The letter arrived in the morning mail on Monday.
James Penn showed up for duty at nine o'clock sharp. Whistling, he entered the office. He was a young, energetic leader of thirty-five, lean, tanned, with short-cropped hair.
Penn was in a great mood, as always. When he arrived, the secretary opened the curtains that covered the transparent outer wall, and Penn saw the airy blue outlines of a Southern California city drowning in the spring sunny haze. If it was a really nice day, he could even see into the fashionable suburb where he and Bev had built their home two years ago, just after he had been appointed head of Contracts.
In high spirits, he began to sort through the mail. He took the envelope lying on top and pulled out a piece of paper from it. Increasingly perplexed, he re-read the letter, although he continued to smile, as if he had been told a joke, the meaning of which eluded him. The text was short. It was not typed or written by hand. The uneven lines were stamped in capital letters, clearly from a toy printing press. But there was nothing childish or toy-like in its contents. Penn examined the envelope again. Postmarked at the city post office at midnight. He called the secretary. She walked in with her notebook ready. Penn picked up the envelope and waved it.
Nora, you opened this letter. Maybe you read it inadvertently?
Of course not, Mr. Penn. Is there anything wrong?
“Nothing, everything’s fine,” Penn replied, releasing her.
Left alone, I re-read the letter again, as if trying to firmly remember the text:
“I know who you are. you are wanted to kill you. If you don't pay me, I'll tell them where to find you. Don’t you dare bother the police.”
And it's all. No appeal. No signature.
Just five minutes ago, a self-confident young official was sitting at the table, proud of himself and his ability to conduct business. But then, out of nowhere, a threat appeared, and he felt that the prosperous world he had created was ready to collapse.
James looked around the office, then looked out the window at the city. Nothing had changed there, and he himself was the same, but there was a letter on the table in front of him, and he knew that it was a threat.
"...Who are you. They are looking for you to kill..." As if spellbound by these lines, Penn reached for the telephone receiver.
One. If I had to receive guests at such an early hour, I would very soon ask you to leave,” Bev smiled.
Bev wanted to make him laugh. To no avail.
Jim, are you in trouble?
No, everything is fine. Although... there is something funny. I just received a letter... Listen.
He read it. Bev was silent for half a minute in amazement.
My God, what is this?
I don’t understand it myself.
But who could come up with such nonsense?
I can't imagine. - Bev heard her husband's sad laugh. “Perhaps this is one of the signs that we are beginning to mean something in this world.” I used to think only movie stars and presidents received stupid letters. Maybe I should consider myself flattered.
Are you sure that none of your colleagues could make such a joke?
The devil himself can't tell what's on their minds. But I know for sure that there are no dark secrets in my past!
“Well, of course,” Bev muttered and frowned. A thought flashed: she met Jim only five years ago, after his arrival from the East. “What nonsense is going through my head!” - She shook her head decisively. “And of course, I’m sure that behind my back you didn’t have an affair with some beauty.” And yet, what do you think you should do?
I'll give the letter to the police. This is their thing. I thought I need you to know. But please understand - there is nothing to worry about.
“You’re doing the right thing, Jim,” Bev muttered. - Just call me right away.
Having found the telephone number of the police station in the directory, Jim continued to contemplate the last sentence of the letter for some time: “...Don’t you dare bother the police».
He took a deep breath and picked up the phone. There was no beep. Frowning, he hit the lever. Dead silence.
“I was working just a minute ago,” Penn thought and leaned over the table to call his secretary through the intercom. But there was a cautious knock on the door, and Nora appeared on the threshold.
Mr. Conover asks you to come to him immediately.
But he didn’t tell me why he needed me?
Mr. Conover has asked that you take the letter with you. He said that you know what letter we are talking about.
“Oh, that’s it,” Penn responded gloomily. - In any case, I guess.
Tell it to HR and have them dig up Mr. Penn's personnel file and bring it to me.
Mr. Conover released the selector button and leaned back in his throne-like chair, the usual thin smile on his lips.
Conover was the vice president of the Vulcan company, his duties included ensuring the smooth functioning of the aircraft plant's complex systems. Only issues with political overtones were sent to the top floor, where they were resolved by the Old Man himself. And when the secretary announced that Mr. Penn had arrived, Conover greeted him at the door with a warm handshake.
Have a seat, Jim. Is the letter with you?
“With me,” Penn replied irritably. - But I would like to know...
Penn sat motionless in a chair facing Conover and said nothing.
Hm,” he muttered, finishing with the letter. - Quite unusual, isn't it? But what lies behind this?
Mr. Conover, perhaps first you would be willing to tell me how you found out about him?
To tell the truth, chance helped, I would say - a lucky chance. I think it’s no secret to you that the company is taking measures to ensure secrecy, and one of these measures is connecting listening devices to the phones of management personnel. Today your device was bugged.
But if you don't trust those who work for you...
We employ over thirty thousand people of both sexes. We simply cannot know everyone. This is the inevitable price to pay for the wide scope. So don't think we have anything against you personally, Jim. Conover's thin smile turned wide. - Well, now it’s your turn to hit the ball. So what's behind all this?
“I don’t have the slightest idea,” Penn answered, without flinching under Conover’s gaze. “For the last half hour I’ve been doing nothing but racking my brains.” I didn't do anything illegal and certainly nothing for which they would kill me.
Are you so sure?
What else? - Penn frowned. - But you pose the question as if you assume that the letter contains at least a grain of truth.
I don't allow anything. I'm just looking out for the interests of the company.
It's not entirely clear to me what the letter and the company have in common. Writing is my private matter.
Jim, you are one of the leaders of Vulcan. If you are discredited - no matter how ridiculous the accusations are - Vulcan will also be discredited. Well, judge for yourself. You are able to appreciate the delicate position in which we all find ourselves. We are about to conclude a contract with the Air Force, and this conclusion hangs by a thread. Who, if not you, should know about this, you are the head of the Contracts Department. Any hint, the shadow of a scandal, and everything goes to hell, and if it suddenly turns out that someone from the Vulcan management team is involved in a story related to blackmail... - Conover shook his head with exaggerated despair.
