The Case of the General's Thumb Read Free

a window.
    He showered, shaved, and investigating the fridge, found it thoughtfully stocked with cheese, sausage, vegetables, and three eggs, enough for a decent omelette.
    He wondered how Tanya and Volodya were getting on and what they were eating. He’d left them a thousand of the six thousand dollars he’d received for the flat, telling them to go easy, as they’d need money for here.
    After breakfast he dressed, went out, and walked until he came to a gate, at which a soldier was asleep on a chair. He was unarmed. Ukraine, in contrast to Tadzhikistan, was a land at peace. He’d done well to come.
    Exploring further, Nik found himself looking down on a meandering willow-bordered river with ducks. He went down some steps to where there were boats moored, then followed the towpath, revelling in the keen morning air.
    â€œAny luck?” he asked quietly, coming upon a fisherman.
    â€œSome, but it’s slow work.”
    Feeling a need to talk, Nik inquired if he was from these parts.
    â€œI live just up there. You on holiday?”
    â€œSince yesterday. Are there any shops?”
    â€œYou’ve got a food store on site, and there’s a couple of shops in Koncha-Zaspa, twenty minutes from here. You’re not from Kiev then?”
    â€œTadzhikistan. Left my family in Saratov, and come on ahead to find a flat. What are prices like?”
    â€œIn Kiev, upwards of ten thousand dollars for a one-roomer.”
    Nik was aghast.
    â€œAgainst six thousand dollars for a three-roomer in Dushanbe …”
    The fisherman looked sympathetic.
    â€œYou didn’t check beforehand?”
    Nik said nothing, suddenly remembering that he’d no local currency, just the dollars for the flat, and must ask Ivan Lvovich about the promised removal expenses.
    â€œAs the fish are no longer biting, how about coffee at my place?” said the fisherman.
    Nik watched him reel in, but his thoughts were elsewhere. The idea of cheap accommodation had been central to his plans for their future in a new country, and here was a complete stranger upsetting all that and inviting him to coffee.
    â€œNot to worry, affordable,” had been Ivan Lvovich’s response when he’d asked about prices. Affordable, but not to him.
    â€œYou coming?” the fisherman inquired, standing with his rod and a can containing his catch.
    â€œThanks, I’d like to.”
    They went up a steep track, through a gate, and on past a massive, old two-storey house.
    â€œMy mother-in-law’s place,” said the fisherman. “And that,” indicating the fine three-storeyed brick-built house ahead of them, “is what I built. With help from my son and some locals.”
    â€œSo you’re a builder.”
    â€œWriter. It’s a writers’ colony here. Like Peredelkino outside Moscow.”
    The entrance led straight into a vast kitchen. A long pine table stood before a long, old-fashioned high-backed leather sofa.
    Nik ran his hand over the table’s polished surface.
    â€œMade that too,” said the fisherman over his shoulder, lighting the stove, and setting the coffee mill whirring.
    At that moment a woman in only a nightdress started down the stairs, went back, then reappeared, now wearing a housecoat.
    â€œSvetlana, my wife,” said the fisherman. “I’m Valentin.”
    â€œI’m Nik.”
    â€œI asked Nik back for coffee,” Valentin explained. “He’s from Dushanbe.”
    â€œI’ll have some too,” said Svetlana. She was tall, graceful, wide-eyed and vaguely aristocratic, very different from Nik’s earthy, countrified Tanya.
    â€œWe were late to bed,” Valentin explained. “We had friends from Kiev and sat up drinking till two. Which always means I wake at five, and there’s nothing for it but to go fishing.”
    â€œCaught anything?” Svetlana asked.
    â€œSeven roach.”

5
    Nik found an agitated Ivan