Heads You Win

Alex had assembled a team of four heads of department, led by Jake Coleman, to accompany him to Russia. All were experts in their fields: banking, energy, contract law, and accounting. Dick Barrett, head of the bank’s energy department, had already spent several hours with Pushkin and admitted that he’d come away mightily impressed.

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nbsp; “That man knows more about the industry than many so-called expert consultants, yet he’s never earned more than a few thousand dollars a year. So for him, this is quite literally the opportunity of a lifetime. He reminded me that Russia has twenty-four percent of the world’s natural gas reserves, as well as twelve percent of its oil. I’ll need to sit next to him on the plane so that by the time we touch down in Leningrad, I just might be able to hold my own.”

It was Andy Harbottle, the company’s new in-house lawyer, known as “Mr. Downside,” who would have to draw up the final contract. But not before his father had given the document his stamp of approval.

Jake had been able to confirm that Pushkin didn’t have a great grasp of finance, and warned Alex that they wouldn’t know if the figures stacked up until they got to LGP’s headquarters and were able to study the books.

“How could he be expected to grasp something this complex?” said Alex. “No one has ever been offered deals where you can make a profit of a thousand percent virtually overnight. What’s happening in Russia today is like the gold rush in California in the 1850s, and we must take advantage of it before our competitors do.”

“I agree,” said Harbottle. “And although I’m a cautious individual by nature—”

“The son of your father,” suggested Alex.

“I’ve never known anyone to seize an opportunity the way you do, and this might even turn out to be that breakthrough you so often talk about that will allow us to join the major leagues.”

“Or bankrupt us.”

“Unlikely,” said Harbottle. “Don’t forget, we have one big advantage over our rivals. Our chairman is Russian, and was born in Leningrad.”

Alex didn’t add, and escaped after nearly killing a senior KGB officer.

* * *

The six passengers boarded the Gulfstream jet bound for Leningrad, chasing what Jake now called “the gas rush.” None of them had any idea what to expect. The plane refueled at Heathrow, where the team disembarked to stretch their legs and grab a meal in the terminal. Alex would like to have gone into town and visited the Tate, the National Theatre, and even the House of Commons, but not this time.

Alex woke with a start when the captain announced that they were beginning their descent to Pulkovo airport, and asked his passengers to fasten their seatbelts. He thought about the city he’d left all those years ago, also in midair, about his father, his uncle, and even Vladimir, who was more likely to be in Moscow than in Leningrad by now. He tried to push Major Polyakov into the recesses of his mind and concentrate on a deal that could put the bank into another league. Or would he be arrested even before they’d cleared customs?

He looked out of the cabin window, but could see little other than the terminal lights, and a sky full of stars he hadn’t seen since he was a boy.

His emotions were torn. He wasn’t sure if he was glad to be back, but the moment he disembarked, he was reminded of the pace things moved at in Russia. There was slow, slower, and if you were stupid enough to complain, even slower. They waited for over two hours to have their passports checked, and he realized how many things he took for granted living in the States. Had he imagined it, or did the inspector take even longer when he saw the name Karpenko? They then had to wait around for another hour before their bags were released and they were finally allowed to escape.

Pushkin led them out of the terminal and onto the pavement. He raised a hand in the air and five cars immediately swerved across the road, coming to a halt in front of them. Alex and his team looked on in disbelief as Pushkin selected three of them. Everything on four wheels in Leningrad was a taxi, he explained.

“The Astoria,” he instructed each of the chosen drivers. “Make sure you don’t charge more than a ruble,” he added as his new associates piled into the waiting cars.

“But that’s only about a dollar,” said Alex, when Misha joined him in the back seat.

“More than enough,” he replied as the car shot off toward the city center. Another long journey.

By the time they’d all checked into the hotel, they were exhausted.

“Get a good night’s sleep,” said Jake, “because I need you all at your best tomorrow.”

* * *

They met up in the dining room for breakfast the following morning, and although one or two of them looked as if they were still struggling with jet lag, after a couple of black coffees had been drained, and caffeine had entered their bloodstreams, they were all ready for their first assignments.

Jake and Alex set off for the Commercial Bank to try and discover if they could wire transfer twenty-five million dollars to Leningrad at a moment’s notice. After last night’s airport experience Alex couldn’t help feeling a little pessimistic. Dick Barrett accompanied Misha to the LGP factory on the outskirts of the city, while Andy Harbottle went off to meet the company’s lawyers to discuss the contract for the biggest and most complicated deal he’d ever come across. His father would have considered there were altogether too many naughts involved for it to be credible.

Andy had already prepared the first draft of a contract, but he warned Alex, “Even if the Russians sign it, what guarantees do we have that any payments will ever be forthcoming? This may be the new gold rush, but with it went cowboys and this lot aren’t even our cowboys.”

The one statistic he was able to confirm was that when an American sued a Russian in the Soviet courts, he had a four percent chance of winning the case.

The team reassembled in Jake’s room at the hotel at six o’clock that evening. Jake and Alex reported that although Russian banks had been overwhelmed by the government’s recent 180-degree policy U-turns, it had been made clear to them that foreign investors should be welcomed and, unlike Oliver, encouraged to come back for a second helping.

Barrett confirmed that everything Pushkin had claimed about the operation on the ground had proved accurate, although he did feel the company’s safety record left a little to be desired. Alex didn’t stop making notes.