One Cup Chronicles. Tales Within a Tale of the Russian Underworld. Vladimir Ross

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      “Deal.”

      The cards were spread, Sucker moved quickly in an attempt to prevent Alexei from collecting himself. Ignoring the impatience of his opponent who was blaming him for dragging out the game, Alexei carefully considered every course of action. He threw down, imagining the pictures on the cards coming to life, and by the last hand the last trick was rightfully his.

      Now, accompanied by sympathetic looks, Sucker was the first to leave the table.

      The next morning, Alexei’s winnings grew to two thousand. The loser was smashing a large pot-bellied piggy bank, and the delighted guests gathered around and plaintively suggested a different game. Alexei staunchly refused.

      “You do not play for the sake of the game, or merely for the pleasure, but only in the pursuit of money. These are of no value to me, but you will never win. Why take unnecessary risks?”

      Leaving behind the jealous glances of his comrades, Alexei rushed off to the hospital. He set fifteen thousand rubles on the stand next to his mother’s bed. She started crying. She hid the bulging tumor on her neck with her hand and quickly said, “Return it.”

      Lyoshka patiently waited for the long shattering teeth of the wrought iron fence to open for him. A large Caucasian shepherd stood in the narrow opening of the gate assessing the stranger. The boy hardly dared to breath for fear of upsetting the frightening dog with any sudden movement. Finally, a tall mustachioed man appeared and called the dog away to him.

      “Alex, right?”

      “Yes, hello. I came to return my winnings.”

      “I see. Come into the house. We shall discuss matters there.”

      The guest was seated in a plush leather chair. The friendly gentleman puffed a thick cigar, poured a cup of coffee, and stated in a serious tone, “Your behavior does you credit, but does not honor the spirit of a player. You were, as I understand, making a claim to this title?”

      Lyoshka, burning himself on the hot bitter liquid, nodded proudly.

      “Good. In that case I will not accept your money.”

      “Why not? Here is everything, down to the last cent.”

      In the doorway, Sucker appeared in tears.

      “You do not understand, boy,” said the mustachioed man, staring down his long nose at Lyoshka. “It is not about the money, but about the concept of duty. Those men who are not able honor it are called fools, and such a label, to any decent man, is a lasting disgrace. I can only rejoice in the fact that that numbskull,” he nodded to Sucker who stood in the door sobbing pitifully, “had the sense not to play any longer. In short, it is not our money, but yours. It is my only wish that it is spent wisely. I heard that your mother is sick. I don’t think the extra money will hurt.”

      “My mom doesn’t want the money.”

      “I will call her and explain everything.”

      “She’s in the hospital,” explained Alexei.

      “Then I shall write to her immediately, and to the chief physician. He will prepare a list of the necessary medicines.” Contemplating the subject, the man disappeared into his office, dealing his son a heavy slap upside the head as he passed by.

      Shortly after that, Alexei’s mother died, and he was left on his own. His life changed completely. A problem arose – how was he to earn a living? He was forced to leave school and take up odd jobs, but he didn’t always have luck with that. One such day, while attempting to fend off the eternal hunger pangs, Alexei found the list of debtors in his father’s book bag and timidly dialed a number.

      “Who is this?”

      “Big’s son.”

      “A-a-a…,” The line was silent for a while. Don’t rush this Alexei. “Well… what do you want?” The owner of the gravelly voice was clearly nervous.

      “I need to meet with the right people. I want to play. Perform this service, and we’ll settle your accounts.”

      “With no future claims?”

      “Do I sound like I’m bullshitting you?” Remembering the lessons of his father, Alexei turned the tables in his favor.

      “Alright then.”

      And so he took his first step onto the slippery slope.

      Freedom soon gave way to dependency. The next year passed imperceptibly. After becoming accustomed to the drab existence of camp life, Lyoshka accepted the zone as a second home. Over time his desires became realized – the money, the influential friends, and above all else, there was the game. Every conquest spread the name “Lyoshka the Great” further and further to more and more influential ears. Men of reputation and renown specially arranged long-distance visits to see the master and face off against him. Although suffering the loss of their fortunes, they did not truly feel defeat, for the honor of challenging the best was worth more than any material asset.

      Alexei had long since ceased to sit at a table with amateurs. In Moscow, his patience had won him a mansion. His second year put a Mercedes 500 under the roof of his garage, begging to be driven. In a discrete, well-established Austrian bank lies one of his larger prizes, which was the result of a rather serious game with a handful of Swiss grifters that had upset more than one casino. The only thing missing from his lifestyle was family.

      The fame of the wizard traveled all of the way to the remote areas of the Urals. A frail old man, dragging behind him a suitcase that was a little worse for wear, bought a train ticket, and left to meet with the Great, who had recently become available for a few days.

      The best players from all over the commonwealth had come to meet for the games. Foamy champagne surrounded guests under the blast of fireworks and other means of extravagant celebration. In the very midst of this elegant, well dressed crowd, squeezed the wizened old man, asking for an audience with the Great. The authorities were taken aback and made way for the strange man. Alexei threw a momentary glance at the fellow and held his tongue as he passed right by him. A steady voice at his back made a snide comment, causing him to stop in his tracks.

      “Sure, the Great is not as disgusting as his painting, but most people see a king where I see a stable hand.”

      Time seemed to stand still. Everything else in the room seemed to fade as the man looked with a challenge at the Great. The piercing silence only increased the tension in the room, and everyone was waiting for Lyoshka’s reaction, hoping he would defuse the situation with dignity.

      The Great slowly turned around and looked over the old man’s hands, examining his battered jacket with a glance, and finally met the stare of the impolite elder. For the first time in many years, Lyoshka felt uncertain and anxious. He did not recognize the sound of his voice as he spoke.

      “Perhaps you would like play me and put your money where your mouth is, old man.”

      “What are the stakes? The balance of the treasury?” The old man replied quickly.

      “I accept all bets.”

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