When Ellery entered Pettigrew's office, J.S. was dozing with his big-booted feet on the table. He had just returned from the weekly luncheon hosted by the Chamber of Commerce in « Apem House » , and his stomach was full of Mama Apem's fried chicken. Quinn woke him up and introduced himself:
My last name is Smith. I have just arrived in Wrightsville and am looking for a small furnished house with monthly rent.
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Smith,” J.S. responded, getting into the gabardine « office » blazer. - It's terribly hot! Furnished house? It's immediately obvious that you are not local. There are no furnished houses in Wrightsville, Mr. Smith.
Then perhaps a furnished apartment...
The same. - J.S. yawned. - I'm sorry. It's getting hotter, isn't it?
Absolutely,” Ellery agreed.
Mr. Pettigrew leaned back in his swivel chair, pulled out a piece of chicken stuck in his teeth with an ivory toothpick and examined it carefully.
We have a problem with housing. Yes sir. People pour into the city like grain into a truck. Especially for working in a machine shop. One minute!
Mr. Queen waited obediently until J.S. flicked a piece of meat off the toothpick.
Mr. Smith, are you superstitious?
Ellery was surprised by the question, but answered:
Hardly.
J.S. beamed.
In that case...” he began, but broke off his sentence. -What business are you here for? Not that it matters, but...
Ellery hesitated.
I am a writer.
The realtor gaped.
Do you write stories?
Including Mr. Pettigrew. I write books.
J.S. beamed even more.
It's an honor to meet you, Mr. Smith! Smith... Strange! I read a lot, but I don’t remember an author with that last name... What did you say your name was, Mr. Smith?
I didn't say it, but my name is Ellery. Ellery Smith.
Ellery Smith... - J.S. repeated thoughtfully.
Ellery Queen smiled:
I write under a pseudonym.
Yeah! Under a pseudonym... - Seeing that Mr. « Smith » continues to smile silently, J.S. rubbed his chin and asked: “I assume you have recommendations?”
Paying three months in advance will give me a good reference in Wrightsville, Mr. Pettigrew?
Now I have to smile! - J.S. grinned. - Come with me, Mr. Smith. I have just the house you are looking for.
What did you mean when you asked if I was superstitious? - inquired Ellery as they got into J.S.'s poison-green two-seater and pulled away from the curb. - Is this a haunted house?
“Not really,” responded J.S. “Although there is a strange story connected with it - perhaps it will give you an idea for another book, huh?”
Mister « Smith » agreed that this could not be ruled out.
The house stands on the Hill next to the home of John F. Wright, president of the Wrightsville National Bank.
This is the oldest family in the city. Three years ago, sir, one of his three daughters - the middle one, Nora - became engaged to Jim Haight. Jim was a senior teller at J.F. Bank. He's not local - he came to Wrightsville from New York a couple of years earlier with excellent recommendations. He started as a cashier's assistant and performed well. Jim is a reliable guy. He avoided bad company, was often in the library, did not have too much fun - I think he only went to the cinema « Bijou » Louis Kayhana or stood with other guys at brass band concerts, watching the girls, munching popcorn and teasing them. Jim worked hard and stood strong on his feet. We all liked him. - Mr. Pettigrew sighed, and Ellery wondered to himself why such a rosy description had such a depressing effect on his interlocutor.
Apparently Miss Nora Wright liked him better than the others, he noted, to grease the wheels of the story.
That's right,” J.S. nodded. “She was crazy about him.” Before Jim arrived, Nora was known as a quiet woman - she wore glasses and, probably, therefore considered herself unattractive, since she sat at home, reading, embroidering or helping her mother with her organizational work, while Lola and Patty were out with the guys. But Jim changed all that, sir. He wasn't the type to be stopped by glasses. Nora is a pretty girl, and when Jim started courting her, she immediately changed... - J.S. frowned. - Apparently I talk too much. But you get the point. When Jim and Nora got engaged, the whole town thought they were a perfect couple - especially after what happened to John's eldest daughter, Lola.
What happened to her, Mr. Pettigrew? - Ellery quickly inquired.
J.S. turned onto a wide country road. They had already left the city, and the abundant greenery pleased Ellery's eyes.
Did I say something about Lola? - the realtor asked embarrassedly. - Well... she ran away from home with an actor from a touring troupe and after some time returned to Wrightsville, divorced. - J.S. pursed his lips, and Mr. Queen realized that he would not hear anything more about Miss Lola Wright. - John and Hermione Wright decided to give Jim and their Nora a furnished house for their wedding. John separated part of his estate and built a house there next to his, since Hermie wanted Nora to live as close to them as possible, since they... had already lost one of their girls.
“Lolou,” Mr. Queen nodded. - You said that she got divorced and returned here. So Lola Wright no longer lives with her parents?
No,” J.S. snapped briefly, “So John built a six-room house next door for Jim and Nora.” Hermione has already brought carpets, furniture, curtains there, bed sheets, silverware, when all of a sudden it all happened.
What exactly? - asked Ellery.
