The Burning Man [antikvár]

Prelude ILondon, 1952When he was dying, the old man had the male nurses carry him out onto the balcony overlooking the Thames, lb the left, in the distance, was the Tower Bridge. It looked like some sort of dreamed place, especially if it was misty, or there was a haze in the air. On his narrow camping cot with water and medicine on the table next to him, the old man stayed out there all day, staring out across the sunlight sparkling on the water, then was carried back into his flat at night. The flat had been built on the top floor of one warehouse in the series of warehouses the old man owned. Lewis Parrish was very rich, but that didn't matter anymore. Money matters to the dying only if it will buy them more time. It couldn't.Valentin Labakov joined Lewis Parrish every day. He either read to the old man, or they talked of the project."Do you believe in our work here?" the old man asked him one day."I believe it holds great possibilities," Labakov said.The old man smiled. "Typical KGB answer. I asked you if you believed in it."Labakov hesitated. He was only thirty-three and very ambitious. He told people what they wanted to hear. Right now it seemed that the old man wanted honesty. Labakov was dishonest enough to be honest when he needed to be.