Prosecutor. Chapter 11

PROSECUTOR

And so the winter passed by in labor. Spring, and then summer, added even more chores. This time Cardan's wife decided to buy coal for heating the house. There is a lot of fuss with firewood and it's practically the same worth of money.

“If we're going to use coal next winter, we need to mend the stove. The furnace might not be able to withstand intense heat. If it falls apart when the temperature drops below freezing, then we will get into trouble. I'm going over to my sister's for two weeks, so while I'm away you will remake the stove and go to the regional center to buy coal,” she instructed her husband, giving him the necessary amount of money. Cardan was a real trouble for her. At the back of her mind she had a niggle of anxiety about him, and she wasn't sure what she could do about it. That is why she was unwilling to leave him alone.

The sunlight, breaking through the window curtains, awakened Cardan from a sweet slumber. There was an unusual silence in the house. No one moved or hurried; no one forced to work and no one urged - the master of the house. "I need to switch on my inner motivation. I have to keep on spinning around," thought Cardan.
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He got up, washed his face, did the necessary house chores, had a bite, and began to take the stove apart. Attaching a chisel to the clay seams between the masonry and tapping it with a hammer, he carefully started separating bricks one from another. ”At the household everything will come in handy. Why should I throw useful things away?” It had never happened that something had turned out useless for Cardan. He took the bricks outside, found a place for them in the yard and neatly put them into a rectangular pile. Then he placed a slate sheet on top of the bricks, protecting them from a harmful effect of rain. Some positive shifts became quite apparent. The stove is dismantled – half of the work is done.
 
It was lunchtime. Cardan fried his bachelor eggs and bacon, cut off a piece of bread and began eating. Suddenly, he stopped dead. "Something is missing,” a troublesome thought was circling in his head. "Of course, how is it possible for a husband to remain at home without control of his wife and not to have a drink? Someone would probably be bored and tormented by solitude? But it is not like that with me! I'm not the one of those soldiers who rush towards tanks with grenades!"

Taking the necessary amount of money, allocated by his wife to buy coal, he nipped out to the shop, bought a bottle of vodka and got home. "Now it feels like life is getting better," his inner organs sprang to life. The stomach became pleasantly warm; and the fried eggs turned into something heavenly. Life really got better for him. Loneliness was not as frightening as before but, on the contrary, it turned into a wonderful pastime. The trips to the shop acquired a regular frequency. Regarding the food, even boiled potatoes became something out of this world. A week passed by - half of the money was spent. "Stop!” Cardan said. “I have to buy at least half of the coal."

He took every ounce of willpower to jerk him out of that mindset. After taking a day's respite, he went to the district center on the following day.
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There was a brand new pub called "777" opposite the bus station. Cardan passed by the magic number and instantly caught it in his memory. The farther he moved away from the bar, the quicker its resounding grew in his mind. "Seven, seven, seven. Seven, seven, seven," drummed in his head. He stopped as if he had hit an invisible wall, made a U-turn, and with quick steps and short dashes he headed for the fabulous place. The room inside was illuminated by dim romantic light; fascinating music was playing. He felt as if he was in a different world when he entered it, a world to which he aspired. "I'll drink a glass of beer and that'll be enough,” he consoled himself. "You have to try everything in life at least once, so that later you would not regret painfully for the aimlessly spent years," the famous words from Ostrovsky's book How the Steel Was Tempered came out of the recesses of oblivion in his memory. Cardan did not even notice how he switched from beer to wine. He knew that you can raise the degrees of alcohol but not lower them, so the wine was followed by cognac, and then - a total blur.

He woke up at the bus station in a cold sweat. "Money, where's the money? Have I really squandered everything?" He searched his pockets and at last found some banknotes. The trembling hands sorted out the money carefully, neatly stacking them in a wad. He counted them again and again and did not believe his eyes. There was not enough money for the coal. Neither for the half of it, nor even for the quarter. Cardan knew from experience that there were no desperate situations with no way out. On the bright side, there was enough money to pay for the delivery and the rest was a matter of cunning. He had to move the needle in his favor, no matter how difficult the task was. "When the Cardan is spinning - the car is rolling. It's important to be on the move!" inspiring thoughts lit a spark of hope in his mind.
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This was Cardan's moment of decision. He could go back home or he could give himself a chance to put things right. He got up from his chair, stretched himself, straightened up, and walked to the coal base "to mine coal."