“I don’t think I’m involved in anything,” Penn said firmly. - Since I contact the police, this is enough to understand that I have nothing to hide.
“I completely agree with you,” Conover supported. - But it doesn’t hurt to remember what happened a week and a half ago with our colleagues from the Briscoe aircraft plant, who were also not involved in anything. However, all newspapers are still full of their names. The starting point of my actions: to prevent publicity in the press. Now you understand why I had to disconnect you before you got through to the police. - He looked at Penn searchingly. - I guess that you consider my action somewhat self-willed.
I admit, I was a little surprised.
You see, I had the feeling that the most reasonable thing was not to give the matter an official move, especially if it wasn’t worth a damn. However, I'm not going to play the game alone. Suppose that this afternoon the leaders of our enterprise gather and jointly brainstorm what and how. We won’t tell the old man anything yet: What’s your opinion, Jim?
Agree. - He knew that it was useless to object.
Well, now I’m thinking about doing this.” Conover patted the envelope. - If you don't mind, of course.
No, sir,” Jim confirmed in a wooden tone.
Conover walked him to the door and watched him walk away down the corridor.
“Handsome guy,” Conover thought, noticing the way the secretary looked at broad-shouldered Jim. - Courageous, even too much, and a kind of reckless look that women like so much. I would like to know where he got two small scars on his left cheekbone.”
Conover extended his hand. The secretary handed him a hardcover folder.
Mr. Penn's file, sir.
Okay, now call Security and tell Mr. Sholey to come see me immediately. And immediately start notifying department heads that I’m expecting them in my office at three o’clock.
The secretary left. Conover picked up the phone and, dialing the number of the largest bank in the city, asked to be connected to the president.
Dave? Ernie Conover speaking. According to my information, one of our senior employees has an account in your bank. His name is James Penn. I would like to know the size of the deposit and, more importantly, please let me know if significant amounts are withdrawn in the near future. Of course, everything will remain between us. Will you do it? Fabulous! - And Conover hung up the phone with satisfaction, opened the hardcover folder and plunged into reading.
Sholi was in charge of the factory security service. This department was essentially Vulcan's private police force. Sloppyly dressed, with a gangly long body, he sat slumped in a chair opposite Conover and read an anonymous letter, grinning ironically.
Oh "kay! How can I help you?
I ask you to investigate this matter for me. Let's start with the letter.
There’s not much to be done here: the paper is the most ordinary typewriting paper, and the envelope is also ordinary. The text is printed in toy typeface - it’s easier than cutting words out of newspapers, and it’s also easier to hide the ends in water. But one way or another, let them take care of the envelope in the laboratory.
Now the other side of the issue is James Penn. Really, how well do we know this person?
“In any case, better than your own wife,” Sholi chuckled. - Our dossier, Mr. Conover, contains comprehensive information. I collected information about the person you are interested in myself.
His wife has known Penn for only five years. We are interested in his whole life, from the very beginning.
Please. - Sholey opened the folder and began to read aloud: - “James Penn. Born in Chicago, Illinois. Parents have passed away. Attended elementary and high schools in Chicago. Graduated from the University of Illinois. He holds a bachelor's degree in administrative management. He served in the Air Force for three years and was transferred to the reserve with the rank of lieutenant. He worked for Bendix as a government contracts specialist, then for McDonell as a labor productivity expert. I settled in California five years ago...”
“I can read myself,” Conover interrupted him irritably. - It is necessary to double-check the smallest facts of his biography. If possible, covertly. Since you will have to do this, I'm interested in your opinion - should we put Penn under surveillance? Unspoken, of course, it’s general supervision until we find out our position. I hope we understand each other?
The only thing I don’t understand,” Sholey stood up, “is I being tasked with clearing Penn of suspicion or vice versa?”
Conover replied with dignity:
You have a responsibility to find out the truth.
This will make the investigation much more difficult! - Sholi remarked ironically.
Conover opened the meeting with a dramatic gesture - holding the morning newspaper high. One of the headlines on the front page, in large font, read: “Investigation into murder of professional gambler reaches dead end.”
You've all been following this case, gentlemen, but I want to refresh your memory. We are dealing with the tragedy of an innocent person accidentally involved in this story. In the third column you will find the name of the Briscoe aircraft plant. Why? Simply because one of the directors of this plant, namely Wayne Alexander, hosted a certain Mr. Hamil at his home, and on Friday last week his guest was killed. So, Briscoe turned out to be a scapegoat for the newspapermen, although, of course, the company does not do any business with the dregs of society.
Alexander has nothing to do with them either,” Penn objected. - I know him well. Most of the people here belong to the same country club as him. The man killed was not a gangster, just a professional gambler from Nevada, where gambling is considered a legitimate business. And I happen to know that Alexander had no idea what his guest was doing. They discussed problems related to real estate.
Unfortunately, that fact is not highlighted in articles every day,” Conover snapped, tossing the newspaper aside. - My point of view is that we cannot allow this to happen to Vulcan. With that in mind, I want you all to take a look at the letter that Jim received this morning.
Although Jim knew in advance that this was going to happen, he was overcome with acute confusion when he saw that the letter had gone around in a circle. A piece of his personal life was revealed, and for a minute it seemed to him that he appeared before strangers almost naked.
Everyone felt awkward. Some, having read the letter, looked at Penn with a bewildered smile, others carefully averted their eyes.
Let me tell you,” Penn began, his voice sounding louder than he would have liked. - Since the letter has been made public, I must explain. In short, I don't know what the letter is about. I'm as completely ignorant as you.
One of the managers muttered:
We know, Jim.
I turned over my entire past, day after day, trying to remember what I had done,” Penn looked around those present, “and came to the conclusion: there is nothing, absolutely nothing that they would kill me for, I swear.
So your marriage is happier than mine,” joked Woodrow, a senior engineer.
