As close as the Garden Ring, as far as Siberia, a secondary market has sprung up around that trademark of rampant capitalism: the Big Mac.


Although they may not work in the McComplex, and they may not tell you to have a nice day, local entrepreneurs are making a healthy profit off the fast-food chain. So are the boys who will dash from your car to the counter, offering de facto drive-through service. So is the man who dangles bags of french fries in front of pedestrians. So are the guys who, for a flat rate of a few thousand rubles, will fork over their spot at the head of the line.


True to the spirit of chain founder Ray Kroc, McDonald's has hailed the initiative shown by the would-be capitalists, while admitting they would like to put them out of business.


"In one sense, you can say the enterprising spirit is prospering in Russia," said Glen Steeves, McDonald's Moscow operations manager for food processing and distribution. "In another sense, of course, we'd rather have people buy the product in our restaurant."


Steeves said the restaurant's management is well aware that Russians resell McDonald's sandwiches, which were available in Moscow via Helsinki long before the local stores opened. They are also aware of widespread copyright infringement in Moscow, where dozens of nonauthentic sandwich brands are marketed as Beeg Maks. Sasha, 65, branched out into his own small business, buying Big Macs in bulk and reselling them, until his kiosk closed earlier this month. He is such a keen student of free enterprise that he sold them 10 blocks from the nearest McDonald's -- at a 45 percent markup.


"This is a popular sandwich, very popular," said Sasha, kissing the tips of his fingers gleefully. "They taste excellent. I eat them myself."


At a tiny food stand in a north Moscow office building, Ira does a brisk trade in faux Big Macs, which are "similar to, but not exactly," the real thing. "The ketchup is less spicy, and their pickles are -- in my experience -- saltier," she explains. But she added that at 3,000 rubles -- compared to the restaurant's 5,900 ruble price -- these locally produced Big Macs are a bargain.


The stand buys a two-day supply of precooked burgers from a local distributor and warms them in a microwave. Unlike McDonald's, whose "10- minute rule" prohibits any food from standing unbought for long periods of time, the stand's Big Macs and double cheeseburgers are stacked halfway to the ceiling.


Although McDonald's management would like to take action in these cases, Russian copyright law is still embryonic, and it is impossible to trace purchased products once they leave the store, Steeves said.


Steeves said he was certain that bulk purchases were made over the counter, since security in the kitchen and the factory is very tight. "Basically," Steeves said, if (someone) says 'I'll take 10 Big Macs, or 20,' we say, 'Thank you very much.'"


Steeves acknowledged, too, that official outrage at these crimes is tempered by McDonald's phenomenal popularity -- and the profits that go with it.


Although new markets always display a high degree of enthusiasm, Steeves said, Russia is off the charts.


"We expected it, but certainly not to the degree it has reached," Steeves said. "To this day, McDonald's people who come here are in awe of how we are received."