Outside the window, the trees suddenly shook. Wind. Strong and gusty. It whipped the trees from side to side and raged with the fury of drunken Vikings, as if something he'd just said was about him. And Vincent felt it.

–

Don't take it personally. – said Gustav, not taking his eyes off the sprawling crowns dancing in unison. – People tend to take natural phenomena personally… It used to be, of course, more epic – eclipses there, and thunderstorms, any natural disaster… even the change of day and night. And it's all proven now. And with such frenzied certainty… I was talking to some Canadian Indians once. The tribe still lives in the woods today. On their own. And all with the same ideas… So, they believed that the Sun and the Moon are husband and wife, and they see them in turn because they pass each other to hold their child in their arms. Then I asked what happens at times when neither of the two of them is visible, such as when it's raining. "They both draw their bows," they told me, and when asked why they do it, they said, "How would we know?" Do you realize how naive that is? That is, up to some point they are absolutely sure, after some point they don't know anything, and pretend that it is so. And although nothing really changes from their assumptions, it helps them to live, conditionally speaking.

–

Why "conventionally speaking"?

–

Just because up to a certain point. Then someone starts thinking, starts asking questions. And then it starts to get in the way… Natural phenomena don't need to be commented on at all. They're there and that's it. They don't express anything. They don't even have that ability. You want to study them, study them. But don't interpret what they do. Because they're not even actions. It's just a given. And not trying to make sense of it is as foolish as a Persian king a few thousand years ago thinking he was punishing the sea with whips.

Vincent drank what was left in his glass, "Good example. I have another one… In Egypt. Before every flood of the Nile. On which, in fact, the survival of that entire ancient state depended, the Pharaoh issued a decree on the. To the Nile. That is, he gave an order to the river to overflow in order to be able to sow and harvest… It is more interesting to turn it the other way around – they believed that if there was no order from the Pharaoh, there would be no overflow of the Nile… Throwing a rolled-up sheet of papyrus into the river and thinking that something would change from it… Yes, it is stupid… But people have always been afraid of nature. And they've been even more afraid of people who cover themselves with nature, identifying it with themselves. And it's unlikely that anything will ever change. Too much man means nothing to her or to those who cover themselves with her. And it is peculiar for a man to be especially afraid not of the one who is strong, but of the one for whom he means nothing, as if he is afraid that he will be crushed like a bug.

With each word Gustav was once again convinced that it was not in vain that he had kept this man alive and not destroyed him. Two years ago, Gustav had traveled through southeastern Turkey, interested in ancient rock fortresses that looked like something out of a sci-fi movie. Through the same places Vincent bought smuggled oil from Iraq, not caring who it came from, where it went, or who would make money from it but him. And it was profitable for Islamist militants, who later founded an entire quasi-state. And, although the supply channels themselves were formed in the early years of Saddam Hussein's rule, when, after the failed intervention in Kuwait, international sanctions were imposed on Iraq, obliging it to sell oil for food at low prices, then these channels began to actually finance terrorism.

Vincent was buying from them and transporting them to Europe, selling the raw materials on the Rotterdam exchange under the guise of Turkish. Many people knew about it, both in the CIA and in the European intelligence services, not to mention the Turkish ones, and everyone was happy with it. But it didn't suit the competitors from BritishDutchShell, who ordered Vincent. He just got lucky that time. He met Gustave in the ruins of the old town.

–

There are many strange things in the world. – Gustav said it with a kind of experienced interest, as abstruse biologists usually say about new species of animals. – One part of the planet, for example, is always trying to save animals. And if at first it all started with rare species, now someone is trying to save all animals, even, for example, those wolves that were raised in captivity to make a fur coat out of them… And once I was in Nepal. So there is a holiday there, when hundreds of animals – sheep, goats – are slaughtered as a sacrifice. Massively. It's not even dozens. It's hundreds. And for nothing. Not for some kind of hides or meat. Just for nothing. As a tradition… – Gustav's eyes were completely calm – with the same expression he could tell about children's holidays on New Year's Eve, and about the installation of drilling platforms in the ocean, and about Nazi concentration camps – just as a presentation of information, and then you could look at the reaction of the interlocutor: as long as you were sitting without emotions, you were open; if the interlocutor felt something, you would feel it immediately yourself. This was the way to understand others, and it was easier to manipulate them. At that moment Vincent received a phone call. He really had to go. He was flying to Istanbul tonight for a meeting. It was worth bargaining about the future, and only a fresh head would do.

"Drunk again?" – It was not that Gustav cared, but rather wondered how much one could drive drunk on Krakozhin roads in an expensive car.

"Fate helps the brave," the Spaniard said, looking into the distance. And it was evident that for him it was not just words, and not self-confidence. To him it is the order of things in life. "A Latin saying," he added. – "The Romans knew how to win." A couple minutes later, Vincent was out of the house, heading for his Chrysler 300C.

The room got a little darker. But just a little. There were a lot of thoughts in my head. Gustav turned on his laptop and went to Facebook – there were 300 messages, but it was worth opening them, and it turned out that almost all of them had been written by Oksana alone, all morning.

She was offline now and probably passed out from drinking, but until it happened she had burst like a Venetian sewer. She was hysterical, insulting, apologizing, making excuses, professing her love and saying there couldn't be anyone else like him in her life. She was both ashamed and scared. And torn by the silence in return. And it was both easy and hard to write this. And wanted and didn't want to hear the answer. "So do you love me or not I SPARKS??????!!!!" her last message.

Gustav didn't write anything back. She hadn't suffered enough yet. Let her believe in hope. People are so fond of that saying, "Hope is the last to die." Apparently, everyone likes to die, or lose, or maybe be disappointed.

Let him wait. At first it will be a pleasant wait, then it will become bearable, then difficult and finally unbearable. "Why doesn't he say anything? Where did he go??? Is he on purpose????" – these are the questions that await her. And further she will make up anything, as long as she does not think that he, really on purpose. After all, he wrote that he loves her. That must be so hard to write. You can't lie in such cases. I mean, he can see her condition.

"Stupid people," Gustav thought for the hundredth or thousandth time in his life. – Thousands of years of proving to each other that we should look at actions, and everyone keeps looking at words.