Next morning, Dimka sent for the KGB file on Nik Smotrov.
He was in a rage. He wanted to get a gun and kill Nik. He had to keep telling himself to remain calm.
It would not have been difficult for Nik to get past the doorman yesterday. He could have faked a delivery, entered close behind some legitimate residents so that he looked part of the group, or just flashed a Communist Party card. Dimka found it a little more difficult to figure out how Nik could have known that Grisha would be moving from one part of the building to another on his own, but on reflection he decided Nik had probably reconnoitered the building a few days earlier. He could have chatted to some neighbors, figured out the child's daily schedule, and picked the best opportunity. He had probably paid off those local policemen, too. His aim was to scare Dimka half to death.
He had succeeded.
But he was going to regret it.
In theory, Alexei Kosygin as premier could look at any file he liked. In practice, KGB chief Yuri Andropov would decide what Kosygin could and could not see. However, Dimka felt sure that Nik's activities, though criminal, had no political dimension, so there was no reason for the file to be withheld. Sure enough, it arrived on his desk that afternoon.
It was thick.
As Dimka suspected, Nik was a black market trader. Like most such men, he was an opportunist. He would buy and sell whatever came his way: flowered shirts, costly perfume, electric guitars, lingerie, Scotch whisky--any illegally imported luxury difficult to obtain in the Soviet Union. Dimka went carefully through the reports, looking for something he could use to destroy Nik.
The KGB dealt in rumors, and Dimka needed something definite. He could go to the police, report what the KGB file said, and demand an investigation. But Nik was sure to be bribing the police--otherwise he could not have got away with his crimes for so long. And his protectors would naturally want the bribes to continue. So they would make sure the investigation got nowhere.
The file contained plenty of material on Nik's personal life. He had a mistress and several girlfriends, including one with whom he smoked marijuana. Dimka wondered how much Natalya knew about the girlfriends. Nik met business associates most afternoons at the Bar Madrid near the Central Market. He had a pretty wife, who--
Dimka was shocked to read that Nik's wife was having a long-term affair with Dmitri Ilich "Dimka" Dvorkin, aide to Premier Kosygin.
Seeing his own name felt horrible. Nothing was private, it seemed.
At least there were no pictures or tape recordings.
There was, however, a photo of Nik, whom Dimka had never seen. He was a good-looking man with a charming smile. In the picture he wore a jacket with epaulets, a high-fashion item. According to the notes he was just under six feet tall with an athletic build.
Dimka wanted to pound him into jelly.
He put revenge fantasies out of his mind and read on.
Soon he struck gold.
Nik was buying television sets from the Red Army.
The Soviet military had a colossal budget that no one dared question for fear of being thought unpatriotic. Some of the money was spent on high-technology equipment bought from the West. In particular, every year the Red Army bought hundreds of expensive televisions. Their preferred brand was Franck, of West Berlin, whose sets had a superior picture and great sound. According to the file, most of these TVs were not needed by the army. They were ordered by a small group of mid-ranking officers, who were named in the file. The officers then declared the televisions obsolete and sold them cheaply to Nik, who resold them at a huge price on the black market and shared out the profits.
Most of Nik's dealings were penny-ante, but this scam had been making him serious money for years.
There was no proof that the story was true, but it made total sense to Dimka. The KGB had reported the story to the army, but an army investigation had turned up no proof. Most likely, Dimka thought, the investigator had been cut in on the deal.
He phoned Natalya's office. "Quick question," he said. "What brand of TV do you have at home?"
"Franck," she said immediately. "It's great. I can get you one, if you like."
"No, thanks."
"Why do you ask?"
"I'll explain later." Dimka hung up.
He looked at his watch. It was five. He left the Kremlin and drove to the street called Sadovaya-Samotyochnaya.
He had to scare Nik. It would not be easy, but he had to do it. Nik had to be made to understand that he must never, ever, threaten Dimka's family.
He parked his Moskvitch but did not get out immediately. He recalled the frame of mind he had been in throughout the Cuban missile project, when he had to keep the mission secret at all costs. He had destroyed men's careers and ruined their lives without hesitation, because the job had to be done. Now he was going to ruin Nik.
He locked his car and walked to the Bar Madrid.