The fourth president

The fourth president

Vladimir Baranchikov

© Vladimir Baranchikov, 2023

ISBN 978-5-0060-6407-2

Created with Ridero smart publishing system

I could lead a wonderful, joyful life if I weren’t a fool.

Johann Wolfgang Goethe. «The sufferings of young Werther»

Chapter 1. Sauna

Once, after looking at the «Black Square», Vasily Petrovich Lomakin decided to relax and meditate alone: what is the most important thing in life when people are scared of coronavirus from everywhere? You have to ask yourself this question when you have everything – both a university diploma and parliamentary immunity. The immersion session started in the thinking room of Vasya’s mansion, more precisely, the thinking room was located in the sauna. Where it is warm and quiet, and, most importantly, without female temptation, so as not to distract with their charms, because concentration and detachment are the first and necessary condition! And, secondly, to have a table with hot sausages and vodka next to it – and what’s the big deal, and what’s the big deal? This is just not superfluous! Lomakin respects the poetic creativity of Andrei Makarevich, the author of the text of the popular song «For those who are at Sea», especially since this topic was methodologically close and understandable to Vasily. The bard retired, took a bottle of cognac and began to write different words under a glass… It turns out that everything is ingenious, you need to have in your pocket at one time only eight rubles twelve kopecks for three stars. If he’s not lying, of course. And if vodka is the equivalent of cognac in the sense of the possibility of meeting the Muse.

– But the last thesis needs to be tested experimentally, – Vasily decided. There was a pause, so necessary in a bold experiment.

– No, he’s not lying – Vasya unequivocally confirmed after the first one, feeling familiar movements in the skull. – And it looks like the equivalent.

The problem ceased to be abstract and even began to acquire some elusive tangibility. To remove this logical contradiction, he had to bite the second one. It became stuffy, Lomakin loosened his tie and unbuttoned his jacket by one button, but no more – the position obliges even in the sauna. The process went on, and Vasily quietly began right from the chorus:

– I drink to the bottom, for those who are in the sea.., – after chewing a cucumber, he boldly developed the topic and reached the main idea, – Ta-ram, pam-pam -pam, ta-ram, pam-pam -pam!

The right rhythm was found, things were getting better, the creative process was activated, even the face turned red. He’s brainstorming! Oh, how the linguist Lomakin hated this word, all these Anglicisms are cursed, but there’s nothing to be done: the method is the method. Or maybe it’s easier to express in Russian: brainstorming? And then the thought suddenly twisted: and on the other hand, well, how to replace the concept of «dollar», well, not the ruble? This sudden, sinful, obviously unpatriotic maxim distracted Petrovich from the main route of his neural brain communication, thin associative connections were torn… That’s the devil, his machinations! Immediately it became somehow uncomfortable, the euphoria disappeared. There was a causeless, panic fear, because the installation was lowered: we’re getting rid of the dollar! Well, have you forgotten, or something… Lomakin sagged slightly and automatically loosened the belt on his trousers – just in case… Vasily’s right hand suddenly treacherously reached for the bottle, realizing the subconscious reflex of supermen – the desire to add, but the left hand, which was still obeying reason, stopped her halfway to the cherished goal. It was necessary to get out of the stupor urgently, and, fortunately, a wise thought sounded again somewhere in the convolutions:

– Treat like with like!

Yes, that’s right, a song is a song, – Vasily agreed with Professor Woland, although he did not understand the essence of his saying, and again began, but with pathos:

– Where does the Motherland begin? From the picture in your primer…

Just in case, he finished to the last line, trying to somehow rehabilitate himself, and, if possible, heartfelt, like Mark Bernes. True, Vasily’s voice did not differ in strength and overtones, but a subtle soul, he sang with it… She, my dear, suddenly trembled, unable to withstand the depth of emotions inherent in the melody and simple words understandable to every Russian, and burst into tears. And then Vasily’s right hand got out of control again and splashed half a glass at once. He had to drink, to fill his soul with something…

Well, and then? And what’s next is next as always. In general, shameless women dreamed at night, the next day the fool buzzed decently, he had to polish with beer and take a sabbatical from himself for one day.

