crows of strasbourg

Chapter 17 Chapter 01

L'leerrante

1.

Jacques wouldn't have come here if the cat hadn't disappeared. It was a flat land on the hillside, the lebalcon, as the grown-ups called it, "The Balcony."Beyond the jagged edge are steep drop-offs, covered with scattered brush and snow, towards villages and narrow valleys.The village is no different from other small villages in the French Alps. The small houses are crowded together, as if to keep each other warm, and even when the sun is warm, it is shrouded in deep twilight.

In Jacques' view, the "balcony" is a barren and cold muddy land, and a wooden house stands alone in the center. The wood has been blackened by the perennial wind and rain, and a blanket-like moss has grown on the roof.Nobody lives here, the theory is, the cabins are rented out to climbers during ski season, which isn't ski season yet.Jacques climbed up a leaning dwarf pine tree, hid behind the dense needles, watched the rising smoke and the lights in the windows, the firewood was piled on the porch, covered with a tarpaulin, and the corners were carefully pressed with stones up.A dog was sleeping beside the woodpile, curled up in a dark brown ball.

A starling crowed suddenly, and Jacques was so startled that he almost fell from the tree.The dog barked and ran towards the pine tree.The door of the cabin opened, and a figure appeared there. At first Jacques thought he was holding a broom, then realized that it was a pistol.The boy hugged the branch tightly, pressing his face against the rough bark, praying that strangers would not see him.

"Anika," said the stranger.

The dog quieted down, and Jacques heard the rustling of boots on the fallen leaves. He would have thought it was just a bird. The boy counted his breaths, four times, before carefully looking down, sure he didn't see me.

"Come down, little one." The man with the gun stared straight at Jacques.

He slid down the tree trunk, the bark scratching his palms, and Jacques tugged at his dirty sweater, head down, shoulders hunched, like when his mother caught him stealing all the hazelnut cookies.

"Are you alone?" asked the man holding the gun. His French was unnatural, as if it had been deliberately pruned, the edges and corners were removed, and the accent could not be heard.

"I'm looking for my cat."

"I didn't ask what you were doing here, I asked if you were alone."

"Yes."

The dog walked around Jacques, sniffing his hands and pants.The man with the gun knelt down so that he could look into Jacques' eyes, and the boy noticed a very shallow scar on his forehead, and the stranger's eyes were dark green in the shadow of the pine trees. "May I have your name?"

"Jacques."

"I'm Alex. Listen, Jacques, your cat may be somewhere else, and if he ever shows up, Anika will know." Alex glanced at the shadowy woods. "Someone Do you know you came here?"

The boy shook his head.

"Don't talk about it with other people, okay? My friend is sick, he needs time to recuperate and doesn't want to be disturbed, do you understand?"

The boy nodded.

Alex stood up, "Come on, little guy, it's getting dark."

The boy rushed into the woods and ran down the sloping and winding path, not once daring to look back.

Jacques didn't mention this to anyone, and his mother noticed his chafed palms and mud-stained trousers, but said nothing.Dinner was mashed potatoes sprinkled with coarse grains of salt and roast chicken left over from the kitchen. Jacques' father ran the only pub in the village, and there was always some leftover roast and dessert.Jacques didn't even eat the pudding, went back to the bedroom earlier than usual, built himself a tent with pillows and blankets, and hid in it.He could hear the radio blaring, a quivering dance song, the wooden floors creaking as his mother walked up and down. "What's the matter with Jacques?" asked the father.

"The cat is gone," replied the mother, and Jacques could hear the frown in her tone. "It's your fault, Benoit. I told you to fix the screen door two weeks ago."

No answer, a bang of static, a channel change, a weary-voiced presenter talking about the weather, snow coming next in the mountains, and the whole of Haute-Savoir not to let its guard down.As if suddenly realizing that he would never see the cat again, Jacques hugged the pillow and cried out his breath, which was probably the closest thing to the end of the world for an eight-year-old boy.

2.

The starling called again, not sure if it was the one from the day before yesterday.There was sleet in the early morning, and the mountain road was slippery. This path has not been walked for a long time, and it is about to disappear among the low, thorny bushes.The dog outran him and was gone.Boots slipped on the mossy rocks, and Hines paused to catch his breath, rolled his sleeves up to his elbows, and continued climbing.The mountain wind carried the smell of pine resin, and from where he stood the cabin was clearly visible, but the mist obscured the village at the foot of the mountain.

Before he got close, he knew that the lasso he had laid several days ago had paid off. Anika circled around excitedly, her pointed ears pricked up.A hare with its hind legs caught in a tightened wire, Anton grabbed the struggling animal and broke its neck.

"You wake up earlier than woodpeckers, did anyone ever tell you that?"

"You." The dog approached the rabbit, Anton gently pushed her away, "I said it several times."

