To Kill the Duke (22 page)

“Smart men,” Mr. Zavert said with a laugh. “Very smart men.”

“Notice that comrade Stalin is uncircumcised and has a tattoo on his penis,” Mr. Zavert remarked, as he pointed to Stalin’s still erect penis.

Both men looked as if they were observing a frog being dissected for the first time.

“Such faces for such brave men. You gaze upon people you have just killed, but the sight of a dead man’s still-erect penis offends you,” Mr. Zavert said seriously.

Both men nodded. Both wanted to say something, but knew better.

But Ivan, who had followed the three men, didn’t know better and said ‘Marxed for death,’ as he pointed at the still erect penis with the tattoo on it.”

Mr. Zavert broke out into a hearty laugh and in turn Ivan, the captain and the man with, and now without, two wooden spoons followed suit.

“That is the best pun I have ever heard. Maybe you should be teaching me,” Mr. Zavert announced.

Just like that, he stopped laughing and his hearty tone went icy. “The body double for our former leader was circumcised. He didn’t want to have an operation to make himself un-circumcised.”

Ivan thought about what Mr. Zavert had said.

Maybe that is why Stalin hated Jews. He was uncircumcised. I know one man who won’t mourn his death
, Ivan thought as he pondered about the man who would now be out of a job, not to mention killed, because Stalin wouldn’t be going to the bathroom anymore.

“I should have known that the double wouldn’t be operated on, when he refused the tattoo of the hammer and sickle on his penis,” Mr. Zavert added.

“That’s some tattoo,” the captain pointed out.

“But a very small penis for such a big man,” the man with, and now without, two wooden spoons muttered under his breath.

“The man who installed that tattoo almost talked our leader into having every boy born in Russia getting the same,” Mr. Zavert said with a sigh as he covered up Stalin’s penis with the scalps hanging from the bedpost. The other three said nothing as they stared down at their ex-leader’s penis, now covered with a few scalps. All three of them wondered why Mr. Zavert just didn’t throw the sheet back over Stalin’s body.

That’s what I call a real toughski-shitski moment,
Ivan thought.

Changing the subject, the captain asked, “What happened to that tattoo idea?”

“Comrade Stalin sobered up,” Mr. Zavert said. “Time for us to see what is next for you three. Join me in the kitchen.”

Soon, the four men found themselves in the kitchen. The man with, and now without, two wooden spoons bustled about and brought food and drink to a table where they all sat. The captain looked up and smiled, because they were sitting under a gigantic picture of the sun. Mr. Zavert motioned for all of them to eat, and they dug in.

Surprisingly, it was once again Ivan Viznapu who broke the silence.

“I know that your name is Mr. Zavert,” Ivan said to Mr. Zavert, “but I don’t know the names of these men who have gone well out of their way to make me feel comfortable and very safe.”

Mr. Zavert nodded his head to the two men to comply with Ivan’s request. The captain went first.

“My name is Alexei Aleksandra,” Alexei said as he extended his hand to Ivan. “Funny that up until now we hadn’t been properly introduced.”

Force of habit with such secret people
Ivan thought.

Mr. Zavert nodded to the man with, and now without, two wooden spoons.

“My name is Boris Gila,” Boris said as he, too, extended his hand to Ivan for a formal handshake. “I don’t tell too many people my name,” he added.

Probably too dangerous,
Ivan thought.

“On my orders you do,” Mr. Zavert cut in with a laugh. “Boris, this food is delicious. If you weren’t such a good spy, I would consider hiring you to be my permanent chef.”

Both Boris and Alexei laughed. Ivan joined in, but tentatively.

“So Comrade Viznapu… what do I do with you?” Mr. Zavert asked.

Ivan’s insides started to churn.

“Make him the full-time projectionist,” suggested Alexei. “After all, Alex is sick. We could put Alex on permanent disability.”

“Not with Stalin now gone,” Mr. Zavert answered. “I have a feeling that movie festivals are going to die as well. By the way ‘permanent disability’ can mean different things when it is uttered by men like us.

Can you cook, comrade?” Mr. Zavert asked Ivan.

Ivan shook his head no.

Mr. Zavert wiped the lenses of his glasses clean with a napkin without taking them off as he pondered the fate of Ivan Viznapu. He finished cleaning the lenses and announced that he had to make a phone call and for the others to wait for him.

Alexei could see that by leaving, Mr. Zavert had made Ivan very nervous. The captain pantomimed to Boris to get a bottle and some glasses. Boris obliged.

“Comrade Viznapu. Mr. Zavert likes you… he really does. You wouldn’t have made it this far if he didn’t. Furthermore, we like you and I owe you. Don’t worry. Let’s toast the legacy of Joseph Stalin!” Boris said.

They all downed their drinks. This time Ivan didn’t gag.

“Looks like he is getting tougher,” Boris said to Alexei.

“Another toast. To the new head of Mother Russia… whoever that will be!” Ivan suddenly yelled out.

“And bolder too,” Alexei pointed out, as he poured another round.

“Events like he just witnessed can have that affect,” Boris said. He was about to suggest another toast, when the imposing figure of Mr. Zavert appeared.

Mr. Zavert looked around and said “What, no glass for me?”

Boris quickly found and filled a glass for his boss.

“Go on, comrades,” Mr. Zavert said to the three men.

“To Mr. Zavert!” Boris yelled out.

“I like that toast,” a grinning Mr. Zavert announced.

