Harleys emblazoned with Nazi decals nosed in against the curb directly in front of the bar's open door.
Yuri could remember hesitating on the threshold while debating whether to go in. His intuition told him that danger hung in the air like a miasma above a swamp. People eyed him with hostility. After a moment's indecision Yuri had taken the risk to enter for two reasons.
One was the fear that fleeing would have provoked a chase just like running from a vicious but indecisive dog. The other was that he really needed the vodka and that all the other bars in Bensonhurst would probably have been equally intimidating.
Yuri sat on an empty stool, hunched over the bar, and pulled in his elbows. He kept his eyes straight ahead. As soon as he ordered his drink, his accent caused a stir. A number of the youths with supercilious expressions closed around him. Just when Yuri feared trouble was about to occur, the punks parted and a clean-cut man in his late thirties or early forties appeared whom the youths seemed to respect.
The newcomer was dirty blond, tall, and lean. His hair was short but his head was not shaved. The style was more like a military man's.
He, too, was wearing a T-shirt, but it was clean, had short sleeves, and looked ironed. There was a small image of a red fireman's hat high on the left side of the shirt. Below that it said Engine Company #7.
In sharp contrast to the skinheads, he appeared to have only the one tattoo. It was a small American flag on his right upper arm.
'I don't know whether you're brave or stupid for coming in here uninvited, friend, ' the blond-haired man said. 'This is a private club.'
'I'm sorry, ' Yuri mumbled. He started to get up. The blond man put a hand on his shoulder to keep him in his seat.
'You sound Russian, ' the man said.
'I am, ' Yuri admitted.
'Are you Jewish? '
'No! ' Yuri blurted. 'Not at all.' The question surprised him.
'You live over in Brighton Beach? '
'That's right, ' Yuri said nervously. He didn't know where the conversation was going.
'I thought all you Russians over there were Jewish.'
'Not me, ' Yuri said. The man knew what he was talking about. The majority of the Russian emigres in Brighton Beach were Jewish. It was one of the reasons Yuri had so few friends. There were all sorts of Jewish organizations that welcomed their fellow religious refugees.
The Jews had been the only people allowed out of Russia during the Communist regime, so there was already a sizable community there by the time of the fall of the USSR. Because of his lack of religious affiliation, Yuri had been ignored.
'Do I detect a negative attitude about the Jewish persuasion? ' the blond man asked.
Yuri's eyes darted around at some of the slogans adorning the fronts of many of the skinheads' Tshirts.
He saw things like The Holocaust Is A Zionist Myth and Down With The Zionist Occupied U. S.
Government.
Accordingly, Yuri wisely deemed it opportune to confess his current antisemitic bias.
Yuri had never thought much about Jews one way or the other until the most recent Russian presidential election. It was then that he'd been acculturated by neo-fascist Vladimir Zhirinovsky's and neo-communist Gennedy Zyuganov's rhetoric. Because of Yuri's tosta and his wounded nationalistic pride, he'd been an easy target for both demagogues' hackneyed scapegoat theories.
'You know, I think we've misjudged you, friend, ' the blond man said in response to Yuri's racist admission. The blond man patted Yuri on his back. 'Not only are you welcome to drink here, you can have another one on me.' The blond man snapped his finger at the bartender, who'd moved away when he'd suspected a conflagration. The bartender brought the bottle of vodka over and filled Yuri's glass to the brim.
'My name's Curt Rogers, ' the blond man said. He eased himself onto the stool next to Yuri. 'And this here is Steve Henderson.' Curt gestured to a redheaded fellow who took the seat on the other side of Yuri.
Although Steve was much more heavily muscled than Curt, he resembled Curt particularly in regard to his dress. His T-shirt had the exact same .. .
insignia.
The first meeting had led to several subsequent ones, since the three men found that they shared similar opinions on issues beside antisemitism. There was a particularly strong meeting of the minds concerning their respective views about the current U. S. government.
'The whole goddamn mess is illegal, oppressive, and unconstitutional, ' Curt had whispered when the issue first came up. 'And there's only one solution. The U. S. government has to be overthrown by force of arms.
There's no other way. And it's got to be soon, because the Zionists are getting stronger every day.'
'Really? ' Yuri had asked. He'd been shocked to hear that there were Americans who disliked the government. And according to Curt, who was an authority on all aspects of the U. S. government as well as U. S. history, the malcontents weren't just a tiny minority. The patriots, as Curt called them, were sprinkled all over the country. They were all heavily armed and waiting for the sign for them to rise up in revolt.
'Mark my word, ' Curt had whispered on another occasion. 'I've got it on unimpeachable authority that the government's training Gurkha troops in Montana with thousands upon thousands of black helicopters.
Unless something's done to this renegade government they're going to swoop out of their base in the near future and take away every gun from every goddamn patriot in the country. Then we'll be defenseless against the worldwide Zionists.' Back then Yuri had not known what 'unimpeachable' meant but he didn't bother to ask since he'd gotten the drift of Curt's message. The U. S. government was far more perverse and more dangerous than he'd imagined.
It also became clear that both he and Curt wanted to do something about it, and indeed they could help each other since each could do something the other couldn't. Yuri had the technological experience and the know-how necessary to build a bio-weapon of mass destruction, while Curt had the people who could get the necessary equipment and materials.
Curt had started a skinhead militia he called the People's Aryan Army, and he claimed his shock troops would obey any order he gave them.
'An agricultural pest control sprayer? No problem! ' Curt had said in response to one of Yuri's early inquiries. 'We can steal one from out on Long Island when the need arises. They use them in the potato fields.
Most of the time they're just sitting out there waiting for the taking.
' Several weeks later over iced shots of vodka Curt, Yuri, and Steve had shaken hands on the commencement of what they called Operation Wolverine. Yuri hadn't known what a wolverine was, so Curt explained it was a small, extremely vicious, cunning animal. At the time Curt had winked at Steve, because Wolverine really referred to a group of youths in a survivalist movie classic called Red Dawn. It was Curt and Steve's favorite mov
Yuri had wanted to call the plan Operation Revenge, but he gave in to Curt and Steve when they were adamant about the name Wolverine. Curt had explained that the name would have immediate significance to the farright underground.
After they'd polished off their vodka, they were all excited. Their relationship was, in Curt's words, a marriage made in Heaven.
'I have a feeling this is going to be the spark that ignites the conflagration, ' Curt had said. 'Something huge like this happening here in New York is bound to start the general revolt. It's going to make what happened in Oklahoma City seem like a childish prank.' Whether Operation Revenge started a general uprising or not Yuri didn't care. He just wanted to severely slap the U. S. across its smug face.
Any glory he might achieve he'd gladly donate to the Zhirinovsky movement and the return of the Soviet Empire.
A sudden knock on Yuri's fender shocked him from his rever
'You got to move along, cabbie, ' the woman said. 'This here's for loading.'
'Sorry, ' Yuri said. He put his idling car in gear and drove off. But he didn't go far. He merely rounded the block and returned to the same spot. The meter maid was in the far distance heading away.
