Chapter III.XIII

Lost in lamentable reflections, the inspector did not notice how the car stopped moving.

- Good sir, we are already there! - the driver said cheerfully.

Galbraith turned away from his mirthless thoughts and looked out the window. Outside was a snow-covered field that stretched to the horizon. Here and there sparse trees stuck out between the snowdrifts.

- Are we sure we've arrived at the right address? - the policeman asked incredulously.

- Do you think I decided to fool you? - the taxi driver said with offense.

The inspector decided not to get into an altercation with him and opened the door. There was no bitter blizzard, but rare snowflakes continued to hover in the air. It would be crazy to go out in such light clothes, but Galbraith didn't care anymore. Getting out of the car, he took two steps forward and breathed in the fresh air. A gust of cold wind blew through his hair.

- I said, take me to the institute! - he shouted, looking around.

- And what's this? A barn?! - answered the taxi driver from the window.

The car started moving and sped off into the distance. Shivering from the cold, the inspector took his eyes off the road and turned on his heel. He expected to see a typical building of an ordinary institute - a huge four-story structure with long rows of windows, with a colonnade at the main facade and with mysterious Latin inscriptions above the main entrance. But instead he saw a modest one-story house. Although, to be honest, calling it "house" would be an exaggeration. The structure looked much more like a car garage, built from cinder blocks finished with dark blue plaster.

Galbraith looked a little more closely. The building had the shape of a parallelepiped, with four windows along the long sides. At the end there was a double wooden door with small windows made of thick glass. This, in fact, was where all the architectural delights ended - no signs, inscriptions or plaques. It looked like it really was an ordinary, unremarkable garage. But the inspector decided not to rush to conclusions and came close to the entrance. As soon as he pulled the copper handle, a light came on behind the glass of the doors. Then something tinkled behind them and there was a quiet click. Galbraith immediately let go of the handle and backed away slightly - the next moment the door slowly opened.

A young man stood on the threshold in a white coat thrown over a black shirt. The policeman looked up - the stranger had a yellowish skin tone, small thin lips and combed back black hair. The Asian man looked at the inspector, and polite curiosity was visible in his narrow, slanted eyes. At the first moment, Galbraith even had the thought that he had already seen this face somewhere - maybe in a movie - but he immediately pushed this thought away.

- Welcome, - the Asian said respectfully and bowed his head slightly.

The inspector couldn't help but notice that the interlocutor had problems pronouncing the letter "L" - instead he got an "R", which is why his "welcome" sounded almost like "verukome".

- I am grad that you honoured our humbre institute with your visit, - the stranger in the coat said obsequiously with a terrible accent. - Come in, they are waiting for you.

The solemnity that was felt in the words of this Asian only emphasized the atmosphere of absurdity that surrounded Galbraith at that moment. Having crossed the threshold, the inspector followed his guide, not having the slightest idea where he was leading him. They walked through a narrow, short corridor and found themselves in a dressing room-like room, the walls of which were painted gray. Galbraith immediately caught the eye of the staircase leading down, located directly opposite the entrance to the room. To her right was the elevator door, next to which stood a metal clothes hanger on which hung several white coats - exactly the same as the one the Asian man who met him was wearing.

Behind these clothes, Galbraith did not immediately notice a man standing at a distance in the same suit. Taking a closer look, the inspector recognized him as the same middle-aged guest who had visited him in his room at the Stait of Snow Lake hotel in the morning.

- Wow, here you are! - there was a cheerful shout.

The man waved his hand joyfully, and the policeman saw his face break into a smile for a moment - it seemed as if he saw an old friend whom he had not seen for many years. After a second, the smile disappeared from his face and the man turned his gaze to the Asian man standing next to the inspector and winked at him. He nodded in response and headed towards the stairs. Galbraith wanted to follow, but the silver-haired man stopped him.

- Hold your horses, the respected, hold your horses, - he said ingratiatingly, clapping his hands.

- How can I be useful in this place? - Galbraith asked, looking with interest at the specialist.

- I would like to say a few words to you, - the interlocutor seemed to have not heard him. - I was already afraid that you wouldn't come.

- Why? - the inspector didn't understand what silver-haired was talking about.

- Two months and eight days have passed since I handed you the business card, - the man answered, raising his finger up.

Galbraith was a little surprised by the accuracy with which his interlocutor counted the time. Apparently, he never complained about his memory. Besides, people here were really looking forward to the inspector's visit. The more the policeman thought about it, the more a vague feeling of anxiety came over him. To drive him away, Galbraith decided to focus on the upcoming conversation.

- Yes, I wasn't in much of a hurry, - he answered evasively.

Not telling this silver-haired man that he actually moved in time by getting into some taxi - not only did it sound stupid, but it could also suggest that the inspector was not all right in the head.