'You must thank Almighty God you got out of Russia when you did, ' Harvey said, unaware of Yuri's state of mind. 'I don't know how the people are coping.' Yuri didn't respond. He just wanted Harvey to shut up. Suddenly the traffic opened up. Yuri stomped on the gas.
The cab shot forward, throwing Harvey back against the rear seat. Yuri gripped the wheel and hunkered down. The tires screeched.
'Hey, my meeting's not important enough to risk death, ' Harvey shouted from the back seat.
Approaching the next intersection and a red light, Yuri hit the brakes.
The car started to fishtail. Yuri expertly turned into a skid. The cab shot between a bus and a parked van, coming to an abrupt halt behind a garbage truck.
'My God! ' Harvey called through the Plexiglas divider. 'What kind of work did you do back in Russia? Don't tell me you were a race car driver.' Yuri didn't answer.
Harvey moved forward. 'I'm interested, ' he said. 'What did you do?'
Last week I had a Russian cab driver who taught mathematics before coming over here. He said he was trained as an electrical engineer.
Can you believe that? '
'I can believe it, ' Yuri said. 'I was trained as an engineer myself.' Yuri knew he was exaggerating, since he'd been a technician, not an engineer, but he didn't care.
'What kind of engineering? ' Harvey asked.
'Biotechnological, ' Yuri said. The light changed and he pressed down on the accelerator. As soon as he could, he got out from behind the garbage truck and headed uptown, trying to get in sync with the lights.
'That's an impressive background indeed, ' Harvey said. 'How come you're still driving a cab? I would think your skills would be in demand.
Biotechnology is one of the fastest-growing fields in all of industry.'
'There's a problem with getting credit for my education, ' Yuri said.
'It's what you Americans call a Catch Twenty-two.'
'Well, it's a shame, ' Harvey said. 'My advice is for you to keep trying. It'll be worth it in the end.' Yuri didn't answer. He didn't have to put up with the indignity of trying any longer. He wasn't staying.
'Ah, it's a good thing that we won the Cold War, ' Harvey said. 'At least the Russian people have a shot at prosperity and basic freedoms.
I just hope they don't screw it up.' Yuri's irritation changed to rage. It drove him crazy to have to listen constantly to the falsehood that America won the Cold War and broke up the Soviet Empire. The Soviet Union had been betrayed from within, first by Gorbachev and his stupid glasnost and perestroika, and then by Yeltsin for no other reason than to indulge his ego.
Yuri gunned the engine of the taxi and roared uptown, weaving in among the traffic, running lights, and intimidating pedestrians.
'Hey! ' Harvey shouted. 'Slow the hell down! What's the matter with you?'
Yuri didn't respond. He hated Harvey's smug superiority, his expensive clothes, his ostrich briefcase, and most of all his stupid little hat he had pinned to his scraggly, thinning hair.
'Hey, ' Harvey yelled. He knocked on the plastic divider. 'Slow down or I'm calling the police.' The warning about the police penetrated Yuri's fury. The last thing he wanted was a run-in with the authorities. Yuri eased up on the accelerator and took a deep breath to calm himself. 'Sorry, ' he said. 'I was just trying to get you to your meeting on time.'
'I'd prefer to arrive alive, ' Harvey snapped.
Yuri kept his speed within the normal limits while he worked his way over to Fifth Avenue. Once there he headed south for less than two blocks. He pulled up in front of the Union Bank, stopped, and turned off the meter.
Harvey lost no time in getting out of the cab. While standing on the sidewalk he counted out the fare to the penny and plopped the cash into Yuri's waiting hand.
'No tip? ' Yuri asked.
'You deserve a tip like I deserve a poke in the eye with a sharp stick, ' Harvey said. 'You're lucky I'm paying you at all.' He turned and headed for the revolving door of the fancy granite and glass bank building.
'I didn't expect a tip from a Zionist pig anyway, ' Yuri yelled after him.
Harvey flipped the cab driver the finger before disappearing from sight.
Yuri closed his eyes for a moment. He had to get control of himself before he did something stupid. He hoped to hell that Harvey Bloomburg lived on the Upper East Side because that was the part of the city that Yuri was going to devastate.
The next thing Yuri knew the back door to his cab was pulled open and someone climbed in. Yuri spun around.
'I'm off duty, ' he said. 'Get out! '
'Your off-duty sign's not on, ' the woman said indignantly. She had a Louis Vuitton briefcase on one side and a leather laptop saechel on the other.
Yuri reached over to the proper switch and flicked it. 'It's on now, ' he growled. 'Out! '
'Oh, for crissake, ' the woman muttered. She grabbed her bags and got out of the cab. As a passive- aggressive gesture, she left the rear door ajar. She stepped out into the street, treated Yuri to a condescending look, then hailed another taxi.
Yuri stuck his hand out the driver's side window and gave the open door a push. It closed without a problem. He then pulled out into the traffic and headed downtown. For the moment he was in no mood to put up with any more haughty business people, particularly Jewish bankers.
Instead he wanted to revel in thinking about his revenge, and to do that he needed corroboration that his agent was as deadly as he imagined. That meant checking up on Jason Papparis.
The office for the Corinthian Rug Company was on Walker Street south of Canal. It was situated in a ground- level storefront with a couple of faded geometrically patterned Turkish rugs and goat hides in the window.
Yuri slowed as he approached. The door had lettering stenciled in gold.
It was closed, but Yuri knew that didn't mean anything. When Yuri had initially scouted the concern by making innumerable drive-bys, he'd always found the door closed.
Pulling into a loading area across the street from where he could watch the entrance, Yuri put his car in park. He'd decided to wait although he didn't know exactly what he was waiting for. Somehow he had to find out about Mr. Jason Papparis's state of health. Yuri was certain the man had gotten the ACME
Cleaners envelope on Friday at the very latest.
The waiting calmed Yuri, and the thought of the next step in his grand scheme excited him. He'd be able to tell Curt Rogers that the anthrax was potent. That would mean that the only thing left to test would be the botulinum toxin. For the fateful day, Yuri had decided on two agents rather than one. He wanted to eliminate any possibility of technological screw-ups. The two agents killed in completely different ways, even though both were to be aerosolized.
Reaching under his seat and pushing his defensive tire iron out of the way, Yuri pulled out his flat pocket flask. He deserved a shot of vodka After making sure no one was watching, he took a quick slug of the fiery fluid. He breathe out a sigh of relief as a sensation of warmth spread deliciously through his body.
Now he felt even calmer.
He was even capable of appreciating that there had been some recent bright spots in his life.
One of the luckiest things that had happened to Yuri since his arrival in the U. S. was meeting Curt Rogers and Curt's buddy Steve Henderson and striking up a relationship. It had been this relationship that had turned Yuri's fantasy of vengeance into a realistic possibility. The initial meeting had occurred purely by chance. After a very long day of hot summer driving Yuri had stopped at a hole-in-the-wall bar called White Pride in Bensonhurst, Brooklyn. His flask had long since been drained, and he needed a shot of vodka so bad he couldn't wait until he got home to Brighton Beach.
It was after eleven at night, and the local hangout was crowded, dark, and noisy with the heavy metal beat of Skrewdriver reverberating off the walls. Most of the customers were tough working-class white youths with shaved heads, sleeveless Tshirts, and a profusion of tattoos.
Yuri should have guessed the kind of clientele he'd encounter. Outside he'd seen a number of gleaming