“To tell the truth, Mr. Smith, no one knows,” the realtor admitted. - Nobody except Nora Wright and Jim Haight. Everything was fine with them, but the day before the wedding, Jim unexpectedly left. Escaped! This happened three years ago, and no one has heard anything about him since then. - They were driving up a winding road. Ellery saw old houses on green lawns and elms, maples, cypresses, weeping willows who were much taller than them. - The next morning, John F. found Jim's resignation letter on his desk at the bank, which said nothing about the reason. And Nora didn’t say a word either - she simply locked herself in the bedroom, cried there and did not go out to her father, her mother, her sister Patricia, or even the old maid Ludi, who practically raised the three Wright girls. My daughter Carmel and Patty Wright are best friends, and Pat told Carmel everything. Pat herself shed many tears that day. I think the others too.
What about the house? - Quinn inquired.
J.S. pulled over to the side of the road and turned off the engine.
The wedding was cancelled. We all thought that this was an ordinary lovers' quarrel and Jim was about to appear again, but this did not happen. Obviously the breakup was serious. - The realtor shook his head. - New home They completed the construction, but it turned out that there was no one to live in it. A terrible blow for Hermione. She began to spread the rumor that Nora had given Jim her resignation, but...
Yes? - Ellery encouraged him.
People soon began to say that Nora... was damaged in her mind and that the six-room house brought misfortune.
Misfortune?
J.S. smiled sourly:
It's funny, isn't it? Of course, the house has nothing to do with Jim and Nora's breakup. And Nora is not crazy at all. - He snorted contemptuously. - But that's not all. When it became clear that Jim would not return, John F. decided to sell the house he had built for his daughter. Soon a buyer was found - a relative of Judge Martin's wife, Clarice, named Hunter, from the Boston branch of the family. I made the deal. - J.S. lowered his voice: - I give you my word, Mr. Smith, when I took this Mr. Hunter into the house for the last inspection before signing the contract and we went into the living room, he said: « I don't like this sofa » , then looked around the room with a frightened look, grabbed his heart and fell dead in front of me! I didn't sleep for a whole week after that. - The realtor wiped his forehead. - Doc Willoughby said it was a heart attack, but the city said it was all in the house. First Jim ran away, then the buyer died on the spot. And to top it all off, some reporter from « Archives » Frank Lloyd wrote a note about Hunter's death and named the scene of the incident « Unlucky home » . Frank fired him - he's friends with the Wrights.
What nonsense! - Quinn grinned.
However, there were no more buyers. Then John offered the house for rent, but also to no avail. Do you still want to take it off?
“Of course,” Ellery responded cheerfully. J.S. started the car again. - It seems that the family is unhappy, not the house. One daughter ran away, the other is heartbroken... Is the youngest daughter even normal?
Patricia? - J.S. beamed. - The prettiest and smartest girl in the city after my Carmel! She is Carter Bradford's fiancée. Kart is our new district attorney... Here we are!
The realtor turned into the driveway of a house in colonial style, standing on the slope of a hill far from the road. The house and the trees on the lawn near it were the largest Ellery had ever seen on the Hill. Nearby nestled a small white frame structure, whose windows were closed with shutters.
Mr. Queen glanced at him as he walked up to the wide porch of the Wright house. J.S. pressed the bell, and old Ludie, wearing one of her famous starched aprons, answered the door and asked what the hell they wanted.
The house on Brivibas 46 stands in the very center of the capital, and at this time serious passions are flaring up around it.
One of the former owners of this building, I. Badenov, is sure that businessman Dmitry Stadnyuk, helping to obtain a loan for the purchase, deceived him. In turn, Dmitry Stadnyuk has no doubt that he was the victim of real extortion. The residents are not satisfied with the living conditions in the house and they file lawsuits against the owner asking for compensation for moral damage.
Don't talk to strangers
According to I. Badenov, this story began in 2005, when he, together with his business partners Viktor Kulish and Igor Konno, decided to buy a house on Brivibas, 46 - then it belonged to the Synod of the Latvian Orthodox Church. The value of real estate at that time was more than 2 million lats. In order to make payments, buyers needed credit. “At that time, I met Dmitry Stadnyuk and Anna Afanasyeva (D. Stadnyuk’s wife), they offered their services in obtaining a loan. I agreed, since they seemed to me to be very respectable people,” recalls I. Badenov.
Speeding up the process
However, more than two months passed, and the issuance of the loan was delayed. “There were different excuses, but I waited patiently and believed that everything would work out with the loan,” says I. Badenov. On September 30, 2005, I. Badenov entered into a cooperation agreement with A. Afanasyeva and D. Stadnyuk.
Around the same time, the IPSO S enterprise was created, in which 60% of the fixed capital was to belong to I. Badenov and his partners, and A. Afanasyeva and D. Stadnyuk - 40%.
“Stadnyuk told me that in order to speed up the process of obtaining a loan, it is necessary that it be issued to the enterprise, and for this, in turn, the house must be rewritten as IPSO S. I completely trusted Stadnyuk and agreed to this,” says Badenov.
However, during the re-registration, I. Badenov never received his 60% of the IPSO S enterprise. Moreover, Stadnyuk and Afanasyeva became the only owners of IPSO S, and D. Stadnyuk became the only member of its board. The house ended up in the possession of the IPSO S company, to which neither Badenov nor his partners had any connection.