If a person makes a plan for swindling someone else out of his possessions, he commits a premeditated crime; but if the deception happens spontaneously, accidentally, then this is just a way of life. Cardan always played it by ear. He did not think up his scams in advance, he was not a criminal; everything in his life happened by itself, inadvertently, and his conscience was clear from the burdens of sin.

"Could you please tell me where your boss is?" He asked the security guard, standing at the gate. Having received the necessary information, Cardan walked straight to the office of the chief at his peril. The office assistant announced that the director was busy and he had to wait a couple of minutes in the lobby.

At last the room was free of the visitor and our adventurer entered the office of the strict manager. He began his conversation directly without blushing, "We need a trailer of coal. Unfortunately, we are short of money. Let's arrange barter. I work as a chief mechanic at the tractor facilities in the nearby village. I can offer you any spare part from my stock.”

The manager was definitely not in the whole zone right then: he had been rattled by the previous visitors with petty problems. His thinking was blurred.

Cardan's last words hit the spot. After the collapse of the Soviet Union, the equipment was not updated, spare parts were very hard to get and at the coal base, just as elsewhere, were the same problems - worn-out vehicles. The director plunged into a deep thinking. It was not so easy to make a choice when so many things were needed. Before he could even begin to unravel what Cardan really meant, he clutched at the straw not to miss out on the opportunity and named the most important, in his opinion, spare part, “A fuel pump to Belarus tractor.”

No sooner had the last syllables of the tractor's name left the mouth of the speaking director, than Cardan started his usual, tried-and-tested tactics without losing a beat, “Will do! Everything is going to be alright! I will prepare a fuel pump for you as soon as I get to the tractor workshop.”
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He recited the address of the tractor facilities and added,"Ask Prosecutor, every "dog" knows me there.”
“Then, is it a deal?” the director extended his hand to Cardan. "Go, look for a truck. In a few days I'll come over to your place for the fuel pump."
“Done deal!" Cardan responded and shook the manager's hand. "You can rest assured, I'll keep my end of the bargain. First thing tomorrow morning I'll get it arranged, so when you arrive it will be oven-ready for you to pick up,” he was already closing the door behind him but was still bombarding him with sweet promises that made the head of the satisfied chief spin from the successful striking of a lucrative deal.

Cardan went to the village to find the driver, who was called Dog because of his passion for fantasy and constant lies. Speaking of him every one ended his story with the words, "He lies like a dog!" Meanwhile, Dog was delivering food to the field for the workers engaged in harvesting. It was time for them to have lunch, so the collective farm workers gathered in shade near the forest, waiting for the car with food.

A grass snake, tired of coolness and dampness, slithered out on the edge of the forest to bask in the sun. He lay quietly on the grass, enjoying the sun's rays and did not know that the place, he took a liking to, would also be chosen by the workers. One of the drivers, unaware that the place was already occupied by the creeping dweller of the forest, nearly stepped on it. He quickly flinched aside in fright and told his colleague about an unpleasant encounter. As it turned out, his colleague was not afraid of reptiles at all. He caught the grass snake and wrapped it around his arm.
“What are you doing? Are you crazy?” asked his colleague a worrisome question. “What do you need it for? Drop it!”
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"Look, Chicka's coming to us. Now we will teach him a lesson not to constantly ask for cigarettes. Let's smoke to whet his appetite. And we'll do it like this..."
He took off his jacket, hung it on a branch of a tree and carefully put the grass snake into a pocket.

"Oh, guys, could you give me a cigarette?" Chicka mumbled a request, which was a habit developed by him over many years.
"Take it over there, in the pocket of my jacket," the prankster pointed his finger at the ominous bait.
Chicka flashed like lightning to the place indicated and quickly put his hand into the pocket. In the blink of an eye he seemed to be pierced by an electric shock; he instantly withdrew his arm from the pocket and gasped with fear, “There...”
The men burst out laughing. Chika stood all white with bulging eyes and outstretched arms. He tried to add something else but could only utter, sobbing with a lack of air, “There ...”
Finally, the laughter of his colleagues brought him back to life. Realizing that it was a practical joke, he waved his hand and scornfully exclaimed, “Damn you all, fools!"
Enraged at his offenders, he stepped aside, boiling with anger and resentment.

Meanwhile, three hunters with shotguns over their shoulders came out of the woods and approached Chicka.
"Have you seen a dog around here?" they turned to him.
"Wait a little bit, in a few minutes we are having lunch and he will be delivering food for us," Chicka said.
At that moment Cardan arrived on a bicycle.
"Have you seen Dog?" he asked Chicka a similar question.
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"Oh, and you're looking for him. These people are waiting for him either. Hold on a bit, he will be coming with food in a few minutes."

