"STOLEN IMMORTALITY"

-Father! This is not true! - the young man stammered. - Don't listen to this woman! She's lying! She really is crazy!

The elderly man got dressed and left the office. His son ran after him, trying to justify himself and babbling something about a misunderstanding.

Vladimir and Galina were left alone. They were silent for a long time. And this heavy silence did not bode well. Finally, Galina said to her husband:

-I must report your criminal activities to the police.

"No, Galina! Don't do this! I beg you, don't do this!" Vladimir shouted. "I'm your husband! And I love you! Don't ruin our happiness!"

"You're a criminal! A murderer! And I won't cover for you!" Galina said firmly and headed for the exit.

But the woman didn't manage to escape. Vladimir caught up with her, knocked her down, and began strangling her. Within minutes, Galina was dead.

Waiting until dark, Vladimir loaded his wife's dead body into his car and drove it to his country house. At the time, the nanny and child were home. Vladimir knew they had to be eliminated as well. So he bound the nanny and child and gagged them. Then he doused the house with gasoline and set it on fire.

Vladimir hoped the fire would cover up all traces of the crime and allow him to escape punishment again. That would have been the case, if not for the elderly man he was planning to irradiate under a contract with his son. It was this man who reported to the police what had happened in the private X-ray office the day before the fire. He told the police how Galina had saved his life by revealing the secret of the criminal conspiracy between her husband and his son, and how she had forced him to get dressed and leave the office without performing an X-ray.

Vladimir was quickly apprehended. He offered no resistance. In the temporary detention center, they began beating him severely, demanding that he confess to everything. And he confessed. He confessed to the murder of his wife, Galina Terekhova. He confessed to setting the house on fire, in which his child, nanny, and his wife's body burned to death.

But the beatings didn't stop. The police officers demanded that Vladimir confess to his criminal medical practices. Unable to bear the brutal abuse and the horrific physical pain they inflicted on him, Vladimir confessed to everything. He told of the hundreds of victims he had irradiated for money. He told of the murder of his first wife, Allochka Gurskaya, and the murder of their child. He told of the murder of his second wife, Irina Valeryevna Durova, and the murder of the two children he had adopted. He told of the murder of his third wife, Marina Vetrova, and the murder of their child. He even told of the murder of his father!

And so... a doctor and radiologist appeared before the court, having killed his disabled father, four wives, five children and hundreds of innocent people who were objectionable to his secret clients.

Vladimir was sentenced to life imprisonment. He was transferred to Magadan and served his sentence there.

By the time Alexander found him, Vladimir had served five years and had given up hope of ever getting out. However, fate had a surprise in store for him. Alexander arranged Vladimir's escape and paid a large sum of money for it. He needed Vladimir. He desperately needed him. After all, Alexander had been searching the country for people with medical training yet devoid of any morality or integrity. Vladimir was precisely that type of person. Alexander thought highly of him, both as a rare scoundrel and as a superb medical specialist. So he appointed him his deputy and placed him in charge of the laboratory.

They were almost the same age, Alexander and Vladimir. They needed each other. They desperately needed each other. They were bound by their work and shared interests. But now, looking at Vladimir and recalling his story, Alexander asked himself: could he trust this man completely? Unfortunately, he couldn't answer that question.

The car pulled up to the Elite Recreation restaurant. Tikhon turned to the chef and said:

- That's it, Alexander Ivanovich. We've arrived. This is the "Elite Vacation" restaurant.

“Okay,” said Alexander, coming out of his reverie and returning to reality. “You’re free, Tikhon! Go home!”

“Maybe I should wait for you?” asked the driver.

- No. Don't. I repeat, you're free to go, Tikhon! Until tomorrow morning. And tomorrow morning I'll call you and tell you where to pick me up. Got it?

- Understood, Alexander Ivanovich. Goodbye! Have a good rest!

Alexander and Vladimir got out of the car and walked into the restaurant. A doorman greeted them at the door, bowed, and said politely:

-Good evening, gentlemen! Entrance to our restaurant costs one hundred dollars.

