Kane & Abel (1979) Read online

  He woke with a start to find a body was on top of him and two hands around his throat. He could barely breathe.

  ‘Who are you?’ growled the voice of a boy who in the darkness sounded no older than himself.

  ‘Wladek Koskiewicz.’

  ‘Where do you come from?’

  ‘Moscow.’

  ‘Well, you’re not sleeping in my carriage, Muscovite,’ said the voice.

  ‘Sorry,’ gasped Wladek. ‘I didn’t know.’

  ‘Got any money?’ The thumbs pressed into Wladek’s throat.

  ‘A little.’

  ‘How much?’

  ‘Seven roubles.’

  ‘Hand it over.’

  Wladek rummaged in an empty pocket of his overcoat. The boy also stuck a hand inside, reducing the pressure on Wladek’s throat.

  Wladek immediately jerked his knee into the boy’s crotch. His attacker fell back in agony, clutching his groin. Wladek leapt on him, hitting out fiercely. The boy from Odessa was no match for Wladek - sleeping in a derelict railway carriage was five-star luxury compared to living in the dungeons and a Russian labour camp. Wladek stopped only when his adversary was pinned to the floor.

  ‘Get back to the other end of the carriage and stay there,’ said Wladek. ‘If you so much as move a muscle, I’ll kill you.’

  The boy scrambled away.

  Wladek sat still and listened for a few moments - no movement - then he lay down and was soon sleeping soundly.

  When he woke, the sun was shining through the gaps in the roof. He turned over and glanced at his adversary of the previous night. He was lying in a foetal position, staring at him from the other end of the car.

  ‘Come here,’ commanded Wladek.

  The boy didn’t move.

  ‘Come here,’ repeated Wladek, a little more sharply.

  The boy stood up. It was the first chance Wladek had to look at him properly. They were about the same age, but the other boy must have been a foot taller, with a fresh face and scruffy fair hair.

  ‘First things first,’ said Wladek. ‘Where do we find something to eat?’

  ‘Follow me,’ said the boy, and leapt out of the carriage without another word. Wladek limped after him and up the hill to the town square, where the morning market was being set up. He had not seen such a variety of food since those magnificent banquets in the Baron’s castle: row upon row of stalls laden with fruit, vegetables, greens and even his favourite nuts. The other boy could see that Wladek was overwhelmed by the sight.

  ‘Now I’ll tell you what we do,’ he said. ‘I’ll go over to the corner stall and steal an orange and then make a run for it. You shout at the top of your voice, “Stop thief!” The stall keeper will chase me, and when he does, you move in and fill your pockets. Don’t be greedy - just enough for one meal. I’ll see you back here. Got it?’

  ‘Yes, I think so,’ said Wladek, trying to sound as confident.

  ‘Right, let’s see if you’re up to it, Muscovite.’ The boy looked at him and sneered, before swaggering towards the corner stall, removing an orange from the top of a pyramid, making some remark to the stall keeper before starting to run slowly. He glanced back at Wladek, who had entirely forgotten to shout ‘Stop thief’, but the stall owner began to chase him anyway. While everyone’s eyes were on his accomplice, Wladek moved in quickly. When the stall keeper looked as if he was about to catch the boy, he lobbed the orange back at him. The man stopped to pick it up, swore, shook his fist and returned to his stall, complaining vociferously to the other merchants on the way.

  Wladek was shaking with mirth when a hand was placed firmly on his shoulder. He turned around, horrified at having been caught.

  ‘Did you get anything, Muscovite, or are you only here as a sightseer?’

  Wladek burst out laughing with relief and produced three oranges, an apple and a potato from the deep pockets of his coat. The boy smiled.

  ‘What’s your name?’ said Wladek.

  ‘Stefan.’

  ‘Let’s do it again, Stefan.’

  ‘Hold on, Muscovite; don’t get too clever. If we do it again, we’ll have to go to the other end of the market and wait for at least an hour. You’re working with a professional, but don’t imagine you won’t get caught occasionally.’

  The two boys walked slowly to the other end of the market, Stefan moving with a swagger for which Wladek would have traded the three oranges, the apple, the potato and even his 150 roubles, while he limped behind. They mingled with the morning shoppers, and when Stefan decided the time was right, they repeated the escapade. They then returned to the railway carriage to enjoy their captured spoils: six oranges, five apples, three potatoes, a pear, several varieties of nuts, and the special prize, a melon. Stefan had never had pockets big enough to hold a melon.

  ‘Not bad,’ said Wladek as he dug his teeth into a potato.

  ‘You eat the skins as well?’ asked his new companion.

  ‘I’ve been places where a potato skin’s a luxury,’ replied Wladek.

  Stefan looked at him with admiration.

  ‘Next problem is, how do we get some money?’ said Wladek.

  ‘You expect everything on your first day, don’t you?’ said Stefan. ‘Chain gang on the waterfront will be our best bet. That is, if you’re up to some real work, Muscovite.’

  ‘Show me,’ said Wladek.

  Once they had eaten half the fruit and hidden the rest under the straw in the corner of the carriage, Stefan led Wladek back down to the harbour.

  ‘See that ship over there, the big green one?’ said Stefan. ‘It’s only just docked, so what we’ll do is pick up a basket, fill it with grain, climb up the gangplank and then drop the load into the hold. You get a rouble for every four trips you make. Be sure you keep count, Muscovite, because the bastard in charge of the gang will swindle you as soon as look at you and pocket the money for himself.’

  The two of them spent the rest of the afternoon humping grain up the gangplank and dropping it into the hold. They made twenty-six roubles between them. After a dinner of stolen nuts, bread and an onion they hadn’t intended to take, they slept happily at the same end of the railway carriage.

  When Stefan woke the next morning, he found Wladek studying his map.

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘It’s a map showing me how to escape from Russia.’

  ‘Why do you want to leave Russia, when you can stay here and team up with me?’ said Stefan. ‘We could be partners.’

  ‘No, I have to get to Turkey, where I’ll be a free man. Why don’t you come with me, Stefan?’

  ‘I could never leave Odessa. This is my home, and these are the people I’ve known all my life. It’s not so good, but it might be even worse in Turkey. But if that’s what you want, perhaps I can help you.’

  ‘How do I find a ship that’s sailing to Turkey?’ asked Wladek.

  ‘Easy - I know how to find out where every ship is going. We’ll ask One Tooth Joe, who lives at the end of the pier. But you’ll have to give him a rouble.’

  ‘I bet he splits the money with you.’

  ‘Fifty-fifty,’ said Stefan. ‘You’re learning fast, Muscovite,’ he added as he leapt out of the carriage.

  Wladek followed him, again conscious of how easily other boys moved while he limped. When they reached the end of the pier, Stefan led him into a small room full of dust-covered books and old timetables. Wladek couldn’t see anyone, but then he heard a voice from behind a large pile of books. ‘What do you want, urchin? I don’t have time to waste on you.’

  ‘Some information for my companion, Joe. When is the next luxury cruise to Turkey?’

  ‘Money up front,’ said an old man whose head appeared from behind the books, a lined, weather-beaten face below a seaman’s cap. His black eyes were studying Wladek.

  ‘One Tooth used to be a great sea dog,’ said Stefan in a whisper loud enough for Joe to hear.

  ‘None of your cheek, boy. Where’s the rouble?’

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