Part 25 (2/2)
”This Whale, Keet - I showed you, he was one. His name was Gaidar, one of three brothers, very notoriotous. Beno is also from Grozny, but younger man.
”I know which he was,” I said.
”That dark young fellow who got dropped half-way to the door of the living room.
”Yes. That man.” Sasha turned to me with a big grin.
”Fantastic creeminals, Chechens. They make fabulous amounts of money. For example the Lazanskaya gang, based on Lazania restaurant, here in Moscow they got enormous riches from stolen cars. They operate very much in Brussels, stealing big cars from diplomats. Then, you know avizo system?”
I shook my head.
”Avizo is promise note. A bank signs it, to say they will pay so much money. The criminal makes forged promise note in one city, gets it signed, takes it to another city and cashes it. Simple!
By such means Chechen avizovshchiki made meellions. No not meellions. Beellions! In early nineties, such kind of Chechen gang got sixty billion roubles.”
The idea of Mafiosi making fortunes obviously excited Sasha as much as did the idea of knocking off big-time players, and he talked enthusiastically for most of our short journey. But then, as we drew near his flat, he fell silent. After a couple of minutes he said, ”Zheordie you must know. My mother she is very simple woman. Not very educated. Peasant woman.
”That's OK,” I said.
”I expect mine was too.”
”You don't remember her?”
”I thought I told you. I never knew my parents. I was brought up by my uncle and aunt.”
That seemed to ease his mind, and his cheerfulness returned.
”Here is my house,” he announced as he pulled up outside a tower block.
”Please, this way.
We walked down an asphalt path between patches of gra.s.s, with a few young trees scattered about. Other tall blocks rose all round, at a reasonable distance. In the dark, with only a few lamps glowing here and there, it was difficult to judge the state of the area, but it looked run-down, with litter blown up against the walls of the buildings.
We entered a cavernous lobby with bare concrete walls, and took the lift to the eighth floor. As we went up slowly, juddering and jerking, I sent Rick a glance that said, ”Might try the stairs on the way down.”
Sasha stepped out first, sifting through a bunch of keys, and ushered us towards a door one of four on a small, dingy landing. Turning the lock, he led us in.
”Please,” he said, 'welcome to my house.~ His apartment was very small. That was my first impression as we stepped straight into the living room, which was cluttered with furniture and lined with shelves. Some held books and magazines, some vinyl alb.u.ms. In one area Sasha's hi-fi equipment was stacked Teac amplifier and turntable, dating (by the look of them) from the seventies. At the tight-hand end of the room a table was laid for supper: blue-and-white check tablecloth, gla.s.ses, knives and forks, but only three place settings Beyond it a doorway gave on to a tiny cubicle of a kitchen, and in the opening stood a little old woman, rather bent, with her silver hair swept back into a bun, and wearing a shapeless dress of dark-blue covered in white polka-dots.
”Here is my mother,” said Sasha, following up with a few words of Russian.
Rick, in the lead, did brilliantly, cracking off a ”Dobriye ve cher (Good evening) and a couple more Russian phrases.
The broad old face startlingly like Sasha's creased into a smile, and the woman gave a little bob, inclining towards us. As we shook hands, I asked Sasha her name and he said, ”She is Lyudmila.”
The first few minutes were pretty difficult. Sasha insisted that we sat down, so I perched in an armchair and Rick on a sofa.
Because the flat was extremely warm, I asked what powered the heating. The answer was that all apartment blocks in Moscow are centrally heated that is, not from boiler rooms in individual buildings, but directly from power stations via underground pipes. Sasha said there was always plenty of heat in winter, even when the outside temperature was twenty below zero, but I noticed that there were no controls or thermostats on the old-fas.h.i.+oned radiators.
”How many rooms d'you have?” Rick asked.
”Living room, here. My mother's bedroom. Bathroom.
Kitchen. And balcony.”
”Where d'you sleep, then?”
”There where you are!” Sasha laughed and pointed at the sofa Rick was occupying.
”I make bed.” He obviously sensed that we found the place rather small, because he added, ”For Moscow, this is good apartment. Besides, I am not very much here: always I have been away in army in Africa, in Afghanistan, in Chechnya. Not much time in Moscow.”
In spite of his protestations, I felt a pang of guilt at having accepted hospitality in surroundings as humble as these. The idea of living in such cramped quarters eight floors up also brought on a surge of claustrophobia.
Looking round, I realised that there was a huge ginger cat asleep on a shelf above a radiator a welcome diversion.
”What's he called?” I asked.
Back came the answer, ”Tigr.”
Tiger the cat, Tiger Force. Of course. What other name could he have?
”Isn't it awkward for a cat; living high up like this? I mean how does he go about his business?”
”No problem,” Sasha answered airily.
”He has box on balcony.
But two times every day, my mother takes him down in the lift for walk in the park. Also, he is very good hunter.”
”What mice?”
”Birds. Here on the balcony. He can go for three flats along.
He is very quick' - a swiping motion with one hand 'he catch many birds.”
I had a fleeting, uncomfortable vision of Tigr missing his grip and toppling eight floors to the ground only half the distance that wretched Igor had fallen. Even a cat with nine lives would hardly survive such a drop.
When I turned my head to look farther round, I realised that one wall was dominated by a large sepia portrait photograph, framed in a border of carved wood. I was startled, because the subject looked so familiar.
”Surely that's our old king, George V?” I asked.
”Not English king. Russian king! It is Tsar Nicholas.”
”But it looks exactly like George.”
”Konechno. These men were cousins. My mother, she is beeg fan of royal family.”
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