Conover only allowed the tension to subside for a second.
I think I will express the opinion of everyone present if I say that we believe you, Jim, we believe you one hundred percent. However, this does not solve the problem. And the question is: what do we do with the letter?
Have the police been notified?
No,” Conover said emphatically. “Jim and I decided that reporting to the police would mean making this unfortunate incident public, which would do us no good in our negotiations with the government.” Of course, if gentlemen think differently...
Everyone looked at Penn. Penn nodded hesitantly. By presenting his sole decision as a joint one, Conover framed the issue in such a way that Jim could not disagree or had to declare that the vice president had lied.
“I suggested that the investigation of this mysterious case be turned over to our Security Department,” Conover said. - Sholey is quite competent in such matters - he is a former police officer - and at the same time there is no risk. How do you like it?
Nobody objected.
Thank you for your help, gentlemen.
Huddled together in the elevator, the department heads descended to their floor. They immediately scattered to their offices, and only Woodrow paused to exchange a few words with Penn.
Never mind, don't pay attention. Some crazy guy made a joke, and you're worried. There’s only one mystery to me: why did you immediately tell Conover everything?
I didn't tell him anything. He "accidentally overheard," Penn said angrily.
That's it... - Woodrow drawled and quickly looked around the empty corridor. - Last weekend I received a tempting offer from a company...
Do you think you'll agree?
Taking into account some circumstances, I am afraid that I will not risk giving a negative answer.
The country club orchestra played only on weekends, but they dined at the club every day, so for those who wanted to dance, there was an automatic record player in a room called “Sans Souci.” That evening, one of the ten or eleven couples dancing in the room was Bev and Jim.
Why don't you calm down? - Bev asked when they returned to the table. - And you are still puzzling over the letter.
Yes, I have nothing to say. It would be much easier if I could admit to you that I was actually a safe cracker or that I strangled my first wife. But I told you everything.
Then why are you worried?
You see, I feel like I took the wrong step. I should have given up on Conover and turned the matter over to the police.
That’s how it is, but the fewer dedicated people, the more useful it is for the company,” Bev noted. - And besides, your Security Department has been busy with the letter. By the way, who are you staring at?
Penn nodded toward the opposite corner of the room, where a man and woman about their age were sitting at a table.
This is Wayne Alexander and his wife. I can imagine how hard it must have been for him if the conditions at Briscoe were the same as ours. - He smiled sourly. - I think he and I are in the same position.
“Not really,” Bev replied. - Imagine that your friend was killed...
Not a friend, but a casual acquaintance,” Penn automatically corrected. - Alexander wanted to buy part of his ranch in Nevada.
“They’re leaving a little early,” Bev said, noticing that the couple at the other end of the hall had risen. Penn waved at them, but Alexander didn't seem to notice.
Good evening, Mr. and Mrs. Penn. - A slender, tanned man in a tuxedo stood in front of them, slightly bent in a half-bow and flashing a dazzling smile. - Let me note that you are gradually becoming the most devoted members of our club.
Hello Holiday. Penn nodded. - Bring a chair here and have a drink with us.
No, thank you,” Holiday resolutely refused. The manager of the club, permanently living in the same building, he occupied a step on the social ladder halfway between the club members and the service staff. He performed his duties diligently, and, in addition, one could always count on him if there was a lack of a partner for playing bridge, golf or tennis.
At that moment the waiter came up and said that the manager was being asked to answer the phone. Holiday took his leave. Bev watched him go.
It’s still interesting,” she drawled, “why is Holiday so attractive to everyone?”
Because this guy not only has charm, but also a good head on his shoulders. - Penn sharply pushed back his chair. - Well, let's go home?
He took Bev's arm, and then she plaintively asked:
Jim, please don't isolate yourself. I'm afraid of your silence.
One thought haunts me. Remember, in the letter they demand money from me, but it doesn’t say how much, when or where. What do you think this says?
This means that there will be a second letter,” Bev answered after thinking.
That's right,” Penn confirmed. “That’s what I’ve been thinking about all evening: when letter number two will arrive.”
Cleve Holiday locked the office door and only then picked up the phone.
Holiday listens.
A male voice responded at the other end of the line:
I just arrived. When can we meet?
“I won’t be free until midnight,” Holiday replied. - The one you are interested in is now in the club. I just spoke to him. I'm sure he doesn't suspect that he's been recognized.
The person on the other end of the line laughed dully.
It does not matter. He has been running away from us for five years. Now his time is up.
Look, don't make mistakes.
“I never make mistakes,” the man answered. - This is an unaffordable luxury in my profession.
While Penn drove the car into the garage, Bev went to the house to unlock it. Penn was just closing the garage door when he heard Bev calling him. Her voice sounded so pitiful that Penn dropped everything and rushed to her. And he froze in fear when he saw what was in his wife’s hands.
The envelope was slipped under the door,” Bev explained nervously.
Come here,” Jim ordered.
The same cheap envelope, the same sloppy stamp, his name on the envelope. The only difference from the first message is no stamp or postmark. Delivered in person. Penn carefully peered into the dark street and saw nothing unusual. Although he could not shake off the strange feeling that he was being watched.
“Let’s go into the house,” he said.
Are you going to open the letter? - Bev asked, watching Jim rush around the room, curtaining the windows.
Of course, but first we’ll make sure they don’t spy on us. - Penn tore open the envelope and took out a piece of paper.
“Come to the “corkscrew” at one in the morning. Without strangers, if you want to live".
Bev squeezed his hand.
What does it mean?
Don't know.
But what is Corkscrew?
Sounds like the name of a bar.
Penn rushed into the hallway and grabbed the directory from the telephone desk. A few seconds later he was already showing his wife the marked line...
But it's on the other side of town!
Right. - Penn looked at his watch. - I still have time.
But it's dangerous to go.
It might be even more dangerous not to go. - Penn hugged his wife.
Then I'll go with you.
“I couldn’t ask for anything better,” Penn said slowly. - But you see, the letter says that I should appear alone.