Didn't inspire confidence
The story that Business & Baltic heard from Dmitry Stadnyuk differs from the story of his opponent. D. Stadnyuk explained that he has known I. Badenov since 1997. “Badenov himself came to me with an offer to buy a house together. I refused. At that time, the deal seemed unlikely to me. In addition, Badenov owed me several hundred thousand dollars and used to often come with various business projects that did not cause me much concern. trust."
However, when Badenov, Konno and Kulish brought D. Stadnyuk documents stating that they were legally the owners of the house and asked for help in obtaining a loan, because They had to pay for the house in full by October 21, 2005 - Stadnyuk changed his attitude towards the purchase.
According to Stadnyuk, a loan of 3.7 million euros was needed. They applied for a loan to Rietumu Banka, which set the condition - to complete the purchase for legal entity. For this purpose, a cooperation agreement was concluded, according to which Badenov, Konno and Kulish were to enter IPSO S (60% of the enterprise’s profit). Rietumu Banka refused the loan. Then they decided to use another option, and Dmitry Stadnyuk purchased the house, and all participants in the enterprise agreed to this.
Talk differently
The cooperation agreement was revoked and another purchase and sale scheme came into force. “According to Igor Badenov, I forged documents revoking the agreement, according to which the “three comrades” were to join the IPSO S company,” says D. Stadnyuk. The conclusion of the Economic Police Department on the termination of the criminal case against Stadnyuk, which was initiated by Badenov, Kulish and Konno (documents were provided to Business & Baltics by Dmitry Stadnyuk), states that during the investigation the version of forgery of the cooperation agreement reviews did not find evidence.
After purchasing the house, Stadnyuk invited Badenov, Konno and Kulish to take up management and receive a reward for it. However, according to him, “the three gentlemen did not succeed, everything had to be done by my team.” After some time, they contacted me again and said that they still wanted to take care of the house. “I suggested that they draw up an agreement, but refused to draw it up myself. They returned without an agreement, but with the words that now they would talk differently.”
Rights through court
I. Badenov told Business & Baltic that on at the moment tries to defend his rights through the courts. In one of the claims, Badenov challenged the agreement concluded in September 2005 with IPSO S for the sale of the house at Brivibas, 46. In the statement of claim, Badenov wrote that the agreement indicated the purchase price of 1.02 million euros. Of the amount specified in the contract, Badenov did not receive 270 thousand euros.
In his opinion, IPSO S did not intend and does not intend to pay this amount. That is why this agreement must be canceled, since due to delays in payments, I. Badenov himself, who acted as the seller, is no longer interested in this sale. In addition, it turned out that the property was also burdened. In his opinion, IPSO S did not have the right to encumber the property with mortgage loans, since the full price requested by the seller had not yet been paid for it. The company IPSO S indicated that on October 21, 2005, 1,470,000 euros were transferred to the account of the Synod of the Latvian Orthodox Church. 300,000 euros were paid before the contract was concluded.
On June 30, 2006, the Supreme Court rejected Badenov, but he intends to challenge this decision in a higher authority - the Senate.
And other lawsuits
Another lawsuit by Badenov, Kulish and Konno regarding the house at 46 Brivibas was considered by the Jurmala court. In this case, the defendants were D. Stadnyuk, A. Afanasyeva and Viktor Smirnov (the latter, according to Lursoft, wholly owns the Silk Road Baltija company - the sole owner of IPSO S). The plaintiffs asked the court to seize the IPSO S company.
In June 2007, the Jurmala court secured the claim of Badenov, Kulish and Konno, seizing the company. The defendants did not agree with this. On September 1 of this year, the Jurmala court partially granted the defendants’ request to cancel the arrest.
D. Stadnyuk has no doubt that the only goal of I. Badenov and his companions was to achieve the seizure of property. “They achieved this - the house was arrested, the company was arrested. Their plan is simple - wait until November. That’s when the loan agreement for this house expires - more than 4 million euros. If the house is seized, I will not be able to renew the mortgage in the Land Register “Now I have a choice - to find the amount that I owe to the bank by November, or to contact Badenov, Kulish and Konno to solve the problem. They want 2 million euros for lifting the arrests,” states Stadnyuk.
“In January of this year, 240 grams of TNT were attached to the gate of my house. This house is starting to remind me of a Bulgakov novel,” said D. Stadnyuk. Igor Badenov, in a conversation with the newspaper, also remembered TNT, but explained that Stadnyuk’s suspicions about his involvement were unjustified.
Let us now turn our attention to the opposite side of the street. There are several non-existent addresses on Arbat. On the spot brick wall stood house number 14. It was destroyed in 1942 by a German bomb dropped on the Arbat, and has not yet been restored. However, it is possible to get an idea of the appearance of this building, since it was actively replicated in print, first in the form of sketches and then in photographs. This was explained not only by his attractive appearance, but also the legends with which it was surrounded. The fact is that house No. 14 was considered the abode evil spirits, and although he did not cause much trouble, at night Muscovites still preferred to avoid him. Indeed, once one of the Obolensky princes committed suicide here, but the strange noises and sounds coming from here could be explained much more simply - the house was chosen by criminal elements and, probably, they organized drunken parties at night. This is how numerous legends arose about the ghosts of house No. 14, which worried Muscovites and were passed on from mouth to mouth.
