 |
Chapter Eleven
 s he slowly batted his eyes open, semi-awakening after making love, Ivan Drugo's focus began to clear as he looked at the big window across from the bed that looked out over the Moscow river to the southern walls of the Kremlin. Night still ruled. The lights from the bridges and buildings were interrupted by the swaying of the large dark mass at a considerable distance in front of them. Drugo knew that mass to be Anya. She was standing at the window, the back of her naked body to the bed. Both of her hands were holding something up to her eyes. The glow of a street lamp came in from the window to the right, illuminating the leather strap, on which, Drugo knew, hung a set of binoculars. Drugo never stood by the window. He was afraid of heights. He never stood with Anya to gaze out at the city beyond. He made excuses, he hated fear. When Anya was at work, or out of the apartment, he drew the thick drapes over the window.
Anya was swaying and looking at the Kremlin. Soon she began humming softly. Drugo couldn't quite make out the tune. Just watching the rhythmic movement of his wife's body with his tired eyes, and hearing the heavy noises of her deep voice, he began to fall back to sleep.
They were married in 1909, the year the Red Rooster opened. Anya had a job there the first month. She began doing a variety of jobs: maintenance, bar tender, even bouncer. Gradually, she began to arrange for cabaret acts and poetry readings, and help to choose art works to enhance decor. Soon she was purchasing most items needed by the Rooster, and making most of the important decisions.
Drugo had the reputation even then as a violent man. Veteran of the war with Japan, he had a "significant number of yellow scalps on his belt" as he was frequently heard to say in those days. A hired assassin, some said. A little man, who would goad a bigger man into a fight in a bar, pull out one of his many guns and shoot the man down. Let someone owe someone else some money - just hire Drugo to appear in the vicinity of the deadbeat - and the matter was settled, usually without bloodshed. Such was the reputation and the prowess of Ivan Drugo. And what was the law in those matters, and justice? Drugo also seemed to be somehow employed, if only part-time, as a policeman, a military security officer, "deputy", or even "judge". He was in the Brotherhood of the untouchables, certainly. If one had to know someone, one would want to know someone like Drugo.
Drugo met Anya soon after she began working at the Rooster. After the Russo-Japanese War, he had walked into Moscow from his tiny native village and carved out for himself a good size niche. But he was no ladies' man. He had little experience with women outside of brothels. A sensitive, caring relationship with a woman was alien to him. The danger associated with his milieu, his reputation, the security that he could provide to her, the respect that was paid, and the fear people had of a man of such an unimposing physical stature - all combined in Anya's mind and heart to form an image of Drugo as pure power. She fell madly in love with him!
The Drugos lived in the Labaznaya district. A part of the 2 1/2 mile stretch of land that lay between the two arms of the Moscow river after it divided upstream about a half mile to the southwest of the Kremlin. Anya continued to peer through her binoculars, sway and hum. Moving in a line, south of St. Basil's Cathedral in Red Square, Anya spied what appeared to be a small fleet of trucks, perhaps four or five. She followed them as they passed the Rossiya Hotel and proceeded on to the Moskvoretsky Bridge to her right, which spanned both arms of the river and the half-mile of land between. She lost sight of them when they passed the midway part of the bridge. Were they delivering or picking up? Authorized, or unauthorized? She would be sure to get some answers that night at the Rooster when she went to work. By that time, the dawn was about to make its daily appearance. Anya was sleepy. She took off her binoculars and set them on her little table next to a wash basin, where Drugo's combed-out hairs stood upright like the lesser towers of the Kremlin. She crawled into bed and onto her husband, waking him. They made love again. They both fell asleep.
Drugo woke up about 10:00 a.m. He washed, dressed, and left the apartment. Anya would sleep on until about 2:00 p.m. That day was a day that Drugo had to check in with his "superior", an agent who gave Drugo assignments or reviewed Drugo's progress on previous assignments. Drugo was to meet this Agent, Comrade Flobov, at the regular rendezvous, a small tea shoppe on Trubnaya Place, north of the Bolshoy Theatre. When Drugo arrived, he found Comrade Flobov at the usual table by a window to the left of the shoppe's front door. Comrade Flobov lost his left eye in the Civil War and wore a black patch to cover it. He was a medium-sized man, powerfully built, always unshaven. He was toothless, except for two front tops and two bottoms with large gold fillings. He wore an old, short army jacket over a white undershirt, and dark trousers stuck into big military boots. He spoke in a hoarse whisper or muttered in an affected bass. He scarcely parted his lips after whistling his words through his four teeth.
"Be prepared soon to go to Germany, or contact someone of us in Germany," Comrade Flobov announced cryptically, not looking up from his glass of steaming tea.
"Of course, Comrade Flobov." The waiter came over to their table, but Drugo motioned him away. Drugo sat and waited. Comrade Flobov stared out the window at the busy little street.
"Marburg Germany. Do you know it? That will be our destination, Comrade Drugo."
"Of course, Comrade Flobov." Marburg Germany had no significance for Drugo, nor did he particularly know where it was exactly.
"Until our next meeting, or sooner, as directed. Thank you, Comrade Drugo."
"Of course, Comrade Flobov." Drugo got up and left the tea shoppe.
