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Lev moved the box aside and saw a different legend: "Teacher's Highland Cream-Perfection of Old Scotch Whisky. " He said: "How many?"
"Twelve cases. "
He covered the box. "Better than cocoa. "
He directed Sid away from the city center. He checked behind frequently to see if anyone was following them, and looked with apprehension when he saw a senior U. S. Army officer, but no one questioned them. Vladivostok was crammed with refugees from the Bolsheviks, most of whom had brought a lot of money with them. They were spending it as if there were no tomorrow, which there probably was not for many of them. In consequence the shops were busy and the streets full of carts like this one delivering goods. As everything was scarce in Russia, much of what was on sale had been smuggled in from China or, like Sid's Scotch, stolen from the military.
Lev saw a woman with a little girl, and thought of Daisy. He missed her. She was walking and talking now, and investigating the world. She had a pout that melted everyone's heart, even Josef Vyalov's. Lev had not seen her for six months. She was two and a half now, and she must have changed in the time he had been away.
He also missed Marga. She was the one he dreamed about, her naked body wriggling against his in bed. It was because of her that he had got into trouble with his father-in-law and ended up in Siberia, but all the same he longed to see her again.
"Have you got a weakness, Sid?" said Lev. He felt he needed a closer friendship with the taciturn Sid: partners in crime required trust.
"Nah," said Sid. "Only money. "
"Does your love of money lead you to take risks?"
"Nah, just thieving. "
"And does thieving ever get you into trouble?"
"Not really. Prison, once, but that was only for six months. "
"My weakness is women. "
"Is it?"
Lev was used to this British habit of asking the question after the answer had been given. "Yes," he said. "I can't resist them. I have to walk into a nightclub with a pretty girl on my arm. "
"Do you?"
"Yes. I can't help myself. "
The cart entered a dockland neighborhood of dirt roads and sailors' hostels, places that had neither names nor addresses. Sid looked nervous.
Lev said: "You're armed, yeah?"
"Nah," said Sid. "I just got this. " He pulled back his coat to reveal a huge pistol with a foot-long barrel stuck into his belt.
Lev had never seen a gun like it. "What the fuck is that?"
"Webley-Mars. Most powerful handgun in the world. Very rare. "
"No need to pull the trigger-just wave it about, it'll scare people to death. "
In this area no one was paid to clear the streets of snow, and the cart followed the tracks of previous vehicles, or slid on the ice of little-used lanes. Being in Russia made Lev think of his brother. He had not forgotten his promise to send Grigori the fare to America. He was making good money selling stolen military supplies to the Cossacks. With today's deal he would have enough for Grigori's passage.
He had done a lot of wicked things in his short life, but if he could make amends to his brother he would feel better about himself.
They drove into an alley and turned behind a low building. Lev opened a cardboard box and took out one bottle of Scotch. "Stay here and guard the load," he said to Sid. "Otherwise it will be gone when we come out. "
"Don't worry," said Sid, but he looked apprehensive.
Lev reached under his greatcoat to touch the holstered Colt. 45 semiautomatic pistol on his belt, then he went in through the back door.
The place was what passed for a tavern in Siberia. There was a small room with a few chairs and a table. It had no bar, but an open door revealed a dirty kitchen with a shelf of bottles and a barrel. Three men sat near the log fire, dressed in ragged furs. Lev recognized the one in the middle, a man he knew as Sotnik. He wore baggy trousers tucked into riding boots. He had high cheekbones and slanted eyes, and he sported an elaborate mustache and side-whiskers. His skin was reddened and lined by the weather. He might have been any age between twenty-five and fifty-five.
Lev shook hands all round. He uncorked the bottle, and one of the men-presumably the bar owner-brought four nonmatching glasses. Lev poured gen