"Wow!" Alexander whistled. "Now I understand what 'elite vacation' means!" He took a hundred dollars out of his wallet and handed it to the doorman. "Here! Take it, my friend!"

"You have to pay two hundred dollars. There are two of you! A hundred dollars each," the doorman said politely again.

"I see. I hope the vacation will truly be luxurious and won't disappoint us!" As he spoke, Alexander pulled another hundred dollars out of his wallet and handed them to the doorman.

Taking the money, the doorman smiled sweetly and, opening the restaurant doors, said:

-Please, come in! Enjoy your stay, gentlemen!

Alexander and Vladimir entered the restaurant. Soft music played, creating a lyrical mood. The room was dimly lit and cozy. People were seated at the tables. There weren't many of them. So Alexander immediately recognized Sheikh Rashid and his translator among them. The two of them settled on a table near the stage.

The waiter ran up to Alexander and Vladimir and said politely:

-Good evening, gentlemen! What would you like?

“We want to have an elite vacation,” said Alexander, emphasizing the word “elite.”

"Well then, please follow me. I'll show you a free table." With these words, the waiter headed into the back of the room. Alexander and Vladimir followed him.

"Here, gentlemen! Your table," said the waiter, stopping at the table behind the one where Sheikh Rashid and his translator were sitting. "Please sit down. And tell me what I would like for you."

There was a pause. The waiter stood and waited for the order. Alexander, not understanding this, looked at Vladimir in surprise. Finally, Vladimir said:

-Alexander Ivanovich! We need to place an order!

“Before I order, I’d like to look at the menu and see what they have,” Alexander explained.

"We have everything!" the waiter exclaimed. "Any dish! Any cuisine of the world!" And, turning to Vladimir, he added, "You know it yourself! You've been here many times already!"

"Yes. I know," Vladimir nodded. "But Alexander Ivanovich doesn't know. This is his first time in your restaurant."

"Well, then, I'll explain it to you, Alexander Ivanovich. You see, in our restaurant we don't serve menus," the waiter began patiently and politely, turning to Alexander. "In our restaurant, a customer can order any dish from any cuisine they'd like. And our chefs will prepare it for them!"

"Any dish, really! I don't believe it!" Alexander exclaimed, looking not at the waiter, but at Vladimir. "What do you say, Vladimir? Is he really telling the truth?"

"He's not lying, Alexander Ivanovich," Vladimir confirmed. "You really can order anything you want in this restaurant. I myself ordered a sea turtle dish with exotic fruits."

-Really? So how was it? Did you like it? - asked Alexander.

"I really liked it," Vladimir replied. "The food here is excellent. But the prices are steep!"

"Don't worry about that! I'm the one paying! And I have enough money for any exotic dishes," Alexander reassured Vladimir and turned to the waiter. "Well, my friend! If that's the case, then bring us the same dishes those two people over there ordered!" He gestured toward Sheikh Rashid and his translator, who were sitting in front of him.

The waiter was very surprised and said:

-I didn't understand you.

"Well, what's so hard to understand, my dear? Did those people place an order for you?" Alexander pointed again at Sheikh Rashid and his translator.

“Yes. We did,” the waiter replied.

“Did you bring them the dishes they ordered?” Alexander asked again.

-Yes. I brought it, - answered the waiter.

- So bring us the same dishes! The ones they ordered and received!

-All?

-Yes. Everything.

-Why do you need exactly the dishes that these people ordered?

- Now that's none of your business! Do your job, buddy! And mind your own business!

-Understood. Sorry.- The waiter was very embarrassed and hurried away, saying at last, - Your order will be fulfilled, gentlemen!

When the waiter left, Vladimir timidly asked:

-And you, Alexander Ivanovich, won’t tell me either why you ordered exactly the dishes that the people sitting in front of us ordered?

- I'll tell you. Look at these people, Vladimir! Look carefully! One of them is my client.

-Which?

-And what do you think?

-Fat man.

- Correct. You guessed it, Vladimir. The fat man is my client. He's an Arab sheikh. And the other one is his translator. I met with them today, and we signed a lucrative contract. In a week, I'm supposed to be in Dubai and carry out the operation according to this contract.

