July 6, 1993
Tuesday
The morning got swallowed up by a flurry of business, though which business exactly wasn’t clear. Zhorik, like the monkey in the old joke, was torn every which way — booze, or maybe vouchers, or maybe somewhere else entirely, banking, say.
We drove to the «Terem,» where Vadim was waiting for us. The previous times I hadn’t paid attention, but now I noticed a facial quirk of his — a permanently baffled look. I studied him and realized the secret to his bafflement lay in his large, bulging eyes, which gave Vadim a startled, frightened expression. Like he’d just been hit with some piece of news and had to work out whether the disaster that had befallen him was merely dreadful or fully catastrophic. A dead ringer for the addled aristocrat out of «Jeeves and Wooster,» the one on the pirated tape that ran a stretch without any translation at all.
«Good face for a game of preferans,» I thought, and turned my attention to the approaching waitress. As Zhorik had taught me, I read the name off her badge and ordered a mug of beer from Ksyusha. Vadim ordered the same. Zhorik stuck to a double espresso.
We spent half an hour sipping our drinks, waiting for Anastasia Igorevna to bring the keys to the second floor. Once she’d shown up and we’d heard out her complaints about absolutely everything, we went upstairs. There Vadim walked the corridor, peeking into offices. Zhorik had just offered to let him take any one he liked, free, against future profits.
Vadim agonized over it.
We went back down, took a corner table, ordered entrecôtes each, and got shot down. The kitchen didn’t open till noon. Since ten in the morning, only the bar was running. Vadim and I synchronously ordered a cup of coffee after Zhora. A second mug of beer in the morning, too much. Had to get businesses going.
Zhorik pulled a stack of papers out of his briefcase, buried himself in studying the paragraphs, clauses, and footnotes…
Flipped through the top part of the stack, skimming diagonally with a quick eye, grunted, yanked a sheet out of the middle, read it, smirked, and started drinking his coffee in small, quick sips.
Vadim and I sat there like a couple of failing students at an exam — anxious, coiled tight, ready to bolt at any second, but still nursing hope of a good outcome.
Once he’d drained his coffee, Zhorik waved at the bartender, «Another!» and shifted his gaze to Vadim. Confirmed whether he really wanted to pull in a thousand dollars a month without any hassle attached. Vadim mumbled:
— That’s right, a thousand dollars, just enough to live on, and a cushy position, nothing to sweat over… And no bosses.
— Excellent! You’ll be chief accountant at a company with no director! — Zhorik fished two passports out of his briefcase, tossed them on the table. — Register a company on these two figureheads, legal address, diversified line of business in the charter. No garden-shed construction or any of that junk, purely trading-intermediary and scientific-technical activity. Register the figureheads as general director and chief accountant, and yourself as an ordinary bookkeeper. Got it?
Then Zhorik looked at me:
— Where’s your passport?
Before I even had time to puzzle over it, I pulled the little burgundy booklet out of my pocket, and Zhorik added it to the two already lying on the table.
— Register a company for Peskov and one for yourself too. Come up with the names yourself. Don’t mix them up. Your two companies have to be clean, registered from scratch, nothing shady, so you can operate legit later, no setups waiting to bite you. Understand? Take note. Register a ready-made shell company on some homeless guys. Which bank the account’s at, doesn’t matter for now. Need to get the account details. Get the bank cards and the paperwork notarized by this guy here, — Zhorik handed Vadim a business card. — Sergei Mikhailovich, a proper notary. Doesn’t ask stupid questions, but don’t show him your passport or Romka’s. Just say you’re from me. Here’s the money to open the companies. Five hundred for Seryoga, five hundred for the ready-made firm, six hundred to register the clean companies, and another five hundred for extra expenses. And here’s your advance. Five hundred enough to start?
Zhorik pulled a wad of dollars out of his briefcase, counted off twenty-six bills, and handed them over to Vadim with a send-off:
— You’re to have it all wrapped up by end of week. With a full report!
Vadim tucked the money away into four separate pockets — notary, opening, expenses, advance — jumped up, and was gone. Zhorik put the papers back in his briefcase, stirred the cup that had just been brought over, his third of the morning, took a sip, and set it aside sharply. His eyes fixed on something or someone behind my back, he half-rose, waved, and started rattling away:
— Ilyukha, get over here! We’ve been waiting forever! You old sea dog! Where’d you disappear to?
I turned around. A giant walked into the restaurant, about two meters tall, weighing a hundred and fifty kilos, half a kilo of which was fat. The rest, muscle. The giant hooked a chair with one huge paw, dragged it over to our table, sat down, muttered «the usual» through his teeth at the waitress who’d rushed over, and shifted his gaze to Zhorik:
— Hello.
— Hey, hey!
Without waiting for the «go on, move over» look, I shifted over to the bar. Wondered what kind of business Zhorka had with the giant. He hadn’t been in that ill-fated subway car, hadn’t run into him out in the sands. Hm. Maybe at the stadium… Ah, in the arena. I’d gone out to fight against hulking brutes, and one of them could easily have been Ilyukha.
Or was I wrong? I remembered the thugs who’d shown up at the office. That’s it! Ilyukha had been behind the wheel of the Patrol!
Ilyukha left fifteen minutes later. Zhorik hopped over to the bar:
— Things are moving. Got ourselves a security detail. Karabas’ll handle the small-time riffraff. Tolyan’ll cover us against anything more serious. Ah, if only I could meet up with Seva too. Serious guy, works the big leagues. Anton wouldn’t recommend some small fry. Let’s go!
— Where to?
— You’re going home, and I’ll swing by a couple of places. Need to know who’s the top dog around here. — Zhorik smirked. — Sit tight at home, get some rest. Soon there won’t be time for any nonsense.
