“You shouldn’t have threatened my son.”

“I know it now. I thought my wife was opening her legs for some little apparatchik. I didn’t know he was a fucking warlord. I underestimated you.”

“So bugger off home and lick your wounds.”

“I have to make a living.”

“Try working.”

“No jokes, please. I’ve found another source of Western TV sets—nothing to do with the army.”

“Why should I care?”

“I can rebuild the business you destroyed.”

“So what?”

“Can I come in and sit down?”

“Don’t be so fucking stupid.”

Rage flared again in Nik’s eyes, and Dimka feared he had gone too far, but the flame died down, and Nik said meekly: “Okay, here’s the deal. I’ll give you ten percent of the profits.”

“You want me to go into business with you? In a criminal enterprise? You must be mad.”

“All right, twenty percent. And you don’t have to do anything except leave me alone.”

“I don’t want your money, you fool. This is the Soviet Union. You can’t just buy anything you want, like in America. My connections are worth far more than you could ever pay me.”

“There must be something you want.”

Until this moment Dimka had been arguing with Nik just to keep him off balance, but now he saw an opportunity. “Oh, yes,” he said. “There is something I want.”

“Name it.”

“Divorce your wife.”

“What?”

“I want you to get a divorce.”

“Divorce Natalya?”

“Divorce your wife,” Dimka said again. “Which of those three words are you having trouble understanding?”

“Fuck me, is that all?”

“Yes.”

“You can marry her. I wouldn’t touch her now anyway.”

“If you divorce her, I’ll leave you alone. I’m not a cop, and I’m not running a crusade against corruption in the USSR. I have more important work to do.”

“It’s a deal.” Nik opened the door. “I’ll send her up.”

That took Dimka by surprise. “She’s here?”

“Waiting in the car. I’ll have her things packed up and sent around tomorrow. I don’t want her in my place ever again.”

Dimka raised his voice. “Don’t you dare hurt her. If she’s even bruised, the whole deal is off.”

Nik turned in the doorway and pointed a threatening finger. “And don’t you renege. If you try to screw me I’ll cut off her nipples with the kitchen scissors.”

Dimka believed he would. He suppressed a shudder. “Get out of my flat.”

Nik left without closing the door.

Dimka was breathing hard, as if he had been running. He stood still in the small hall of the apartment. He heard Nik clattering down the stairs. He put the ashtray down on the hall table. His fingers were slippery with perspiration, and he almost dropped it.

What just happened seemed like a dream. Had Nik really stood in this hallway and agreed to a divorce? Had Dimka really scared him off?

A minute later he heard footsteps of a different kind on the stairs: lighter, faster, coming up. He did not go out of the apartment: he felt stuck where he was.