Chapter 2. Closed opening

– Well, what is the principle by which various state-scale institutions are awarded with the names of famous people in Russia? – Vasily Petrovich was puzzled in the morning with a hangover. His head buzzing with pain set him up to criticize everything and everywere.

– It is clear that those associated with science, technology and production are the names of great scientists and designers: Korolev, Tupolev, Vernadsky. The surnames of outstanding writers and artists adorn the Academy of Arts – named after Repin, the Institute of Russian Literature – Pushkin House. Logically, – the academician debated with himself, lying on a feather bed in his luxurious blue bedroom.

The pain slowly drifted away, returning normal feelings and sane thoughts. By the evening, when the unclouded consciousness of the researcher returned to Vasily Petrovich, the conclusion was formed that the sauna, as a platform for developing ideas, had, alas, exhausted itself. The benefits of this were undeniable – the next morning, the emboldened Lomakin broke away from his fence and went to the people. Despite the cognitive dissonance, he rushed on a blue Bentley, matching the color of his eyes, according to the correct political course, to Yeltsinka library, where he hoped to find accurate and truthful information. Well, it’s not like driving to Leninka bibliotheca, all the books there must have deviated from the correct course of history…

On the subscription, read, on guard, the bespectacled librarian turned out to be vigilant, scarier than a traffic cop with a badge, she demanded a passport, a phone number, only she did not offer to breathe into a tube (and in vain!). After each question, she carefully, with a squint, looked at the academician’s reaction, and then analyzed his answer like a lie detector. While it was tedious, mockingly long to fill out a reader’s ticket with personal data, Vasily had the earth go out from under his feet several times, how bad it was with a hangover in the library stuffiness, even felt like a spy sent, and of course, from stress he wanted to add alco again. That’s how women ruin us, and you write off everything for the 1990s and cataclysms…

But thank God, the dialogues finally ended, the catalogs began. Where to start the search? Of course, with the definition of the concept! You need to know the enemy by sight, and to know his name is also a good start – linguistic turbidity, coronAvirus. In short, Vasily took a couple of folios on emidemiology and virology, walked through them with a professorial glance and quickly learned the essence. Thesis: what is the enemy like? The answer is a virus. What is a virus? This is a poison, a tiny formation, not even a cell, invisible in an ordinary microscope, but only in an electronic one. And, allegedly, this non-cell gets into an ordinary cell and multiplies there, releases the devil into the body, changes something there, and here you are: headache like now, fever, cough, and sometimes adeiu: order a wooden mackintosh, as the student Shurik used to say his partner. And the size of this non-cell is from 50 to 200 nm, that is, NANOMETERS. It was a lead… From a premonition of luck, a sudden discovery, the back of Vasily Petrovich’s head ached, like Gruppenfuhrer Muller, in the movie, in a word.

– From my father’s old budenovka, which we found somewhere in the closet.., —

Vasily quietly started the melody for some reason from the middle of the fifth verse, scratching the top of his head with his left hand, not even realizing at that moment where he was. With his free, trembling right hand, he instinctively groped for a cigarette, and in the deathly silence of the reading room, a cigarette lighter suddenly clicked loudly. From surprise, the bespectacled readers sitting at the tables jumped up in their chairs in unison. Petrovich took a savory drag on the Camel and vividly, purely automatically, expressed himself in Polish, and exclusively within the bounds of decency, as he later insisted and noted in the police report:

– Kurva takes two!

This exclamation testified that Vasily Petrovich had touched the Truth, it was somewhere nearby, very close…

Seeing a column of smoke in the reading room and a man speaking in a foreign language with a pistol in his hand, the bespectacled snake (as described by citizen Lomakin in an interview with the investigator) called a fire carriage and a police squad. We are decent people, and we will not relish further details of all the drinking and misunderstandings that happened to our hero this ill-fated evening. Well, yes, he hindered the capture and detention, well, he waved off and touched two, but he didn’t see what was in the uniform, so it wasn’t out of malice! In a warm conversation, sitting on a government stool, Vasily asked to treat this with understanding, referred to his academic status and knowledge of foreign languages, and a certificate from a psychiatric clinic saved him from serious problems. After all, what was fifteen days compared to the discovery he had made in the library?

