncomfortable. 
We sat down on small sofas in front of each other, a coffee table separating us. 
“Okay”, Mikhailina sighed and removed a strand of her ink-black hair from her face. “I really don’t understand why we need to listen to it. The conversation lasted for a mere minute”.
“I myself don’t know why I want to listen to it. But… “
“But what?” she looked me in the eye inquiringly.
“Dunno, sometimes I simply feel I have to do something. And not only to do. I feel strange sensations while solving these cases. It happened before. However I’ve not experienced it…”
“For two and a half years”, Mikhailina interjected, a both sympathetic and… proud look on her face.
I nodded; mesmerized by the way she was looking at me.
“If you think we should check the recording we will”, Mikhailina said and pressed a grey button on the phone standing in the middle of the coffee table, amongst magazines and books, rather detective story books.
I suppressed a desire of correcting her (I wanted to tell ‘I don’t think – I feel’) , then I closed my eyes, leaned back in the sofa and listened.
“Hi, Mum, Dad, how are you? What was the flight like?” I heard Mikhailina’s happy and all the same worried voice. Not a surprise, I noticed, – the bastards threatened her before her parents left the country so it’s naturally she was afraid something might happen to them.
For a few seconds there was no response – just silence and sound of Mikhailina’s breathing, then ‘Oh, we’re fine, you’re welcome’ was said. “’You’re welcome’? It’s a weird form of answering, isn’t it”.
“I’m so happy you’re okay! Are you still in the airport or are you going to the hotel?” Mikhailina said this phrase far happier and the signs of worry had disappeared from her voice.
Pause again. Nothing to hear, except Mikhailina’s breathing, then, suddenly, ‘No, we’re still here. We will be back in half an hour’. Again, quite a weird answer.
“You mean you’ll be in the hotel in half an hour?” Mikhailina asked with a tiny drop of suspicion in her voice.
“Yes. For now it’s all I can tell you”, Mikhailina’s father said rather coldly.
“W-w-well then”, she sounded startled, “I won’t be distracting you anymore. Please, do be careful, bye”.
“Bye, my dear child”, was the last phrase her father had said, then he hang the phone.
A very, very strange conversation. And in the same time it wasn’t a strange conversation at all. But these answers were not normal. They were like separate words in a sentence. Of course, separate words make sense too, but alone they make too much sense. Lined up in a sentence words mean a single thing, with only one meaning (in the most of the cases). The same thing with  Mr Voronin’s answers. Alone they mean one thing and this meaning doesn’t suit the whole dialogue I’ve just heard. And one more thing: I’ve got a feeling I’ve heard these phrases being said by him already, in their very meaning.
Slowly, I opened my eyes just to see Mikhailina sitting with her legs on the sofa looking at me with interest.
“You listened to the recording exactly like Sherlock Holmes did when he was entertaining his clients”, she said, hugging her knees.
I felt myself blushing: “I’m not copying him. I didn’t close my eyes on purpose. You know that I always listen to music like this. It is better to understand and imagine what’s going on”, I answered defensively.
“Oh, I meant no such thing. It was just… unusual…Anyway; did you figure anything out of it?”
“Oh yes, I did!” exclaimed I with excitement and climbed onto the sofa with my legs myself. “I noticed a weird thing…”
“Don’t you think there’re too many weird things?” Mikhailina interjected again.
“Well, we’re dealing with blackmailing and there’s a thing or two that seems weird to me. First, if the blackmailer, or blackmailers, claims that your father had stolen something, why then they’re working through you. Even if they intended to scary you, you wouldn’t be of much help for them – you would be forced to tell your father all about the thing. This makes the whole operation “Mikhailina” completely useless. Second, the phone signal behaves strangely – it appears only when you get another threatening message. And it happens just on your storey. Third, though the blackmailers are sending you their threats, they’re not revealing themselves by any other way. They get into your apartment, search for something however they don’t even show up to their target. Fourth, this conversation is very suspecting. No normal man can speak like your father’s voice did.”
“What do you mean by saying this?” Mikhailina asked slowly, her eyes opened wide with terror, her lips white again.
“Nothing more than that’s strange and, apparently, blackmailers have other intentions, or more intentions that they are revealing” said I calmly, deep in thought, trying to figure out what other motives can be.
“And what did you mean when you said ‘my father’s voice’?”
“I’m not sure you were talking to your father”, explained I, then, seeing her jumping off the sofa and pacing back and forth the room, I wished I hadn’t said this.
“Dammit, Michael, can you explain what you mean by your explanations? I’m tired of being terrified, I’m tired of imagining what next thing may happen to me, I’m tired of not knowing what is the bloody thing that is happening here!” she barely roared, though maybe sometimes she did roar.
I jumped to my feet myself and hugged her. She trembled. She breathed shallowly. I thought she would burst into tears again, but she didn’t.
“I cry very too often lately”, she said in a faint voice. “I even can’t imagine what it is like to you to have to calm me down every other minute.” She pillowed her head on my shoulder and put her hands on my waist. I was still hugging her, tightly pressing her against me. “You know”, she giggled softly,” I counted how much you’d said ‘distressed’ to me. You said it fifteen times”.
