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My delight and amazement vanished in a split-second. Hovering quietly behind Sophia was her aide-de-camp, Grishenka Doroshenko.

«We’ve come on student visas!» she burbled as she threw herself around my neck and, despite my timid protests, gave me a couple of pecks on the lips. Having made sure that she was in control of the situation, Sophia glared at Grisha and with a tone that brooked no argument ordered him, «What are you doing standing there like a statue? Pick up the suitcases and bring them into the house!»

I won’t lie: I once made a blunder, believing Grisha’s rubbish about a hoard of gold buried on the banks of the Missouri River, put my trust in him, let him into my house for a short time-and I don’t even want to think about what followed. I had personally let the fox into the chicken coop.

Now, it would have been better to kick them out. There were plenty of vacant apartments in Brooklyn. But once again I weakened, and opened the door. Sophia had arrived acting like a queen. Plus she had with her $60,000 that she had received from Chechen friends, maybe to work as their representative, maybe to set up a Chechen information center in New York-I couldn’t figure out from her explanation what the money was for. But as soon as Sophia saw my tiny room, she snorted. «You couldn’t find a better shack to live in? It’s impossible to live here!» And three days later she rented a spacious one-bedroom on Emmons Avenue. With a view of the canal.