“Go to the post office. It is necessary to send this envelope. You will report.”
The girl respectfully took an urgent dispatch and in half an hour returned, looking into Mitrofanov’s office without knocking.
“I sent it with a notification. Here’s the receipt,” she said uneasily, submitting a receipt with a seal.
“It is done. They will now bother us with this letter. I’ll go to them tomorrow. They say that the new maid has already visited the police. And now I have no time. It is necessary to all, probably, there to appear, to prove the alibi. Let them watch our vacationers better. They themselves can find everything very quickly if they use video cameras.
Mitrofanov was proud of his responsible personnel and could not afford a single gram that the slightest shade of suspicion fell on the well-functioning medical staff of the sanatorium.
“Do I have to show up to them, too?” she asked, soberly assessing the situation, since she had been prescribed treatment procedures for vacationers who would have to cancel.
“Good. We’ll go to the police together with our old employees on my jeep. I order this separately.”
“Peter Solomonovich, athletes need radon baths and massage.”
“We have the masseurs. I’ll call my friends – the administrator – Vladimir Kormushenko and the animator – Sasha Mahmudov. They have taken courses and will continue to massage in a sanatorium near the pool.”
The nurse, having received instructions, left, reflecting on the essence of being and the complex professional relationship between the chief physician and his subordinates. With care, Mitrofanov took out of the closet the personal files of the recently admitted employees, except those who were supervised by the administrator – Chetvertov Ira: waitresses, cooks, maids, gardener and security guards. He trusted Kormushenko completely, as he studied with his father in high school, was familiar with his family. The guy was respected for his sporting achievements. He received, like Hercules, for his exploits and achievements in circus arenas, twelve awards and cups that stood under the glass in the foyer of the sanatorium, proving his prestige in the sphere of tourism and sports at the world level.
Once during the service as a contractor in the fire department Kormushenko was on duty as an uniformist and trainee in the circus-cape Kazbek. When there was a performance with wild animals, there was a fire. Someone threw a cigarette butt to the floor and the whole tent caught fire. The people themselves were taken to the air by artists: voltigeur gymnasts, equilibrists, jugglers, clowns, musical eccentrics, a magician and Shprehshtalmeister – an inspector of an arena leading a circus show.
The tamer of wild beasts ordered Kormushenko, who was standing at the entrance, to help him escort the lion from the cage to the approaching wagon. But the lion resisted and did not want to obey. Then they had to shoot a gun with a sleeping pill and wait for the animal to fall asleep, and afterwards, together with the tamer, he loaded a carcass weighing half a ton into the carriage and pushed a lion into the barred car. Anaconda was carried over the shoulders by Kormushenko. More precisely, Hercules strangled the “Nemean” lion and killed the “Lernaean” hydra, in this particular case everything happened the other way around. But, like the true hero of greek myths, he caught alive the so-called “Eriimantsk” wild boar, devastating supplies of fruit for the whole troupe, and the “Kerinean” doe standing side by side. They hardly breathed from the caustic, gray, all-pervasive smoke. He caught them himself, huddled in the cupboard, between the counters.
In the turmoil of randomly forgotten “Stymphalian” birds, as mentioned in the legend, Vladimir did not kill eagles with strong claws, beaks, variegated feathers and pedigreed trained pigeons. He headed all the artists of the circus team, handing them the poles to kick the birds in the hung up wet cradles. Pigeons amicably, cooing, noisily sat on sticks, which the strongman had to endure, and the eagle, clutching his head, showed a wide scope of flight. Expensive shiny suits, hidden in suitcases and hung in the dressing room, and so could not be saved from dampness. They all got soaked and dirty, losing an external shiny appearance.
However, he obtained not one belt of the queen of the amazons of Ippolita, made by special order, but as many as ten. With such an exclusive miracle, his friend Alexandra, the daughter of the director himself – Jew – Isaac Petrovich Moiseyev – acted as a fairy. The guy himself took out wet suitcases, boxes with props and toilets in the adjoining park. Then the impudent uniformist, noticing that the fire began to make its way to the arena and stables, covered the flame with the plume of a suit flying under the dome, pop stars, and two-times world champion.
The fire ceased to spread around the perimeter of the arena. He drove out three white, two brown and two black Orlov tribal trotters into the circus enclosure, where rehearsals of performances took place. The tamer – Diomed Dionisovich Phillipov was so touched that he promised Kormushenko to give a small stallion when one of the mares would calve. Employee Eugene began to panic, losing his composure; he poured fresh manure, prepared for export, to bring down the flame in the zoo. Kormushenko, covering his nose with a rag, got under the arm, grabbed all the remains of the turf in a big pile, dumped everything into sacks. It turned out six potato fertilizer stocks for the next year.
Being in a special cage, a bull brought from Greece, from the island of Crete, he poured water with foam from the fire-pump. Everything went without sacrifice. The new Hercules put a fire barrier in the form of sandbags in the entrance and emergency doors, from where the audience came. High “Hercules pillars” were obtained to the very top of the auditorium, where Gibraltar, Seoul, geographical points and cities that honored artists with applause and flowers were indicated on a huge colorful billboard.
The director of the circus in gratitude awarded the active firefighter-uniformist with several medals and a high cup, inviting him to participate in the next performance in a month as a strong man.
With the director, they came up with a risky trick: a sword battle with two dangerous opponents. As a reward, Atlant, in the role of which his bosom escort friend in the fire department acted – Seregin, handed him the same gold and silver prizes in the form of “Hesperides apples”, which flaunted in the foyer of the sanatorium. The number was called: “Fight of Hercules with Antey and Hades”. For this, Kormushenko-Hercules was to decree for him for a day at the entrance to the sanatorium.
The battle caused an unrestrained delight in the auditorium. Seregin was the judge. He hid behind the back of one enemy, then another, when they half-naked fought with polished to shine honed swords. Beforehand they smeared with lavender oil, exuding an amazing aroma, brandished with cold weapons as in the Coliseum. To which women reacted with enthusiasm, and the men, having diligently spread out their chairs, tore into the battle, encouraging opponents not to fall, to keep their balance at the sight of blood. Kormushenko, defending himself after a long attack by Hades – Regimov, who specifically volunteered to participate in the performance to earn a trip home, wounded a policeman. He did not fall, scattering blood clots on the slippery floor, but rushed to the doctor, standing at the sliding edge, with frenzy, that he bandaged the wound. After a moment’s pause, the battle continued. They changed the lighting, occasionally sounded a drumbeat to give the mystery to the view. From the crowd teenagers began to jump in the arena with similar swords, found in attics or bought for a lot of money in the bazaar from visiting Italians trading from under the floor. No one dared to distract and separate them. They interfered, preventing opponents from converging in an unequal battle.
Finally, the judge’s whistle announced the end of the battle, but the angry public did not want to disperse. They demanded the continuation of the battle, hooting and whistling into horns and pipes, taken with them, to turn the show into an ordinary bravado. Then the real show began, creating the impression of a natural actuality. Someone noticed, frightened, lying on the curb block, obstructing the entrance to the arena, unconscious, the guy. It turned