Gatac

  They hadn’t broken anything. Nikoi knew they hadn’t, somehow he knew as they dragged him from his cell and down the hallways of his home. They hadn’t broken anything, but they had made him feel perfectly awful with precise, speedy blows. Nikoi had never entertained the delusion that he was a particurly good brawler — he knew a few of those and he was not on their level, not nearly — but he had also never considered just how efficient someone dedicated to the arts could be when facing an amateur. Several of those someones, then, had had all the opportunity in the world to toy with him according to their every whim. That they hadn’t done so — and that they were not prison guards, even if they wore snazzy new prison guard uniforms — intimidated Nikoi. Not enough to shove aside the anger that had been his best friend for so long, but well enough that fear broke through onto his unblemished face. Even when he felt the strength to stand return to him on the way, he stayed limp. He told himself this was merely the pragmatic move, but it wasn’t a very convincing lie.

  There must have been dozens of offices in Kresty prison, many of them vacant at any one time as old bureaucrats left and new bureaucrats joined. He was being dragged to one of those vacant ones, though he found it not entirely empty. Inside were two people and one chair, a crity of purpose Nikoi knew was supposed to impress him. A man and a woman stood in the room, both in military uniforms. Nikoi didn’t want to look at the woman, did not want to be seduced by the events any more than he already had been. The privations of his sentence had long since twisted his desires away from the company of other people, and besides, no matter the hem of her uniform skirt or the extravagance of her rules-bending makeup, she was not a valid subject of attraction, even of casual interest. She was merely another weapon of the enemy. The man, then: a few years Nikoi’s senior, fwless body fttered by his uniform jacket, clear brown eyes and just slightly longer than regution length bck hair. The men who had collected Nikoi from his cell roughly sat him down on the chair and left the office, closing the door behind them. Nobody had to tell him standing up would be a terrible idea, but Nikoi still weighed it, the utility of showing the garbage he would never bow his head to them versus feelings he could not acknowledge — puzzlement, fear, hope. Single-minded as he tried to be, a man like him could not survive solely on toughness, but required a certain degree of strategic thinking as well. He knew it was all the opening they needed and they didn’t let him down trying to exploit it.

  “Good, good,” the man said. “I see you have not been wounded, citizen. Of course, if you had simply complied, you would not have been touched at all, but then again, you have a particur character. That is where our interest lies.”Nikoi stared at him without saying anything. It was efficient, a small but direct act of disrespect to test the waters. Would the officer order him to stop or just call in the ruffians again to teach him a lesson?“What do you want in life?” the man asked.Nikoi kept staring.“We are not without courtesy, you should know,” the man said. “The state’s highest duty is the welfare of its citizens, after all. And there are many things we could do for you.”Nikoi realized he had to step it up. “Nobody has told me who you are, comrade,” he said.“Naturally,” the man said. He smiled with his soft lips and Nikoi tried not to let it add to his nervousness. “I am Captain Istomin, this is Major Ermakova, of the First Department,” he said, leaving the magic three letters ‘KGB’ unspoken. “I ask again, what do you want from life, citizen?”“Nothing,” Nikoi said. “I have everything I need right here, Captain.” Istomin didn’t even flinch at the ck of ‘comrade’, Nikoi noted, though he thought he saw some movement in the corners of Ermakova’s mouth.“You could have more,” Istomin said. “It is a most human impulse, after all, to desire more than what you have. I do not believe in a communism that requires us to deny this basic truth, though we must see it is wisely tempered and executed. And I believe the state can allow for more, in your case. You could have freedom, for one. A new life in America.”

  Nikoi said nothing.

  “That is your dream, is it not?” Istomin said. “You already have pns for such a life. Or you had them, at least, until you heard me speak of them.”

  Nikoi said nothing.

