“Finally decided to come back down, eh, Danila Kragin?”
“H’lo…”
Everything was so normal that of course I had to run into the old lady. The moment the elevator door clattered open, there was Madam Pisken with her hawk nose. It was bad for my heart.
Sometimes I got the feeling that the kopecks I tossed into the elevator were specifically to meet her. Maybe I’d try taking the stairs next time—although I suspected she’d be one step ahead of me.
“Well, well. I see you’ve combed your hair today, and even washed off the mud and dust. So you’ve been holding out on us.”
When Madam Pisken stood there, this luxurious hotel and its luxurious lobby became her stage. Now the star of the show reached out importantly with her clawlike fingers, poking me in the shoulder and then in the side. “Can’t say I think much of you showing up in your usual savage’s outfit, with your little toy!”
The pain made me feel like I would have rather been hit with heavy metal bullets. Although for that matter, I was sure the madam’s fingers were made of heavy metal themselves.
“Ivan did say he was always in the most danger when he came here,” I said.
“You’re the one who’s dangerous, not my establishment!”
Bam. She had me there.
Stasia was never wrong—but the same was true of Madam Pisken. She was a spindly, withered little old lady, but she was as precise and as merciless as a cyborg ten times her size. If I saw her show up in some Moscow alley, I would throw down my gun and put up my hands.
Happily, Madam Pisken would never do anything so uncouth.
Unhappily, she was indeed standing in front of me at that moment. There was no escape.
I was a Janitor, though. I wouldn’t just show up here without being ready. Standing tall, I showed her the brand-new seams in my body armor.
“Feast your eyes on this,” I said. “Stasia did all this careful work, just for me.”
“I did that work. So don’t act shocked that it came out so well.”
I deflated by about two sizes.
Madam Pisken snorted and, in a voice that knew neither pity nor mercy, said, “You shouldn’t be bothering an actress with trivial busywork anyway. What if she pricked a finger?”
Slowly I said, “Yes, ma’am.”
“Bring that thing directly to me next time.” She snorted again, and then, with an elegant motion, she held her palm out to me. I obediently took an envelope out of my pocket, counted to make sure all the rubles were there, then gave it to her.
“Here,” I said.
“Good.”
She put the envelope in her dress the way a noblewoman might tuck away a fan.
Only then did I let out a sigh of relief.
“Hmph, don’t worry about your outfit. A black-tie ensemble wouldn’t suit you anyway.”
Trying to dress up would only make me look foolish. The madam might not pull her punches, but in this case, I agreed with her. My little brother and sisters might get away with it, but a Janitor who had to count every bullet? He had no business showing up at the Bolshoi Ballet.
Then again, launching a surprise attack right when you let your guard down is the most basic of basics for a Janitor. Madam Pisken might have once been a top actress—but I was sure she would have made a top Janitor, too.
“But if you ever do show up for one of her performances, at least wear a tie,” she said.
“Urk.” I gulped. Come see a performance. I know, I know.
The madam might be a woman without pity, but it was nothing compared to how she would be if I didn’t respect one of her lectures.
I looked at the painting on the ceiling, hoping it would inspire some halfway decent excuse. I didn’t know who had painted it—the only thing I could think was that it must’ve taken a very tall ladder.
Do you suppose whoever did it had a lifeline to catch them if they fell? Probably not—or maybe they had some smarter way of painting than I could ever think of.
Seeing that I had grown another size smaller, the madam gave me a disgusted look. “You make enough money to pay for your visits. Don’t tell me you can’t afford a ticket.”
“Well, you know. Stasia’s performances sell out three months in advance.”
“Then get your ticket four months in advance.”
Fair enough. I finally had no choice but to surrender, although I didn’t do it in quite those words.
“One of these days,” I said.
“This isn’t something you can put off forever!”
“Da…”