"In general, the sick should be in bed, not out murdering hares early in the morning."

"I'm not a patient."

"Injuries."

"Healed, and I provided you with dinner." Anton shook the prey, and the rabbit's hind legs swayed limply.

"I can provide myself with dinner if the situation requires it, thank you."

"Then I assume you're going to eat only canned food from today on?"

"The premise is 'if the situation requires', there is no reason to give up a rabbit that has already been acquired."

Anton wanted to continue talking, shook his head, gave up, stuffed the prey into a cloth bag, which they found in the tool shed of the wooden house, and put it under the axe, the old blood on the canvas had turned black plaques.Anton walked up the worn stone steps, but Hynes grabbed his elbow and stopped him. "Give me the gun."

"I didn't carry a gun."

"We talked about it, don't come out and play Mountain Ranger until your shoulder is healed."

"The gun wasn't on me, and I didn't even know what a 'Ranger' was."

"Anton Andreyevich." Hines pushed him to a nearby pine tree, reached into his coat, touched his waist, and pulled out the controversial weapon from the holster , "After so many years in the KGB, I still can't learn to lie."

"A necessary precaution."

"Prevent what, that boy from the day before yesterday?"

"Obviously."

"Just a terrified kid looking for a lost cat."

"If it were you, what would you do if you wanted to monitor two fugitives hiding in the mountains?"

Hines tilted his head, pretending to be thinking, "Find a dirty kid as my eyeliner and pay him a piece of chocolate every day, but that's not the point."

"And the point is?"

"Don't be too paranoid, you don't want to be one of those persecutory paranoiacs who keep guns under their pillows, do you?"

"You mean not to be you."

"I never put a gun under my pillow."

"While in Bonn."

"I needed to watch out for a Soviet spy."

"And now?"

They stayed close, looking at each other until Hines looked away and put away his gun. "Now we should go back." He reached out and straightened Anton's collar. "I need coffee."

3.

The expected snow began to fall at noon. Jacques was lying by the window, commanding the cavalry to attack a huge plush rabbit. The paint on these wooden toys was peeled off, and the commander's flag was also missing, but his mother refused. Buy him a new set; besides, my grandfather brought this beautiful set of toys from Lyons, and I can't find them in this dreary little village.

The bar was full, as it always does on snowy days, people craving mulled wine with cinnamon and orange peel, and re-sharing conversations they've chewed so many times.The radio was on, the music drowning out the hum of conversation.The door opened, and the uneven leaves collided with each other with a bang.Jacques ordered the wooden cavalry to line up in front of the rabbit, and the commander with the gun took the lead in sprinting.

There was silence in the bar, a muffled, muffled greeting, and then the radio was turned off, which was unusual, and Jacques put down his trooper, tiptoed out of the bedroom, walked up the stairs, and looked down through the crack in the banister.

The police are here.The police station in the village is actually a carpentry shed lent by the church. It has been slightly remodeled, the windows and walls have been repaired, and a padlock has been added to the door. Two sleepy-eyed police officers sit at a long table full of folders all day long. Behind, like a pair of rough wood carvings.Jacques recognized the big Nicolas, the son of the bakery owner, only 32 years old, with a bald spot on the top of his head that was bigger than the palm of his hand, and it was oily under the light bulb; standing next to him was his partner Jean-Philippe, wearing a Glassed, pale as a ghost.There were also two strangers in suits and leather shoes. Except for funerals and weddings, Jacques had never seen anyone in the village wear a suit.

"These gentlemen are from Paris," Nicholas began, "and they're looking for two prisoners—two Soviet spies, be quiet! This is not something to brag about."

The whispers of surprise didn't stop for a long time, Jacques moved on the stairs, and half his head poked out from the gap in the railing. One of the gentlemen "from Paris" took out a few photos from his briefcase and handed them to Jacques' father, who pondered for a while, handed them to the shepherd Mr. Laval, and then passed them on to Digg, who ran the butcher's shop. Mr Nu.The photo circled slowly around the bar and returned to Mr. "From Paris".

"After the weather improves, we hope to go up the mountain to search, of course with the permission of the police." The gentleman from Paris glanced at the big Nicholas, who obviously felt a heavy responsibility and puffed up his chest. "If you remember Please tell us any clues. If you find their whereabouts, please also tell us that these two fugitives are armed and very dangerous." His accent is similar to Alex's, too regular to be unnatural, "We don't want any surprises, do we?"

Jacques quietly left the stairs, went back to the bedroom, and closed the door.

4.

"It's snowing," Anton said, his lips against the back of Hines' neck.

