A Negotiable Instrument

Chapter Four

'Vaska! It's been too long. Where have you been hiding yourself?'

'Hello, Alyosha. I haven't been hiding anywhere. You're the elusive one. You know you have a standing invitation to eat with us and yet we haven't seen you for weeks,' Tursunov said as he disentangled himself from the ferocious bear-hug his younger brother had wrapped him up in. 'You look tired,' he added, holding Alexei at arm's length and looking him up and down, 'and I see your dress sense hasn't improved.'

Alexei was a touch shorter and stockier than his older brother, his sandy hair permanently unruly. He wore a long black leather coat and an Astrakhan hat, set at a rakish angle, which failed to keep his hair under any sort of control. He had a restless dynamism, an unaffected spontaneity, which contrasted with his brother's natural reserve. It was mirrored in their dress. Alexei had the uncanny ability to look as if he was still in the process of dressing, however many and flamboyant the clothes he wore. His brother's dress was always neat and understated.

'Yes, and you are still the same old reactionary bourgeois instrument of a brutal and repressive regime, but I won't hold it against you,' Alexei said, breaking free of his brother's grasp and laughing at the disapproving look.

'Have you eaten?' Tursunov asked.

'Yes, thanks, but I don't mind watching you. So long as you buy me a drink.'

'You insult me and then expect my hospitality?'

'What are brothers for?' Alexei grinned at him. 'At least you still think that was an insult. There was a time when you would have punched me.'

'Yes, and there was a time when you would have run to mama when I did.'

'Talking of mamas, how is Galya?'

'Missing you.'

'But, of course! The honourable Galina Gennadievna needs the little people to condescend to.'

'It's not all her fault. You should know when to stop provoking her. But what am I saying? You have never known when to stop, have you?' The two brothers stared at each other before they both erupted in laughter.

'Come on, let's get you that drink,' Tursunov said through his laughter. 'And then you can tell me what you've been up to and why it is that we should just happen to bump into each other.'

'Would you believe me if I said it was coincidence?'

'Not even you are stupid enough to think I'd believe that. Newspaper reporters and coincidence don't go together.' Tursunov shouldered his way through the entrance doors and led Alexei to a table in a corner of the room.

'So, once a policeman, always a policeman?' Alexei asked, looking thoughtfully at his brother. Tursunov had taken one of the chairs and turned it around so that he was sitting with his back against the wall, giving him an angle from where he could see the entire room.

'Old habits die hard,' he replied with a shrug.

'How is young Maximka?'

'Maximka is fine, as you would know if you ever bothered to visit. And don't change the subject. What do you want?'

'Now do you see why I don't visit you more often? Every time I do you act the policeman and question my motives.'

'So you don't want anything from me? In that case we can just have a pleasant drink while we chat about old times.' Tursunov signalled to get the waiter's attention.

'Sarcasm never did suit you, Vaska. But since you insist, there is a small favour you can do for me.'

The waiter arrived, wiping his greasy hands on his dirty apron as he shuffled over. Tursunov ordered barley soup with pampushki and two beers. When the waiter was out of earshot he looked across the table at Alexei. 'So what it is you want? Or should I ask how much?'