What remains of it has tried to ally itself with the Mob. After all, it's in both their interests to ensure the failure of everything from the free-market reforms to food aid from the West. Half the new cooperatives in Peter are a front for the Party. A useful way of laundering all the money they got away with after the coup failed. Party money or Mob money, it makes no difference to us. For most people in Peter the whole cooperative movement is synonymous with the Mafia.'
It's the same in Moscow,' I said. Where the businesses are legitimate they're a target for the racketeers.'
The cooperative restaurants and cafAcs are especially vulnerable,' said Grushko. Not only are they obliged by the nature of their business to operate in public, but also they rely on illegal supplies in order to be able to serve food in any reasonable quantities, as well as to justify the high prices they charge for it. A good dinner in one of the better cooperatives costs. how much would you say, Nikolai?'
The big man stirred out of the reverie he was sunk in. Grushko's erratic driving didn't seem to bother him much.
More than you and I could earn in a week, sir,' he growled.
Apart from the tourists, the only people who can afford to eat in such places are those Russians who have access to hard currency; and the crooks.'
In my book, they're one and the same,' said Nikolai.
Most of the cooperative restaurants in Peter are paying protection,' said Grushko. It's usually a fixed percentage of the takings.'
But how do the Mafia know how much that is?' I asked.
Nikolai and Sasha exchanged a look. Grushko smiled drily as he answered:
The restaurants are obliged to tell the city council so that they can pay their taxes. In confidence, of course. But for a small fee the Mafia can learn the precise figure. Which is why most of the restaurants fiddle their books in the first place. Then they pay less when eventually they get squeezed. Even so, it can be as much as a thing a day that they're paying these churkis. That's a thousand roubles to you and me. But before you can take that kind of burky off them, you've got to squeeze them hard. You're about to see just how hard that can be.'
He steered off the road and into a small parking lot next to a white-fronted building. I lurched forward in my seat as Grushko hit the brake. I got out of the car unsteadily and followed the others up to a heavy wooden door.
The Pushkin Restaurant on the Fontanka Canal was relatively new to the cooperative-restaurant scene. No expense had been spared with the decoration that, I discovered later, was a reproduction of the Green Dining-Room in the Catherine Palace at Pushkin. The walls were light green with white bas-relief ornamentation depicting a selection of scenes from Greek mythology. Two green marble pedestals, each displaying a small imitation jade urn, stood on either side of a white plaster fireplace. On the mantelpiece was a large gilt clock. And in all the arched windows curtains of shiny green satin obscured the view of the Fontanka. All the windows except one, that is. This was broken and blackened from the Molotov cocktail that had been thrown through it the previous evening.
Things could have been worse. None of the Pushkin's staff or privileged patrons had been injured: for once, the fire extinguishers had performed as they were supposed to. Apart from the window and a couple of well- scorched dining tables there was little other damage. But for one of the customers reporting the arson attack to the local militia, Grushko's department might never have heard about it.
Grushko sniffed at the blackened tables like an inquisitive cat.
Well, they knew what they were doing,' he said finally. They didn't leave out the oil. Amateurs usually forget it and just use gasoline. But it's the oil that makes a good Molotov. Makes the flame stick more.
The owner-manager, a Mr Chazov, did his best to play down the incident.
I don't think there's any reason for you people from Internal Affairs to become involved in something like this,' he said hopefully. It was nothing. Just a bunch of kids probably. Nobody's been injured, so can't we forget about it?'
And the men who did this?' Grushko replied obstinately. Do you think they'll forget about it?'
Like I said, it was most probably a bunch of kids.'
You got a look at them, did you?'
Not as such,' said Chazov. No, what I mean to say is, I heard them laughing.'
It's true, a grown man doesn't find much to amuse him these days,' said Grushko. But to be sure that these were kids just from their laughter, well, that's impressive.'
He smiled and wandered round the restaurant nodding appreciatively at the decoration. I saw him catch Nikolai's eye and jerk his head meaningfully. Nikolai nodded curtly and went through to the kitchens.
Of course, the criminals are getting younger and younger,' Grushko continued. Although it's equally possible that I'm just getting older and older. Either way they're vicious bastards and don't mind who they injure. But that's the carelessness of youth, I suppose. Wouldn't you say so, Mr Chazov?'
Chazov sat down heavily at one of the tables and dropped his head into his hands. He swept his lank brown hair back across his sweating head and then rubbed his unshaven jaw with the desperate air of a man who needed a drink.
Look,' he gulped, I can't tell you anything.'
I don't know that I've really asked you anything yet,' said Grushko. What I do know is that these men these kids they'll be back. And they'll keep coming back unless you help me. Next time someone might be seriously injured. Or worse.'
Please, Colonel, I have a family, you know?' There was a tremor in his voice.
Maybe I should ask them who did this.'
Nikolai reappeared in the doorway, almost filling it, like a toy bear in its box. He called to Grushko.
A cockroach scuttled out of our way as we followed the big man through the kitchen door. Dirty saucepans and unwashed dishes lay everywhere inside. Crates of vegetables stood on a greasy linoleum floor next to an open bag of foul-smelling garbage. Several flies performed slow aerobatics within easy range of a large slab of chocolate cake. My eyes fell upon a collection of tiny bottles that were collected in a plastic bag that had been placed on top of a box of apples. For a moment I thought they were phials of drugs, but on looking more closely I realized that each bottle contained a tiny fragment of human stool.
Chazov noted my wrinkled nose and shrugged.
Department of Health wanted some samples from the staff,' he said. We had a small outbreak of salmonella just after we opened.'
You don't have to leave them lying around in here, do you?' I said.
No, I guess not.' Chazov collected the bag of samples and walked out of the kitchen. I wondered where he was planning to put them this time.
Nikolai hauled open the door to a large walk-in fridge-freezer and Grushko touched his hairline with his eyebrows. There were cartons of meat stacked almost as high as the ceiling. For a moment we just stood there sniffing excitedly at the sour, fleshy air like a pack of hungry dogs.
Did you ever see so much meat, sir?'
Nikolai touched a piece of frozen beef that lay partly chopped on a butcher's block almost reverently, as if it had been a relic of St Stephen of Perm.
I'd almost forgotten what the stuff looked like,' Grushko said quietly.
Hard to remember on a militiaman's salary,' observed Nikolai.
Do you think it might be stolen?' I heard myself say.
Both men turned and looked at me with quiet amusement.
Well, I don't imagine he bought it in the state meat market,' said Grushko. No, these co-ops rely on illegal sources of supply. That's another reason why they're vulnerable to the squeeze.' He looked back at the meat for a second. I bet that's why he didn't want the militia involved in the first place.'
Nikolai fed a cigarette between his lips and closed the fridge door behind them.
Want me to sweat Chazov about it?' he said. It might help him to recall who tossed the vodka martini through the window.'
Good idea. Ask him better still, tell him, to come and explain it to us at the Big House tomorrow. That should give him something to think about this evening.'
Nikolai chuckled and lit his cigarette. The match dropping from his thick sausagey fingers stayed alight on the
