‘I believe I’ve heard of him.’
This was no surprise. Misha’s exploits were the raw material of all the popular papers in Odessa. He had even been mentioned in the Nick Carter and Sherlock Holmes dime-novel pulps we had in those days.
‘He is a kidnapper,’ I said, ‘a hold-up man. He forces local people to pay him protection money. If they don’t, he shoots them or burns their shops. He deals in drugs. In prostitution. Illegal alcohol. He owns cabarets, taverns. He bribes police-inspectors, city officials, everyone.’
Uncle Semya became amused again. ‘Such a Jew should join the Black Hundreds.’
‘And he recruits young lads,’ I continued. ‘Of all races. Ukrainians, Katsups, as they call Russians, Greeks, Armenians, Georgians, Muslims, anyone. He has a web like a—’ I felt uncomfortable ‘— like a spider.’
‘Heaven preserve us! Are you sure this bandit doesn’t just exist in your Pinkerton magazines?’
I told him I spoke the truth. ‘And,’ I added, ‘he has Shura in his grip.’
‘I cannot believe it.’
‘Shura tried to recruit me, too. He used me as an interpreter. I went aboard an English ship. He bought drugs.’
Uncle Semya turned his head away. He looked through the window. There was a yard with an entrance into the alley running between the houses. He watched a small child balancing on the wall. The child fell off and disappeared. He turned to look at me again, ‘I think you’re mistaken, Maxim. Shura works for me.’
‘Of course he carries messages between the ships and merchants and keeps a look-out for good cargo when it’s unloaded. But for the rest of the time he works with crooks, prostitutes. There’s a place called Esau’s. A Jewish tavern. Perhaps you’ve heard of it?’
‘I don’t often visit taverns in Slobodka.’
‘It’s a terrible place. Shura has slipped into bad company. He tried to involve me, too. I refused and now he’s angry with me.’
‘You had an argument?’
‘I objected morally to his life.’
‘He’s a young bohemian. You, too, have been living such a life.’
‘There’s a difference, Semyon Josefovitch, between bohemianism and criminality.’
‘And young people do not always recognise it.’ He waved a tolerant hand.
I was disappointed. ‘I think Shura should be sent away from Odessa.’
‘To where? To Siberia?’ He sounded the word slowly and sardonically.
‘Possibly to sea. It would do him good. The education.’
‘Did he ask you to tell me this?’
‘Not at all.’ Shura would hate to be removed from Odessa, from Katya. With Shura gone I should have both Wanda and Katya. Even when Katya opened the box of spiders she would not know it was from me. I could resume where we had left off. The notion of sending Shura to sea had been an inspiration.
‘Shura isn’t much of a sailor. Also, we are at war...’ Uncle Semyon re-lit his cigar.
‘Think what he would learn.’
‘Have you told him you were coming to me?’
‘No, Semyon Josefovitch.’
‘It might have been more manly to have done so?’
‘He needs an adult to tell him.’
‘And you’ve mentioned this to no other adults?’
‘Only yourself.’
‘I will speak to Alexander. But you must keep this a secret, Maxim.’
‘Because of the family scandal?’
‘Quite so.’
He sighed. Perhaps he was grateful that at least one of the younger members of the family was honest. ‘Off you go, Maxim. If you see Shura ask him to come here.’
‘I will, Semyon Josefovitch.’
Not an hour later, as I went downstairs to find wrapping paper for Katya’s present, I saw Shura arrive and go through the door connecting Uncle Semya’s business with the house. I had only seen these premises once: dark-painted wood and little glass windows, and oak, mahogany and brass desks, with clerks sitting at them who might have been there since the days of Pushkin. I wondered why Shura should go into the offices rather than into Uncle Semya’s study.
I waited on the landing, watching the door, but Shura did not emerge again. I assumed he had left through another exit.
Feeling mightily pleased with myself, I went to ask Aunt Genia for the fancy paper. She handed me a sheet, together with some scissors and ribbon. I was not, she said, to disturb Uncle Semya if I saw him. He was in an unusually difficult mood.
‘Was it to do with Shura?’
She shrugged. ‘Perhaps. He doesn’t seem too pleased with you, either. Have you been up to anything?’
‘Nothing, Aunt Genia.’
I returned to my room. I was just a little puzzled. I wrapped the parcel. I called Wanda in and asked her if any boys in the street could be paid to take a parcel to Slobodka. She said that she would see. I had marked the parcel with Katya’s initials, and her Polish surname, which was something like Grabbitz.
‘Who are you sending a present to?’ Wanda asked. ‘It looks a very nice one.’
I kissed her. ‘It is nobody I love. A friend of mine. Someone to whom I owe a favour.’
With a few kopeks, she took the box downstairs and eventually returned to say one of the street-urchins from the square had agreed to deliver it. Now, if Katya asked who had given the boy the box, Wanda and not myself would be identified as the sender.
Wanda and I made love very briefly. I was not really in the mood. I was still wondering what had happened to Shura. The way my luck now ran, he could be on the next ship out of the Quarantine Harbour.
I had asked Wanda to leave me alone for half-an-hour and was reaching for the drawer where I kept my cocaine when the door opened softly and closed. I expected Wanda. To my horror, it was Shura. He was grinning at me in a very menacing way. He had abandoned his tie and shirt and was wearing a laced peasant blouse with a loud, heavy scarf tied around his throat; over this was thrown a fur coat whose surface had worn away in patches. In his hand was a three-eared cap. He looked almost pathetic.
‘You little stool-pigeon,’ he said. ‘You stupid, silly little Kiev gilt-goyim. You wouldn’t have it out face to face. What a crook I am! That’s a laugh. Uncle Semya’s the biggest crook of all.’
I was familiar with these revolutionary arguments. ‘Capitalism isn’t a crime.’
‘Isn’t it? Well, your plan misfired. I’m not to be sent to the galleys. I’m merely to be more cautious about what I let green little sneaks see.’
‘Did Uncle Semya say that?’
‘Not exactly. But it’s the substance.’
‘I can’t believe it.’
‘You don’t have to. I thought we were friends. Max.’
Shura spoke as if I had betrayed him! I now remember him with nothing but kindness and have long since forgiven him, but at that moment the fact that Shura considered himself a victim was almost laughable. I smiled. ‘Shura, it was you who broke the friendship.’
‘You idiot. I was sleeping with Katya before you even turned up. I asked her to be nice to you. I slipped her money. Why did you think it went so easily for you?’
‘She loved me.’
‘I suppose she did. As much as she could. She’s been my girlfriend for years. Ask anyone.’
‘You’re lying. It’s despicable.’
He went bright red. His face was a match for his cropped hair. ‘You don’t have to take my word. Katya will tell you.’
The door opened slowly. Wanda came in. ‘What is it, Shura?’
Shura told her to leave. I nodded in agreement. ‘This is between us.’
‘Don’t start fighting, or I’ll call Aunt Genia.’
‘I wouldn’t touch him,’ said Shura. This relieved me.
‘At least you’ve made it clear how you feel,’ I said. ‘What about me? My rival’s a Jew-loving lout who can hardly speak his own name. A crook.’