A closed opening? It sounds like nonsense at first glance, but let’s figure it out in a simple way, on our fingers. Discovery, in a nutshell – the fundamental knowledge of previously unknown consequences of the laws of nature. For example, physicists have established the phenomenon that when exposed to electromagnetic forces, the velocity of a certain elementary particle accelerates by some amount. The example, of course, is conditional. And now these scientists are publishing an article in a scientific journal about a new pattern, proving its validity and repeatability. On this basis, the authorized state institute, after conducting special checks for compliance with the criteria, including novelty, issues scientists a document recognizing this pattern as a discovery, describes its essence, authors and the date of its establishment (priority). Imagine, however, that scientists have made a discovery, but they do not want to, and cannot, report it to the whole world – in particular, in the field of nuclear technology or weapons of mass destruction. Then they send their materials to the same national agency to recognize the regularity as a discovery, but make it inaccessible to an indefinite circle of people, that is, secret. In this case, all materials, including the decision to recognize the discovery, are also secret (or top secret, but this is not essential). Thus, this discovery is unknown to all other scientists of the world and is closed, unknown information for them. And such cases have taken place in practice. Here’s a closed discovery for you: a linguistic paradox, as Academician Lomakin would say, like a coronavirus.

Chapter 3. Beauty Plastic Clinic

Moscow, June 17, 2020, Wednesday. A young brown-haired woman in a business gray suit with a brown vintage Lakestone bag entered the building at 16 Miklukho-Maklaya Street, the office of the famous Beauty Plastic plastic surgery clinic, and proceeded to the reception desk. The receptionist, a personable middle-aged lady, Galina Sergeevna, as it followed from the badge on her robe, after a polite greeting on duty, inquired about the purpose of the visit.

– I have an appointment with Dr. Dekanosidze for 12 o’clock, – the brown-haired woman coldly informed.

– Wait a minute, I’ll clarify now.

The administrator logged into the computer schedule of appointments and found the appropriate line.

– Yes, hello again, Elena Nikolaevna, – she smiled professionally at the cute visitor with big gray eyes. – Irakli Davidovich is waiting for you in his office. Please, this way – she gestured to the door at the end of the corridor. As if on the runway, Elena Nikolaevna with a bag over her shoulder floated with an elegant, athletic gait on the marble floor. Galina Sergeevna watched her go-once she was like that…

Irakli Davidovich Dekanosidze, the owner and scientific director of the Beauty Plastic clinic, at the age of fifty-two, undoubtedly achieved success as a businessman and recognition as a scientist. Born in Moscow, his mother is Russian, graduated from the First Medical State University named after Sechenov and already in his twenties began to build his career. After completing his residency, on the advice of his supervisor, he began to specialize in cosmetology and plastic surgery. Rapidly developing his business, he found a unique niche in this highly competitive business, protected from the attacks of various «brothers» by reputable people from Georgia who settled in the capital, earned a well-deserved image of a talented surgeon among clients – businessmen, artists, officials and, of course, their wives. He had seen a lot of women in his lifetime; not having the appearance of Alain Delon, Irakli, and over the years, Irakli Davidovich, attracted many ladies with his bright image, so different from the already tired husbands and lovers of the local spill: a burning brunette, sharp facial features and pitch-black, burning eyes. But the main thing that the weaker sex felt at first sight, at the subconscious level – financial success and intelligence. He conquered women’s hearts with his unshakable confidence, low voice, the pressure of a hungry male and gentle manner. The ladies were destined to drink all this cocktail with Irakli as their relationship developed. His youth was passing away, but over the years his scientific weight grew as a specialist who mentored young medical staff, sometimes as a qualified manager, sometimes as the owner of the company; he did not exclude friendly relations, but more often they grew into closer ones. In other words, women for Irakli Davidovich were not an end in themselves, and even more so an object of sporting interest, but a natural, harmonious part of his personal life. Having secured a decent financial well-being, Irakli did not become a fan of the «golden calf», moreover, his clinic conducted a course of charitable operations that provided him with unshakable authority not only in the medical community, but also in power circles. Curiously, he lived in the center of Moscow in a large apartment with a retired mother full of worries about her only son, whom she raised alone almost all her life and still hoped that someday her Irakli would marry and introduce her to his chosen one.