However, this place has seen many wonderful people. First of all, I was born here great commander Russia, future Generalissimo Alexander Vasilyevich Suvorov.
There is no need to talk about his legendary crossing of the Alps, the fact that his hand belongs to the famous work on the intricacies of military affairs “The Science of Victory,” about mutual hostility with her son Paul I, who ascended the throne after Catherine the Great, or that he was one of the most educated people of its time.
In the 19th century, the owner of house No. 14 was Prince Mikhail Alexandrovich Obolensky. In his possession was the famous portrait of Pushkin by Vasily Andreevich Tropinin, which later became the pearl of the Tretyakov Gallery collection. This portrait was painted in 1827, when Alexander Sergeevich was 28 years old, and was kept secret here until 1860, when its owner, Prince Obolensky, allowed the precious relic to be photographed. There is an interesting legend associated with this portrait. The fact is that in the 19th century, the distinctive sign of every Mason was a long nail on the little finger. When Tropinin came to paint a portrait of Pushkin, he recognized him as a Freemason by this nail. The artist made a sign to Pushkin, to which the poet did not answer him, but shook his finger - a gesture both confirming and warning.
At the end of the 19th century, the house was rented by another Russian prince, Lev Sergeevich Golitsyn. The figure is remarkable in many ways: a graduate of Moscow University and the Sorbonne, Golitsyn preferred a peasant army coat to tailcoats and tuxedos, and on all papers he always added “winemaker” to the title “prince.” Golitsyn actually had a large estate in the Crimea, not far from Sudak, where he was engaged in winemaking for his own pleasure.
He carefully studied all varieties of grapes and their behavior in the Russian climate, examined cellars dug at different depths and established which depth was suitable for which variety. Golitsyn's particular interest was in champagne wines, the production of which he put on an industrial basis and brought to the international level. His successes were so great that in 1900, champagne from Golitsyn’s vineyards “New World” (later renamed “Coronation”) was awarded highest award- Grand Prix of the exhibition. Golitsyn's technology is currently considered classical. Its main secret is the secondary fermentation of wine in the bottle and subsequent aging for at least 3 years. Experiencing a shortage of funds, but wanting to preserve technology in Russia, he sold his vineyards to Emperor Nicholas II, remaining the lifelong manager of his own estates.
To the right of the “devil’s nest,” as house No. 14 was nicknamed by superstitious Muscovites, until the 1920s there stood the Church of St. Nicholas the Revealed - the same one near which French commander Murat stood waiting for messengers from the Kremlin.
The temple was erected at the beginning of the 17th century and was considered one of the richest in Moscow. He was surrounded by a large parish - i.e. territories and houses belonging to the church. Among the houses there were not only residential ones, but also those reserved for shops, which provided a good income. There is now a restaurant in house No. 16, but until recently the Flowers store existed here for several decades.
In the place where we are, two lanes adjoin the Arbat. On the left is Starokonyushenny, on the right is Serebryany. Let's turn into Starokonyushenny Lane to head to the next stop at Sivtsev Vrazhek.
The names of the lanes speak for themselves: in Starokonyushenny in the 17th century there was a settlement of grooms serving the royal court, in Serebryany there was a mint. A century later, the grooms were supplanted by wealthy nobles, and living in Starokonyushenny for a long time among the aristocracy it was considered a sign of nobility and wealth.
On the left side of Starokonyushenny we almost immediately encounter an interesting landmark, a monument of wooden architecture late XIX century - the house of entrepreneur Alexander Aleksandrovich Porokhovshchikov, belonging to the same land ownership as house No. 25. The model of this house, which looks so unusual in the city center, received an award at the World Exhibition in Paris as the embodiment of a truly Russian style. In fact, we have before us a charming product of the neo-Russian style, characteristic of the late 19th century. Not only architects, but also, for example, artists were interested in the roots of the Russian people. Let us remember how Viktor Vasnetsov embodied him in painting, and if you look at his “Three Heroes” or “Alyonushka”, you will most likely find a lot common features with the Arbat "hut". Now the Powder Man's house is carefully preserved by his descendant, a famous Russian artist.
While we are approaching Sivtsev Vrazhek, a few words about another interesting phenomenon: the frequent appearance of the name Nikola in the names of lost Arbat churches.
St. Nicholas the Revealed, St. Nicholas in Plotniki, St. Nicholas on the Sands - all these are churches dedicated to St. Nicholas the Pleasant. They are located in areas where numerous Streltsy settlements were once located. First of all, you never cease to be amazed at how “everyday” the names were given Orthodox churches in Moscow - St. Nicholas on the Sands, or the Trinity on the Mud, the Holy Trinity on the Droplets, or in general St. Nicholas the Wonderworker on the Chicken Legs. The treatment of Saint Nicholas was no less free and completely personal - which other saint could be called so simply, like a neighbor, Nicholas? And the point here is not disrespect for the sacred, but quite the opposite – sincere people’s love. Nikola Ugodnik, as he was often called in Rus', was one of the most revered saints, standing immediately after Jesus and the Mother of God in the unofficial hierarchy of veneration. His kindness was comparable only to the kindness of the Most Pure Virgin, but only he stood closest to the people. Nicholas was a protector and patron, a savior from all troubles. A child fell ill, there was a crop failure, a landowner demanded money, or livestock fell ill - in all cases they turned to the saint. He was also considered the patron saint of prisoners and innocent convicts, the poor, wanderers, and travelers. It has long been revered by sailors, and nowadays car drivers resort to its help. What, if not the icons with the image of St. Nicholas the Pleasant on the front panel of cars, best speaks of the strength of the tradition of venerating St. Nicholas in our country?
