The Senility of Vladimir P (24 page)

Rostkhenkovskaya had seemed such a sweet, sympathetic girl. Well, she had taken him in completely.

Sheremetev looked at her. ‘Keep it,' he said, and went to the door.

It was locked.

‘It wasn't a question, Nikolai Ilyich,' said Belkin. ‘We need to go to the watches tonight.'

‘I can't take you.'

‘I think you can.'

‘Keep that one. Isn't it enough for you?'

‘No. Nowhere near enough.'

Sheremetev tried the door again. Behind him, Belkin was laughing. Sheremetev looked desperately around. A wooden mantle clock stood at the end of the counter. He grabbed it and hurled it through the glass door, shattering the pane and leaving razor-sharp shards hanging from the frame. He began to kick at them.

Suddenly he felt hands on his shoulders dragging him away from the door. They dumped him on the ground.

Sheremetev looked up. Above him stood five thugs in leather jackets who had materialised from the back of the shop, and behind them were Belkin and Rostkhenkovskaya. He got to his feet, angrily straightening his clothes.

‘Vasya!' called Rostkhenkovskaya. ‘What are you doing? Come out!'

From the back of the shop, sheepishly, came a sixth man.

Sheremetev's mouth dropped.

Vasily looked down in embarrassment. ‘What the fuck are you doing, Papa? Why don't you just do what they tell you?'

‘
Papa
?
' said Rostkhenkovskaya.

‘You didn't tell me his name!' snapped Vasya. ‘You think if I knew who he is I'd be here?'

‘I didn't know his name!' replied Rostkhenkovskaya. ‘All he told me was that he's called Nikolai Ilyich.'

‘You could have told me that!'

‘Would that have helped? How many Nikolai Ilyich's do you think there are in Moscow?'

Vasya shook his head angrily. ‘Papa, what have you done to your face?'

‘It's a cut,' said Sheremetev.

‘How did you get it?'

‘What difference does it make? What are you
doing
, Vasya?'

‘Who gives a fuck?' shouted Belkin. ‘I don't care if he's your father or your brother or your fucking mother. Nothing's changed. We're going! You,' he said, pointing at Sheremetev, ‘are going to take us to the watches, or the consequences are going to be very painful.'

‘Papa,' said Vasya, ‘whose watches are they?'

Sheremetev glared at him angrily. ‘Whose do you think?'

Vasya frowned for a moment, then his eyes widened. ‘Jesus Christ!'

Belkin turned to Vasya. ‘Do you know whose they are?'

Vasya didn't reply. He raised an eyebrow at his father.

‘The ex-president's,' muttered Sheremetev guiltily.

There was a stunned silence. For several seconds, nobody did anything. Then Belkin began to laugh. ‘Vladimir Vladimirovich?'

Sheremetev nodded miserably. At least that would be an end of it now. They weren't going to go and steal the watches from the ex-president of Russia.

But Belkin showed no sign of discouragement. He glanced excitedly at Rostkhenkovskaya. ‘I should have known. What quality! They say not a contract was signed in Russia without our President Vova getting a little watch as a gift. Tell me,' he said to Sheremetev, ‘is he as senile as they all say?'

Sheremetev nodded again.

‘And how do you happen to —'

‘I'm his nurse,' blurted out Sheremetev, overcome with shame.

‘His nurse! How long have you looked after him?'

‘Six years.'

Belkin tutted. ‘Nikolai Ilyich! What a betrayal – six years, and all this time you've been stealing from your patient!'

‘I have not!' he replied indignantly. ‘I've never taken a thing before this. Now I . . . I have a reason. Vasya knows.'

‘Yes, there's always a reason,' remarked Belkin airily. ‘Well, if he's as senile as you say, he won't notice if his watches are gone, will he?'

‘You still want to go?' demanded Sheremetev in disbelief. ‘He's surrounded by guards. You're crazy!'

‘Nikolai Ilyich,' said Rostkhenkovskaya, ‘how many watches are there? Tell us the truth.'

‘I haven't counted them.'

‘Roughly.'

‘Another half dozen, perhaps.'

Belkin threw a glance at one of the thugs. He moved closer to Sheremetev, menacingly cupping the fist of one hand in the palm of the other.

Sheremetev glanced at Vasya, but his son had averted his eyes.

