The Russian returned and said, "A drink, Anton? As I recall you were
never the man to refuse a drink. Scotch, bourbon, vodka?"
The other shrugged. "I believe in drinking the local product. What is
the beverage of Tangier?"
Kirill Menzhinsky took up a full bottle the contents of which had a
greenish, somewhat _oily_ tinge. "Absinthe," he said. "Guaranteed to
turn your brains to mush if you take it long enough. What was the name
of that French painter...?"
"Toulouse Lautrec," Anton supplied. "I thought the stuff was illegal
these days." He watched the other add water to the potent liqueur.
The Russian chuckled. "Nothing is illegal in Tangier, my dear Anton,
except the Party." He laughed at his own joke and handed the other his
glass. He poured himself a jolt of vodka and returned to his chair.
"To the world revolution, Anton."