"I see. It was because of this contract that you decided to carry out the planned operation to transfer Korovchenko's soul into the body of her niece, Irina, ahead of schedule?"

- Yes. True, I wanted to have this planned operation later, after I returned from Dubai. But you said Korovchenko would cause a scandal. So I'll have to do the operation sooner.

-Tell me, Alexander Ivanovich, will you go to Dubai alone or will you take one of our people?

"I haven't decided on that yet. But what I have decided is that I will definitely try all the dishes that Sheikh Rashid and his translator are enjoying right now. Now do you understand, Vladimir, why I made that order?"

-Yes. I understand, Alexander Ivanovich. Will you approach the sheikh and his translator or not?

- I don't know. We're sitting behind them. They can't see us. So I'm not planning on approaching them for now. And then - we'll see. You better tell me, Vladimir, where are the beautiful girls you were talking about? I don't see them here!

-They will appear when the show starts.

-What show?

-Entertaining.

-So when will it start?

Vladimir looked at his watch and said:

-Any minute now.

“What kind of show is this?” Alexander continued to ask.

- Female models will take to the stage and demonstrate luxury clothing for wealthy people.

-Ah! I'm not interested in that at all!

Don't jump to conclusions, Alexander Ivanovich! I think you'll really enjoy the show!

-Why do you think so, Vladimir?

-Because every girl performing in this restaurant is very beautiful and famous as a model not only in our country, but throughout the world!

-Really?

-Yes. The best Russian models perform here.

-Is Svetlana Lazareva among them?

-Yes. Do you know her?

"I'm not familiar. I'm not familiar yet," Alexander said thoughtfully. "But now everything has become clear to me..."

-What do you understand? What are you talking about, Alexander Ivanovich?

"Now it's clear to me why Sheikh Rashid and his translator came to this particular restaurant. They came here because of Svetlana Lazareva."

-Really? Why do they need it?

-Sheikh Rashid wants me to perform an operation to transfer the soul of his daughter Leila into the body of the model Svetlana Lazareva.

- Is the sheikh's daughter sick? Is she dying?

- No. She's just gotten really fat and weighs two hundred and seventy kilograms.

-Wow! That's a lot!

-Yes. A lot. Because of her fatness, the sheikh's daughter is unpopular with men, and they won't marry her. But she really wants to get married.

-Then let him lose weight!

"She can't. She's tried several times, but she can't. And she suffers greatly from this. She even attempted suicide twice. Sheikh Rashid loves his daughter very much and doesn't want her to die. That's why he decided to help her regain the body of a beautiful, slender woman. Leila chose the body of Russian model Svetlana Lazareva. And that's why the sheikh is now preoccupied with arranging Svetlana Lazareva's kidnapping. That's why he came to this restaurant with a translator.

- So, you agreed to perform the operation to transfer the soul of the sheikh's daughter into the body of Svetlana Lazareva?

"I had to agree. I didn't want to. But Easterners are very dangerous. Refuse their request, and they'll harbor a grudge and start seeking revenge! So, I had to agree. I promised the sheikh that I would perform the operation to transfer his daughter's soul into the body of the model Svetlana Lazareva.

"I see," Vladimir managed to say, just as a bright light flashed and loud music began to play. "And now the show begins. Look at the stage, Alexander Ivanovich."

First, a man in a black tailcoat came onto the stage and announced:

Dear Sirs! We present to you a most fascinating show. Renowned Russian fashion models will now demonstrate elite clothing for the wealthy. And not only clothing. They will also show you themselves – the most beautiful women, renowned throughout the world! After our show, you can invite your favorite model to your table, and she will spend the evening with you.

"Spend the evening? What does he mean?" Alexander asked Vladimir, pointing at the man in the black tailcoat.

"He means the show will continue at the tables. Typically, male clients invite the models they like to their table and have a good time with them."

-And this, of course, is not free?

- Yes. Like everything else in this world. To get the model you like to spend the evening at your table, you need to pay three hundred dollars. Pay that man in the black tailcoat who announces the show.

-Is he a pimp?