‘How many, Nikolai Ilyich?' repeated Rostkhenkovskaya.

‘I don't know,' he muttered. ‘A couple of hundred, maybe.'

Belkin grinned. ‘That sounds more like it. A couple of hundred, probably the best couple of hundred in Russia. And no record of ownership, because every one of them was a bribe. What could be better? Be honest. How long have you been selling them?'

‘I've only sold the ones I brought here.'

‘Come on, Nikolai Ilyich. Really?'

‘My father's very honest,' said Vasya.

‘Obviously,' observed Belkin.

‘I've never stolen a thing in my life! I need the money for my nephew.'

‘Pasha's an idiot, Papa. I told you —'

‘How much do you need?' said Rostkhenkovskaya to Sheremetev.

‘Three hund— Five hundred thousand.'

‘Five hundred thousand? Dollars?'

Sheremetev nodded.

‘Yesterday you seemed to be happy with three hundred thousand.'

‘You said you were going to give me another fifty thousand for the first one and twenty-five for the others. And I was going to sell more elsewhere. I didn't want everything in one place.'

‘Tell us the truth. Can you take us to the watches?'

‘No. It's impossible.'

Rostkhenkovskaya glanced at Belkin.

The expert sighed, as if what he was about to say troubled him deeply. ‘Well, in that case, Nikolai Ilyich, here's how things are going to work. Anna is going to take the three watches you sold her to the police and tell them that you brought them and how much she paid for them, and then the police are going to come and arrest you. We, in the meantime, will keep this lovely little Patek Philippe, which Anna of course won't mention. So the upshot is, Anna will have paid you what has she given you so far, which is how much?'

‘Thirty-two and a half thousand dollars,' said Rostkhenkovskaya coolly.

‘Thirty-two and a half thousand dollars. The police will take that from you when they arrest you, and we'll get some of it back after they deduct their commission. Not much, it's true, but on the other hand, we'll have a watch we got for free and that we'll sell for a million dollars, which is a pretty good profit. Oh, and I forgot. You're going to spend ten years in jail. Or . . .' Belkin paused. ‘It could work out differently. You could find a way to take us to the watches and we could give you five hundred thousand dollars and you could do whatever you want with it, including getting this idiot Pasha out of whatever trouble he's in, if that's what you want.'

‘He's my nephew,' said Sheremetev, his voice barely more than a whisper. ‘And he's not an idiot.'

‘Idiot . . . not an idiot . . . Who cares? What do you think of my proposal, Nikolai Ilyich? It's your choice. Let me ask you once more: Can you take us to the watches or can't you?'

Sheremetev tried to catch Vasya's eye again, but his son seemed remarkably interested in scrutinising the old rings and necklaces in the nearest display case.

‘What are you going to do with the watches if I take you to them?' asked Sheremetev at last, delaying the inevitable rather than really expecting an answer that would help him decide.

‘Really, Nikolai Ilyich,' said Belkin knowingly. ‘What do you think we're going to do?'

There was silence in the shop. Belkin, Rostkhenkovskaya, the five thugs and even Vasya – surreptitiously sneaking a glance at his father – watched Sheremetev as he thought over the choice. As if he really had one.

‘When can I have the money?' he asked quietly.

‘As soon as we've got the watches,' replied Belkin.

‘Tonight?'

‘We've got two briefcases full of cash in the back of the shop.'

‘Five hundred thousand? I thought you were going to give me three hundred for the Patek Philippe.'

‘We thought you might bring some more,' said Rostkhenkovskaya.

‘So now you can get us to the watches, can you?' said Belkin. ‘Well, let me warn you. If you've got some plan in your head that you're going to take us there and somehow turn us over to these guards you told us about, the story will be the same. You sold us three watches, which we'll hand over, and you asked us to come out to value the others. Us? We bought the watches in good faith. We drove with you to wherever you were taking us without knowing where we were going. We've done nothing wrong. So don't play games with us, Nikolai Ilyich, or it will end badly for you, I promise.'

Sheremetev closed his eyes. He didn't want to play games. He just wanted this to be over. He wanted to get the money for Pasha and then . . . then get away from the dacha and the filth and corruption that seemed to ooze out of its very pores to infect everything around them and which now seemed to be oozing out of his.

