Fall of Giants

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.

Lev’s street-fighting instincts would not let him stop while his assailant was upright, and he kept after Josef, punching his body and head, until the older man fell backward over a dining chair and hit the carpet.

Olga’s mother, Lena, came rushing into the room, screamed, and knelt beside her husband. Polina and the cook came to the doorway to the kitchen, looking scared. Josef ’s face was battered and bleeding, but he raised himself on his elbow and pushed Lena aside. Then, when he tried to get up, he cried out and fell back.

His skin turned gray and he stopped breathing.

Lev said: “Jesus Christ.”

Lena started to wail: “Josef, oh, my Joe, open your eyes!”

Lev felt Josef ’s chest. There was no heartbeat. He picked up the wrist and could not find a pulse.

I’m in trouble now, he thought.

He stood up. “Polina, call an ambulance.”

She went into the hall and picked up the phone.

Lev stared at the body. He had to make a big decision fast. Stay here, protest innocence, pretend grief, try to wriggle out of it? No. The chances were too slim.

He had to go.

He ran upstairs and stripped off his shirt. He had come home from the war with a lot of gold, accumulated by selling Scotch to the Cossacks. He had converted it to just over five thousand U.S. dollars, stuffed the bills into his money belt, and taped the belt to the back of a drawer. Now he fastened the belt around his waist and put his shirt and jacket back on.

He put on his overcoat. On top of his wardrobe was an old duffel containing his U.S. Army officer’s-issue Colt.45model 1911 semiautomatic pistol. He stuffed the pistol into his coat pocket. He threw a box of ammunition and some underwear into the duffel, then he went downstairs.

In the dining room, Lena had put a cushion under Josef ’s head, but Josef looked deader than ever. Olga was on the phone in the hallway, saying: “Be quick, please, I think he may die!” Too late, baby, Lev thought.

He said: “The ambulance will take too long. I’m going to fetch Dr. Schwarz.” No one asked why he was carrying a bag.

He went to the garage and started Josef ’s Packard Twin Six. He drove out of the property and turned north.

He was not going to fetch Dr. Schwarz.

He headed for Canada.

{II}

Lev drove fast. As he left Buffalo’s northern suburbs behind, he tried to figure out how much time he had. The ambulance crew would undoubtedly call the police. As soon as the cops arrived they would find out that Josef had died in a fistfight. Olga would not hesitate to tell them who had knocked her father down: if she had not hated Lev before, she would now. At that point, Lev would be wanted for murder.

There were normally three cars in the Vyalov garage: the Packard, Lev’s Ford Model T, and a blue Hudson used by Josef ’s goons. It would not take the flatfoots very long to deduce that Lev had left in the Packard. In an hour, Lev calculated, the police would be looking for the car.

By then, with luck, he would be out of the country.

He had driven to Canada with Marga several times. It was only a hundred miles to Toronto, three hours in a fast car. They liked to check into a hotel as Mr. and Mrs. Peters and go out on the town, dressed to the nines, without having to worry about being spotted by someone who might tell Josef Vyalov. Lev did not have an American passport, but he knew several crossings where there were no border posts.

He reached Toronto at midday and checked into a quiet hotel.

He ordered a sandwich in the coffee shop and sat for a while contemplating his situation. He was wanted for murder. He had no home and he could not visit either of his two families without risking arrest. He might never see his children again. He had five thousand dollars in a money belt and a stolen car.