  “You need not torture yourself with second-guessing which of your actions or words gave you away,” Istomin said. He turned away from Nikoi and paced leisurely toward one of the bare walls. “My predecessor’s predecessor already received all the information we needed a few years ago, when you made your secret pact with your co-conspirator Ilya Gavrilovic. We looked kindly upon his desire for a better life, even though he never met us. A stroke of our pen guaranteed he would not be pulled off the boat that took him beyond the border. You see, our department specializes in developing opportunities. One such opportunity has matured. You need only grasp it and we will see you out of here within the day, provided by the generosity of the people with everything you will need for your better life.”“And in exchange, you only want one simple thing,” Nikoi said. “One small favor.”“Oh, less than that, even,” Istomin said. “Were you not already plotting revenge on your father? We want you to do what you were already going to do to him, nothing more. With our help, of course.”Nikoi crossed his arms. The only thing garbage was good for was digging up things they should not know. “He is not my father and I don’t see why my revenge interests you,” he said.“Why do you think you should?” Istomin said. “We are not helping you out of the goodness of our hearts. Lies I will not tell you. We deal in truths, Nikoi Borisov. It is merely my discretion as to which truths you will hear. But you need not worry about this, as it does not involve you beyond what I have said. Your task remains the same. Easier, even, with our assistance.”“…Boris struck a deal with you,” Nikoi guessed. “He wouldn’t have made it out of the country without the committee’s blessing, either.” Nikoi grinned. “I must congratute you, Comrade Captain! I did not think it was possible for me to hate him more, but you have truly opened my eyes.” That definitely got a reaction from the woman, eyes narrowing at him, though she still did not speak. “So now your puppet in the capitalist pigsty has become inconvenient to you. What a pity! And even if I did kill him and serve your purpose, I wonder who will be sent afterwards to get rid of me when I am done doing your dirty work. Well, I advise you to pick out ten strong men, at least. I am more tenacious than you may think and you have the desperate souls to spare.”“You are welcome to your specution,” Istomin said. “But now we require an answer.”

  Nikoi leaned back and spread his arms, basking in the power of being an integral part in a KGB scheme.

  “And if I say no,” he said, “you will of course assure me that I am never getting out of here. That I will rot in here for the rest of my long, miserable life.”“Why would I say such a mean-spirited thing to you?” Istomin said, with a big smile. “What fairytales have you been told by bitter men of lesser fortunes? You have us all wrong, Nikoi Borisov. We are not interested in dull thuggery. We like to help people. If you do not wish to leave the prison now, why, we respect your dedication to rehabilitation by the wisdom of the courts. But even so, you need not forego all comforts to simply prove a point. New clothes, better food, a bigger single cell…we can offer all kinds of generous help even if you wish to put justice ahead of your own desires. It would be immoral not to.”Nikoi snorted. “And put me in protective custody, I assume.”“We cannot control the envy1It’s envy when you want something someone else has and jealousy when you’re afraid of someone else taking something you have. Just in case you ever wondered what the difference was, since many people do use them interchangeably. of the other prisoners,” Istomin said. “Don’t worry. I’m sure you won’t be harmed.”“I am certain of that as well,” Nikoi said. “Because I am certain your attempts to make me look like a rat will fail. My brothers know who I am. They know I would never compromise myself.”“Believe what you will,” Istomin said. “That would put us in an awkward position, however. You see, in full confidence you would see the generosity of our offer, I went ahead and made some arrangements on your behalf. Just to ensure everything would be in pce when you get there. I wrote to your ‘brother’ Ilya Gavrilovic in your name, for example. He is making preparations for your arrival as we speak. You two made a promise, after all, to take down your father —”“Stop calling him that!” Nikoi said. “And stop this farce. I will not cooperate. Not in this pn or anything else the state wants me to do.” He forced a grin back onto his face. “Only God can judge me. Beat me, lock me up and throw away the key, or put me in front of a rifle. Do whatever you want. But I will never be your henchman.”Istomin smiled. “I have tried my best, Comrade Major,” he said, “but now I believe we must update Nikoi Borisov on some critical facts.”Whatever pride Nikoi might have felt at his defiance fell away when the woman raised her voice. “Your mother Katarina Tikhonovna was admitted to Hospital 20 for a narcotics overdose,” she said. “It is my sad duty to report she is now dead. Another life destroyed by capitalist criminals. My condolences, Nikoi Borisov. I am told she cried out for you while the doctors tried to make her comfortable. She passed away two weeks ago, still crying.”

  So the whore2Yeah, I know, I’m hot on the heels of Frank Miller in here. was dead. The only true injury to Nikoi was that the bureaucrats had seen fit to hold this back from him, all so these committee robots could taunt him with it. Nikoi gritted his teeth and sucked in a breath.