There was no answer, and his friend seemed to be asleep, with his back against his chest.Flaming logs and coals crackled faintly in the fireplace.The wind and snow shook the windows, and the glass vibrated and rattled in the wooden frame.The dog curled up in a cushioned rattan basket, its belly covered with light-colored short fur rising and falling with its breath.Warm on the thick rug in front of the fireplace, what Hines called "a little piece of plush heaven," they lay there, covered in the same coat, like a pair of hibernating animals.The china mug on the floor had been knocked over during their earlier event, and the coffee spilled, soaking the edge of the carpet and the discarded trousers.

Anton studied his scar, from shoulder to side, first with fingers, then tongue and lips.Hines grabs his wrist when he touches it. "You seem very busy."

"really."

Hines turned over and lay on his back on the carpet, "When I said coffee, I didn't mean anything."

"What are you thinking?"

"Obviously coffee."

Anton laughed and leaned down to kiss his stomach, where there was a long, thin pale scar that looked like a knife wound, and Hines said, "Falled on the stairs of the theater, it was a bloody rainy day", Anton Dong didn't believe a word, but he didn't intend to get to the bottom of it.Hines raised his upper body and lightly pressed the back of his neck with his right hand, encouraging him to continue exploring.Anton held his hand, and Hines gasped, fingers in his short hair, and gripped tightly.

He deliberately slowed down the rhythm, carefully and carefully.Time was once the most precious commodity they lacked, but in this wooden house away from human habitation, time overflowed like rainwater dripping from an iron bucket.Hines's became, subsided briefly, and then became hurried again in Anton's.

"Yeah," Hines sighed, "like that."

Anton kissed his sweaty brow, then his lips, and Hynes' eyes were green, buried deep in the summer of Bonn and the snowy nights of Bern in 1968.

The radio was still on, the signal blocked by the heavy snow, leaving only monotonous static, rustling.

5.

Jacques woke up in the middle of the night.

It wasn't late at night, he gradually realized, it was early morning.Snow covered the glass, and the sunlight turned a dull gray-blue.There was a lot of noise downstairs, and the boy put on his coat and plush slippers and went downstairs.

Most of the village came, everyone dressed thickly, and a row of cockroaches leaned against the bar, just as they had done last winter when they were helping M. Laval find his lost sheep.The snow was getting lighter, and they were going to find the two Soviet spies in the summer pasture, where there was a stone cottage where the shepherd M. Laval lived all summer and returned to the village at the end of September.Big Nicholas and the two gentlemen from Paris agreed that it was an ideal hiding-place for fugitives.

Father emerged from the kitchen, wiped his hands on an old apron, and led Jacques to the largest long table. "Stay with mother," he said, unfastening his apron, putting on his hat, and going over to Nikolay.

"Would you like pancakes with hazelnut paste?" my mother asked.

Jacques climbed into the high-back chair, "Yes."

A few scattered papers were spread out on the dining table. Jacques was not interested in them, nor could he understand them.Two photos the size of postage stamps were pasted on the upper right corner of the paper. Jacques leaned over and examined them carefully in the light of the chandelier. The first photo was of a stern stranger, as if he had never smiled in his life.As for the other, Jacques narrowed his eyes, opened the sugar bowl, and put a lump of sugar into his mouth, "Mom, I've seen this man before."

Pancakes sizzling in the pan, "Who?"

"This." Jacques pointed to the photo of the wanted criminal, and suddenly realized that the surrounding voices had stopped, and everyone's eyes were on him. The boy's voice became quieter, no louder than the cry of a mouse. "His name is Alex."

6.

The dog pricked up its ears and stood on the porch, motionless, as if frozen, and after a while began to bark and circle restlessly.Hines dropped the shovel, grabbed the collar, and rubbed the dog's head and neck. "Okay, I hear you. Anika, you need to be quiet, girl."

The dog quieted down and let out a low growl of indignation.Hines walked to the edge of the "balcony" and leaned over to see the sloping rock face and the snow-covered mountain path.At first he found nothing, then, in the cracks of the withered bushes, he saw shadows on the mountain road, a dozen or so, like a group of ants marching towards sugar cubes.

"Do you know what that means?"

Anika tilted her head.

"That means the vacation is over, but we can always find a new nest, can't we?"

The dog wagged its tail.

He patted the mud off his hands and went back to the cabin.

7.

When Big Nicholas kicked open the door, the fire in the fireplace was still alive, and the coals were smoldering, glowing dimly red in the gloom of the cabin.

They searched the gloomy cabin, inside and out, and the surrounding woods, but found nothing.Disappointed, they trudged on for an hour and a half, searching the deserted and empty summer pastures, and found only a cream-coloured cat, half dead of starvation, hiding in the cold hearth of the stone house.The weary hunters took the cat back to the bar and handed it to Jacques.The two gentlemen from Paris grew livid and said nothing more.

After dinner, the snow fell again, and after a last round of mulled wine, the villagers came to the unanimous conclusion that this so-called hunt was just another farce with added humor.

end of story

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There will be two extra articles, one of which will be included in the blog as a hidden article XD