Drugo next went to the Moscow office of NEP on Tsvetnoy Boulevard. The National Economic Policy (NEP) was instituted by Vladimir Illich Lenin in March. After the agriculture disasters and labor paralysis of the years immediately following the war and revolution, the program partially restored free trade to Russia, and was believed to be a capitalist sell-out by the purist communists. The economy desperately needed stimulation. Under NEP, peasants could sell their goods independently (private enterprises were leased from the government). The so-called, "Nepmen" began to emerge - businesspeople, who filled the need for an entrepreneurial and management class. The party leadership mistrusted those usually bourgeois and non-party people, but were willing to put up with whatever it took to put the economy back on its feet. There was much corruption to put up with. An operation such as that, involving billions of rubles, geared for the short-term, was destined to be fraught with get-it-while-you-can ethics, misappropriation of funds, and tax evasions. Trusts were created, funded by the government to build up individual industries. Within the trust structure, corruption was at its zenith. Food shortages were acute. Thirty-five million ration cards had been issued by 1920. Barter was common. People fled from urban centers to the countryside in search of food. Malnutrition and starvation were rampant. Inflation ran unchecked. By 1920, the ruble had one percent of the value it had in 1917.
Drugo had a plan. It was new for Drugo. Drugo usually had no plan. He just acted. But he wanted nothing more than to expand his sphere of influence over his wife. By that he meant he had to find new ways to impress her with what he could do. He knew what she loved about him. He wanted to make her love him more. He knew that she cared a great deal for Zina Dumatskoy, and was concerned about her father. Her husband, Dmitri, meant nothing to Drugo. Drugo, in fact, could not bear Dmitri. Drugo also detested V. V. Podly. Podly had no fear of Drugo, and that made Drugo hate him more. Anya loved their apartment in Labaznaya, the view, the space. She was happier there than she had ever been. Drugo could live in a closet. But Anya would be devastated if their housing situation would change for the worst. Podly seemingly held all the cards, but Drugo thought he might have a way to trump those cards.
Drugo believed, through conversations with his wife, and with Podly himself, that the Housing Commissar had some evil plans for Zina Dumatskoy. And that those plans probably depended a great deal on her drunkard of a father, Ostavlyavich, for their fruition. Drugo could simply shoot Podly. But another Housing Commissar would take charge, probably more corrupt and more vile than Podly. No, Drugo's plan had to involve more subtlety, and for the first time in his life, less violence.
"Well, Ivan Ivanovich, I was. . . ah. . . surprised to hear from you the other day. It's been some time, hasn't it. A while indeed! And we say on the phone 'Coming to see me? Certainly, Ivan Ivanovich, by all means. Come today, come now!' " Natalya Doverovich seemed nervous. As she sat in her office on Tsvetnoy Boulevard, she smoked a cigarette with her left hand, and tapped the fingers of her right hand on top of the desk behind which she was sitting. Her underlip hung down limply in front of her chin, causing the lower portion of her face to appear to be in decline.
Drugo stood in front of her, almost at attention.
"Kind of you to see me, Natalya Semyonova. It has been awhile since the night I informed you of a little matter with your husband, and. . . er. . . that other man."
Drugo wasn't use to speaking like that, reminding people of favors done. "How is your husband?"
"Fine, fine. Let me offer you a cigarette, sir, a drink perhaps? Not too early in the day, is it?" She took a glass and a small black flask out of the drawer in the desk and set them on top of the desk with an unsteady right hand.
"Thank you, no."
"Won't you sit down, Ivan Ivanovich?"
"Thank you, no." said Drugo. He got right to the point.
"Different trusts are always looking for professionals, people who can make money?"
"Of course, Ivan Ivanovich!"
"Years of experience selling, specialized selling, in a key city, an ancient city. A respectable and true businessman. A little down on his luck right now, taken to drink, but who needs work. And who can help his country. The trusts are looking for such people?"
"Of course, Ivan Ivanovich. Specializing in selling what, sir?"
"Honey and furs."
"Excellent!" What great ancient city?"
"Novgorod."
"Excellent! Who is this man?"
"S. A. Ostavlyavich."
 ina continued to work on her painting of Dmitri's place, that space in his mind where peace reigned supreme. It was becoming more and more of an ordeal for her every time she sat down to work. She had been out walking Novokirovskaya under a full October moon that night thinking about why that painting had to be revised and corrected so many times! She remembered what Dmitri told her about the painter, Mikhail Vrubel, and how he painted and repainted the head of the demon in one of his works 40 times until he thought that he had it. Then, he destroyed the painting -- realizing that he did not have it!
It was about 1:30 a.m. when Zina sat down at her easel in the sitting room to continue work on the painting. She was immediately struck by a sense of foreboding. Instead of Dmitri's meadow being bathed in unobstructed sunlight, dark clouds seemed to be approaching from the left edge of the canvas. The entire image seemed constricted, narrow, cramped. She quickly got up from her chair and walked into the little bathroom. She splashed water on her face. She went back to the sitting room. She was astounded when she looked at her painting to find that it had somehow regained its brightness and its expansive qualities of perspective! But as she looked closer, she thought that she could not find any of the little nightingales that she painted on the branches of the various trees, or flying in the foreground! Zina shook her head in disbelief. Am I dreaming? She asked herself. Have I been affected in some strange perceptual way by the full moon tonight? She rubbed her eyes and was about to scrutinize the painting once more. However, she heard Dmitri yelling from the bedroom that Sasha was awake and crying. It was early for his usual feeding, so something must have disturbed his sleep. Zina did not want to leave the painting. Dmitri called to her again. She swore, threw down her brush in disgust, and went to the bedroom.
|
|