However, despite the great popularity of this saint, few people now know his historical fate and the fact that Saint Nicholas and Father Frost are one and the same person. The prototype for the Christmas tale was the story of a bishop from the city of Myra, who lived during the Roman Empire. Now this city is located on the territory of modern Turkey. According to legend, when one ruined townsman was about to give his daughters to “fornication,” Nicholas secretly threw him three purses of gold and thus saved the family from hunger and sin. Wallets were thrown over the chimney, money fell into stockings that were drying by the fireplace, and since then the tradition has been to hang elegant socks by the fireplace at Christmas in anticipation of gifts.
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Chapter ten.
Unlucky house
I started building this five-story house when I was still a young man who had just taken the oath.
A house is like a house. It was intended for the families of officers. But the fate of this house turned out to be so unfortunate that it was completed when I was demobilized. Or rather, they rebuilt it, but more on that below.
My platoon was taken to a construction site by Sergeant Chavchavadze, a young guy who had served conscript service and remained in his company for extra duty. Since he had been in a soldier’s skin and had not yet acquired the thick skin of a hippopotamus, he felt sorry for us and helped us in every possible way. But it seemed the house rejected all his efforts. So he, and therefore us, were not given an excavator to lay the trenches. But, as you know, three soldiers from the construction battalion replace the excavator. And we dug trenches by hand, uprooting tree roots and stones, staining our brand new tunics and riding breeches. Chavchavadze, threw off his tunic and climbed into the trench with us. He was a thin, short guy, black-browed, with an aquiline nose. Despite his frailty, he alone replaced the excavator. When we, having rubbed our palms bloody, soaked through with sweat, collapsed next to the trench to catch our breath, he alone tirelessly threw and threw the earth. He grabbed an ax and uprooted powerful roots. We were ashamed to lie around for a long time and we went down to him again. He brushed off entreaties to rest and said that he was not tired.
It ended with him, trying to throw out a hefty stone alone, and dropped it and suffered a broken leg. This was the first accident. How could we have known then that this house was unhappy?
Finally they brought us a dozer, and in the very first days of its operation the bulldozer overturned. Alexander, his second year of service, did not have time to jump out of it and was injured. There were no fractures, but there were so many bruises on him that Sanka looked like a blue alien for some time.
Slowly the house began to rise. Excavation work gave way to concrete work. And we, like the damned, dragged heavy concrete on stretchers up stairs that didn’t even have railings yet.
You guessed right, this time I got pregnant. Or rather, it didn’t get knocked up, but flew away. Having stumbled, I lost my balance, and flew a couple of flights like a shot bird. But this time the trouble was over. Apart from bruises, I did not have a single fracture. And when they put me in the medical unit, and I was kept in a bed for a whole week, my joy knew no bounds. In addition, friends brought soda, buns, and a soldier's delicacy - condensed milk - to the unfortunate victim.
But all good things come to an end quickly. A week later I returned to the site (that’s what the house was called). We ran out of concrete and mortar and we basked on the grass, remembering Raikin’s unforgettable “brick bar, mortar yok, sitting kuru.” There was practically no one at the site that day except our platoon. So there was complete silence, except for the hum of the flame in the bitumen cooker. We soaked in the sun and told jokes. There was a smell of something burning. Taking a quick glance at the construction site, we did not find anything on fire. A few minutes later there was an explosion and an iron barrel of diesel fuel suddenly flew into the air.
Our serenity instantly evaporated. We rushed in this direction, but immediately retreated, as two more explosions were heard one after another and two more barrels flew into the sky.
Hiding behind a standing bulldozer, we carefully looked out from behind it. Mom dear. The bitumen cooker is all engulfed in flames, next to it a mountain of boards, pallets and all sorts of boxes is burning, and next to the burning mountain there are barrels of diesel fuel. Those of them that are empty alternately explode and fly apart, some up, some to the side, with explosions scattering flaming boards, which in turn set fire to everything around that can burn. The spectacle is very beautiful and exciting. It would be possible to calmly watch the fireworks, if not for one “but”. The fire was approaching a huge tank of gasoline. He was already literally centimeters away from her, and the heat was probably already heating up the tank. She was about to bang. And then it wouldn’t seem enough to all of us. We had to run, but suddenly Volodka Vinnitsky rushed to the tower crane and climbed onto it like a monkey. Another minute and the crane moved, its boom began to unfold and hovered over the tank. The hooks began to descend.
