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state that Lenin created was the one that finally destroyed
Germany. That's irony for you."
"You seem to know a lot about all that," McCain commented.
"Yes, well, my father was there, you know -- with Konev's army in 1945."
Scanlon came in just as McCain turned to head for the washrooms at the far end
of the billet. He was carrying a string bag containing grapefruits, which he
deposited on his bunk. McCain indicated them with a questioning motion of his
head. "A fella who has a friend who works in one of the ag zones," Scanlon
said. "I got them during the movie. It's legal. You can get your bonus in kind
instead of in points if there's a surplus."
"I haven't seen one of those since I left the States. How much?"
"A point..." Scanlon caught the look on McCain's face, "for two."
"Capitalist!" McCain snorted.
"Sure, a man has to live."
McCain picked up the bag containing his toilet gear and began walking through
to the far end of the billet. At the middle table of the next section, Smovak
and Vorghas were sitting down to a card game with Charlie Chan, the
Amurskayan whose name nobody else could pronounce. Chan was slenderly built
and studious-looking, with olive skin, slit-eyes, and a pencil-line mustache.
He was notorious for his appalling jokes, which the other Siberians seemed to
find as hilarious as he did. Behind them the Hungarian, Gonares, was already
asleep in his bunk. Gonares was currently on outside work assignment, shifting
freight in the cargo bays at the hub. Farther along, a Yakut called Nunghan
and an Afghan were experimenting with the latest gambling creation -- a
pinball game that involved shooting glass marbles up an inclined wooden board
to roll down again through an obstacle course of holes and nails. The idea had
been Rashazzi's, who had charmed "the Dragoness" -- the stern-faced
woman-mountain who ran the OI store -- into getting a box of marbles from a
children's toyshop in Novyi Kazan specially for the purpose.
McCain now hardly noticed the strange smell that had greeted him the day he
first entered the billet. It was due, he had since discovered, to a kind of
wild garlic that certain Siberians, Yakuts in particular, once ate
traditionally during the long winters when no other vegetables were available,
and now chewed through habit. The scent reeked on the breath and exuded from
the pores. "Yes, I know what you mean -- we've got it, too," Peter Sargent had
said when McCain tried to describe it. "An extraordinary olfaction --
fermenting birdseed in a crappy petshop," which at least conveyed the
intensity, if not the precise quality. McCain wondered if they'd bribed
somebody in the ag zones to grow a patch of the awful stuff for them
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specially. He couldn't imagine its being included in the production lists
drawn up by the omniscient planners in Moscow.
On the far side, Taugin, the Frenchman, was stretched out with his head
propped on one hand, staring mournfully at a woman's picture framed on the
locker next to him, as he seemed to do for most of his free time. The rest of
it he spent prowling morosely about the compound or along Gorky Street. From
time to time he would murmur things like, "Mimi, where are you now?" or "Oh,
Mimi, where did we go wrong?" -- but the name was different on different days,
and the pictures changed.
Luchenko, Maiskevik, and Nolan were together in the rear section. On the other
side of the table from them, Borowski, the Pole, was getting up from his bunk.
In contrast to his Gallic neighbor, Borowski was pragmatic, cheerful, and
always willing to help. But how much did that mean? He was still one of the
group at the far end, which McCain looked upon as Luchenko's personal circle.
Russia was notorious for nothing being what it seemed. Zamork was a good
microcosm of it.
"Profits before people," Nolan fired at McCain as he passed. "That's
capitalism. It destroys life. There used to be beavers on Manhattan Island.
Did you know that? And what about the passenger pigeon?"
"Ask the Siberian mammoth," McCain said, and went through into the washroom. A
moment later he stuck his head out again. "And there's plenty of beaver in
Manhattan. Ask Mungabo." He disappeared back inside to relieve himself.
The door opened again a second later, and Borowski came in. They stood side by
side, staring at the wall. Abominable noises and odors came from the cubicles
behind, where two of the Siberians were entrenched. The damn garlic affected
everything. "It's a miracle that Razz's mice survive in here,"
Borowski commented. A flurry of scampering in the cage behind the door
acknowledged the remark. McCain didn't answer. He'd caught the expressions on
Luchenko's and Maiskevik's faces when he poked his head back out to retort at
Nolan. The back of his neck was prickling.
"What did you think of the movie?" Borowski asked.
"Hmm?... Aw, standard stuff."
"You know, in Russia they teach that it was their entry into the Japanese war
that brought victory there, too. But that was only a week before it ended,
wasn't it? Hadn't America already dropped the first atomic bomb by then?"
Borowski saw that McCain wasn't listening. As he zipped himself up he leaned
closer and murmured, "Watch yourself out there." Then he left.
The sound of flushing came from one of the cubicles behind, McCain re-created
in his mind every detail that he could recall of the situation in the end
section just beyond the door when he had passed through. Luchenko had been
sitting to the right of the end table, about midway along, with Maiskevik
standing behind him and Nolan farther back by his bunk. Taugin was on his bunk
to the left, and Borowski would probably have gone that way, too, after
leaving the washroom. On the table in front of Luchenko there had been a pack
of cigarettes, a book, a tin lid used as an ashtray, and at the near end a
couple of magazines. Near the far end there had been a large enamel mug almost
full of steaming tea, perhaps left there by Borowski. McCain thought
carefully; then he opened the door of one of Rashazzi's cages of mice and
scooped a large fistful of feed grain into his left hand.
When McCain came out, Luchenko was still at the table, and Nolan had sat down
on his bunk. But Maiskevik had moved to stand in the center aisle at the far
end of the table, covering the way through to the rest of the billet. To the
left, Taugin hadn't moved, and Borowski was getting something from his locker.
The mug of tea was still standing where it had been. McCain moved to the left
to pass by the table.
"Earnshaw." Luchenko's voice was unusually clipped. "I may have some
information on your colleague." McCain stopped and looked inquiringly. "But
first, of course, there is a price."
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"You never mentioned anything about that," McCain said. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]