The hunters stood in bewilderment, looking at one another.
"Wait, guys," one of the hunters finally said, "a four-legged dog with a tail and it can bark. Did you happen to see it? We were hunting wild ducks at the swamp nearby and lost it."
Eventually, the realization of his mistake came home to Chika.
"Oh, why did you not say it right from the start," Chicka grumbled in displeasure, "that it is a four-legged beast with a tail and can bark? It happens that we call our driver who delivers lunch for us by that name. How did I know what kind of "dog" you meant? The hunters turned around and went on to look for their four-legged friend.

Finally, Dog arrived by truck. In the body of the truck there were four tanks. In one of them was soup, in the second one – mash potatoes, in the third one - meatballs, and in the fourth tank – apple beverage. The cook, who arrived with Dog, began to pour the soup into the plates, which tired and hungry workers took to the already selected shady and grassy places for the convenient eating. Those who ate up the main course stood in line with empty plates for the second one. Cardan approached Dog and agreed on the delivery of the coal. "Only you find a plastic cloth not to get the truck dirty. You understand that I deliver food for the workers," the driver warned him.

The coal was delivered. There was a lull for two days. The director of the coal base solved urgent problems. On the third day he went to Prosecutor to pick up the promised fuel pump.
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He arrived at the tractor facilities and started to search for the chief mechanic.
"Have you seen Prosecutor?"
"No, I have not," the repairman answered him in bewilderment. "And who is he?"
"Your chief mechanic."
"We do not have a chief mechanic by the name of Prosecutor."
The director of the coal base did not believe what he heard. Was he deceived? He could not trust the first worker so easily: he could be mistaken. In despair, he began running around the territory of the tractor facilities and kept asking the same question, "Have you seen Prosecutor?" No one had the faintest idea who Prosecutor was. He went into the director's office and received the same response as from the repairman, "We do not have any mechanics by such a name. Someone must have given you a bum steer."
 
The head of the coal base could not believe in his oversight, "How could it have happened that I was cheated so easily?" It was throbbing in his temples, his chest was hot. He rushed in search of Cardan across the village, stopping all the people on his way and asking one and the same question, "Have you seen Prosecutor?"
“Who is Prosecutor? We have not seen and do not know him," they answered in astonishment. “You'd better ask the head of the village, he knows all the people here.”

The drowning director of the coal base clutched at the straw and headed for the village council.
“Excuse me! Do you happen to know who Prosecutor is?” he asked the head of the village and told him about the incident.
"Prosecutor, Prosecutor and who is this Prosecutor?" the head mumbled it again and again. “Prosecutor, Prosecutor and who is this Prosecutor? Cardan or what?” finally, the conclusion came to his mind by itself.
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“I'm not trying to show a hen how to lay an egg. But if you are the one, who has arranged the delivery of the coal to him, then you will not be able to give the case a legal move. He did not steal it,” explained the chairman. "Go to him and try to settle it."
"Oh, I swear that I will give him the most uncomfortable time when I get at him."

He told him how to find Cardan's house and led the frustrated director to the door. "How such a naive man can be a director of the coal base," thought the head of the village, seeing off the departing simpleton.

Cardan was not at home then; and it was not possible to find him the next day and on the following ones. He holed up for a while. It was not healthy, putting his head under a fallen axe.  The director of the coal base realized that once away from his immediate surroundings, he was in alien territory. His chances to turn the situation in his favor were quite slim. He was reluctant to make a big issue of it. Finally, he gave up; scolded himself for his gullibility and said through his clenched teeth, "Oh, that duplicitous swindler! Next time I'll be wiser," he hissed through his teeth.

The storm abated and Cardan returned home. "My wife must come back any minute. I have to complete the stove." He prepared clay for mortar and began to lay bricks. Suddenly the door opened and the tired wife came in.
"Wow, you are building the stove," she exhaled.
“Yes, darling, there are some shifts here,” the whipping husband justified himself.
His wife looked at the work that he had just begun and then exclaimed furiously, “Here you you go again! I will give you such a blow now that there will be some shifts in your head instead! What did you do for two weeks?! Come on, finish it quickly!”
Cardan, realizing his guilt, continued to work silently.
"It's good that you have bought coal, otherwise you would regret it," the half satisfied wife gave a frightening threat but this time a little milder.
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