JК
Diaboliad :: Булгаков Михаил Афанасьевич
Страница: 8 из 30«You can't. Go away, Mr. Korotkov, or you'll get me into trouble…»
«But I must, Panteleimon,» Korotkov asked weakly. «You see, my dear Panteleimon, there's been an order-Please let me pass, be a good chap.»
«Oh, my goodness…» muttered Panteleimon, glancing at the door in fright. «You can't, I say. You can't, Comrade!»
Inside the office the telephone rang loudly and a copper-heavy voice barked:
«I'm leaving now! This very moment!»
Panteleimon and Korotkov moved aside. The door flew open and out into the corridor rushed Longjohn in an army cap with a briefcase under his arm. Panteleimon trotted along behind him, and after a moment's hesitation Korotkov raced off behind Panteleimon. At a bend in the corridor Korotkov, pale and agitated, darted under Panteleimon's arm, overtook Longjohn and ran along backwards in front of him.
«Comrade Longjohn,» he mumbled with a catch in his throat. «Just let me say something, please. About the order…»
«Comrade!» the preoccupied and hurrying Longjohn roared furiously, trying to race past Korotkov. «Can't you see, I'm busy. I'm on my way.»
«It's about the ord…»
«Can't you see I'm busy? Go to the Chief Clerk.»
Longjohn raced into the vestibule, where the huge unwanted organ of the Alpine Rose was standing on the floor.
«But I am the Chief Clerk!» squealed Korotkov in horror, breaking into a cold sweat. «Please listen to me, Comrade Longjohn.»
«Comrade!» Longjohn honked like a siren, not taking the slightest notice. Still running he turned to Panteleimon and shouted: «Take measures to stop me being detained!»
«Comrade!» Panteleimon croaked with fright. «Stop detaining.»
And not knowing what measures to take, he took the following one. Putting his arms round Korotkov's torso, he drew him close as if it were the woman of his heart. The measure was most effective. Longjohn whizzed past, raced downstairs as if on roller skates, and shot out of the front door.
«Brrm! Brrm!» shouted a motor-cycle outside the windows, fired five shots and disappeared, veiling the panes with smoke. Only then did Panteleimon let go of Korotkov, wipe the sweat off his face and howl:
«God help us!»
«Panteleimon…» asked Korotkov in a shaky voice. «Where's he gone? Tell me quickly, or he'll get someone else…»
«I think it's CENTROSUPP.»
Korotkov raced downstairs like the wind, sped into the cloakroom, snatched up his coat and hat and ran into the street.
«But I must, Panteleimon,» Korotkov asked weakly. «You see, my dear Panteleimon, there's been an order-Please let me pass, be a good chap.»
«Oh, my goodness…» muttered Panteleimon, glancing at the door in fright. «You can't, I say. You can't, Comrade!»
Inside the office the telephone rang loudly and a copper-heavy voice barked:
«I'm leaving now! This very moment!»
Panteleimon and Korotkov moved aside. The door flew open and out into the corridor rushed Longjohn in an army cap with a briefcase under his arm. Panteleimon trotted along behind him, and after a moment's hesitation Korotkov raced off behind Panteleimon. At a bend in the corridor Korotkov, pale and agitated, darted under Panteleimon's arm, overtook Longjohn and ran along backwards in front of him.
«Comrade Longjohn,» he mumbled with a catch in his throat. «Just let me say something, please. About the order…»
«Comrade!» the preoccupied and hurrying Longjohn roared furiously, trying to race past Korotkov. «Can't you see, I'm busy. I'm on my way.»
«It's about the ord…»
«Can't you see I'm busy? Go to the Chief Clerk.»
Longjohn raced into the vestibule, where the huge unwanted organ of the Alpine Rose was standing on the floor.
«But I am the Chief Clerk!» squealed Korotkov in horror, breaking into a cold sweat. «Please listen to me, Comrade Longjohn.»
«Comrade!» Longjohn honked like a siren, not taking the slightest notice. Still running he turned to Panteleimon and shouted: «Take measures to stop me being detained!»
«Comrade!» Panteleimon croaked with fright. «Stop detaining.»
And not knowing what measures to take, he took the following one. Putting his arms round Korotkov's torso, he drew him close as if it were the woman of his heart. The measure was most effective. Longjohn whizzed past, raced downstairs as if on roller skates, and shot out of the front door.
«Brrm! Brrm!» shouted a motor-cycle outside the windows, fired five shots and disappeared, veiling the panes with smoke. Only then did Panteleimon let go of Korotkov, wipe the sweat off his face and howl:
«God help us!»
«Panteleimon…» asked Korotkov in a shaky voice. «Where's he gone? Tell me quickly, or he'll get someone else…»
«I think it's CENTROSUPP.»
Korotkov raced downstairs like the wind, sped into the cloakroom, snatched up his coat and hat and ran into the street.