The Museum of Abandoned Secrets

reaction. But you wouldn’t believe how agreeable they got after that! All warm and fuzzy. The wife startedasking me right away if you were the one she’d seen on TV. They were so scared; they must’ve thought you were about to broadcast them to the rest of the world. It worked even better than Vadym’s name. They cracked on the paintings without any fuss—said their daughter has them. So you, my dear, basically made the breakthrough in high-level negotiations. For which you shall receive a special commendation.”
    “In the form of a big smooch? Hey—you should go ahead and just hire me as your secretary! At least I won’t rob you.”
    “Can you start today? If you really mean it.”
    “Are you serious?”
    “Absolutely. It’s perfect, isn’t it?”
    “But I know nothing about antiques, Aidy.”
    “I’ll train you. No problem. You won’t even have to go to college.”
    “I see you’re skimping on me already.”
    “I’ll be your dream boss! You’ll see.”
    “I don’t remember you ever propositioning me like this before...”
    “Do you now appreciate the seriousness of my intentions?” He smiles but receives no smile in return. “Do you know, by the way, how Yulichka got him? He told me this at the very end, when we stepped out for a smoke—turns out she claimed that she was the owner from the beginning. Like it’s her gallery, and she’s this hotshot businesswoman who’s being stalked by her ex-husband, an alcoholic maniac. Meaning, me.”
    “I’ve always suspected she was a crook.”
    “But not this big! And I kept wondering why the dude disappeared and how she, with her bulldog grip, let him slip away. First she called me to say we got this diamond in the rough—and I, naturally, squealed like a little girl, said I was on my way and she should keep him there—and by the time I swooped in, the dude was gone. She told me this whole story about him being late for his bus. And proceeded to handle him behind my back from that day on.”
    “Why did she call you at all?”
    “She must have wanted to make sure that this particular hide was worth tanning, you know? That this was the right moment for her to go in on her own. And I was so thrilled, I blurted it all out—that we’d never had such luck before...which, by the way, is the sacred truth: that yokel’s cuckoo clock, turns out, was also from his father, and also a trophy—from Schwartzwald! That’s the top manufacturer, goes back to the eighteenth century. That’s where they all came from, the cuckoos—Schwartzwald in Germany; it was only later they got called Swiss clocks, after they started making the body in the shape of a chalet...”
    “Watch out! He’s got his turn signal on!”
    “Yeah, I see him. Come on, jack, turn already!” Adrian honks at the gray Mazda in front of him. “And the yokel, when he decided to sell the clock, just went from store to store and asked—to see who’d pay more. That’s how Yulichka got him.”
    “Well, they’re meant for each other. A fine pair.”
    “Indeed.”
    “You got the daughter’s address, right?”
    “Yep. And I got the number in my phone too, the dude called her on the spot. She lives on Berezniaki, Davydov Boulevard. Name’s Ruslana. I thought it’d be Lolita or Angela or something.”
    “Ruslana’s not much better...and Aleksei Davydov, by the way, was that Kyiv city administrator who was in charge of liquidating Babi Yar.”
    “You’re kidding?”
    “Not even a little. They just never got around to renaming that street from the Soviet days.”
    “No shit. So it was on his watch that the dam on Kurenivka broke?”
    “His alright. The project, of course, came down from Moscow; he was just the one who implemented it...for which he was recognized accordingly. That’s how it goes, Aidy.”
    “Makes me wonder—is anyone ever gonna set this country straight?”
    “’Tis a chore, as Ambroziy Ivanovych says.”
    “And Granny Lina used to say, call it a chore and treat it like your job. I called him yesterday, by the way. My dad. He sends regards.”
    “Thanks.”
    “He is still putting together materials for your film. He’s dug up some interesting stuff. I didn’t tell him that the film won’t happen...”
    “The film will happen, Aidy.”
    He looks at her sideways, blinking.
    “It will,” Daryna repeats, with the unshakable certainty of an ancient Sibyl in her voice, so much so that Adrian gets goose bumps. “I have not a shred of doubt about