At fifteen minutes to one he was at the entrance to the Corkscrew, which turned out to be a third-rate bar, nestled among nondescript office buildings. The dimly lit hall was almost empty. Three men and one woman sat on high stools behind the counter. The bartender was polishing the glasses in a detached manner. Jim asked for a whiskey and soda and chose a table next to the record player. Barely visible in the darkness, he stared at the front door and waited.
Aren't you going to write anything down? - Holiday asked.
“I remember,” the man answered.
The chair on which Holiday sat was the only one in the tiny room, so the owner sat on the bed, legs crossed, like Buddha. True, Buddha did not have a string of mustaches. The visitor checked into the hotel under the name George B. Turgeon, one of many names he used on business trips.
Tell me everything you know about him.
So, Raiho now lives under the name James Penn. He holds a responsible post at the Vulcan plant, he has a beautiful wife and a cottage. He had to work hard to hide so reliably.
“You recognized him,” Turgeon noted.
Not right away. I knew Penn for five years, ever since I became the club manager. But it never occurred to me that he was not who he said he was. And I never thought that he was actually Raiho. But when Gamil was killed, I began to guess something. So I called my friend in Las Vegas and asked him to warn those who were interested. - Holiday smiled. - You know, I am convinced that you need to provide small services, it pays off.
Turgeon nodded his head in agreement and confirmed:
My hosts already knew that Raiho was here. Gamil called them on the day he was killed. But Gamil did not reveal the name under which Raiho was hiding. You made my task much easier.
But I want to warn you,” Holiday said, “I only saw Raiho once or twice in Chicago, and that was a long time ago, eight years ago. I wouldn't want you to rely entirely on me.
So you're not sure that Penn and Raiho are the same person?
I'm sure, but not completely. He did something to his appearance, it seems he slightly changed his hairstyle. But I already told you that I didn’t know him much.
That's why we called a lady here from Frisco, Eileen Menke. She knew Raiho very well. It couldn't be better. - Turgeon’s thick lips stretched into something like a smile.
Is she already here?
Turgeon pulled his watch from his vest pocket.
The plane landed twenty minutes ago. She'll be calling soon. It's time to use your brains and figure out how to bring them together so that she sees him, but he doesn't notice her.
Very simple. I take it upon myself.
The phone rang and Holiday jumped in surprise. Turgeon lazily got out of bed and picked up the phone. On the other end of the line they talked continuously, Turgeon got off with interjections. When the conversation ended, he turned to Holiday.
Eileen Menke called. She stayed at the Ridgeway Hotel under a false name. Ready to start work as soon as you arrange everything.
Holiday stood up.
OK. I'll do my best. And if she confirms that Penn is Raiho, what then?
First I have to thoroughly study his life and habits. But actually, my specialty is “accidental death.”
“I’ll call the police at half past three,” Bev thought, “and I’ll tell you everything. This uncertainty is unbearable."
At that moment she heard a car drive up to the house. She ran out and saw her husband. He looked exhausted.
“Nothing happened,” he said. - False alarm. I sat in this lousy bar until it closed. Nobody approached me. And I didn't see a single familiar face.
Aren't you mistaken? After all, the letter says...
Penn shrugged his shoulders wearily.
It is possible that something scared this person. Or maybe they were just watching me.
Would you like to drink something? You're completely exhausted.
I don't want anything now. Just sleep.
Bev, too, was falling from fatigue, but she could not sleep and, lying in bed, thought, staring at the ceiling, and her face burned with shame at her own thoughts. Suspicions that she easily dispelled in daylight, at night, in the twilight of the bedroom, acquired indisputable evidence. What if Jim didn't tell the whole truth? He had been gone for too long. Did he meet someone from his past life at the bar?
Penn, lying nearby, tossed restlessly in his sleep...
The next morning, Penn showed up at the Contracts Office earlier than usual, prepared to meet any eventuality. To his surprise, he discovered that there was nothing on the table. He called the secretary:
Hasn't the mail arrived yet?
No,” Nora answered, “that is, yes.” But there was nothing important, and I... - Here she hesitated and a moment later she was already standing in the doorway of the office.
Nora closed the door, leaned against it and sobbed.
“I can’t do this,” Penn said through his sobs. “I've always tried to do the best I can, but when it comes to spying on my own boss, I don't give a damn what Mr. Conover orders. - She took out a packet of letters from her skirt pocket. “I had to take it to Mr. Conover to look at before you saw them.”
Penn took the packet from her shaking hands. The letter he had thought about with such horror lay on top. Dropped off at the downtown post office, stamped with the time: one hour, twenty-five minutes... Penn opened the envelope.
“I warned you - no strangers. Be careful, you're risking your life.".
Nora watched him worriedly.
I didn't even open it, Mr. Penn.
He patted her shoulder reassuringly.
Thank you for telling me everything. I think I need to talk to Mr. Conover myself.
Taking the elevator to the fifth floor. Penn resisted the urge to go for Conover's throat. Force cannot solve anything. He could have achieved his goal in softer ways. Jim walked into Conover's door without knocking. And he froze in surprise. Conover stood at the table, closing the lid of a small oblong box. On the cover with the inscription "Toy Printing House" there was a drawing of a boy hardworkingly printing a miniature newspaper.
“Well, you scared me, Jim,” Conover said.
Well, this somehow brings us closer. - Penn slowly approached the table. - I wonder where you got this thing?
The security department bought it. We compared the fonts. They seem to be the same, but I'm afraid it doesn't give us anything. Such sets are sold anywhere. By the way, why are you so early? - Conover hid the box in the table.
Penn handed over the second anonymous letter and told the details associated with it.
“I’m not happy about this at all, Jim,” Conover said dissatisfied. - Why did we go there without warning us? You acted rashly.
I probably agree with you, but for a completely different reason. - And Penn handed Conover the third letter he had just received. - Pay attention to the time it was sent. It was impossible for the one who wrote the letter to arrive at the Corkscrew at one o'clock, leave there, then type the letter and have time to put it in the mailbox at the beginning of one.
