to proceed into the cemetery.
That's Dzhumber Gankrelidze, said Nikolai. The one straightening his tie. He's the boss.'
The power-wind of Dmitri's camera whirred busily.
It's quite a show,' observed the general. It doesn't much look as if they could have thought Vaja was an informer.'
This is nothing compared to the Little Gypsy's funeral in Sverdlovsk last year,' said Grushko. Brought the whole town to a standstill.'
Yes,' said Kornilov. Gregory Tsyganov. Who was it killed him?'
Azerbaijanis.'
Still, it's quite a show by our standards.'
And then, the year before that, there was Bosenko's brother.'
The Black Swan? I'd forgotten that one.'
Blown up in his car, he was,' said Grushko. There was hardly enough of him left to fill a shoe box, let alone a coffin, but the Cossacks still gave him the brass handles.' He smiled.
All right, Yevgeni,' said Kornilov. You've made your point.' He didn't enjoy taking lessons from Grushko. Do we know where they're holding the party afterwards?'
Our informers told us they're going to a restaurant called Tblisi. It's a little Georgian place on the other side of the Neva, in Petrogradsky Region. I've had the placed bugged, just in case they say anything coherent.'
The procession passed inside the cemetery and everyone lowered their binoculars. Dmitri started to wind back his film.
And what about this pimp?' said Kornilov, lighting a cigarette. The one who might have had a grudge against Mikhail Milyukin. Any sign of him yet?'
We're keeping an eye on all the tourist hotels,' said Grushko. If he is running a new herd of cows then that's where we'll find him.'
Yes, well, make it soon, Yevgeni. Since you mentioned Sverdlovsk, then remember what happened there. It was a war.'
Yes, sir.'
What puzzles me is how he got out of the zone so early?'
According to my contact in the GUITI,' I said, it was someone in the Department who fixed it.'
Does he have any idea who?'
I shrugged and shook my head.
What are they up to?' he muttered. Let's just hope you're right about this Chechen, Yevgeni. You know, without him, you've really got nothing. Nothing.'
I could see Grushko didn't much like to be ridden by Kornilov in front of us, but he just bit his lip and nodded sullenly. That was why Nikolai, Sasha, Andrei or any of his men would take it from Grushko: because they knew he had to take it from Kornilov.
By the way,' said Kornilov, after the funeral procession had disappeared from view. That icon they were carrying. Who was it?'
Grushko smiled thinly.
George, sir. Who else for Georgians?
There has been a police prison on the site of the Big House since the time of Catherine the Great. After the assassination of Alexander II the site at Number six Liteiny Prospekt became the headquarters of the newly created political police, the Okhrana. Following the abandonment of Leningrad as the country's capital, the Leningrad NKVD plotted the murder of Stalin's rival Kirov from the old building at Number six. They then used his death as a pretext for purging the local party and, for that matter, the local NKVD as well. Stalin's most notorious henchman, a Georgian named Laventri Beria, had spent some considerable time working in the newly built Big House. His desk and typewriter were still in use. It was small wonder people joked that from the top of the building you could see Solovki, the most notorious of all Stalin's White Sea Canal labour camps, where hundreds of thousands of people had perished; and it was only fitting that the Department, even in its post-Party truncated form as the Russian Security Service, should occupy the top two floors.
Grushko walked along the corridor and reflected that even now, after the demise of the Party, things were still more comfortable for the KGB than for their poor cousins downstairs. There were fresh towels, soap and lavatory paper in the washrooms. The floors were covered with thick blue carpets instead of dirty brown linoleum, while in every office were computers, fax machines and photocopiers.
He entered one office where a woman in her forties with neatly cut auburn hair and wearing a smart blue two-piece suit was taking books down from her shelves and packing them into cardboard boxes. Vera Andreyeva seemed more like someone who read the news on television than a major in the KGB.
What's this?' said Grushko. Are you moving into better offices?'
Andreyeva smiled at Grushko's little irony.
As a matter of fact I am,' she said. I'm leaving the Department, Yevgeni. What's left of it, anyway.'
Leaving? Surely they're not getting rid of you as well, Vera Fyodorovna? I thought that the Department was going to use its best resources to fight organised crime and economic corruption.'
Oh, they are,' she said. But then so is the army. And the navy. And for all I know the air force as well. All of us looking for a new role in life. And stepping on your toes.' She shook her head. Wasn't it Chekhov who said that when a lot of remedies are suggested for a disease, then it can't be cured?'
I never liked Chekhov much,' said Grushko. He picked up a book from her desk. Reforming the Soviet Economy: Equality versus Efficiency.' He inspected another. The Nature and Logic of Capitalism. You are on the move, Vera. What will you do?'
I've been offered a job with a Russo-American joint-venture company,' she said happily. They're planning to open a chain of real hamburger restaurants throughout Russia. I'm in charge of recruitment.'
An ex-KGB major in charge of recruitment? It figures.'
Vera turned towards Grushko and gave him a look, as if she were measuring him up.
I wonder,' she said thoughtfully.
What?' he said.
You, Yevgeni? How would you fancy handling security for us? We could use a man like you. The price of meat being what it is, security will be one of our most important considerations.'
Oh, I don't doubt it,' smiled Grushko. But you're serious, aren't you?'
Why not? Just think of the pay. You know what the Department were going to retire me on? Seven hundred and fifty roubles a month. You know how much I earn with the joint-venture?'
Please don't tell me,' said Grushko.
Thirty thousand roubles a month. That's forty times as much.'
Grushko smiled weakly. The same as a miner,' he joked, knowing that the joke was on him: since the miners had settled their strike, 30,000 roubles was indeed what one of them earned in a month.
Someone with your background could very probably pick up the same.'
What use would I have for that kind of money?'
Knowing you, Yevgeni Ivanovich, none at all. But your wife now she's a different story. I don't doubt she'd find plenty to spend it on. Even in the state shops.'
The riddle of the money fetish is therefore the riddle of the commodity fetish now become visible and dazzling to our eyes.
Vera looked taken aback.
I never thought I'd live to hear it,' she said. Of all the people to quote Marx.'
I couldn't remember any Chekhov,' said Grushko. Look, Vera, thanks for the offer but I'm not here to talk about myself.'
You want to know about your Georgians, don't you? Well, I've had a word with our friends in the seventh CD and the surveillance is in place. So you can relax.'
And the information about Mikhail Milyukin?'
Vera Andreyeva lifted another cardboard box on to the desk.
Tapes, transcripts, files, everything, like you asked.'
Grushko peered curiously into the box.