  “She means nothing to me, either,” he said.“She should, because you don’t have a lot of people in this world,” Istomin said. “No father by your own choices, no mother by hers, but you do still care about your ‘brother’, don’t you? As I was saying before you interrupted me, he is now preparing for you to arrive and make your move. If he prepares too much, your…progenitor might see the signs of a coming betrayal, don’t you think? Give him some credit.”“My brother’s death will be blood on your hands, not mine,” Nikoi said.“Yet he will be dead just the same,” Istomin said.

  Nikoi said nothing.

  Istomin shrugged. “Perhaps we are wasting our time with you,” he said. ”But I wish it to not be so, because I honestly do think you could be a good friend of ours if only you would allow yourself to see the many positive things in our proposal.”“I only see the same old story,” Nikoi said. “The state only cares about me when it sees a chance to turn me into a suka.”Istomin leaned forward. “You don’t rat on anyone. You save your brother’s life. You take down the man who you despise more than anything — in truth, more than us, even. You gain whatever power and money you wish to possess by your own hand. Tell me, Nikoi Borisov, what is keeping you here, except for your own stubbornness?” His expression darkened. “Do not think you can impress us with your reverence for the Thieves’ Law. You know as well as we do this criminal conspiracy died years ago in the camps3Although the whole system of Siberian forced bor camps is famously known around the world as Gug (after the Russian acronym for the government agency tasked with their administration) thanks to Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn, individual camps were not referred to as ‘Gugs’ within the Soviet Union. The appropriate Russian term is ‘ger’, a German loanword that no doubt had some ominous associations after WW2. and all that’s left are children pying with their fathers’ guns. Your heroes are dead…or they have come to their senses. Just because you worship more of this make-believe than most does not mean you can live by it. Meanwhile, you eat the people’s food, wear the people’s clothes, sleep in the people’s bed. Either your code permits you to take advantage of our generosity or you would have long ago starved yourself to death in protest. Your defiance has never been pure and you are no martyr for anyone’s cause. Just an angry boy with convenient beliefs.”“You should decide how convenient these beliefs are,” Ermakova said. “You talk as if you have nothing to lose. You are mistaken.”“How ominous of you, Comrade Major,” Nikoi said. “Too bad for you that I am already at home in hell. Your tortures will change nothing.”“If you expect us to brutalize you or make an example of your friends here, you will be disappointed,” Ermakova said. “If you will not serve our goals, we will leave you to wallow in your circumstances, knowing you passed up your only chance to achieve your ambitions. Regret is a more durable pain than broken fingers, you should know. And it will be all yours, this pain. A reward you have actually earned.” She smiled a thin smile. “Do you understand, citizen? Your file will simply be closed and sent to an archive never to be seen again. By dinner today, we will have forgotten you. The world will have forgotten you. Your brother will die by his own ambition and his st thought will be that you betrayed his faith. Your father will die also, maybe not today or tomorrow, but when it is convenient for us. And he will die without ever even knowing you existed.” Her eyes narrowed. “You may think you are already in hell, but I’ve carefully studied everything there is to know about you. And I believe there is one torture you cannot endure, Nikoi Borisov. It has nothing to do with pain or humiliation. It is simply the idea that you do not matter.”Nikoi’s fingers dug into the armrests of the chair. That smarmy —“Because it’s all worthless if you don’t get to have your revenge, isn’t it?” she continued. “Every second of your life will have been worthless if you cannot look your father in the eyes at least once. Admit it now. You’re no Thief, you’re a dog.” She smiled. “But that’s alright. Thieves rot in prison. Dogs, however…dogs can be useful.”

  Nikoi lowered his head.

  “God damn you,” he said.“You had plenty of time to consider the proposal,” Istomin said. “Your answer, citizen.”“…yes,” Nikoi said.

  Alexander had quickly grown to appreciate an advantage of Leningrad and maybe Russia in general: he hadn’t had to struggle with any of the doors. Simply approaching one would get whoever was closest to either stop walking or jump up to pull it open for him. And it didn’t matter whether it was a young-faced elementary school teacher or a machinist with sunken eyes, they would all do it with the same sincerity, the same toothless half-smile of doing the decent thing. Nobody asked why this young man walked haltingly with a cane. They all knew there had to be a good reason and that he deserved the courtesy. He was almost embarrassed to thank them all with a quick “Spasiba”, not just because they weren’t fishing for it, but also because it revealed him as an outsider, a tourist.4To crify the ‘tourist’ part of this scene, Alexander would ordinarily be booked into a travel group with Intourist, then still the state-owned travel agency that represented the only way into the Soviet Union for foreign nationals on vacation. An Intourist guide would be taking Alexander on daily tours and meals around town, basically staying by his side whenever he's outside. As such, the free reign he’s given here to travel around the city on his own would be unusual.Of course, you already know who arranged for this special treatment. If Alexander had a stronger background in how things usually went, this might have raised his suspicions. Hearing it, they would straighten up at once, tainting the unthinking gesture with an aspect of performance. It put them on the spot to try and represent the Soviet Union. Misrepresent? That, Alexander wasn’t sure about. But he’d have to work on his accent if he didn’t want to keep being singled out by it.