Yes, it’s a little strange,” Conover agreed.
No, it’s not strange at all, if we assume that the true purpose of these messages is not blackmail, but intimidation. Do you know what it's like to sit in a strange bar in the dead of night for an hour, shaking with fear, waiting for who knows what?
Still, you shouldn't have gone there! - Conover objected decisively. “You are putting more than your own peace of mind at risk.”
I want to get to the bottom of the truth. And don't we all want the same thing?
We want. But we must act carefully. - Conover peered carefully at Penn. - Why didn’t I notice these scars on your face before, Jim?
“I got it in the army,” Penn explained briefly. - You can contact Washington. This is recorded in the service record.
It’s unlikely there will be a need for that,” Conover chuckled. - And don't be so sensitive, Jim.
“I’ll try,” Jim said and went to the door, but before reaching it, he returned. - Yes, I completely forgot. I decided to increase the salary of my secretary. She performs her duties so diligently. You won’t believe it, I come to work today, a little earlier than usual, and she’s already sorting out the mail.
Conover looked at Jim for quite a long time. Then he muttered:
I understand you completely. Such devotion must be rewarded.
“I didn’t expect to hear anything else from you,” Penn answered with a friendly smile.
Having won a small victory over Conover, Jim felt more confident. He threw himself into his work. But when the phone rang, the fear returned to him. He picked up the phone and sighed with relief when he heard Cleve Holiday's voice:
Mr. Penn, I am concerned about the condition of our golf course, namely the fourteenth tee.
What is there? - Jim responded immediately.
Looks like it needs to be re-turfed. The competition is approaching and you have been appointed as the head judge. I think we need to inspect the field in advance.
Well, fine. I can get out on my lunch break. Will the hour suit you?
Great. Meet me at one o'clock.
Penn examined the fourteenth site and returned to the car, which had been left on the street. An angry car horn made him turn around sharply. Bev was driving. Penn ran towards her, smiling happily.
“Hi, honey,” he said, opening the door. - Such a surprise.
She smiled back, but a little tensely.
It's really a nice surprise, but I'm not sure it's a pleasant one.
What's happened?
I would like to know myself. “She avoided his gaze and, lowering her head, nervously drew squiggles on the dashboard with her finger. - You see, Jim, we always trusted each other. I believed you, you believed me. Even now I can’t imagine that you’re having an affair.
Bev, what are you saying? - he exclaimed.
What is this called? You make an appointment for your friend to meet in these bushes...
Which friend? What are you talking about? - Penn turned pale.
He grabbed her frozen shoulders and shook her thoroughly, forcing her to raise her face.
Look, I don't know what you suspect me of, but I swear I came here to inspect the field and...
Of course,” Bev agreed. - And this woman examined the field with you.
What woman? - Penn asked in bewilderment.
Platinum blonde, my dear,” Bev said. - In a fur coat. She came out of the bushes a second before you. Don't bother looking for it. She left in a taxi. And don't shake my shoulders, please.
He asked sharply:
Don't you believe me?
Did you hope for this?
At least that's how it used to be. You are my wife.
She saw his eyes, and her alienation began to melt.
I love you Jim. And I don’t understand why everything has become so desperately mixed up in recent days. These letters and everything else...
Well, calm down. - He kissed her. - I understand.
Understand? - Bev looked up. - I'm so ashamed of myself. Do you know why I'm here? I've been following you, that's what! First, I decided to stop by the plant, I wanted to do something nice for you: we could have lunch together. When I arrived, I saw you getting into the car and decided to spy on you. Well, isn't that low?
I think we both just can’t behave normally under these circumstances,” Penn reflected, looking intently at the field. Bev, of course, didn't remember the taxi number. Penn thought out loud: “Who, I wonder, wanted to keep an eye on me?” I wish I had seen that woman. At night, in the Corkscrew, there was no blonde. Or maybe that’s what my friend had in mind when he wrote that I brought a tail with me.
Jim, we have to do something. I'm afraid.
Don't be afraid. Maybe this trouble is necessary to evaluate our life. During the day, at work, I was doing just this, sort of writing a will, and I realized that you are the only one I value. And I also realized that this was not enough for me, and I thought about the child. Bev, do you think it's time for us to have a baby?
I think it's time. I really want to.
Agreed. “They looked at each other and smiled meaninglessly, as if a pressing weight had been lifted from them. “And now,” Penn continued jokingly, “now that we have agreed on the future, should I set up a date with you?” We'll have dinner at the club, dance... and then we'll see...
They kissed tenderly goodbye.
I'll meet you at the club at six. You will recognize me by my reckless appearance.
Turgeon was lying on the bed when Eileen Menke unlocked the room door and quietly entered. He did not get up, but immediately asked:
He came?
Came. I stayed in the city. I was dying to take a sip of something stronger.
Eileen walked over to the table and put her purse on it. She didn’t even look at the short man lying on the bed in his coat.
Well,” Turgeon asked her sharply, “is he or isn’t he?”
Eileen turned around.
He. I can’t understand, but I was shaking all over as soon as I saw him. And it still shakes.
Are you sure you didn't mix anything up or make a mistake?
Sure. True, he dyed his hair, and his nose seemed to become shorter. But it was Raiho, I'm sure. Of course he is.
At the same instant, Turgeon jumped out of bed in one bound and stood up, rubbing his hands.
That’s all I wanted to know from you,” he almost purred. “It won’t get dark before six.” - Thinking, Turgeon paced the room. “Four hours will be enough to prepare, and then...” The index finger of his right hand bent meaningfully.
Turgeon took his hat from the bed and turned to Eileen.
Get ready. Your plane leaves at twelve at night. Return the binoculars. I don't like leaving traces behind.
