After ten minutes, Kira walked downstairs and hurried to a tramway.
Passing through Marisha’s room, she heard a stranger’s voice behind the door of her own room, a slow, deep, drawling voice that paused carefully, meticulously on every letter “o” and then rolled on as if on buttered hinges. She threw the door open.
The first person she saw was Antonina Pavlovna in a green brocaded turban, pointing her chin forward inquisitively; then she saw Leo; then she saw the man with the drawling voice — and her eyes froze, while he lumbered up, throwing at her a swift glance of appraisal and suspicion.
“Well, Kira, I thought you were spending the night with the excursion guides. And you said you’d be back early,” Leo greeted her sharply, while Antonina Pavlovna drawled:
“Good evening, Kira Alexandrovna.”
“I’m sorry. I got away as soon as I could,” Kira answered, her eyes staring at the stranger’s face.
“Kira, may I present? Karp Karpovitch Morozov — Kira Alexandrovna Argounova.”
She did not notice that Karp Karpovitch’s big fist was shaking her hand. She was looking at his face. His face had large blond freckles, light, narrow eyes, a heavy red mouth and a short nose with wide, vertical nostrils. She had seen it twice before; she remembered the speculator of the Nikolaevsky station, the food trader of the market.
She stood without removing her coat, without saying a word, cold with a feeling of sudden, inexplicable panic.
“What’s the matter, Kira?” Leo asked.
“Leo, haven’t we met Citizen Morozov before?”
“I don’t believe so.”
“Never had the pleasure, Kira Alexandrovna,” Morozov drawled, his eyes at once shrewd and naïve and complacently friendly.
While Kira was removing her coat slowly, he turned to Leo: “And the store, Lev Sergeievitch, we’ll have it in the neighborhood of the Kouznetzky market. Best neighborhood. I have my eyes on a vacant store — just what we need. One window, narrow room — not many square meters to pay for — and I slipped a couple of tens to the Upravdom, and he’ll let us have a good, big basement thrown in — just what we need. I can take you there tomorrow, you’ll be most pleased.”
Kira’s coat dropped to the floor. A lamp stood on the table; in its glow, she could see Morozov’s face leaning toward Leo’s, his slow words muffled on his heavy lips to a sly, guilty whisper. She stared at Leo. He was not looking at her; his eyes were cold, widened slightly by a strange eagerness. She stood in the semi-darkness, beyond the circle of lamp light. The men paid no attention to her. Antonina Pavlovna threw a slow, expressionless glance at her and turned to the table, flicking ashes off her cigarette.
“How’s the Upravdom?” Leo asked.
“Couldn’t be better,” Morozov chuckled. “A friendly fellow, easy-going and ... practical. A few ten-ruble bills and some vodka once in a while — with careful handling, he won’t cost us much. I told him to have the store cleaned for you. And we’ll order new signs — ‘Lev Kovalensky. Food Products.’ ”
“What are you talking about?” Kira threw the words at Morozov with the violence of a slap in the face. She stood over him, the lamp light scattering broken shadows across her face. Morozov leaned away from her, closer to the table, startled.
“It’s a little business deal we’re discussing, Kira Alexandrovna,” he explained in a soft, conciliating drawl.
“I’ve promised you that Koko would do a great deal for Leo,” Antonina Pavlovna smiled.
“Kira, I’ll explain later,” Leo said slowly. The words were a command.
Silently, she pulled a chair to the table and sat facing Morozov, leaning forward on her crossed elbows. Morozov continued, trying not to look at her fixed eyes that seemed to register his every word: “You understand the advantage of the arrangement, Lev Sergeievitch. A private trader is no easy title to bear these days. Consider the rent on your living quarters, for instance. That alone could swallow all the profits. Now if we say you’re the sole owner — well, the rent won’t be so much since you have just this one room here to pay for. Now me, for instance, we have three large rooms, Tonia and me, and if they brand me a private trader — Good Lord Almighty! — the rent on that will wreck the whole business.”
“That’s all right,” said Leo. “I’ll carry it. I don’t mind if I’m called private trader or Nicholas II or Mephistopheles.”
“That’s it,” Morozov chuckled too loudly, his chin and stomach shaking. “That’s it. And, Lev Sergeievitch, sir, you won’t regret it. The profits — Lord bless us! — the profits will make the old what-they-called-bourgeois look like beggars. With our little scheme, we’ll sweep in the rubles, easy as picking ’em off the street. A year or two and we’re our own masters. A few hundreds slipped where necessary and we can fly abroad — to Paris, or Nice or Monte Carlo, or any of the foreign places that are pleasant and artistic.”
“Yes,” said Leo wearily. “Abroad.” Then he shook his head, as if breaking off an unbearable thought, and turned imperiously, throwing orders to the man who was hiring him: “But that friend of yours — the Communist — that’s the danger point of the whole scheme. Are you sure of him?”
Morozov spread his fat arms wide, shaking his head gently, reproachfully, his smile as soothing as Vaseline: “Lev Sergeievitch, soul of mine, you don’t think I’m a helpless babe making my first steps in business, do you? I’m as sure of him as of the eternal salvation of our souls, that’s how sure I am. He’s as smart a young man as ever you could hope to find. Quick and reasonable. And not one of those windbags that like to hear themselves talk. He’s not aiming to get nothing but big words and dried herring out of his life, no, sir. He knows when he has bread and butter in his hands — and he won’t let it slip through. And then again, he’s the one who takes the big chance. One of us common folks, if caught, might wiggle out with ten years in Siberia, but for one of them Party men — it’s the firing squad and no time to say good-bye.”
“You don’t have to worry, Leo,” Antonina Pavlovna smiled, “I’ve met the young man. We entertained him at a little tea — champagne and caviar, to be exact. He is smart and thoroughly dependable. You can have absolute faith in Koko’s business judgment.”
“And it’s not so difficult for him, either,” Morozov lowered his voice to a barely audible whisper. “He’s got one of those engineering positions with the railroad — and he’s got pull in all directions, like a river with tributaries. All he has to do is see that the food shipment is damaged a bit — dropped accidentally, or dampened a little, or something — and see that it’s pronounced worthless. That’s all. The rest is simple. The shipment goes quietly to the basement of our little store — ‘Lev Kovalensky. Food Products.’ Nothing suspicious in that — is there? — just supplies for the store. The State co-operatives are short a load of stuff and the good citizens get nothing on their ration cards but an excuse and a promise. We wait a couple of weeks and we break up the load and ship it to our own customers — private dealers all over three provinces, a whole net of them, reasonable and discreet — I have all the addresses. And that’s all. Who has to know? If anyone comes snooping around the store — well, we’ll have some punk clerk there and he’ll sell them half a pound of butter if they ask for it, and that’s all we’re doing, for all they know — retail trade — open and legal.”
“And furthermore ...” Antonina Pavlovna whispered, “if anything should go wrong, that young Communist has ...”