Read Online Memoirs Found In a Bathtub by Stanislaw Lem - Free Book Online

Department?”
    “You might say…”
    “One moment, please.”
    The priest hurried to the safe and in three quick motions opened the combination lock. The steel door swung aside with a clang, revealing stacks of sealed folders in all colors. These he feverishly searched—then pounced on one. His face was covered with tiny beads of sweat.
    “Make yourself at home, I’ll be right back.”
    “Oh no you don’t!” I yelled, jumping up. “Hand over that folder!”
    I did this on the spur of the moment.
    He clutched the folder to his chest. I looked him in the eye and grabbed an edge of it. He wouldn’t let go.
    “Nineteen,” I said slowly. A drop of sweat ran down his cheek like a tear. The folder eased itself into my hands. I opened it—it was empty.
    “My duty… I acted under orders … from high up,” the priest muttered.
    “Sixteen,” I said.
    “No! Anything but that!!”
    “Be seated, Father. You will not leave this room until you are given the proper authorization by phone. Is that understood?”
    “Yes! Yes!”
    “Nor will you initiate any calls yourself, Father!”
    “I won’t! I swear!”
    “Good.”
    I left and closed the door, went back through the chapel and down the spiral staircase. This time there was no guard at the entrance. In the elevator I noticed that the yellow folder taken from the priest was still in my hand.
    Room 9129 was on the ninth level, sure enough. I entered without knocking.
    One of the secretaries was knitting, the other worked on a ham sandwich and a cup of coffee. I looked for a door to the chief’s office. There wasn’t any, which was odd.
    “Major Erms, Special Mission,” I announced. The secretaries acted as if they hadn’t heard me. The one who was knitting counted stitches under her breath. A code? I examined the small room more carefully: rows of bookshelves on every wall, bookshelves and file cabinets, a microphone painted like a flower and hanging above one shelf at an unusual height. Without another word, I placed my yellow folder on the desk in front of the girl with the ham sandwich. She glanced at it, chewing. Pale pink gums showed above her teeth. With the little finger of her left hand she pushed back the wax paper that held her sandwich. A secret sign? I walked along the shelves and noticed a gap between two cabinets … something white … a door. There was a door behind one of the bookshelves. I gripped the shelf and pulled hard. The files above my head swayed dangerously.
    “Sixteen … nineteen ,” the knitting secretary counted in a whisper that became suddenly shrill. The shelf caught on something halfway—but I had access to the door and managed to turn the knob and squeeze through.

4
    “So you decided to show up at last!” a young, vibrant voice greeted me. A blond officer got up from behind his mahogany desk. The room was stifling hot and he was in his shirtsleeves. “You’re a little dirty from the wall…”
    He took out a small brush and applied it to the sleeve of my jacket as he talked.
    “I expected you yesterday. You will be able to spend the night, won’t you? My work kept me in the office all day, but at least this way I couldn’t miss you. There, now you look fine. You know, I’ve become so familiar with your case that here I am treating you like an old friend and we haven’t even been introduced! I’m Erms.”
    “And you have my instructions,” I said.
    “Why else would I be here? Coffee?”
    “Thanks.”
    He poured me a cup, threw the brush in a drawer and took a seat. The smile never left his face. He had the winsome air of a towheaded boy, though when I looked closer I saw wrinkles around those bright blue eyes—laugh lines, no doubt. His teeth were like a puppy’s, clean and sharp.
    “Okay, down to business. Your instructions. Now let’s see, where did I put them…”
    “Just don’t tell me you have to leave the room to get them,” I said with a strained smile. This sent him into such gales of laughter