The ending follows
Translated from English by N. Timofeeva
MIDNIGHT
MIDNIGHT
1. The middle of the night, corresponding to 12 o'clock. “In the dead of midnight, Thunderbolt sat alone.” Zhukovsky . “It was already well after midnight.” A. Turgenev. The clock struck midnight. “I stayed with my godfather until midnight.” Chekhov . “Captain’s daughter, don’t go for a walk at midnight.” Pushkin . “An angel flew across the midnight sky.” Lermontov . “Midnight will inadvertently disturb the slumbering strings.” Tyutchev .
2. The moment of the lower culmination of the sun, the beginning of the civil day (astro.).
Ushakov's Explanatory Dictionary. D.N. Ushakov. 1935-1940.
Synonyms:
See what "MIDNIGHT" is in other dictionaries:
Midnight... Spelling dictionary-reference book
Nord, midnight, twelve o'clock at night, north Dictionary of Russian synonyms. midnight see north Dictionary of synonyms of the Russian language. Practical guide. M.: Russian language. Z. E. Alexandrova. 2011… Synonym dictionary
midnight- midnight, birth midnight and midnight and obsolete midnight, gen. midnight and fullness (usually used in poetic speech). In prepositional combinations: after midnight and after midnight, before midnight and before midnight. In the literary language of the 19th century, the variant polnosch was found... Dictionary of difficulties of pronunciation and stress in modern Russian language
- (Midnight) the moment of the lower culmination of the Sun. Just like noon (see), it can be true and average. Samoilov K.I. Marine dictionary. M.L.: State Naval Publishing House of the NKVMF of the USSR, 1941 Midnight moment of the lower ku... Marine Dictionary
midnight- the subject is approaching, approaching/removing to strike midnight demonstration... Verbal compatibility of non-objective names
The moment of the lower culmination of the center of the Sun (i.e., the maximum immersion of the Sun under the horizon during its daily movement) ... Big Encyclopedic Dictionary
MIDNIGHT, midnight, midnight and midnight, female. 1. (midnight and midnight). The middle of the night, corresponding to 24 hours (twelve o'clock at night). The clock strikes p. Time for p. Around midnight. By midnight. Deaf p. (dark, gloomy middle of the night). 2. (midnight and... ... Ozhegov's Explanatory Dictionary
midnight- meek (Balmont); mute (Nadson); desert (Balmont); silver (Balmont); gray-haired (Nadson) Epithets of literary Russian speech. M: Supplier of His Majesty's court, the Quick Printing Association A. A. Levenson. A. L. Zelenetsky. 1913 ... Dictionary of epithets
Midnight- ■ The limit hour for decent entertainment; everything done after midnight is immoral... Lexicon of common truths
midnight- The moment of the lower culmination of the Sun, when in its apparent daily motion it crosses the meridian of the observation site... Dictionary of Geography
Books
- Midnight, Mendelssohn, Felix. Reprint sheet music edition of Mendelssohn, Felix "Mitternacht". Genres: Pieces; For cello, piano; Scores featuring the cello; Scores featuring the piano; For 2 players. We created specifically for…
The letter arrived in the morning mail on Monday.
James Penn showed up for duty at nine o'clock sharp. Whistling, he entered the office. He was a young, energetic leader of thirty-five, lean, tanned, with short-cropped hair.
Penn was in a great mood, as always. When he arrived, the secretary opened the curtains. If it was a really nice day, he could even see into the fashionable suburb where he and Bev had built their home two years ago, just after he had been appointed head of Contracts.
In high spirits, he began to sort through the mail. He took the envelope lying on top and pulled out a piece of paper from it. The text was short. It was not typed or written by hand. The uneven lines were stamped with capital letters, clearly from a toy printing press. But there was nothing childish or toy-like in its contents. Penn examined the envelope again. Postmarked at the city post office at midnight. He called the secretary. She walked in with her notebook ready.
Penn picked up the envelope and waved it.
Nora, you opened this letter. Maybe you read it inadvertently?
Of course not, Mr. Penn. Is there anything wrong?
“Nothing, everything’s fine,” Penn replied, releasing her.
Left alone, I re-read the letter again, as if trying to firmly remember the text:
“I KNOW WHO YOU ARE. THEY ARE WANTED TO KILL YOU. IF YOU DON'T PAY ME, I'LL TELL THEM WHERE TO FIND YOU. DON’T THINK OF CONTACTING THE POLICE.”
And it's all. No appeal. No signature.
Just five minutes ago, a self-confident young official was sitting at the table, proud of himself and his ability to conduct business. But then, out of nowhere, a threat appeared, and he felt that the prosperous world he had created was ready to collapse.
James looked around the office, then looked out the window at the city. Nothing had changed there, and he himself was the same, but there was a letter on the table in front of him, and he knew that it was a threat.
"...WHO ARE YOU. THEY ARE WANTED TO KILL YOU...” As if spellbound by these lines, Penn reached for the telephone receiver.
One. If I had to receive guests at such an early hour, I would very soon ask you to leave,” Bev smiled.
Bev wanted to make him laugh. To no avail.
Jim, are you in trouble?
No, everything is fine. Although... there is something funny. I just received a letter... Listen.
He read it. Bev was silent for half a minute in amazement.
My God, what is this?
I don’t understand it myself.
But who could come up with such nonsense?
I can't imagine. - Bev heard her husband's sad laugh. “Perhaps this is one of the signs that we are beginning to mean something in this world.” I used to think only movie stars and presidents received stupid letters. Maybe I should consider myself flattered.
Are you sure that none of your colleagues could make such a joke?
The devil himself can't tell what's on their minds. But I know for sure that there are no dark secrets in my past!
“Well, of course,” Bev muttered and frowned. A thought flashed: she met Jim only five years ago, after his arrival from the East. “What nonsense is going through my head!” - She shook her head decisively. “And of course, I’m sure that behind my back you didn’t have an affair with some beauty.” And yet, what do you think you should do?
I'll give the letter to the police. This is their thing. I thought I need you to know. But please understand - there is nothing to worry about.
“You’re doing the right thing, Jim,” Bev muttered. - Just call me right away.
