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My enjoyment of Wanda nonetheless left me with a passionate determination for revenge. I began to collect the spiders for Katya’s Christmas present. Soon I had about a dozen in an old tea-box. But I wanted more. So that they should not fight and devour one another I found various insects and fed the spiders every evening. Wanda did not know what I kept in the box. I refused to tell her. In the meantime I purchased gifts to present at Christmas Eve dinner. My uncle did not celebrate the Season elaborately. Like my mother he had little use for formal church services. The day before Christmas Eve I asked to see Uncle Semya in his study. He was rather distracted. The War, of course, was making his business difficult. The partial blockade had delayed certain important shipments. I determined to get my revenge on Shura as quickly as possible. Uncle Semya stood behind his desk, his back to the window. He wore a heavy black frockcoat and a black cravat.

‘I have distressing news, Semyon Josefovitch,’ I began, it is my duty to tell you what it is. You, of course, must take whatever action you think fit.’

This amused him. His mood of distraction appeared to lift. He asked me to sit down in one of the hard, cane-bottomed chairs he favoured. He leaned back in his own leather-padded chair and lit a Burma cheroot. The room began to fill with heavy, oily smoke.

‘I hope you are not in trouble, Maxim.’

‘I hope so, too, uncle. My mother would be horrified if she learned what had happened.’

‘Happened?’ He became more alert.

‘Or almost happened, I suppose. I believe Shura to be involved with crooks.’

He was surprised. He put his cheroot into his brass Persian ashtray. He scratched his head. He produced a thin, puzzled smile. ‘What makes you think so?’

‘He is mixed up in the rackets. He could be working with Misha the Jap.’

‘Misha the what?’

‘The Jap. A notorious bandit in the Slobodka district.’

‘I believe I’ve heard of him.’

This was no surprise. Misha’s exploits were the raw material of all the popular papers in Odessa. He had even been mentioned in the Nick Carter and Sherlock Holmes dime-novel pulps we had in those days.

‘He is a kidnapper,’ I said, ‘a hold-up man. He forces local people to pay him protection money. If they don’t, he shoots them or burns their shops. He deals in drugs. In prostitution. Illegal alcohol. He owns cabarets, taverns. He bribes police-inspectors, city officials, everyone.’

Uncle Semya became amused again. ‘Such a Jew should join the Black Hundreds.’

‘And he recruits young lads,’ I continued. ‘Of all races. Ukrainians, Katsups, as they call Russians, Greeks, Armenians, Georgians, Muslims, anyone. He has a web like a—’ I felt uncomfortable ‘— like a spider.’

‘Heaven preserve us! Are you sure this bandit doesn’t just exist in your Pinkerton magazines?’

I told him I spoke the truth. ‘And,’ I added, ‘he has Shura in his grip.’

‘I cannot believe it.’

‘Shura tried to recruit me, too. He used me as an interpreter. I went aboard an English ship. He bought drugs.’

Uncle Semya turned his head away. He looked through the window. There was a yard with an entrance into the alley running between the houses. He watched a small child balancing on the wall. The child fell off and disappeared. He turned to look at me again, ‘I think you’re mistaken, Maxim. Shura works for me.’

‘Of course he carries messages between the ships and merchants and keeps a look-out for good cargo when it’s unloaded. But for the rest of the time he works with crooks, prostitutes. There’s a place called Esau’s. A Jewish tavern. Perhaps you’ve heard of it?’

‘I don’t often visit taverns in Slobodka.’

‘It’s a terrible place. Shura has slipped into bad company. He tried to involve me, too. I refused and now he’s angry with me.’

‘You had an argument?’

‘I objected morally to his life.’

‘He’s a young bohemian. You, too, have been living such a life.’

‘There’s a difference, Semyon Josefovitch, between bohemianism and criminality.’

‘And young people do not always recognise it.’ He waved a tolerant hand.

I was disappointed. ‘I think Shura should be sent away from Odessa.’

‘To where? To Siberia?’ He sounded the word slowly and sardonically.

‘Possibly to sea. It would do him good. The education.’

‘Did he ask you to tell me this?’

‘Not at all.’ Shura would hate to be removed from Odessa, from Katya. With Shura gone I should have both Wanda and Katya. Even when Katya opened the box of spiders she would not know it was from me. I could resume where we had left off. The notion of sending Shura to sea had been an inspiration.

‘Shura isn’t much of a sailor. Also, we are at war...’ Uncle Semyon re-lit his cigar.

‘Think what he would learn.’

‘Have you told him you were coming to me?’

‘No, Semyon Josefovitch.’

‘It might have been more manly to have done so?’

‘He needs an adult to tell him.’

‘And you’ve mentioned this to no other adults?’

‘Only yourself.’

‘I will speak to Alexander. But you must keep this a secret, Maxim.’

‘Because of the family scandal?’

‘Quite so.’