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- Herausgeber: BookRix
- Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
- Sprache: Englisch
The professor of the research institute were robbed in a dark courtyard. Criminals kidnapped the laptop. Was it a common crime for a profit or did someone want to use the professor's secret works?
Investigator Andrew Totman will finds out. And also he will get acquainted with his new team.
The first story from the cycle 'La Scala'.
Das E-Book können Sie in Legimi-Apps oder einer beliebigen App lesen, die das folgende Format unterstützen:
Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2017
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La Scala
The Last Call
Who knew that the future will come so soon?
From BMW advertising
Prologue
A large black car stopped. Samuel Epstein opened the back door and groaned as he stepped out onto the sidewalk.
"Professor, let me help you?" The driver turned around from his seat.
"No, no, thank you. Do not worry, Edward. I'll go to the store for bread, and then I'm almost at home."
"Well, as you say. As usual, I'll pick you up tomorrow at eight, will I?"
"Yes."
"Professor! You forgot your bag!" The driver reached for the seat and handed the passenger a laptop bag.
"Oh, memory like a sieve! Thank you, Edward!"
The toned sedan blinked with a turn signal and smoothly sailed off the sidewalk, merging into the stream of cars that streamed along the night street. The professor hung a bag on his shoulder and went into a small 24-hour shop.
A few minutes later he came out, holding a paper bag to his chest. From package protruded a long loaf. The professor walked along the building, then stepped into a poorly lit archway that led from the street to the courtyard.
An uncertain shadow flew from the wall, and then the world around the professor finally faded.
"Grab the bag!"
"Check his pockets!"
"Cards, keys..."
"C’mon, run!"
Chapter 1
Chapter first, the only one
Andrew Totman woke up a minute before the alarm bell rang. He got out of bed, open one eye, took two steps to the desk, picked up an old mechanical watch. Half past five. Andrew hastened to turn off the bell before the sound was heard. After that he went back to the bed, sat on it and waking up a couple of minutes, rubbing his eyes and stretching. Finally Andrew got up from the bed, folded his linen, and put it into the closet. After that he went to the bathroom.
Andrew was a typical "owl", a fan of sleeping in the morning, so that early awakenings did not give him pleasure. However, haste preparation for work gave even less joy. So what's the difference - get up at half past five or at half past seven, if in both cases did not get enough sleep?
In the bathroom Andrew washed his face with cold water, and his mouth with a blue rinse aid liquid. After that the man returned to the room and began to dress.
Pants. Lightweight sports jacket. Thin leather black gloves on the hands. Andrew, not shod, left the apartment and closed the door behind him.
Cold rough concrete pleasantly tickled bare feet. The elevator hospitably opened its doors almost immediately after pressing the call button. Andrew stepped inside and pressed the button. The cold polished metal slightly vibrated, and this vibration was transmitted throughout the body.
The elevator quickly arrived to the first floor. Andrew nodded to the two guards who were watching TV behind a glass wall. Then he crossed the vestibule with a smooth gray tile on the floor and pushed the glass main door.
Fresh, after the night rain, air was delightful. His purity was felt even in the room through the half-open window, but on the street it felt hundreds of times brighter. Andrew smiled slightly, covering his eyes for a second and allowing himself a moment of pleasure. Turning around the corner of the house, Totman run.
Having run across the street, Andrew found himself on the embankment, trimmed with granite slabs. On the right, barely discernible in the fog that rose above the river, the bridge spans were visible. But Andrew headed left, to the far bridge, located downstream.
How nice is in the early morning! The nature is fresh and clean. The city has not yet had time to replace the oxygen of the air with exhaust gases. There are almost no people on the streets. Only couples who have walked all night. And workers hurring to early jobs. Most citizens prefer to watch the last dreams. Cars do not drive through the streets. Nowhere to run. If only jogging for your own pleasure. So fine!
Arguing in this way, Andrew has reached to the far bridge, crossed the river and jog along the embankment in the opposite direction.