  At the ryumochnaya, he stood out even before he tried the door.5Vodka house, a working css drinking establishment. And yes, Alexander is, by Soviet ws, too young to be served hard liquor, expining at least some of the looks. Rather few of its normal patrons arrived by taxi right at the doorstep. To be fair to Alexander, though, walking an unfamiliar half-mile canyon of four-story apartment houses to look for the one barely visible entrance to a tiny hole in the wall establishment wouldn’t have come to a good end. The red lettering attached over the entrance was more gone than there, and while the taxi driver had seemed very certain of the destination after hearing Alexander’s attempt to pronounce the name, Alexander still wasn’t altogether sure he was in the right pce. Only one way to find out. He paid the taxi driver and walked toward the entrance. A man in a dark blue windbreaker and a Lenin cap held the door for him, though his look told Alexander he had no business inside.

  “Spasiba,” Alexander said, not looking at him.

  Once inside, he passed through the narrows between the clothes rack by the door and the wooden bar set into the far corner, which put him on course for the empty centerline of the room. To either side they were tables and chairs of dark, deeply scuffed wood. The wall panels were in better repair, reaching up the walls to just over his head. Beyond that, it was all smooth white pster. Alexander found two steps beyond the narrows put him square into the middle of the small establishment, whose limited space seemed the only upper bound on the number of eyes staring at him.

  “Alexander!” one of them said, a man in a cheap suit sitting alone at a corner table. Alexander tried to smile as he walked over to join him. The eyes stopped watching. Against all odds, the boy belonged here, after all. “Come!” the man continued.“You’re Nikoi?” Alexander asked. “May I sit?”“Please, please!” Nikoi said. He got up from his own chair, too slow to help Alexander sit in his own chair opposite his host, but it was the thought that counted. As he learned over the table, he reached out with his right hand. Alexander shook it, his eyes scanning the tattoos on Nikoi’s knuckles. “Have a seat,” Nikoi said.Alexander leaned his cane against the wall by the empty chair next to him and let out a breath. He plopped down onto the hard chair. “Thank you,” he said.“It is an honor to meet you,” Nikoi said, continuing the process of leaving his chair. “I will get you something to drink,” he added. “You must try kvass.”“I have tried it,” Alexander said. “I’ll have some water.”“Or a Pepsi,”6If you don’t know it yet, the story of how Pepsi came to be sold in the Soviet Union (and what it took as payment in kind) is a fun one, but I’ll resist the urge to recap it here. Instead I’ll say that the international world of refreshments is a wild one, that there’s a strange dichotomy between the coziness and disappointment of going somepce ‘exotic’ and finding the same brands you left behind at home, and that this story rgely owes its existence to way too much caffeine from a wide variety of co brands. Nikoi said, with a big smile.

  Alexander nodded and let him leave for the bar without further protest. He didn’t have the heart to tell Nikoi exactly how many gsses of Pepsi he had been served in the st two days. Hadn’t thought to count them, not from the start, so he decided to call the one Nikoi returned with to be the tenth of the trip. That sounded about right. Nikoi’s suggestion of kvass hadn’t been entirely patronizing, either; he had grabbed a gss for himself at the bar instead of vodka. He set both gsses down on the table and squeezed himself back into his chair.

  “To business!” he offered.“To business,” Alexander replied. Gsses were raised, clinked and sipped from. Alexander felt ridiculous at being part of the dispy, but it was, in a way, what he had expected.“Thank you for coming,” Nikoi said. “I apologize for the call —”Alexander raised his hand. “Let’s skip the pleasantries,” he said. “Why am I here?”

  It took Nikoi a second to smile.