Me and two other guys grabbed the cable that was lying around and climbed onto the tank to tie it up. The work turned out to be hot. The fire tried to lick our faces, our eyebrows were scorched in an instant, our hands were burned by the hot iron. But adrenaline was pumping in our blood and we managed it. They hooked the cable with hooks and ran away like hares. The cable tightened and the tank tilted, but did not slip out. Slowly, very slowly, she rose above the fire and began to swing, risking slipping out of the rope or exploding in the air. But then the crane turned and the tank floated to the side.
The danger seemed to have passed, but only now fear struck us. Our hands were shaking, our knees were shaking... We ran away from the fire and landed on the grass.
Suddenly a lot of people appeared on the site from somewhere, our construction battalion soldiers from the unit, some civilians, came running. They began to pull away the burning boards, someone started up a bulldozer and began to push the barrels of diesel fuel to the side. A hose appeared from somewhere, and they began to water from it what had not yet caught fire. Another half hour and the fire died down. Only smoke and steam rose from charred firebrands and logs.
The fire was somehow quickly forgotten. The time was approaching autumn. The house grew floor by floor. The fourth floor is already ready. Now the last fifth has almost risen...
To our joy, a team of civilian girls - plasterers - appeared at the site. They occupied one of their apartments on the ground floor. There they had a paint warehouse, one room served as a dressing room, and in one, out of nowhere, a sofa, a table and several chairs appeared, and the girls usually rested and had lunch there. They were not deprived of the soldiers' attention, and by the fall it suddenly turned out that one of them was getting married. And not for anyone, but for our construction battalion soldier, the quietest and most modest. No one could even imagine that he would seduce the most beautiful girl among “our” plasterers just like that, in just a couple of months. The unit commander agreed to their wedding and, to our inexpressible joy and happiness, it died down in our soldiers' canteen.
It was a hot autumn day. We worked on the roof, laying twelve-meter floors in the roof of the fifth floor. All that remained was to lay a few floors and the frame of the house was, as it were, built. Everyone had already gone to the unit to have lunch, and we, in order to bring the matter to an end, decided to stay and report on the last overlaps.
Me and two more of my comrades raftered them, and I commanded the crane:
- Vira, vira little by little! Myna!
Two guys on the roof picked up the raised ceiling, turned it around, and laid it in its place with centimeter precision. Here we raised the penultimate ceiling to the roof level. Suddenly, one of the two cables that secured the ceiling burst with the sound of a shot. The floor slab became warped and began to rotate around its axis. Having described a wide semicircle, one end of the ceiling almost knocked one of the soldiers off the roof. By some miracle he managed to jump, fly up onto the ceiling and grab onto the crane cable. At the same moment, the ceiling caught the wall. At first nothing happened and you would have thought that everything was over. But suddenly a strange, quiet humming sound was heard and the building began to very slowly settle in its central part. The next entrances began to lean towards the center. The house, like a domino, began to fold towards the center and, as if in slow motion, collapsed. There was a roar and a cloud of dust shot up into the sky like an atomic explosion. Then it began to settle and a terrible picture appeared before us. There was no home. In its place was a pile of rubbish, fragments of walls, ceilings, and blocks. And high in the sky a concrete slab with a little man on it, frozen in horror, was circling above it.
The silence lasted only a minute. The crane operator began to lower the slab, and we almost prayed out loud that the second cable would not break. But then we picked up the slab and laid it on the ground. Zurab, one of those working on the roof, stood on the stove. His partner was not there. It was clear that he was buried under the rubble of the building.
Zurab grabbed the cable so tightly that we had to force his fingers apart.
Suddenly someone screamed in a voice that was not their own.
- Girls! There are girls there!
Indeed, since their apartment is under rubble, they always have lunch in it at this time.
We rushed to rake through the debris with our fingers, trying to throw away, drag, and roll away the hefty debris. It was scary to stumble upon a dead girl, to see her arm or leg. Such strength awoke in us that sometimes we alone lifted pieces that we would never have lifted in a normal situation. Minutes later, more helpers appeared. Everyone worked frantically and silently. Only tears rolled from the eyes, and occasionally they shuddered, tearing their palms or getting bruised.
- Oh, what's going on here?
Everyone froze as if on cue. Then we turned around and stared like ghosts at those who asked the question. In front of us stood our girls, our plasterers, our dear, cute, beloved ones. Alive and healthy. We rushed to hug and kiss them, but they could not understand what had happened.
It turned out that the whole team decided to sneak into a local store, and at the time of the tragedy they were not in their apartment.
The second soldier, Peter Grechishny, was soon dug up. But this already happened without us. Neither I nor my friends, before whose eyes this happened, could bring themselves to go into Lenin’s room, where next to closed coffin his parents were sitting. We didn’t go to bury him either. Instead, someone brought a bottle of vodka and we sat down on the bed opposite his bed, put a glass of vodka on his bedside table, covered with a piece of bread, and drank without clinking glasses so that Petka may rest in peace.
Then there was an investigation. It turned out that the house was built with a thousand violations. That cement was stolen, and there was more sand in the solution than cement, that the welding was of poor quality, that... And so on and so forth. The head of the UPR was demoted to the rank and file and sent to construction on Damansky Island, where at that time there were battles with the Chinese.
