– Ice is better, throw in a couple of cubes! – advised Arif, pushing a bowl of crushed ice towards Aman-Jalil.
All these preparations foretold a long conversation. Aman-Jalil was ready for it, and Arif wasn’t in a hurry, waiting for something, sizing up, appraising… He took out a bar of Swiss chocolate, broke it into pieces, so hospitably offered it to Aman-Jalil that his legs started to feel cold.
– Well, tell me! – Arif quietly suggested.
– What do you wish to know? – Aman-Jalil agreed readily.
– How you killed Sardar Ali and the witnesses?..
Aman-Jalil’s vision darkened and his breath caught. "Death, death!" – pounded in his temples. He decided to go all-in.
– You, comrade, are obviously interested in the details?
– Not the details. Everything!… Who ordered it… well, you know everything yourself, – Arif grumbled angrily, lighting a cigar with a golden band "Havana."
– Sardar Kareem conducted his own investigation into Ahmed’s affairs, and Ahmed instructed me to deal with him. We didn’t intend to kill him, just wanted to squeeze his throat… I succeeded, you saw the photos, they’re genuine, but Sardar Kareem didn’t give up, rushed into the Emir’s palace. As you understand, if he had managed to pass the papers through Nadir to Iosif Besarionis, our one and only father and teacher, Ahmed would have been finished, and hence, me even earlier. No need to tell you, comrade, but this couldn’t be allowed. We were lucky. Nadir wasn’t home. We kept an eye on Sardar Ali all the time and got rid of him quietly: we rented rooms nearby, and in the morning, when he settled down and fell asleep, unlocked the door, chloroformed his face so he wouldn’t scream, and threw him out the window into the courtyard. A painless death, like in a dream.
– Why did you get rid of the helpers?
– One of them looked into Sardar’s papers, understood everything, he wasn’t a fool. Together with him, we had to remove three more.
– Not two? We only found two with him.
– The pilot of Ahmed’s private jet as well.
– Why him?
– We flew there as three, I flew back alone… He would have figured everything out as soon as he read the newspaper, we have universal literacy.
Arif looked intently at Aman-Jalil.
– Are we being listened to?
– No, boss, I removed all the recording equipment myself, expecting this conversation.
– Then listen carefully, your answer depends on my decision: did you destroy those papers?
– Am I crazy?
– Does Ahmed know about them?
– No!
Arif smiled for the first time.
– I wasn't wrong about you. Keep them ready, when I'm leaving, bring them to the train. You can tell Ahmed that you convinced me of his loyalty to Iosif Besarionis, dispelled all doubts, destroyed all slander and libel.
– Ahmed will be pleased!
– I think so!… Listen, how do you feel about Iosif Besarionis? Many people don't like him.
– The word of the leader is my law! His smile is a reward! If he says: "Kill your brother!" – I'll kill him.
– Well said! The words of a man… Soon, we'll test you: words are not deeds, and we need men of action… You've given me an idea… Though, it's not for you to know…
…When a month later Aman-Jalil reads in the newspaper a brief notice that the former ambassador of the country in the French capital, a traitor who refused to return home, was sentenced to death and committed suicide by jumping out of the window of his house, he will remember Arif's words…
Aman-Jalil carefully caught every look from Arif, but he leaned back in his chair tiredly.
– We're done for today. Send me those two little ones and… the rest.
Aman-Jalil went to carry out the high guest's order but was stopped at the door.
– Wait!… Take the photographs you left in the room.
Aman-Jalil returned. Arif handed him the photos, but as soon as Aman-Jalil reached for them, Arif held onto them and, looking him in the eyes, said:
– And the original tomorrow night! Can you bring it?
Aman-Jalil's calmness surprised even himself.
– I'll do the impossible for you.
He hid the photos and left. On his signal, wine and exquisite snacks were brought in. After the snacks, two plump girls followed into Arif's bedroom.
Aman-Jalil hurried to Ahmed. On the way, he concocted a conspiracy and decided to include Kasym among the conspirators.
– Everything is fine, boss! – he reassured Ahmed. – A few scoundrels, including your relative Kasym, are behaving in such a way that it has reached the capital and the Great Leader. Arif didn't reveal names to me, but I’ll find out. He believed me that you have nothing to do with it, everything is fine.
Ahmed was pleased to hear that Aman-Jalil had skillfully averted the storm but frowned at the mention of Kasym.
– My relatives will eat me alive; I can't let you arrest that hooligan. Listen, take Arif to Nigar's concert tomorrow, secretly, don't tell anyone. If you catch Kasym doing anything, he's yours, but make sure Arif approves, understood?
– As you command, father! – whispered Aman-Jalil quietly and submissively.
Ahmed patted his cheek contentedly.
Arif was surprised to hear such an unusual proposal: to attend a famous singer's concert, and secretly at that.
– Why, dear? If something deserves your attention, send a servant, invite them, listen alone, if you want, pay them, their rates are low, if you want, don't pay, treat them royally, and if you don't like them, kick them out hungry.
– There are rumors, esteemed one, that the MC tells a story that speaks indecently about Iosif Besarionis's mustache.
– One such already disappeared on Bibir Island for such indecent hints and comparisons. He fell ill, and I personally included him in the barge list.
– The barge? – Aman-Jalil was surprised. – Ah, you mean it metaphorically?
– Literally, why metaphorically? We fill an old barge with the sick, take it out to the open sea. A small explosion, the barge sinks.
Aman-Jalil feigned admiration, immediately understanding who was the author of this economical idea.
– Genius, boss! Your Excellency, such inventions deserve a Nobel Prize. Higher, eh! No hospitals, no funeral team…