“I understand how you feel. And your reaction is natural”, I said softly as well, stroking her shoulder with my left arm. My right arm was now being squeezed by hers. “You have nothing to be ashamed of. And, as I’ve already told you, I will find a proof that your parents are okay. Actually, I think I’ve already found you a proof.”
“Really?” she was not surprised but both suspicious and happy. “But how?” From this sudden excitement, she jumped a few paces from me, our contact suddenly broken. It was an unpleasant feeling not to feel her warmth again. And not to feel the pressure on my right arm.
“Check your email”, said I smiling.
But she still was standing on the spot, looking me in the eye with a mixed expression on her face I’ve never seen before.
“Go and check your email, your parents are worried”, I nodded at her.
Uncertainly, she went to her room, I followed her as silently as possible – I didn’t want to ruin the moment. The second I walked in her room, the air there was shaken and broken by a loud screech I’ve never thought Mikhailina was capable of making.
“Twenty seven unanswered messages from mum’s and dad’s accounts! It seems, they’re worried as much as I was”.
“Are those your parents’ home, personal accounts, or from their work?” asked I curiously peering over Mikhailina’s shoulder. Judging by what they were writing, they won’t leave her alone in the next one hundred years.
“Yes, and they’re furious, mum and dad, I mean”, Mikhailina sounded not as much relieved as she was a few seconds before.
Satisfied with myself, I went out the room, leaving her alone to write a few calming down messages to her parents. And, to think something over. We were right, me and Max, and her parents are okay. So, the blackmailers were trying to terrify Mikhailina without hurting her parents. They’ve chosen interesting means – somehow they were killing the signal. This means the recorded conversation is a fake, just like I thought. Also it means that the whole story with kidnapping Mikhailina’s parents and all these threats are only a cover story. So, these guys do have something they’re not revealing, they have hidden intentions. And that’s why someone got into her apartment – it must be that they know that the object they’re searching for is here. But what is this object is? And why they’ve broken a vase, or why they touched it in the first place?
I wanted to sit down on a sofa, I even sat, but then I was too excited with thinking and understanding that the investigation goes perfectly good, and I got to my feet again. I couldn’t sit at such a moment. Instead of grasping in the dark, I now knew where to look for. If only I knew what to find, and who these people were, and why they needed the thing they’re looking for. Thinking over a possible answer to at least one of these questions, I started studying trifles on the shelves in the living room. There were all possible sorts of things: miniature vases and tiny statues, photographs and seashells. 
“Thank you”, a soft voice whispered me into the ear suddenly and I shuddered with unexpectance. “Shushh, Mr Voronov, you risk to drop a very expensive vase. I think, it’s a Ming or Zing dynasty. Anyway, I can’t distinguish one from another”. Mikhailina rested her head on my shoulder and swung her hands around my waist. “You are really interested with this vase, are you?” she asked, breathing me in the ear.
“Not exactly with the vase”, said I too loud to be allowed and broke the moment Mikhailina created. 
I felt her separating from me.
“You’ve not been cleaning this dust up. All shelves are covered with it”, I said in a serious voice, not quite understanding why I was doing it.
“As you could have noticed”, Mikhailina said coolly behind my back, for I haven’t turned to her, “I had more pressing matters to deal with. In the last few days I didn’t feel like doing the cleaning. I’ve been getting these messages and…”, her voice was acquiring a dangerous edge to it.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to say this. I meant another thing. Look”, I turned to her, grabbed her shoulders and turned her to look at the shelves. “Look”, I repeated, “there’s a thin layer of dust on the top of the shelf”. She made a hmph noise but I ignored it. “But here, on the other shelves with all this stuff on it…”
“Stuff!” she exclaimed with a sign of hurt pride in her voice. “I’ve been collecting these things since I was five…”
“Yes, I know, since your first trip with your parents”, said I softly this time. “Anyway, the dust here is somewhat… disturbed, it’s…”
“It looks like it’s been touched with a sponge. And, hey, have you moved the shells?! I’ve placed them chronologically!” Mikhailina was getting furious.
“No, I haven’t! I… Stop. Do you place seashells chronologically? What for? What’s the point?”
“Well, it’s the way I’ve done it. Do you think it’s better to waste time on such rubbish like asking me why I’ve done something like I’ve done?” I thought I would laugh out loud. She’s suddenly lost all signs of irritation. I think, I’ve found a way of calming her down – asking questions about her habits.
“And now we’ve come to what I wanted to tell you: I think, this morning the intruder wanted to get to the thing he’s looking for. The threats they’ve been sending you were just a cover story. It meant to distract you, not to let you think logically and not to give you time to pull yourself together. And they’ve chosen the right moment – your parents went to Germany on business so you don’t have any possible way to get help, to get consolation and understand that everything is all right.”