Having found the telephone number of the police station in the directory, Jim for some time continued to contemplate the last phrase of the letter: “... DON’T THINK OF METTING INTO THE POLICE.”
He took a deep breath and picked up the phone. There was no beep.
Frowning, he hit the lever. Dead silence.
“I was working just a minute ago,” Penn thought and leaned over the table to call his secretary through the intercom. But there was a cautious knock on the door, and Nora appeared on the threshold.
Mr. Conover asks you to come to him immediately.
But he didn’t tell me why he needed me?
Mr. Conover has asked that you take the letter with you. He said that you know what letter we are talking about.
“Oh, that’s it,” Penn responded gloomily. - In any case, I guess.
Tell it to HR and have them dig up Mr. Penn's personnel file and bring it to me.
Mr. Conover released the selector button and leaned back in his throne-like chair, the usual thin smile on his lips.
Conover was the vice president of the Vulcan company, his duties included ensuring the smooth functioning of the aircraft plant's complex systems. Only issues with political overtones were sent to the top floor, where they were resolved by the Old Man himself.
And when the secretary announced that Mr. Penn had arrived, Conover greeted him at the door with a warm handshake.
Have a seat, Jim. Is the letter with you?
“With me,” Peni answered irritably. - But I would like to know...
Penn sat motionless in a chair facing Conover and said nothing.
Hm,” he muttered, finishing with the letter. - Quite unusual, isn't it? But what lies behind this?
Mr. Conover, perhaps first you would be willing to tell me how you found out about him?
To tell the truth, chance helped, I would say - a lucky chance. I think it’s no secret to you that the company is taking measures to ensure secrecy, and one of these measures is connecting listening devices to the phones of management personnel. Today your device was bugged.
But if you don't trust those who work for you...
We employ over thirty thousand people of both sexes. We simply cannot know everyone. This is the inevitable price to pay for the wide scope. So don't think we have anything against you personally, Jim. Conover's thin smile turned wide. - Well, now it’s your turn to hit the ball. So what's behind all this?
“I don’t have the slightest idea,” Penn answered, without flinching under Conover’s gaze. “For the last half hour I’ve been doing nothing but racking my brains.” I didn't do anything illegal and certainly nothing for which they would kill me.
Are you so sure?
What else? - Penn frowned. - But you pose the question as if you assume that the letter contains at least a grain of truth.
I don't allow anything. I'm just looking out for the interests of the company.
It's not entirely clear to me what the letter and the company have in common. Writing is my private matter.
Jim, you are one of the leaders of Vulcan. If you are discredited - no matter how ridiculous the accusations are - Vulcan will also be discredited. Well, judge for yourself. You are able to appreciate the delicate position in which we all find ourselves. We are about to conclude a contract with the Air Force, and this conclusion hangs by a thread. Who, if not you, should know about this, you are the head of the Contracts Department. Any hint, the shadow of a scandal, and everything goes to hell, and if it suddenly turns out that someone from the Vulcan management team is involved in a story related to blackmail... - Conover shook his head with exaggerated despair.
“I don’t think I’m involved in anything,” Penn said firmly. - Since I contact the police, this is enough to understand that I have nothing to hide.
“I completely agree with you,” Conover supported. - But it doesn’t hurt to remember what happened a week and a half ago with our colleagues from the Briscoe aircraft plant, who were also not involved in anything. However, all newspapers are still full of their names. The starting point of my actions: to prevent publicity in the press. Now you understand why I had to disconnect you before you got through to the police. - He looked at Penn searchingly. - I guess that you consider my action somewhat self-willed.
“We’ll see you tomorrow morning”, “we’ll call you in the morning”... We use such phrases quite often, only then it often turns out that everyone’s morning begins and ends at different times. How much time can really be considered morning?
In fact, it’s hard to say for sure when the morning begins. There are a lot of definitions - folk, astronomical, official - and each of them in its own way defines the boundaries between times of day. Some people generally use a simple principle “When I woke up, then it was morning”, so it turns out that for some, morning is five o’clock in the evening.
Until man began to use artificial lighting, morning began with sunrise, and evening began with sunset. The length of daylight hours determined the length of the “working” day. Some people still use this distinction, but the times of dawn and sunset shift depending on the time of year - the division of the time of day is too unclear. In addition, it is not clear how to draw the line between evening and night, morning and day. That is, it is clear when the morning begins, but it is impossible to objectively determine when it ends and the day begins.
In addition, each language has its own stable expressions related to the time of day. For example, in Russian they say “two o’clock in the morning,” but in most cases they say “four o’clock in the morning,” that is, four o’clock is already morning, although in winter it may still be dark outside the window at this time. But, unfortunately, such descriptive constructions do not help to clearly distinguish between morning and day, evening and night: it happens that someone is used to saying “three o’clock in the morning,” and someone is used to saying “three o’clock in the morning.”
And in many English-speaking (and not only) countries it is generally customary to use 12 hour clock, and divide the day into only two periods - before noon (a.m., ante meridiem) and after noon (p.m., post meridiem). It is not customary for them to use descriptive constructions (although this does not mean that they do not use them at all), so the problem of dividing the time of day remains.
So it turns out that every country, and even every person has his own subjective perception of time of day, associated with the customs of the country and one’s own daily routine. For example, most office workers associate morning with the beginning of the working day, afternoon with the lunch break, and evening with the end of the working day.
But still, is it possible to somehow bring this into unified system, and distinguish between the times of day in order to clearly understand when the morning begins and ends? This way a lot of misunderstandings could be avoided!
Most European countries have adopted a single division of the day. According to this division, the day is divided into four equal intervals of six hours each. It turns out that the times of day are distributed as follows:
- from 0 to 6 o'clock - night
- from 6 to 12 o'clock - morning
- from 12 to 18 o'clock - day
- from 18 to 24 hours - evening
It is reasonable to use such a system, for example, in business communication, when you need to be 100% sure that the morning of the customer and the contractor coincides: it happens that the contractor is sure that he sent the work to the customer in the morning, as agreed, and the customer It's already day. And how will you understand who is right and who is wrong if everyone judges by their own criteria? This is why we need a pan-European system - so as not to wonder “When does the morning end and the day begin?”