- No. He's a showman. He has to share the money he gets from customers with the owners of this restaurant.

-I see. Everyone has their share.

-This is true.

-And what next? These girls spend the evening with the clients, eating and drinking at their expense. And that's it?

"And then it's by personal agreement with the girls. Usually, the male clients take the girls from here to expensive hotels and continue their fun there."

- So the girls sell themselves?

"I can't say for sure. In any case, each girl names her own price and takes the money from the client herself. And what happens to the money afterwards, I don't know. Perhaps the girls give some of the money to the restaurant owners or the show organizer. Or perhaps they keep it all for themselves."

- I see. A sort of elite prostitution. Well, let's see how it differs from regular prostitution and whether it's worth the money.

- Believe me, Alexander Ivanovich, it justifies.

-Have you already used the services of these models?

Vladimir wanted to answer his boss's question. But at that moment, the lights went out and the music grew even louder. The room where the clients were seated remained in darkness. The stage lit up a few seconds later. Girls began to appear on stage, each more beautiful than the next. They were wearing elegant dresses and expensive jewelry. A man in a black tailcoat announced the first and last names of each model and recounted their performances on prestigious Russian and international catwalks.

Alexander and Vladimir gazed at the girls, mesmerized. And truly, there was something to behold! Slender, graceful, youthful bodies! Beautiful faces! Fashionable hairstyles! Sultry gazes! The models aroused desire. Passionate desire in every man in the audience. That's what the show was designed for.

“What magnificence of female bodies!” exclaimed Alexander.

“You’re right, Alexander Ivanovich!” Vladimir supported his boss. “Indeed,

Magnificent! These girls are like pearls! One more beautiful than the other! It's hard to choose!

At this time, a man in a black tailcoat announced the next model:

-And now I present to you the celebrated model Svetlana Lazareva! Come meet her, gentlemen!

The girl who walked onto the stage wasn't just a pretty girl. She was perfect.

Svetlana Lazareva's classically refined form and aristocratic features set her apart from all other models. She was the epitome of beauty, harmony, and grace. Therefore, when she appeared on stage, all the men gasped in amazement and admiration.

"Oh, how beautiful she is! How beautiful!" Alexander exclaimed. "She has some kind of unearthly, magical beauty. I want to look at her forever! Without looking away for a minute!"

"Yes, you're right, Alexander Ivanovich!" Vladimir echoed his boss. "Svetlana Lazareva is the star of all fashion models. She's the most beautiful of the beautiful!"

A man in a black tailcoat began listing Svetlana Lazareva's titles, won in various beauty pageants. Then the show's organizer began recounting the model's numerous appearances on prestigious Russian and international catwalks. Meanwhile, Svetlana Lazareva walked around the stage to music, demonstrating both her clothes and herself to clients. She wore a short, thin skirt that revealed almost all of her slender, luscious legs, and an equally thin blouse that revealed her firm, perfectly formed breasts.

As the man in the black tailcoat finished his speech and the music reached its climax, Svetlana Lazareva made two imperceptible hand movements and instantly appeared before the audience in just her bathing suit. No one understood how she had managed to remove her skirt and blouse so quickly and easily. All the men gasped again in amazement and admiration! Then a thunderous storm of applause erupted. Svetlana Lazareva bowed coldly and left the stage.

The show's organizer began announcing the next model. But Alexander and Vladimir didn't hear him. They were still captivated by Svetlana Lazareva's perfect beauty. It was an obsession! Magic, if you will! Only perfect, unearthly beauty could work such a miracle! The men continued to experience feelings of amazement and admiration! They were brought out of this state by the waiter who brought their order.

"Gentlemen! I've brought everything you ordered," he said, and began placing various dishes on the table. Vladimir shuddered, coming to his senses. And Alexander winced in displeasure. The magic of beauty had vanished. Vanished with the arrival of the waiter. And the men returned to reality once more.

“Thank you,” Alexander said and asked, pointing to the dishes. “Are these the dishes that the people sitting in front of us ordered?”

“Yes,” the waiter answered.

“Well, we’ll be happy to try them,” Alexander stated.

