“Go on.”

“Nik is behind a fraud that costs the army millions every year.” Dimka explained about the TV sets. When he had finished he put the file on Volodya’s desk. “It’s all in there—including the names of the officers who are organizing the whole thing.”

Volodya did not pick up the file. “I’m not a policeman. I can’t arrest this Nik. And if he’s bribing police officers, there’s not much I can do about it.”

“But you can arrest the army officers involved.”

“Oh, yes. They will all be in army jails within twenty-four hours.”

“And you can shut down the whole business.”

“Very quickly.”

And then Nik will be ruined, Dimka thought. “Thank you, Uncle,” he said. “That’s very helpful.”

• • •

Dimka was in his apartment, packing for Czechoslovakia, when Nik came to see him.

The Politburo had approved Kosygin’s plan. Dimka was flying with him to Prague to negotiate a nonmilitary solution to the crisis. They would find a way to allow the liberalization experiment to continue while at the same time reassuring the diehards that there was no fundamental threat to the Soviet system. But what Dimka hoped was that in the long term the Soviet system would change.

Prague in May would be mild and wet. Dimka was folding his raincoat when the doorbell rang.

There was no doorman in his building, and no intercom system. The street door was permanently unlocked and visitors walked upstairs to the apartments unannounced. It was not as luxurious as Government House, where his ex-wife was living in their old apartment. Dimka occasionally felt resentful, but he was glad Grisha was near his grandmother.

Dimka opened the door and was shocked to see his lover’s husband standing there.

Nik was an inch taller than Dimka, and heavier, but Dimka was ready to take him on. He stepped back a pace and picked up the nearest heavy object, a glass ashtray, to use as a weapon.

“No need for that,” said Nik, but he stepped into the hall and shut the door behind him.

“Piss off,” said Dimka. “Go now, before you get into any more trouble.” He managed to sound more confident than he felt.

Nik glared at him with hot hatred in his eyes. “You’ve made your point,” he said. “You’re not afraid of me. You’re powerful enough to turn my life to shit. I should be scared of you. All right, I get it. I’m scared.”

He did not sound it.

Dimka said: “What have you come here for?”

“I don’t give a toss for the bitch. I only married her to please my mother, who’s dead now. But a man’s pride is hurt when another man pokes his fire. You know what I mean.”

“Get to the point.”

“My business is ruined. No one in the army will speak to me, let alone sell me TV sets. Men who have built four-bedroom dachas from the money I’ve made for them now walk past me in the street without speaking—those who aren’t in jail.”