The Russian Interpreter

‘It doesn’t make much difference. It’s a criminal offence to buy or sell second-hand goods except through the State Commission Shops.’

‘True.’ said Konstantin. He smiled slightly. ‘So the position is, we are unable to establish to whom the books belonged.’

‘Just ask Raya where she got them from.’

‘If Raya did steal them, she’d be a thief. I don’t see why I should take the word of a thief.’

There was a silence. Again Konstantin shook the coffee-spoon, and again it fell into the cup.

‘Suppose we abandon these barren theoretical speculations about ownership,’ he said suddenly. ‘Let’s see if we can be practical. Now, why don’t I treat you like any other potential customers, and offer to sell you the books?’

Manning translated this to Proctor-Gould. For a start Proctor-Gould said nothing. Then he sighed, and pulled at his ear.

‘How much?’ he said.

Manning was astonished that he should have accepted the principle of this arrangement, and began to protest. Proctor-Gould cut him short.

‘Ask him how much. We’ve nothing to lose by finding out what figure he has in mind.’

Manning asked him. Konstantin held up three fingers.

‘Three hundred,’ he said.

‘Old roubles?’

‘New roubles.’

Manning started to laugh.

‘We’re in the antiquarian market,’ he told Proctor-Gould. ‘He wants 300 roubles.’

Proctor-Gould frowned.

‘How much is that in sterling? About £120?’

‘Thereabouts, at the official rate. What was the cost of the books new?’

‘I don’t know. Twenty or thirty pounds at a guess. But they’d be worth more on the second-hand market in Moscow.’

‘Nothing like £120, Gordon. Particularly since they’re stolen.’

‘I suppose not.’

Proctor-Gould had bent close to the table, scraping it with the prong of a fork.

‘What shall I say, then, Gordon?’

‘Offer him 200 roubles.’

Manning stared at Proctor-Gould in surprise.

‘I can’t understand you, Gordon,’ he said. ‘I don’t see why you should pay anything at all. But to pay more than the books were worth in the first place …!’

‘I think that’s my affair, Paul.’

‘Look, Gordon, you’ve got this business out of all proportion….’

‘Some of those books aren’t mine, Paul. They belong to my clients. Now, offer him 200 roubles.’

Manning hesitated. Konstantin and Raya watched the two Englishmen. Manning felt their eyes shift back and forth from him to Proctor-Gould, trying to read the sense of their dispute.

‘All right,’ he said to Konstantin at last. ‘My friend will give you 200 roubles. But only because he is acting on …’

‘Two hundred and eighty,’ interrupted Konstantin, throwing off the figure like a verbal shrug.

Proctor-Gould reflected when Manning told him. Then he opened his eyes very wide, blinked several times, and opened them wide again. He seemed to be fighting off sleep.

‘Two hundred and fifty,’ he said. ‘And that really is the highest I’ll go.’

Konstantin accepted the figure at once, with a little twist of the head and a wry tightening of the mouth, as if admitting the truth of some unwelcome proposition.

‘It’s low,’ he said. ‘Your friend would go higher if I pushed him. But why bother? If I had the books I’d accept 250 for them.’

Manning stared at him.

‘What do you mean, if you had the books?’

‘I mean,’ said Konstantin with casual rapidity, ‘given that, in the circumstances that, it being the case that …’

‘You haven’t actually got them?’

‘No, I’ve sold them already.’

Manning was so surprised that for a moment he was unable even to translate the announcement. When he did, Proctor-Gould raised his head and gazed at Konstantin in silence. The inspection disconcerted Konstantin. He blinked, and twitched, and shifted in his seat. Again he dropped the spoon into his cup.

‘Look,’ he said suddenly. ‘I know how attached one can get to certain books. Perhaps I could come to some arrangements with the buyer. Would that interest you?’

‘How much would it cost?’ asked Manning.

‘Well, listen. I don’t think he’d let us have the lot back. Judging by what he said at the time. But he might agree to part with one, if I explained the circumstances. If you’d like to tell me what one you want most, I could have a try.’

Proctor-Gould stared at him, his great brown eyes wide open and unblinking, his face completely expressionless, not even turning his head when Manning translated.

‘How much?’ he asked.

‘Provided it’s only one,’ said Konstantin slowly, ‘you can have it for nothing.’

Proctor-Gould stared and stared, not answering. Then, abruptly, he got to his feet.

‘Let’s go,’ he said to Manning.

Konstantin sat back in his chair and gazed up at Proctor-Gould.

‘You don’t want it?’ he asked. ‘Not even for nothing?’

‘Come on,’ said Proctor-Gould to Manning.

‘One minute,’ said Konstantin. He tore a page out of a note-book, scribbled something on it in ballpoint, and gave it to Manning.

‘In case your friend changes his mind,’ he said.

Outside the Chaika was still waiting.

‘What shall I tell the driver?’ asked Manning, as they got in.

Proctor-Gould didn’t reply. He sat gazing out of the window, pulling at his ear.

‘What’s on that piece of paper he gave you?’ he asked suddenly.