He opened his eyes. Again, everyone in the room was watching him. His gaze rested on Vasya. This time Vasya met his eyes. He gave a slight, almost imperceptible shrug.

Sheremetev turned back to Belkin. ‘Okay.'

‘So there's a way to do it, is there?'

Despising himself, Sheremetev nodded.

‘Good!' Belkin went to the back of the shop and returned a moment later with two briefcases. ‘Let's go.'

A pair of vehicles
was waiting around the corner. Sheremetev was put into the back seat of a Mercedes between Vasya and Rostkhenkovskaya. Belkin put the briefcases in the boot and then climbed into the front passenger seat. One of the thugs sat behind the wheel – the others piled into the second car.

Sheremetev told them to head for the Odintsovo. Soon they were in the Moscow traffic

After a few minutes Sheremetev's phone rang.

‘It's my brother,' he said.

‘Answer it,' replied Belkin.

Oleg had expected to hear from Sheremetev by now and had rung to check that everything was alright.

‘There's been a hiccup,' said Sheremetev guardedly.

‘What kind of hiccup?' asked Oleg .

‘Umm . . . Listen, Oleg, I couldn't get away today.'

‘What do you mean, you couldn't get away?'

‘The relief nurse didn't turn up.'

‘So what's going to happen?'

‘I'll go tomorrow.'

‘But you told me the watch buyer's expecting you today!'

‘I phoned her. It's okay. I'll bring you the money tomorrow. Oleg, I promise, alright?'

‘Do you want me to come with you tomorrow?'

‘Oleg, I told you —'

‘I told Pasha I was getting the money tonight and I'd have him out tomorrow.'

‘Well, it might have to be the next day.'

There was silence.

‘Okay,' said Oleg eventually. ‘I guess another day's not going to kill him.'

‘I'll see you tomorrow, Oleg.'

Sheremetev put the phone away.

‘Nice lying, Dad,' said Vasya.

Sheremetev glared at his son. ‘What are you doing, Vasya? This is a kidnap. Is this what you do? Go around hijacking people? I should go to the police!'

Vasya laughed, pointing a thumb at the thug driving the car. ‘That guy
is
the police. There are four more in the car behind us. Moscow's finest.'

Sheremetev frowned. ‘What is this? Some kind of investigation?'

Belkin chuckled.

‘Jesus Christ, Papa!' hissed Vasya. ‘How naïve can you be? You're embarrassing me! How do you think a policeman like that earns enough to feed his family?'

‘It's better than taking bribes on the street, Sheremetev!' growled the driver.

‘Sure,' retorted Vasya. ‘And you don't do that as well?'

The driver grinned.

‘So you bribe policemen?' said Sheremetev.

‘No, I don't bribe policemen,' retorted Vasya. ‘Not if I don't have to. Look – right now he's working for me. Why shouldn't I pay him?' Vasya sighed impatiently. ‘Papa, I get things done, alright? Someone wants something, I fix it for them. Someone needs help, I get it for them. Anushka rings me up and says she needs some guys with a bit of muscle. Nothing nasty, just a bit of persuasion. So I get them for her.'

‘So this isn't the first time? You help her steal things all the time, do you?'

‘Every situation's different. Sometimes, someone needs protection. People know I always deliver. Word of mouth. I have a lot of customers in the jewellery business.'

‘And what about me? Shouldn't I have had protection?'

‘Did you call me?'

Sheremetev fumed. ‘And you need five guys?' he demanded. ‘Five guys for me?'

‘First of all, I didn't know who you were, okay? What do you think I am? I wouldn't have got involved in this if I knew. She didn't tell me your name.'

‘He didn't
tell
me, Vasya!' said Rostkhenkovskaya.

‘Alright, fine. Whatever. Secondly, who knows if you're going to come with anybody else or what weapons you might have? Or what might happen when we get to wherever we're going to? It's not for me to question. I get the guys for her – that's it. It was going to be six, but one pulled out at the last minute, which is why I came myself. Incidentally, Seva, what the fuck happened to Gleb?'

‘Don't know,' grunted the driver.

‘If you see him, tell him, he can forget about me. That's it for him. Zero tolerance! No one fucks with Vasya Sheremetev. If Gleb thinks I can't get more where he came from, tell him to have a look around next time he goes to work.'