Mr. Dekanosidze was sitting in a comfortable chair behind an empty work desk, his strong muscular surgeon’s hands resting freely on the polished tabletop. To his left is a pedestal with a large monitor, a beautiful writing device, pieces of paper and a cool smartphone. The walls of the office are hung with certificates, diplomas, awards of the company and its owner – Elena Nikolaevna immediately appreciated it, sitting in the chair opposite after the traditional greetings and invitations of the owner to the conversation. Irakli Davidovich rarely received guests himself, usually the visitors were consulted by specialized surgeons who led the patients along a technological chain developed over the years: consultation, diagnosis, treatment regimen, preparation of surgery and its conduct, rehabilitation. The financial side was determined at the initial admission and was legally fixed by the contract for the provision of medical services. Beauty Plastic Clinic valued its reputation, all current issues were solved by the deputy director of the clinic, whom the business owner trusted unconditionally as a friend, a medical professional, and as a commercial director. It was more reasonable and effective to educate good specialists and decent people without interfering in details and without imposing your opinion – in this Irakli was scrupulous and principled. Freedom from routine allowed him to look into the future, go to foreign medical centers, study their technologies, equipment and experience, and, as a result, be successful. Therefore, today’s consultation was a rare event for him, figuratively speaking, a curtsy to a beautiful lady. He no longer even remembered who asked him for an audience – either from the Moscow government, or from the Department of the Ministry of Health. And what’s the difference?

Careful study of each other, politely concealed by the parties, began after the first phrases. The ease of movements and the pose of the visitor in the chair – a straight back, a high-raised head with a slight arrogance in the gaze of huge, almost transparent eyes – were immediately appreciated by the owner of the office and testified to confident manners and good athletic form. A white silk blouse of excellent cut (brand Brunello Cucinelli – we will add) was gently combined with the tone of the clothes, creating a harmonious appearance, indicating a well-developed sense of taste and financial well-being. A minimum of cosmetics, jewelry and pathos – this style pleased Irakli. He could not stand the empty chatter and show-offs of the wives of some Russian multimillionaires with «greedy, like hungry wolves, eyes,» as one respectable Swiss publication deigned to put it.

Elena Nikolaevna – that’s how she introduced herself to Irakli Davidovich. Her name and patronymic were expected to be combined with her natural Russian beauty, but were only an operational pseudonym. In fact, her name was different, she worked, or rather, served as an employee of a special unit, a consultant psychologist in a solid organization that does not advertise itself and reliably hides its goals and methods with a legend about the charitable assistance fund «Good Doctor» and its noble mission. A school gold medal, a presidential scholarship to a medical university and extraordinary ranks in the service testified to the extraordinary abilities and determination of this gifted young woman. Sometimes the deceptive image of a frivolous beauty, like a mask, was deliberately used by Elena Nikolaevna to solve tasks with representatives of the «stronger» sex, many of whom stood in a hunting stance for the seductive «game» in her face (and body, let’s be honest to the end). Successfully exploiting this image in communication with narrow-minded, narcissistic narcissists, she still did not fixate on its universality in relation to self-sufficient men. At first glance, from the first minutes of communication, she regarded the owner of the office as a worthy rival – well, the more valuable the victory will be. Elena Nikolaevna answered standard questions in a calm, melodious voice, not including a single gram of charm and admiration for a scientific luminary; Irakli Davidovich, in turn, leisurely conducted a professional conversation and did not exchange compliments, not wanting to shorten the distance.

– What brings you here? – The owner asked with a slight smile. – Have you got the wrong address?

There was a slight irony in his question, a test arrow launched into the very heart of a woman’s self-esteem. The answer puzzled him somewhat:

– I came exactly to the address where specialists do miracles, – Elena Nikolaevna said without false piety. Then she paused to say the main thing, and the unexpected. – Irakli Davidovich, my husband needs an operation.