“Bon appétit, gentlemen!” said the waiter and left.

Alexander looked at the dishes brought and said:

-Come on, Vladimir, let's try the dishes that Sheikh Rashid and his translator ordered.

“Go ahead, Alexander Ivanovich,” Vladimir nodded and also looked at the dishes that had been brought.

-But first, let's have a drink.

-I don't mind. Let's have a drink.

- So, what did they bring us here? - Alexander took the decanter brought by the waiter and began to look at its contents. - I wonder what this is? Vodka?

"Unlikely. Easterners don't like vodka, they like wine," Vladimir said.

-So, this is white wine?

-Probably. We should try. Then we'll find out.

-Yes. Let's taste it. Pour it, Vladimir.

Vladimir poured, and the men drank. They tasted a pleasant, sour taste. They concluded it was wine. Then they began to sample the unknown dishes.

"What is this?" Alexander asked, eating fried meat stuffed with sweet vegetables with gusto. "It looks like a shashlik with vegetables. But what kind of meat is this shashlik made of?"

-I think from camel meat.

-Yes? Why do you think so, Vladimir?

-Your sheikh is from the East. And in the East, they love camel shashlik.

-I see that you, Vladimir, are an expert in oriental cuisine!

"Oh, come on, Alexander Ivanovich! If I were an expert on Eastern cuisine, I'd tell you the name of this delicious dish and what it's made from," Vladimir said, pointing to the dish he was currently enjoying. "But I can't tell you. I don't know what this dish is or what it's made from. I only know one thing: it's very, very tasty."

"Well, Vladimir, let's not worry about what these dishes are called or what they're made from. Let's just enjoy them!"

- I agree, Alexander Ivanovich! You are right as always!

The men began to enjoy the unfamiliar dishes. Enthralled, they seemed to have forgotten the ongoing show. Meanwhile, various models took to the stage. The show's host continued to announce each girl's first and last name and recount their performances on Russian and international runways.

By the time Alexander and Vladimir had had their fill, the show was already over. A man in a black tailcoat announced the final model:

- And now, gentlemen, before you is the last participant of our show - Olga Kudrina. Please meet her!

A model with long dark hair and a seductive figure walked onto the stage. Upon seeing her, Alexander's expression changed, he jumped up from his seat, and exclaimed:

-Victoria! This is Victoria!

The show's organizer responded to Alexander's inappropriate behavior with the following phrase:

-You're mistaken, sir! This girl's name is Olga. Olga Kudrina. Not Victoria. Please don't interfere with her performance!

Alexander felt embarrassed and sat down. Loud music began to play. To the sound of it, Olga Kudrina began walking around the stage, showing off her clothes and herself to the customers.

- I wasn't mistaken! This is Victoria! Victoria! - Alexander muttered, looking at the girl. - This is her face! Her figure! I wasn't mistaken! This is Victoria!

“But the show’s organizer claims that the girl’s name is Olga Kudrina,” Vladimir told the boss.

"He's lying! This can't be! I can see it's Victoria!" Alexander continued to insist.

"Olga Kudrina and Victoria probably look very similar. It happens. And that's why you, Alexander Ivanovich, were mistaken."

- No! I'm not mistaken! This is Victoria!

-Who is Victoria?

- She... she's my classmate. We went to college together. I loved her. I loved her very much. And I still love her.

"If she's your classmate, then she must be your age too. She's forty now, like you. And Olga Kudrina looks no more than eighteen. Now do you realize you were mistaken?"

Alexander didn't answer for a long time, thinking about what Vladimir had said. Then he said:

- Yes, Vladimir, you're right. Victoria should be forty now. And this girl is young. I was wrong. The thing is, I remember Victoria as young and beautiful. I don't imagine her as a forty-year-old woman. Do you understand?

"I understand, Alexander Ivanovich. You've achieved immortality and eternal youth. And so you've forgotten that ordinary people age and die. So has your classmate. She's grown old."

- Ah! If Victoria were with me, she would never grow old! I would give her new young bodies! And she would live with me forever!

-Why don't you offer it to her? I think she would agree.