And the four men downed their shots and slowly placed their now-empty glasses on the table in front of them, three of them waiting to hear what Ivan’s future would be; one of them knowing it.

“Comrade Gila,” please shut the doors and make sure no one is in easy listening distance,” Mr. Zavert ordered Boris.

Boris shut the doors and informed his boss that the coast was clear for their privacy.

“I have good news for us all, comrades,” Mr. Zavert announced.

Ivan’s heart jumped up into his throat and fell just as quickly into his stomach.

“First and foremost… none of you are ever to speak about the events leading up to comrade Stalin’s death. If any of you utter one syllable — it will be the last such sound your body will make other than a thud. Remember, I have someone watching you all at all times. Secondly, comrade Stalin will be given a funeral that will go down in history as the greatest funeral ever staged for anyone in the history of the world. Thirdly, the new regime plans on carrying out all of Stalin’s reforms, philosophies and other government initiatives to rival anything that our counterparts in the West can. Mother Russia will be greater because of the foundation that Stalin laid down, and the others after him will build on. Next, you are all being promoted and will have the great honor of carrying out the last request of the greatest leader in Russia’s history,” Mr. Zavert announced.

Boris, Alexei and Ivan broke into smiles and started hugging each other.

Mr. Zavert poured them each a glass of vodka and held up his glass. The other three made sure they held their glasses up, but not higher than Mr. Zavert’s.

“To kill the Duke!” Mr. Zavert yelled out.

“What?” questioned Alexei.

“Who?” asked Boris.

“The Duke of who
and
what?” Ivan said.

“Alexei, Boris and Ivan,” Mr. Zavert began in a fatherly tone, “I am disappointed in all of you. Ivan, you have shown his movies tonight. I’m sure you watched while you ran the projector. Both Alexei and Boris have been at hundreds of film festivals where the Duke’s movies have been shown — all in this building.”

Then it dawned on the three men who were sitting at the kitchen table with the most powerful man in Russia. The Duke was John Wayne! The American movie star who was known throughout the world. The Hollywood colossus. Surely Mr. Zavert was joking.

“You’re joking, Mr. Zavert?” Alexei asked his boss.

“Trying to cheer us up — take our minds off what we have seen tonight?” Boris asked his boss.

“Trying to be as funny as me?” asked Ivan.

“Comrades…gentlemen, I’m as serious as comrade Stalin’s heart failure was,” Mr. Zavert responded.

Alexei, Boris and Ivan all started to look at each in total bewilderment.

How do you kill a movie star?
was Alexei’s first thought.

Why kill a movie star?
pondered Boris.

Why me?
thought Ivan.

“It was our fearless leader’s most desired idea — killing John Wayne. Comrades, if this is done right, the shock wave throughout the West will be enormously bad for them and wonderful news for us. The new powers want to reward the legacy of Stalin by acting on this prized request. This is an honor! Stalin’s legacy is at stake! It will be a final testimonial to Stalin’s clout as the greatest leader in the history of Russia. The Duke’s death will be a huge blow to Hollywood and all it stands for. A game-changer for us,” lectured Mr. Zavert.

“And our parts in it?” Alexei asked.

“Comrade Gila…you are to be my point man upstairs. No more kitchens for you. First and foremost you will be in charge of this operation. There will be other things to do, too,” said Mr. Zavert.

“Congratulations, Boris,” Alexei said to his longtime colleague.

“Yes comrade, congratulations,” Ivan piped in.

“Thank you for this, Mr. Zavert. I will begin immediately,” Boris said as he started to go through the drawers in the kitchen, gathering his personal items.

“Comrade Aleksandra… you will be our man in America. As they say in American gangster-speak, you are to be our hit-man,” Mr. Zavert told Alexei. “You’re going because I know you can tolerate the Jews. Jews run Hollywood, don’t ever forget that.”

Congratulations went around the room again.

Now, Ivan wondered how he was going to be involved.

“Comrade Viznapu… you will be comrade Aleksandra’s second,” Mr. Zavert announced.

“Second?” questioned Ivan.

“You know… the second the captain asks you to do anything, you will do it!” Zavert ordered.

And all four men started to laugh (Ivan’s was forced).

Mr. Zavert then got up from the table and excused himself.

“Where do I start, Boris?” Alexei asked his friend.

“Hollywood,” guessed Boris. “Go home… the both of you, and get some rest. Be in my office in two days and together we’ll get a fresh start on this project,” he added as he left with a box full of his personal belongings.

“How do you kill a movie star?” Ivan asked his new boss.

“It’s easy. We go to Hollywood, America and kill him,” answered Alexei.

“This is the epitome of toughski shitski,” replied Ivan.

“What?” asked Alexi.

“It’s something I say a lot when I’m overwhelmed.

“Toughski shitski,” repeated Alexi.

It was March of 1953 when Alexei, Boris and Ivan received their orders from Mr. Zavert. The three men wouldn’t get their first attempt off the ground until more than a year later, and it would be many more years than that before the Duke ever felt threatened.

chapter four

“In dealing with the communists, remember that in their minds what is secret is serious, and what is public is propaganda.”
— Charles Bohlen

“The creditor has a better memory than the debtor.”
— William Davis

“No debate, sir; no questions.”
— John Wayne as Captain Yorke in “Fort Apache”

T
he Cold War didn’t start out very cold. It was a hot, sizzling war when both Russia and the United States started obsessing over which society would rule the world
after
the surviving society had annihilated the other via nuclear bombs.