The construction site was cleared and the house began to be built all over again. Only I no longer had to attend his ceremony. And yet I came across this house again. We were building then in Goncharov Krug, all in the same tents, all in the same tank unit, from where the tank unit was flown by plane to Czechoslovakia within a few hours to suppress the “Prague Spring”. It was already winter, and when we woke up in the morning our heads were covered with frost and frozen to the pillows. I caught a severe cold and was taken to Chernigov for treatment. Since I was very weak, I was assigned to guard one of the entrances of the “unlucky” house. The house was already finished and even partially furnished. To prevent this furniture from being stolen, a soldier was placed at each entrance “to guard military property.” True, the guards did not have any weapons other than their own fists and a menacing voice (and I didn’t even have a voice, since I was hoarse). However, it was a raspberry, as my “favorite” petty officer Kuryachy immediately announced. They say that these Jews will always find a warm place.
I looked for an apartment on the third floor and settled there. My comrades also spent the night in the neighboring entrances, one per entrance. Having locked the entrance door with some piece of wood, threading it through the handle, I fell asleep.
At night I heard some noise, but I still didn’t understand what it was. In the morning, the winter sun illuminated my window and I woke up. I could hear talking and shouting on the street and I looked out the window. There was a grocery store about a hundred meters from the house and people gathered near it.
Was there some kind of shortage? You should be curious. After checking the security of the entrance door lock, I climbed out through the window of one of the apartments and went to the store. My comrades from the neighboring entrances were also already there. But none of them knew what was the matter. Plucking up the nerve, I dived into the crowd and found myself on the other side. However, there was nothing here at all. From this side there was a road on a low embankment. Under the embankment there was a blackened concrete pipe. There were still twenty meters left to the store.
Turning around, I asked someone what happened. And he said: “Bend over and look into the pipe.”
I looked in. At first I couldn’t understand what I was seeing there. And only after getting used to the semi-darkness in the pipe I understood. There was a girl lying there. Her coat was unbuttoned and open, and the coat had a scarlet satin lining. Her bare legs were bent and turned to the sides, and between them the silk of the dress was red. But after a moment I was horrified. It wasn't a coat lining, and it wasn't silk. The girl lay in a pool of blood, and her stomach was cut and there was red blood-soaked fabric torn from her dress.
I felt bad. Soon the police appeared, arriving in a yellow police lawn. Some woman identified the girl. A few minutes later, the police sat her down on the lawn and drove off somewhere. Meanwhile the crowd grew.
Soon a guy was brought in. When they showed him what was in the pipe, he lost consciousness. They brought him to his senses and he said that this was his girlfriend, and that his younger brother was also hitting on her. For which he recently beat him on the neck. Since yesterday, my brother has disappeared and has not appeared at home.
The cops left to question their friends younger brother and soon found him. When they began to lead him to the pipe, he began to scream and struggle.
- Let me go, policemen. I'll tell you everything.
And he began to talk. Ever since the 9th grade, he had been trying to hit on this girl who was a year older than him. But she did not pay attention to him and he suffered terribly from this. Moreover, she began dating his older brother. Friends once introduced him to an adult man who was reputed to be a local authority. He sat in the darkness and taught them all sorts of “wisdom.” Last night they drank a lot and the guy admitted to the authority that he had a problem. And he said that the problem was easily solved. It’s enough to fuck a girl and your brother won’t need her anymore.
They waylaid the girl when she was on her way to the bus to go on the night shift. Covering her mouth, they dragged her to the new building. But they broke down, since all the entrances and windows were locked from the inside. The girl struggled, she even managed to bite the authority figure’s hand. And then he hit her. She went limp and the man dragged her into this pipe so that they would not be noticed by passing cars. There he tore her dress and ordered the boy to rape the girl. However, out of fear, he was unable to do anything. Then the authority began to do it himself. Suddenly the girl came to her senses and tried to scream. And then the rapist plunged a knife into her throat and then slashed her across the stomach.
Suddenly, someone’s fist flew between the policemen and struck the boy in the face. The policemen were immediately surrounded by a crowd of men and women. Everyone tried to reach the freak, hit him, grab him in the eyes, in the face. The police tried to protect him with themselves. But blows fell on them too. Someone shouted that they had brought a rope and that this bastard would now be hanged right on the tree near the store.
Miraculously, the police managed to drag the boy, distraught with fear, into the gas station. The car began to roll forward almost over my feet. They hit the windows with their fists and spat on them. Then stones began to fall. The car barely broke through the crowd and disappeared behind our house.
Soon the house was occupied by families of officers. But there were rumors that the house brings misfortune, that people in it get sick, that families are breaking up... Who knows, maybe this is true.
Indoor plants with which we decorate our homes carry not only beauty, but also special energy. Some people feel it subconsciously; those who are especially sensitive are able to detect certain “vibes”. Of course, we want the energy of the plants we grow and bring into our homes to match ours. And so that plants, in gratitude for our love and care, make us happy.
If the energy of the plant perfectly matches the energy of the hosts, this multiplies the positive. But there are plants with universal energy that care about the happiness of absolutely everyone. And here’s the question: if there are “happy” plants, then there must also be “unlucky” ones, that is, those that are undesirable to keep in the house? Indeed, some have earned dubious fame. But who's who in our home green nursery, and are plants really capable of changing their environment?
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It was bad - it became good!