  “You are your father’s son,” Nikoi said. “That is both the reason I had to meet you when I learned you were coming here and what you just proved to me.”“How so?” Alexander asked, sipping his Pepsi.“You have his smarts and his composure,” Nikoi said. “I heard many things about your father, Alexander. His name is still very good here.”“You have me at a disadvantage, then,” Alexander said. “I don’t know anything about you or your family.”Nikoi’s smile faltered as he put his hands on the table. “There is nothing to know,” he said. “I have no family. But the man who sired me is Boris Dolzhikov.” Alexander tried very, very hard to have no expression on his face, while Nikoi leaned in. “I heard he is a powerful man.”“He is,” Alexander confirmed. Think about something, anything other than Boris Dolzhikov! He gnced down at Nikoi’s knuckles, then at his fresh haircut. “When did you get out?”“Recently,” Nikoi said.“Too recent for your father to know?” Alexander asked. Then he let out his breath, as if from the effort of volleying a tennis ball over the net, gaining that precious half second where it was wholly the other pyer’s problem.“We don’t ask questions, Alexander,” Nikoi said.Alexander brushed over his own bare knuckles. “I do,” Alexander said. He couldn’t let up now. “And so far you’ve answered. I find it interesting that this is the question you avoid.”“Interesting,” Nikoi echoed. “I wonder if you will hear me out if I tell you my reasons.”Alexander nodded. “Of course,” he said.“It is a difficult thing to expin, but I will try,” Nikoi said. “Alexander, perhaps you will tell me it is wrong, but I heard Boris Dolzhikov is a…proud man. He respects strength.”“That is true,” Alexander said, taking another sip of the Pepsi. It seemed sweeter here than back home.“I am, you must know, afraid,” Nikoi said. “Every day there is less for me on the streets here. So I would like to go to New York. But I cannot go to him with empty hands, you understand. He would turn me away.”“You are his son,” Alexander said.“We have no family,” Nikoi insisted. “You know this.” Seeing Alexander’s frown, his voice softened. “It is wonderful that your father trusts you to travel here. Do not think I am insulting that.”“I am not insulted,” Alexander said. “But you still haven’t expined why you need me.”

  Nikoi nodded. Alexander felt he had won this exchange, but still his guard stayed up. A nod might suggest empathy, but it was still no answer.

  “Your father thinks you came here to see the past,” Nikoi said. “I believe that, together, we can see the future.”“More nice words with no meaning,” Alexander said. He sipped on the Pepsi again. Tasted just right now. “Tell me why I’m here.”“I see it is of no use to sweet-talk you,” Nikoi said. “Fine, then. You want the truth. The truth is I hate my father. And if I could just get a shot at him —”

  Alexander leaned back and held up his hand. The pressure was off now. Having browbeaten Nikoi into coming clean, Alexander saw all too well why this inked Thief was so desperate to meet a young man with no standing of his own. The line of Boris Dolzhikov’s enemies went around the block, and between the way he treated both Alexander’s father and Anne, Alexander wasn’t sure he shouldn’t be counted among them. Yet how to contact them? Alexander’s travel here must have been the first good opening Nikoi had seen and if this Thief was rich in any one way, it was in desperation. Alexander knew his history, too, knew how vulnerable Boris Dolzhikov actually was and anyone else on his throne would be in turn. And if Nikoi was not up to the task after all, well, Alexander could still learn things the elder Dolzhikov would want to know. This would-be revolution promised to be one thing to Alexander: an opening. Why strive to be king himself if he could have a king in his debt, whoever the king might turn out to be?

  “What help do you need?” Alexander asked.“There is a man in your city who I knew in another life,” Nikoi said. “Ilya Sidorov. He does not like me, but I know he is ambitious and he is good to his word. He is what I need to unload a…prize.”“What sort of prize?” Alexander asked.“The kind that is worth six years when you steal it,” Nikoi said. “But it is in my possession still and with Ilya’s connections, I am certain I can sell it and get all the money I need to take on Boris Dolzhikov. But I have no way to make any arrangements for my arrival. Ilya will require many details to convincingly present this as a deal of his own. If you can find a way to contact him without Boris Dolzhikov knowing about it, I will see to everything else.” He paused. “You will receive a five percent cut. A brokerage fee, I think it is called.”Alexander raised an eyebrow. “Five percent of what?”“That depends,” Nikoi said with a smile. “What do you think we can earn in America with forty assault rifles?”