NINE
Sasha tkach brushed his hair from his eyes, gripped his gun firmly in his right hand, and knocked on the door with his left. A man's voice answered wearily,
"Who is it?"
"District water inspection," replied Tkach. "You have a leak. Water is running into the apartment below."
Behind the door, voices, lowered voices, jousted.
Tkach knocked again.
"We're going to have a flood if I don't get to your pipes," he called.
"Adnoo'meenoo'too. Wait a minute," came the man's voice coming closer to the door.
There were many possibilities, all with the same conclusion, Tkach decided. When the door opened and the man saw who stood before him with a gun, realized what was in store, he might reach for a weapon, if he had one. Tkach would then shoot him, and the other man, if he were there. If the man did not reach for a weapon, Tkach would provoke him, frighten him, until he made a move.
Locks clicked and clattered inside the apartment, and the door began to open.
Tkach was looking straight ahead. The first thing he wanted the man to see was his eyes.
The door pulled open, and Tkach found himself facing not another man but a window across the room. His weapon came up, ready, expecting that the man had sensed a trap, had gone to the floor, but even as he raised the gun, he lowered his eyes and saw the child before him.
The girl who had opened the door could not have been more than five, though her wide brown eyes looked much older. She was holding a stuffed white rabbit and looked quite frightened at the sight of the man before her.
"At'e'ts. Father," she cried, looking at Sasha's drawn weapon and bloody face.
Behind her, near the window across the room, sat a yellow-bearded man with long hair, one of the two men Tkach had seen the night before, one of the two men who, he was sure, had humiliated him, taken his honor and self-respect, and beaten Zelach. The man wore dark pants and a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up. The shirt was not tucked in, and the man wore no shoes or sox. He dropped the newspaper he was reading and stood up as the little girl hurried to him and buried her face against his leg.
"Who are you? What do you want?" the man asked indignantly, but Sasha could see that the man recognized him.
Tkach aimed the gun at the man's chest and looked around the crowded room. There were two beds in it and, against one wall, a crib.
"Tamara sent me," Sasha said.
The child was sobbing now and holding both her father's leg and the rabbit crushed against her chest.
"I don't know what you're talking about," said the man, patting the head of the little girl gently. "You're frightening Alanya. Put the gun away."
"I'm a police officer," said Tkach, moving into the room and kicking the door shut behind him.
He scanned the room, his gun in front of him. Satisfied that only the three of them were there, he leveled the barrel once again at the bearded man.
"I've done nothing that-" the man began.
"No lies," said Tkach, holding up the palm of his left hand to stop him as the child wept on. "If you lie, even a small lie, I will shoot you dead before your child."
Even as he said it, Tkach knew that his moment had passed, that he could not kill the man while his daughter clung to him, could probably not even do it if she released him and went running out of the apartment. The child had changed things, brought confusion where mere had been such simplicity.
The door flew open behind him, and Tkach whirled and went into a crouch, his gun in two hands, ready to shoot the second man, anxious to shoot the second man, but there was no second man.
' 'Maht. Mother,'' cried the little girl, releasing her father's leg and running past Sasha to Tamara, who stood in the doorway, panting-Tamara, who had taken the time to finish putting on her makeup.
The girl ran into the arms of Tamara, who picked her up and kissed her face and nose, leaving splashes of lipstick that looked like smears of blood.
"Sit down," said Tkach, motioning to a sofa against the wall with his gun.
Tamara hurried to the sofa.
"You, too," said Tkach to the bearded man.
The man moved to join his wife and daughter. Once again, Tkach kicked the door closed.
"Where's the other one?" he demanded. "And don't tell me he's your son or brother or father.'' "He's my friend," said the bearded man as he sat next to his wife, who put her head on his shoulder and continued to hold the child, who sobbed uncontrollably.
"Where?" Tkach demanded.
"Let me explain," the man said. "Please put the gun away. You are frightening Alanya. I have no gun. Please."
"Where is he?" Tkach demanded.
The bearded man sighed and stood again.
"Shoot me," he said. "Take me in the hall and shoot me.
I don't care. I can't tell you where he is, who he is. I cannot tell you. I will not tell you. You know what I have?"
With this he pointed to his chest and continued.
"I have two apartments, one where I have a daughter, one where my wife prostitutes herself so we can make a living. You know why I can't make a living?
I was a political prisoner. I cannot get work. I can only go through life waiting to die and not working or do what I do."
Tkach was in complete confusion as the man began to pace back and forth before him. And then, from the crib against the wall, came the waking cry of a baby.
' 'You know what else a man like me has? You know?'' he went on as he walked, his angry eyes on Tkach. "I have my word. If I tell you where… where the person is you seek, I'll have nothing. Better to die now, here, in dignity."
"Sit down," cried Tkach.
"You're frightening Alanya," the bearded man said. "Your face is all bloody." '' Sit down,'' Tkach shouted, and the man sat and the child cried and the woman named Tamara closed her eyes and began to rock her little girl.
Now the cries from the crib grew louder.
"You almost killed my partner," Tkach screamed. "He will lose an eye."
"We didn't know he was there," said the bearded man. "We thought you were the only one and you were with-"
The bearded man looked at Tamara, whose eyes were still closed.
"He took us by surprise," the man continued. "We fought, tried to hold him down.
We wanted the computer, not trouble. Do we have to talk about this in here? The child.'' "Here, now," insisted Tkach.
"We've never hurt anyone before," said the man, putting his head in his hands as if he were very tired. Then his head came up, and Tkach could see that the man's eyes were red.
"You want the truth? We've taken eleven computers, and we're not the only ones. That's the truth. This is the only time we have taken one in these buildings, where we live. It was just too… too… tempting.
And you want to know where… the other man is. He is home, in pain. Your friend broke his ribs, cracked a bone in his face. My friend is home with his family, spitting blood into the toilet. Your computer is there, inside that cabinet. Now, will you please take me out of here, away from them?"
The woman named Tamara opened her eyes and looked at Tkach. The baby in the crib was wailing now.
"Get the child," Tkach said, and the man moved to the crib and lifted out an infant that could not have been more than a few months old.
' 'We took them only from Jews,'' Tamara said with a sniffle, accepting the infant from her husband. "We thought you were a Jew."
Tkach laughed. He had not expected it, but he laughed.
"You're not a Jew, are you?" she asked, cuddling the sobbing baby while the child called Alanya continued to immerse herself in her mother's right breast.
"The Jews are responsible for all our troubles," said the man. "They started the whole damn Revolution. Trotsky, the Jews, and now they're destroying the Revolution with their computers, their conspiracy with Israel."