Time, as you know, is a relative concept, and in some cases, flexible. We are used to dividing it into years, months, days, hours, minutes and seconds. But a term like noon is what time? It turns out that answering this question is not as simple as it seems at first glance. And if you say that noon is twelve o'clock in the day, you may be mistaken. Does this mean that this term is as relative as all human timekeeping? Yes and no. Let's try to study this problem more deeply.
Day
To answer the question “What time is noon?”, you need to know what it is a measure of. This astronomical constant serves as the definition for the middle of the day. How do they differ from a date or day? In the English language, which, as we know, is more functional than Russian, there is no such analogue in the dictionary. The average person says day, which means “day”. To strictly designate a day as such, a more precise term is used - 24 hours. The phrase day and night is also common. And in Slavic languages, the words “day” or “doba” come from the words “meeting” and “joint”. Thus, a new day begins either with the end of sunset or at dawn, that is, when the dark and light times of the day meet. Noon, as is clear from the etymology of the word, means the very middle of the day.
Solar and sidereal days
We are accustomed to thinking that a given unit of time consists of twenty-four hours, but astronomers distinguish between solar and sidereal days, which are not equal to each other. Our planet rotates on its axis for 24 hours, but due to the orbital motion of the Earth, the Sun moves, so the sidereal day lasts twenty-three hours, fifty-six minutes and four seconds. Something to think about! Moreover, the Earth moves unevenly around the Sun. To correct the error, the so-called “leap second” is regularly introduced on December 31 or June 30. To do this, determine noon - this is how much time - on the date of spring or The upper edge of the solar disk should rise above the earth at 6 am and completely disappear from view at 6 pm. And at noon, the middle of the luminary is at the highest point in the sky - at the zenith.
Day and day
In everyday life, we often replace these two concepts. So, we say “the day of June 18th”, meaning by this the entire period of time, starting from 0 to 23 hours, 59 minutes and 59 seconds. But midnight was not always the boundary of the day. The ancient Greeks, Egyptians and Slavs counted the beginning of a new day from dawn. In the Jewish tradition, “yemama”, that is, the day, began when the first star lit up in the sky (that is, after sunset). The rudiment of such a calculation of time remained in the “eves” of the celebration of major religious holidays, so it was difficult to compare the two values. What time is noon? It could have been six hours or seventeen. Moreover, in temperate latitudes it depends on the seasons. How then can we determine noon beyond the Arctic Circle, where our star may not appear for days?
Constant and relative
It would seem that everything is extremely simple. The sun at noon is at its zenith, that is, it reaches its maximum height in the sky. The luminary in our latitudes does not rise exactly in the east, but slightly to the south, and it moves along the midday edge of the sky. Thus, when it reaches its maximum height and begins its movement towards sunset, its location can be defined as strictly southern. At the equator, noon is when the sun shines exactly overhead. And in the Southern Hemisphere at this time the sun is visible exactly in the north. The time of day - day, morning, evening and night - varies depending on the season. In summer it gets dark late, white nights are observed somewhere, and in winter evening falls early. But noon is a constant. At this time, the shadows become the shortest (in the tropics they generally hide underfoot), so noon is easy to calculate. We go to a flat area and dig a vertical peg into the ground. We install a compass nearby. When the shadow of the peg points exactly south, it means it is noon.
What prevents you from determining the exact time?
This is all theory. What will happen if we really decide to do this simple experiment? Let's say we conduct our experiment in Berdyansk (Ukraine). The result of the experiment shows that noon occurs there at 11 hours and 40 minutes. And in Transcarpathia this indicator shifts half an hour in the other direction - 12:30. Why does noon on the clock correspond to the true solar zenith? Here political considerations interfere with the laws of nature. To avoid confusion in transport schedules and other inconveniences, states strive to unite all their territories under one time zone, and only giant powers, such as Russia or the United States, are forced to divide their lands by time. Conventionally, the entire globe is divided into 24 time zones. Universal Time is checked according to Greenwich Mean Time. This is the zero time zone (UT0). All of Western Europe, except Britain, Ireland and Portugal, lives in the UT+1 zone. In this case, true noon was calculated for the territory located on the borders of Poland and Germany. Thus, in Spain the sun reaches its zenith when it is already about one o'clock in the afternoon.
Winter and summer time
If we conduct our peg and compass experiment in the Russian Federation, we will need a lot of patience. Why? Have you forgotten how a few years ago on the last Sunday in March everyone moved the clocks forward an hour? True time is winter. And in the summer, even in Moscow, noon comes at one o'clock in the afternoon. For the first time, the so-called “maternity” time was introduced on our territory in 1930 “to save electricity.” Then during the years of Perestroika it was canceled. Then they introduced it again. And finally, Russian doctors came to a strange conclusion: since the transition twice a year has a negative effect on the human body, it is necessary to leave it for the summer. Why not in winter is left out of the question.
What are PM and AM
The common man is accustomed to measuring time in terms of before and after noon. Although we have a 24-hour division of the day, most people look at a round dial divided into twelve sectors. And it often indicates the hour at which the short hand points. At the same time, the time of day is added. So it turns out “two o’clock in the morning,” “three in the afternoon,” “six in the evening.” At the time it was customary to indicate otherwise. Namely, focusing on noon. They even said hello like this: “Good afternoon!” - it means “have a nice afternoon.” This time calculation has been preserved to this day; moreover, it has also begun to be used in the countries of former British colonies. It is there that you can find such strange expressions as 8 AM and 3 PM. Translated into Russian, this means eight in the morning and three in the afternoon. The tradition of dividing time before and after noon comes from medieval Latin. The abbreviation itself testifies to this. Thus, AM is short for ante meridiem (before noon). And PM, accordingly, indicates the time period between 12 noon and midnight.
