Ken Follett - Fall of Giants

Rosa took his hand. “I’m sorry,” she said. “For you, for me, for the world.” She paused, then said: “What will you do?”

“I’d like to join a Washington law firm specializing in international law. I’ve got some relevant experience, after all.”

“I should think they’ll be lining up to offer you a job. And perhaps some future president will want your help.”

He smiled. Sometimes she had an unrealistically high opinion of him. “And what about you?”

“I love what I’m doing. I hope I can carry on covering the White House.”

“Would you like to have children?”

“Yes!”

“So would I.” Gus stared meditatively out of the window. “I just hope Wilson is wrong about them.”

“About our children?” She heard the note of solemnity in his tone, and she asked in a frightened voice: “What do you mean?”

“He says they will have to fight another world war.”

“God forbid,” Rosa said fervently.

Outside, night was falling.

Daisy sat at the table in the dining room of the Vyalov family’s prairie house in Buffalo. She wore a pink dress. The large linen napkin tied around her neck swamped her. She was almost four years old, and Lev adored her.

“I’m going to make the world’s biggest sandwich,” he said, and she giggled. He cut two pieces of toast half an inch square, buttered them carefully, added a tiny portion of the scrambled eggs Daisy did not want to eat, and put the slices together. “It has to have one grain of salt,” he said. He poured salt from the cellar onto his plate, then delicately picked up a single grain on the tip of his finger and put it on the sandwich. “Now I can eat it!” he said.

“I want it,” said Daisy.

“Really? But isn’t it a Daddy-size sandwich?”

“No!” she said, laughing. “It’s a girl-size sandwich!”

“Oh, all right,” he said, and popped it into her mouth. “You don’t want another one, do you?”

“Yes.”

“But that one was so big.”

“No, it wasn’t!”

“Okay, I guess I have to make another one.”

Lev was riding high. Things were even better than he had told Grigori ten months ago when they had sat in Trotsky’s train. He was living in great comfort in his father-in-law’s house. He managed three Vyalov nightclubs, getting a good salary plus extras such as kickbacks from suppliers. He had installed Marga in a fancy apartment and he saw her most days. She had got pregnant within a week of his return, and she had just given birth to a boy, whom they had named Gregory. Lev had succeeded in keeping the whole thing secret.

Olga came into the dining room, kissed Daisy, and sat down. Lev loved Daisy, but he had no feelings for Olga. Marga was sexier and more fun. And there were plenty more girls, as he had found out when Marga was heavily pregnant.

“Good morning, Mommy!” Lev said gaily.

Daisy took her cue and repeated his words.

Olga said: “Is Daddy feeding you?”

These days they talked like this, mainly through the child. They had had sex a few times when Lev got back from the war, but they had soon reverted to their normal indifference, and now they had separate bedrooms, telling Olga’s parents it was because of Daisy waking at night, though she rarely did. Olga wore the look of a disappointed woman, and Lev hardly cared.

Josef came in. “Here’s Grandpa!” Lev said.

“Morning,” Josef said curtly.

Daisy said: “Grandpa wants a sandwich.”

“No,” said Lev. “They’re too big for him.”

Daisy was delighted when Lev said things that were obviously wrong. “No, they’re not,” she said. “They’re too small!”

Josef sat down. He had changed a lot, Lev had found on returning from the war. Josef was overweight, and his striped suit was tight. He panted just from the exertion of walking downstairs. Muscle had turned to fat, black hair had gone gray, a pink complexion had become an unhealthy flush.

Polina came in from the kitchen with a pot of coffee and poured a cup for Josef. He opened the Buffalo Advertiser.

Lev said: “How’s business?” It was not an idle question. The Volstead Act had come into force at midnight on January 16, making it illegal to manufacture, transport, or sell intoxicating liquor. The Vyalov empire was based on bars, hotels, and liquor wholesaling. Prohibition was the serpent in Lev’s paradise.

“We’re dying,” said Josef with unusual frankness. “I’ve closed five bars in a week, and there’s worse to come.”

Lev nodded. “I’m selling near-beer in the clubs, but nobody wants it.” The act permitted beer that was less than half of one percent alcohol. “You have to drink a gallon to get a buzz.”

“We can sell a little hooch under the counter, but we can’t get enough, and anyway people are scared to buy.”

Olga was shocked. She knew little about the business. “But, Daddy, what are you going to do?”

“I don’t know,” said Josef.

This was another change. In the old days, Josef would have planned ahead for such a crisis. Yet it was three months since the act had been passed, and in that time Josef had done nothing to prepare for the new situation. Lev had been waiting for him to pull a rabbit out of a hat. Now he began to see, with dismay, that it was not going to happen.

That was worrying. Lev had a wife, a mistress, and two children, all living off the proceeds of the Vyalov businesses. If the empire was going to collapse, Lev would need to make plans.

Polina called Olga to the phone and she went into the hallway. Lev could hear her speaking. “Hello, Ruby,” she said. “You’re up early.” There was a pause. “What? I don’t believe it.” A long silence followed, then Olga began to cry.

Josef looked up from the newspaper and said: “What the hell…?”

Olga hung up with a crash and came back into the dining room. With her eyes full of tears she pointed at Lev and said: “You bastard.”

“What did I do?” he said, although he feared he knew.

“You-you-fucking bastard.”

Daisy began to bawl.

Josef said: “Olga, honey, what is the matter?”

Olga answered: “She’s had a baby!”

Under his breath, Lev said: “Oh, shit.”

Josef said: “Who’s had a baby?”

“Lev’s whore. The one we saw in the park. Marga.”

Josef reddened. “The singer from the Monte Carlo? She’s had Lev’s baby?”

Olga nodded, sobbing.

Josef turned to Lev. “You son of a bitch.”

Lev said: “Let’s all try to stay calm.”

Josef stood up. “My God, I thought I’d taught you a damned lesson.”

Lev pushed back his chair and got to his feet. He backed away from Josef, holding his arms out defensively. “Just calm the fuck down, Josef,” he said.

“Don’t you dare tell me to calm down,” Josef said. With surprising agility he stepped forward and lashed out with a meaty fist. Lev was not quick enough to dodge the blow and it struck him high on his left cheekbone. It hurt like hell and he staggered back.

Olga snatched up the howling Daisy and retreated to the doorway. “Stop it!” she yelled.

Josef lashed out with his left.

It was a long time since Lev had been in a fistfight, but he had grown up in the slums of Petrograd, and the reflexes still operated. He blocked Josef ’s swing, moved in close, and punched his father-in-law’s belly with both fists in turn. The breath whooshed out of Josef ’s chest. Then Lev struck at Josef ’s face with short jabs, hitting the nose and mouth and eyes.

Josef was a strong man and a bully, but people were too scared of him to fight back, and for a long time he had had no practise at defending himself. He staggered back, holding up his arms in a feeble attempt to protect himself from Lev’s blows.