Laniq pouted.
"Don't cry. Don't. I will, one day be number one man, I know it. You may rest assured of that. I could show you things, so many things which would make your beautiful hair stand on end."
"Then show me!"
"Very well—I shall, my Anna."
"Show me how you can do anything, anything you want in all of Moscow."
"And in the Kremlin, too," Chenkov said thickly. "Yes, in the Kremlin. Tomorrow morning I will take you to see something you never dreamed of. Tomorrow morning...." He kissed her wetly, too far gone with vodka.
"Tomorrow morning then. I'm sleepy." And Laniq stood up, brushed his fumbling hands away from her, climbed the stairs to the second floor, retreated to a bedroom and bolted the door behind her. Chenkov was soon stomping up the stairs and banging insistently at the door.
"Tomorrow," Laniq whispered, and repeated it when Chenkov protested. "I said tomorrow."
"But Anna—"
"You show me what you can do. After all, I don't want to be a fly-by-night mistress of this dacha. Good night, Vladimir."