“But the Internet. How it comes that the Internet signal is working. I could easily email my parents and…”
“But you didn’t. I think, they thought if they would unsettle your life by the threats coming from your mobile you will focus only on this problem. And I must admit that they’ve almost succeeded in it”.
“I wanted to thank you for that but you started this stupid conversation about the dust and how lazy I am and that I’m a bad...”
“No, I wanted to tell you that the intruder was looking something here on the shelves. That’s why the dust is looking so strange and your shells are all messed up.”
“Do you think they searched for the same thing they searched in the vase in the kitchen?” Mikhailina asked putting the shells back in their normal position.
“Yes. And I suppose it was the key from your father’s cabinet”.   
 
2
 
“Why it must be the key?” Mikhailina asked.
“’Cause the only closed room in this apartment is your father’s cabinet, ‘cause the only thing that would fit both in the vase and in the shell is a key – that’s why!”
“Why do you think my father had left the key home, why he wouldn’t have taken it with him?” Mikhailina pressed with a note of disbelief.
“I think any reasonable man would leave a key to an important door in a safe place”, answered I shrugging my shoulders. 
“So now you’re saying I’m not a reasonable person!” she exclaimed being definitely furious.
“I didn’t mean it. I… Anyway, what’s wrong with you? You’re getting more and more irritated with every passing second”
“That’s because you’re insulting me with every passing second!” she spat and left the room.
I was looking at the empty place where she stood a moment before. What is the bloody thing that’s happening here? One moment she’s happy ‘cause her parents are okay and the next moment she’s angry with me ‘cause she takes personally everything I’m telling her. And nothing of the things I told her was meant about her. I was in stupor and didn’t know what to do. It’s all too complicated. I never thought that relationship is such an intricate thing. I thought it was all about telling each other funny stories about oneself, laughing and walking in the rain, or doing something of it simultaneously. And now it turns up that you have to be careful in what you’re saying ‘cause you never know what exactly of what you’d just said can insult the dearest person in your life. I sighed and decided that it can’t get any worse and entered Mikhailina’s bedroom.
She was sitting at the table, her back to me. I stepped to her, trying not to make any noise and praying in my mind for the best. I stroked her hair softly, trying not to touch her too much. She didn’t response and kept on sitting in the chair in her perfect straight position. 
I cleared my throat and said as inaudibly as possible:
“Excuse me. I am really sorry. You’re the dearest, the most beloved person in my life and I do not want to lose you because of my stupidity. I love you and would never insult you on purpose. I will never insult you. In any way. Forgive me”
She made a strangled sound and then said, looking at the wall, not turning to me:
“It’s you who should be asked to be forgiven. I was behaving like Moaning Myrtle from Harry Potter, especially like a Moaning Myrtle from Harry Potter films. She was a very difficult person. It’s just… I feel like I’ve gone through hell these days. I was scary out of my wits and stupid too. Oh, how stupid I was! I even haven’t thought about the Internet, though I had to! You know, when I cried at you now… I feel like I’ve cried at myself for being such an absentminded person. I'm so hacked off on myself”
She turned to me at the chair. She cried again: her face was bright red and tears glistened in her eyes. I knelt beside her and hugged her legs.
“It’s behind you. It had passed. Now you know that everything is fine. Your parents are not in danger and all we have to do now is simply to figure out what we have to find”, I said looking up at her in the most calming down voice I was capable of making.
“You’re saying like it’s a children’s riddle. And what about the people getting here”, stammered she.
I stroked her legs encouragingly. “I think everything’s far easier than you might think. And just don’t tell me that I’ve said you’re stupid, okay?”
She smiled weakly. “Mr Voronov, I have almost forgiven you, but if you continue making such remarks I might reconsider my decision”
“I think, this will make to change your mind to the better”. I got to my feet and kissed her on the nose, and then I looked at her with the most serious expression on my face. “Do you feel better now?”
“You need to take an intense course of calming girls down by kissing them. It’s an ‘F’”, she said, looking serious too.
“And who’s gonna be a teacher?” I asked with a lopsided smile on my face.
“Me, of course”, she whispered, took the medical mask from her face, stretched her left arm and tore a mask off my face and kissed me on the mouth, forcing me to open it and inhale her smell. It was cherry flavoured this time, interesting. Still kissing her, or rather still being kissed by her, I again knelt beside her. This made her fall from her chair, but was not enough for us to break the kiss. She ended the kiss and said: “It’s a definite ‘B’, Mr Detective. You’re quick on this subject”.
“And I’m good in manipulating people. Do you think that kissing your nose is the only thing I can do?”
“Prove me wrong!” she laughed.
“Someone has a short memory, Mrs Moaning Mikhailina. Don’t you remember yesterday’s night?”
“Only joking, Mr Take-It-All-Seriously”, she laughed again and hugged me, pressing her body against mine. “Thank you. I don’t know what I would do if you weren’t here”.   
“Okay, as I had promised to you, I have proved to you your parents are absolutely safe and there’s no reason for worrying for them. Now you have to pull yourself together and forget everything. Then, with your head clear, we will be able to move on”.