Sherlock Holmes in Russia

We rented a Chinese fang-tze [hut] and had it redecorated. The local carpenter urgently made counters and shelves, while the two of us went about suppliers, trading agents and dealers, bargaining over every conceivable kind of goods, sometimes even ill-assorted.

Before long, samples were being brought to us. Holmes took only small quantities of those goods which did not rouse his suspicion. But no sooner was anything suspicious placed before him than he took large quantities and spoke at length with the suppliers. Such deals were often accompanied by drinking sessions, during which Holmes and the seller would each put up a few bottles of champagne.

Some twenty days later, when the carpenter had finished, we started accepting deliveries in the store. Holy Mother of God, what did we only not stock! Holmes seemed positively determined to open a general store such as the world had never seen: sugar, lubricating grease, cotton cloth, calico, chintz, dried vegetables, boots, perfume, singlets, almonds, vodka, linen, dental and surgical instruments, in sum, anything that anyone would want. Merchants and agents poured in endlessly, having heard that we bought anything that came to hand.

One evening, Holmes had just begun to open a case of boots, when an Armenian named Bakhtadian dropped by. Bakhtadian was his top supplier and, in the manner of people from the Caucasus, addressed him in the familiar second person and not the polite plural second person. ‘Opening up a case of boots, are you?’ he asked.

‘Yes, they’re your boots,’ said Holmes, with a smile, taking out a pair and deliberately studying the inside of the leg.

Bakhtadian laughed, ‘Looking for the mark?’

‘Doesn’t bother me,’ shrugged Holmes. ‘I’ll scrape it off. But how come you aren’t afraid to sell them like that so openly?’

‘What’s there to be afraid of?’ Bakhtadian asked in surprise. ‘If it is the authorities themselves who do the selling, anything goes. If one had to remove seals and stamps and brands and marks from every article, it would take five years.’

‘Oh, is there that much?’ asked Holmes, also in surprise.

Bakhtadian merely gestured dismissively with his hand. ‘Let’s drink wine. We have to talk.’

Holmes stopped what he was doing and the three of us moved to the back where we lived. Holmes told the Chinese shop assistant to bring red wine and champagne. In Siberia they not only prefer these two drinks, but they like to mix them.

At first Holmes avoided any talk of business, filling Bakhtadian’s glass more and more. And it was only when he saw Bakhtadian’s face had turned red from drink that he let him talk business. The result couldn’t have been better.

Bakhtadian came straight to business. ‘You, my dearest fellow, think that I believe you wish to trade hereabouts?’ he asked with malice in his voice.

‘Whatever else?’ asked Holmes in surprise.

Bakhtadian winked slyly. ‘Then why do you buy anything that comes your way? Could it be you are sending it all to Russia, where there’s a seller’s market!’

‘Let’s say that’s so,’ said Holmes.

‘Do you have a lot of money?’

‘Enough,’ said Holmes.

‘Well, then, how much can you put into the business?’

‘As much as necessary,’ Holmes said gravely. ‘If I don’t have enough of my own, there’s a friend.’

Bakhtadian nodded approvingly.

Later, Holmes was to tell me that all the time Bakhtadian suspected that Holmes and I were the heads of a superbly organized gang with a large capital and occupying ourselves with buying and selling stolen goods.

‘Do you want to do business, then say so,’ said Bakhtadian.

‘Of course, I do,’ said Holmes.

‘Then do so! I can deliver all the goods you want.’

‘From where?’ asked Holmes.

‘They’re on offer from everywhere. From here and from Missova, from Innokentievsk, from Manchuria, Baikal, well, from every possible railway station.’

‘What’s on offer?’

‘All sorts of goods: beds, underwear, perfumery, fabrics, sugar, candles, medicines, instruments, typewriters, printing machinery.’

‘Expensive?’ asked Holmes.

Bakdtadian’s eyes narrowed as he looked at Holmes, ‘Are you familiar with factory prices?’ he asked.

‘Yes,’ answered Holmes.

‘How much of a discount on factory prices do you expect?’

‘Say, seventy per cent,’ said Holmes.

‘You’re out of your mind,’ exclaimed Bakhtadian.

‘No, I’m not,’ said Holmes coldly.

‘Don’t I have to make something?’

‘You do,’ Holmes agreed.

‘Then what’s in it for me?’

‘You’ll get something from me,’ said Holmes.

‘How much?’

‘Ten per cent,’ said Holmes.

Bakhtadian thought it over, ‘No, they won’t let it go so cheap,’ he said at last. ‘Pharmaceutical goods, marked underwear, boots, topographical and surgical instruments – you can have a discount of eighty per cent, but when it comes to the other stuff, up to forty per cent and with my ten per cent, that’ll make it fifty per cent.’

‘Blankets?’

‘As many as you want, but no more than fifty per cent discount. The Chinese are very eager to buy them.’

‘Well, all right … I’ll think about it. It’s all far too much,’ Holmes said lazily.