Red Square - Martin Cruz Smith [148]
Arkady said, “Hamlet?”
“Hamlet, perfect. You don’t admire the ball forever, you kick it.”
“Like you kicked the Trabi off the road in Munich?”
“It could have solved our problems. It should have. When Rita told me you were still alive and that Max had brought you here, I honestly couldn’t believe it. What’s going on with you and Max?”
“I think he wants to prove he’s the better man.”
“No offense, but Max has everything and you have nothing.” Borya broke into a smile. “In the West that’s how it’s scored. He’s the better man.”
Arkady asked, “Who’s the better man, Borya Gubenko or Boris Benz?”
Borya’s smile spread into the grin of a boy caught stealing cookies. He fished out Marlboros and gave one to Arkady. “As Max says, we have to be new men for new times.”
Arkady said, “You needed a foreign partner for the joint venture and it was easier to create one than find one.”
Borya stroked the wheel. “I like the name Benz. It has a more reassuring sound than Gubenko. Benz is a man people want to do business with. How did you figure it out?”
“Obvious things. You were Rudy’s partner, but on paper Benz was Rudy’s partner. Once I knew Benz was a paper identity, you were the most likely candidate. It struck me as odd that the clinic at your Munich house believed me for a second and let me in the door when I claimed I was you. I don’t sound very German. Then you made the mistake of videotaping a restaurant window when you were taping Rita. Your reflection wasn’t a perfect portrait because you were holding the camera, but on a big screen an old football hero still stands out.”
“The tape was Max’s idea.”
“Then, I should thank him.”
Heading south toward the Ku’damm, they passed a service station with signs in Polish. Borya said, “What the Poles do is, they steal a car, a nice car, cut it off the motor, drop the car on a legal motor, maybe a piece of junk that barely runs, and drive to the border. The border guards check the number on the motor and they let it through. It’s like a joke: how many Poles does it take to steal a car? If you have any money, you just pay the guard and drive through.”
“Getting a painting across the border, is that more difficult?” Arkady asked.
“You want to know the truth? I like that painting. It’s a rare work of art. But we don’t need that painting. There’s a difference of opinion here. We were doing very well with the slot machines, the girls—”
“That’s the personnel part of TransKom, bringing prostitutes from Moscow to Munich?”
“It’s legal. It’s an opportunity. The world’s opening up, Renko.”
“Then why smuggle the painting?”
“It’s democracy. I was outvoted. Max wants the painting and Rita loves the idea of being Frau Margarita Benz, gallery owner, instead of a madam, which is what she was. After I missed you in the Trabi, I wanted to hit you here. I was outvoted again. I have nothing against you, but I wanted to leave Moscow behind. When I heard you were here, I exploded. Max says you’re going to be quiet, you have a personal involvement and you’re not going to get in the way. That you’re on the team. I’d like to believe it, but when I follow you I see you jump in a car with the German police and go for a day trip to Potsdam. Put me anywhere in the world and I recognize the local militia. You’re twisting our pricks, Renko, and that’s a mistake. This is a new world for both of us and we should take advantage instead of tearing each other down. We can’t be Neanderthals the rest of our lives. I’m happy to learn from the Germans or the Americans or the Japanese. The problem is the Chechens. They’re going to spoil Berlin the way they spoiled Moscow. They pick on Russian businesses. It’s a shame that they bring down their own people. Walking around with automatic weapons as if they were home, kicking their way into restaurants, busting up shops, kidnapping children—horrible stories. So far the German police don’t know what to do because they’ve never seen anything like it. They can’t infiltrate because none of them can pass for Chechen. Not close.