The Longest Pleasure by Christopher Nicole Read Free Book Online Page B

members. And then there are shops to serve us, and only us. And shall I tell you something else, Comrade C aptain? The prices are progres sively cheaper, too.'
    'Then we should sneak into the workers' shop to buy our liquor.'
    Rosenblatt went into peal s of laughter. ‘Y ou are a droll fellow, Alexander Petrovich. I never knew that chessplayers had a sense of humour. You have g ot it backwards, comrade. A bottl e of vodka is four times more expensive for a worker than for a Russian soldier. And for a Russian officer ...' He turned the palms of his hands outwards. 'But you would not have a crowd of Magyars lying about the streets drunk? They are a rebellious lot as it is. They stare at us in the street as if we were Germans.'
    'I have noticed that,' Galitsin sai d. 'I must learn the language.'
    'It is not necessary,' Rosenblatt pushed open the door; went inside. The dark girl behind the counter, petite and pretty, with bows in her hair, smiled at him. 'All the good ones speak Russian. Enough to get on with. Vodka. Six botties.' He dumped a handful of paper currency on the counter.
    'Of course, Captain.' The girl smiled at Galitsin, from his boots to his close-cropped hair. 'And for your friend?'
    'Six between us, you silly bitch,' Rosenblatt shouted. 'We do not wish to empty your storeroom A rebellious lot. And the Central Committee is no better. Sometimes . . . sometimes, Alexander, I wonder if Stalin was not right, after all.' He winked. 'All this talk of liberalisation worries me. Sometimes.'
    'We are soldiers,' Galitsin said. "Let the politicians worry about doctrinal matters.' He lowered his voice. 'And you want to be careful, comrade. That girl could be an agent of the Fourth Bureau.'
    'Her? Of the Avo, more likely. Her business is spying on Hung a rians. Not on us. But I am serious. Even soldiers must worry about who employs them. Now take the set-up here. Rakosi had to go, he was a Stalin man. But his crime was his old age. He no longer kept the country at his heels. So he had to go. But this Gero, I do not trust him. He has too much in common with Tito.'
    'Six bottles of vodka, comrade.' The girl's smile seemed painted into place. 'Can I get you anything else?'
    'Not right now, darling. Unless you will accompany us to Madam Csank '
    The girl's mouth moved; the smile changed shape. It was impossible to decide the emotions behind the smile. Rosenblatt s aluted, scooped four of the bottl es into his arms. Galitsin took the other two, opened the door. The sun had disappeared, and it was a sombre October evening, with more than a hint of winter chill in the air. The officers waited in the doorway while a procession filed by, some fifty students, marching with bowed heads, carrying black drapes. One of them, who wore a beard, glanced at the liquor store, saw the two Russians, and spat on the pavement. Not at them, of course. He might have had ‘ T .B.
    'See what I mean?' Rosenblatt asked. 'Bloody fascist swine. There are too many of those left around, ’
    'What are they doing?'
    'They are preparing for tomorrow. Tomorrow, my dear Alexander, they are going to re-bury that fellow Rajk, and some of his associates, who were executed for plotting against the Rakosi regime, oh, three or four years ago. Rajk was the Beria of this country, you know. The natural enemy of students like those. Now he is to be re-buried as an heroic opponent of the cult of personality. It would be amusing were it not also dangerous. Once encourage these young hooligans on to the street and who knows what will follow. Come. Madam Csank's is the place for us.'
    ‘I will get out here,' Tigran Dus said. 'You will go on driving, for fifteen minutes, and then you will return here. If I am not waiting for you, repeat the manoeuvre.'
    'Yes, Comrade Colonel,' said the driver.
    Dus closed the door, watched the car move up the street, waited while a tourist bus stopped and disembarked its passengers, all glancing curiously at the man in uniform. Tourists