That’s where our ten thousand is going!
He makes long-distance phone calls, he sends urgent cables all over the world.
Do you know how much an urgent cable costs?
Forty kopecks per word. And I can’t even afford the kefir that I need for my health.
I am a sick old man.
I’ll tell you honestly: Bender is no brain.”
“Take it easy,” said Balaganov hesitantly.
“Bender made a man out of you.
Remember how you were running with that goose in Arbatov?
And now you’re working, you’re getting paid, you’re a member of society.”
“I don’t want to be a member of society!” screamed Panikovsky. Then he added in a lower voice: “Your Bender is an idiot.
He started this whole stupid investigation, while we can take the money right now, with our bare hands.”
At this point, the Vice President for Hoofs forgot about his beloved chief and moved his chair closer to Panikovsky.
The latter, constantly pulling down his wayward dickey, apprised Balaganov of the important investigation which he himself had conducted at his own risk.
On the same day that the grand strategist and Balaganov were busy chasing Sardinevich, Panikovsky, without permission, left Funt alone in the office, snuck into Koreiko’s room in his absence, and searched it thoroughly.
Naturally, he found no money, but he had discovered something even better—kettlebell weights. Huge black weights, probably fifty pounds each.
“To you, Shura, I’ll tell you like you were my brother.
I solved the mystery of those weights.”
Panikovsky finally caught the wayward tail of his dickey, attached it to the button on his pants, and looked at Balaganov triumphantly.
“What mystery?” asked the disappointed Vice President for Hoofs. “They’re just regular weights for exercise, that’s all.”
“You know how much I respect you, Shura,” said Panikovsky, growing agitated, “but you’re an ass.
These weights are made of gold!
Don’t you get it?
Pure gold!
They’re fifty pounds each.
One hundred pounds of pure gold.
I figured it out right away, it’s like I was hit by lightning.
I stood there in front of those weights and laughed like mad.
That bastard Koreiko!
He had those golden weights cast and painted black, and he thinks no one will ever find out!
“To you, Shura, I’ll tell you like you were my brother—you think I would have told you if I could carry them myself?
But I’m a sick old man, and the weights are heavy.
So I’m sharing this with you like you were my brother.
I’m not like Bender.
I’m honest!”
“But what if they’re not made of gold?” asked the Lieutenant’s favorite son, who badly wanted Panikovsky to dispel his doubts, the sooner the better.
“And what do you think they are made of?” asked the violator of the pact sarcastically.
“Yeah,” said Balaganov, blinking with his red eyelashes, “now I see.
What do you know—an old man figured it all out!
You’re right about Bender. He’s doing something wrong: writes all those papers, travels . . .
We’ll give him his share, though, right? That’ll only be fair.”
“Why should we?” protested Panikovsky.
“We get everything!
Now we’ll live the good life, Shura. I’ll get gold teeth, and I’ll get married, you’ll see! I swear I’ll get married!”
It was decided that the precious weights should be expropriated without any further delay.
“Pay for the kefir, Shura,” said Panikovsky, “we’ll settle it later.”
The conspirators left the bar and went wandering around the city, blinded by the sun.
They couldn’t wait.
They spent a long time standing on bridges, their stomachs to the railings, and stared indifferently down on the roofs and streets that descended to the port. Trucks were climbing down those streets cautiously, like horses.
Fat sparrows from the port pecked the pavement under the watchful eyes of filthy cats hiding in the alleys.