Dracaena sanderiana is considered a lucky plant for the home. This plant, very similar to bamboo, is even called “lucky bamboo”. They say that it attracts energy into the house, which can transform negative into positive. Lucky bamboo is very unpretentious: it can grow both in soil (loose) and just in water. It’s easier with soil - caring for the plant is exactly the same as for all dracaenas. If the happiness bamboo grows in a flask or vase, the water needs to be changed every two weeks. Do not forget also that there are not many nutrients in the water itself, so when replacing water, add a little complex to it from time to time. mineral fertilizer. In the store you can buy original branches of Dracaena Sanderiana - twisted in a spiral. But you can grow such a “spiral” yourself. To do this, you need to attach a transparent tall glass to the shoot (tie it) and turn the container more often so that the growing branch reaches towards the sun. But bright sun Lucky bamboo, like all dracaenas, does not like it - it feels better in partial shade, in diffused light.
Women's and men's happiness
A plant that promotes women's happiness, considered to be spathiphyllum. It is believed that he is responsible for ensuring that the woman is not lonely. This plant has quite strong energy: settling a quarrel or transferring relationships from the category of uncertain to warm, trusting, partnership is its task. Spathiphyllum is a “moderate” flower; it prefers the golden mean in everything: watering, lighting, fertilizing, temperature.
A plant that makes sure that happiness does not bypass a man is anthurium. In principle, it performs all the same tasks that spathiphyllum performs for a woman. But they differ greatly in care: if the spathiphyllum is content with little, then you need to care for the anthurium like a man: feed it well, drink plenty of water, keep it warm. Only in this case will the anthurium delight with flowers for a long time, and also fulfill its purpose of ensuring a happy life for a man in the house.
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Flowers happy love
Flowers that specialize in happy love are oxalis and. Oxalis has decorative leaves, which resemble the wings of a large butterfly (wings of love). In the evening the flower folds its “wings” and spreads it in the morning. Its flowers are modest, and the plant itself is not very impressive, but in this modesty there is great power hidden: oxalis is said to be able to evoke feelings of love in the one from whom you expect it. It is not difficult to care for oxalis - water as the soil dries and moderate fertilizing.
Hibiscus, as opposed to oxalis, is very effective. And it acts directly, evoking not even feelings, but passion. The most important requirement he puts forward regarding care is more sun! If this requirement is satisfied by placing the pot on a southern windowsill, this plant can bloom from the end of winter until the beginning of the next.
Avocado is one of the plants that promote happiness in love. An avocado will neither bloom nor bear fruit at home, but in a couple of years it will grow from a seed into a nice tree resembling a laurel (avocado belongs to the laurel family). Conditions that avocados prefer: warm, sunny, humid. It is best to place the container with this plant in a tray with pebbles and add water there more often.
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Plants for family happiness
It is believed that ficus, chlorophytum, and Saintpaulia (Uzambara violet) produce family happiness. These are plants that have such calm energy that irritation, anger, disputes and quarrels simply “drown” in it. It is fortunate that these plants are unpretentious, especially chlorophytum and Saintpaulia. They can grow in the shade and in the sun, tolerate long breaks in watering, and do not protest unless fed at all (although, of course, they develop better with feeding). Ficus plants are more demanding, but this also depends on the species. General conditions successful cultivation: warmth, moderation in watering (ficus roots rot from waterlogging), absence of drafts.
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Ivy – a vampire and a muzhegon?
The attitude towards ivy is ambiguous: some are sure that ivy (like all indoor vines in general) “vampirizes” the energy of its owners, others claim that this plant instills self-confidence, especially if it is located “ascending”, that is, it climbs support up.
In fact, ivy maintains a balance of energy: if there is a lot of it (for example, a person is irritated, excited), ivy will indeed “suck out” the excess. Not enough - it will feed from its reserves. The existing belief that ivies are husband-mongers has not been “confirmed in tests”: in many families, husbands get along well with ivies. If you need to blame someone for the fact that your husband left (except yourself and him), then ivy will remain silent and take the blame upon itself.
By the way, indoor vines with small leaves(for example, Tradescantia) they are afraid to plant because of the risk of gossip. Rest assured, the association is purely external (“creeping gossip”).
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Are cacti provocateurs or guards?
The main superstition associated with cacti is that they can provoke a husband's drunkenness. They say that the more a man drinks, the fatter and more cheerful the cactus is (a problem from the series “who came first: the egg or the chicken?). There is a very high probability that cacti simply draw off the “drunk” energy of the owner. In any case, there is a huge the number of passionate cactus lovers - teetotalers.
There are those who believe that cacti should not be kept in the bedroom - they will “kill” sexual passion. This is unlikely - if there is passion, no cactus will scare it. Although you can take the cacti out of the bedroom - just in case. By the way, check it out.
Cacti have also been observed doing good things: for example, it is believed that robbers avoid a house where cacti grow. It’s not true, they rob, regardless of the cacti.
Any houseplant You can grow it at home - as long as you like it. By the way, this harmless “like-dislike” is an excellent indicator. If you feel admiration or tenderness when looking at a plant, it is yours, since your energies coincide. If, when looking at a plant, you feel doubt or, even worse, rejection, it is better for you to stay away from each other.