Then reasonable questions followed: why didn’t he come himself, who he is, what he complains about and what he wants to achieve as a result of treatment – ideally, of course. Here, according to the scenario of negotiations, Elena Nikolaevna had to pause, sigh, as if thinking – should she reveal herself to the end? – and then continue quietly, as in confession, periodically casting a pleading glance at the interlocutor. So she played, and Irakli did not suspect insincerity in her words and the almost pleading look of those hypnotizing female eyes. It’s not that he swam under the influence of an involuntary and alluring charm, no, I just felt the request of a good person – how easily we are deceived, how easily!

The smartphone buzzer sounded, but Irakli Davidovich ignored it. A good sign, his interlocutor automatically stated. She moved a little closer to the table, bent down a little and confided:

– My husband, Vasily Petrovich, did not want this operation, but I had to insist (pause) to preserve our marriage. You, Irakli Davidovich, will probably be able to understand me. My husband is a solid businessman, financially secure, a deputy of the State Duma in the past, so material issues do not bother us at all, we are interested in the possibility of an urgent operation under your leadership, and preferably by you personally, within the next dates. Is it possible?

– I need the patient’s ideas on the types of operations: rhinoplasty, blepharoplasty, facelift. We need a photo of your husband, how old, to begin with, we need facts, specifics, – insisted Irakli, professionally accustomed to dictate conditions. The situation intuitively ceased to please him.

– We have previously consulted on medical aspects, all three types of operations will be required, there are no contraindications.

– Then, taking into account the urgency and VIP service – one million 920 thousand rubles. Are you ready to conclude an agreement now? – Irakli Davidovich was already pushing, who wanted to get rid of this assertive lady as soon as possible and merge her to the administrator for paperwork outside his office, compensating with an inflated amount for some intuitive dislike of the transaction.

– Great! I’m paying you right away, now … – the brown-haired woman opened her briefcase, pulled out six bank packages with five thousand rubles bills and carefully laid them out on the table in front of Irakli. – There are three million here, a million for confidentiality.

The case smelled of kerosene, as they say in Odessa.

– What kind of confidentiality? – Mr. Dekanosidze could not contain his indignation, raised his voice and looked piercingly at Elena Nikolaevna. He had not been humiliated so abominably for a long time. – Take YOUR money and bother to leave my office!

– Hush, Irakli Davidovich, they can hear us! – his interlocutor repelled the attack with a suddenly changed, commanding tone. Bewilderment and confusion appeared in the doctor’s eyes. After a short pause, she continued pumping:

– Here is my certificate, – Elena Nikolaevna showed the astonished Irakli a red book with her photo, seals and credentials. – I am a representative of a special service, and the operation – I mean not only the medical part of it, is carried out in the public interest. I repeat: in the interests of the state. You are a participant in it, as an extra-class specialist, as a citizen of the Russian Federation, and as part of the overall plan. We could operate in medical institutions of the Ministry of Defense or the Ministry of Internal Affairs, but, unfortunately, there are no specialists of your qualifications there either. We have analyzed everything, if events develop in the opposite direction, they will not follow this trail – it is too risky from the point of view of secrecy, but this is at first glance. Your history, your personal file (Irakli shuddered internally) – the questionnaire, friends, connections, business and lifestyle have been thoroughly studied, and, in our opinion, there can be no misfire on your part. Of course, this also applies to the patient. That’s why I’m here today… By the way, here are the photos you asked for: a photo of your husband and the ideal to strive for, the requirement is identity of at least 95 percent, since we are talking about numbers.

Elena Nikolaevna carefully laid out six photographs on the table with her thin fingers. The light scent of her expensive perfume could be regarded as a mild anesthesia, but it caused a backlash in Irakli, another attack of internal protest. Three photos of an unfamiliar man in his thirties – full face, profile on the left, profile on the right – nothing unusual, and from the point of view of the surgeon, complicated: blond, average face. And here are the others… When looking at them, Irakli Davidovich, who had seen the sights, had a loud, intermittent heart that went somewhere sideways. Alexey Navalny was depicted in the photo.