Yes, of course, the modern city never sleeps. There are 24h-shops. Youth funs at clubs. Traffic on motorways does not stop. From the early morning the work of some institutions begins. Yes, we know that. But it's somewhere there, in the business centers or in the factory zones. Not here. Here is a clean, fresh, deserted morning, so wonderful, not spoiled by stupid bustle. It's a pity, the dawn is not visible behind the buildings.
"Leave it all and go away to the village," muttered Totman, crossing the bridge and heading for the pedestrian crossing. At the traffic light, a red light came on. Andrew stopped, still running on the spot. He looked to the left, looked to the right. There was not a single car on the road. However law-abiding Andrew waited for a green traffic light before continuing to run.
On the wall of the house a small sign with the image of a coiled bagel was swaying on the wind. Ordinary tin sign. Not a panel that attracts attention with sparkling lights. Not a holographic sticker. Not a logo of a well-known chain store. Just a sign of a small shop that sold the products of a small private bakery.
Andrew climbed the steps of the porch, which were covered with a green synthetic carpet, still wet after the rain. He turned an elegant gilded handle, opening a wooden door. Behind the door there rang a melodious bell, warning the hosts about the guest's visit.
"Ah! Mr. Totman! Good morning!" The owner of the bakery, he is also a salesman, welcomed the man who approached the counter.
"Morning," replied Totman, drawing the smell of fresh bread with pleasure.
"As usual?" Gustav inquired, taking out from under the counter a small paper bag and turning to the shelves with the products.
"Yeah."
"You are somewhat taciturn today," the baker remarked, neatly stacking a black bread and a couple of croissants.
"Wait, I was once upon a time talkative in the morning?" Totman grunted, taking out a credit card from the breast pocket of his jacket.
"He-he, that's right. Two are fifty."
"Thank you."
"Bon Appetit!"
Andrew left the shop and went home, holding the package at the chest level. He crossed the lobby, turned right from the elevators...
"Mr. Totman!" the voice of the guard sounded from behind the glass wall.
Totman turned, with an inquiring eyebrow raised.
"The lift are in the other side!"
The guards laughed friendly at the traditional joke. Andrew smiled politely and pushed the door leading to the fire escape.
Climbing to the seventeenth floor, he opened the door of his apartment. He left the package in the kitchen, took off his sports clothes, went to the bathroom.
Andrew switched on the shower and got up under the resilient stream.
After a contrast shower and shaving Andrew put on his bathrobe and went to the kitchen. He took out a small saucepan from the refrigerator. He picked up the lid of the saucepan, sniffed the contents and put the saucepan on the stove.
Totman cut off a large slice of fresh bread, smeared it with butter, and decorated with a sprig of parsley.
The stove clinked, signaling its readiness. Andrew took off the saucepan and laid its content on the plate. It was oatmeal. Totman poured water into the kettle, turned it on, and sat down at the table.
"For breakfast there was yesterday's porridge, but since no one began to eat it, it was left for tomorrow," Andrew inaccurately quoted a children's book.
Having finished eating porridge, Totman got up, put the plate in the dishwasher and open the wall cupboard. He got out a small box of tea from there, brewed this amazing drink in a small porcelain teapot, let it brew for a few minutes. During this time he ate a sandwich. Andrew poured tea into a thin translucent porcelain cup, pulled out croissants.
After drinking tea, he put the cup in the washer, wiped the table and went into the room. The clock showed seven in the morning.
After dressing, Andrew went out into the hallway and stayed for a moment, examining himself in the mirror. A man of average height, slender. Dressed in a black classic suit. Under the jacket is a dark gray T-shirt. Short hair of dark color. A thin face, a nose with a small bump. The entire right side of the face, from the roots of the hair to the collar of the T-shirt, is covered with black intertwining lines of exotic tattoos. Andrew grinned, winked at his reflection and left his apartment.
