Heads You Win

“Bravo,” said Alex, before looking around the boardroom table. “However, I still can’t wait to hear the details of how Bob managed to make it all possible?”

The rest of the directors turned their attention to the longest-serving member of the board, who no longer had a shock of white hair.

“A gentleman should never be indiscreet where a lady is concerned,” said Bob, “but I can report to the board that Mrs. Evelyn Lowell-Halliday doesn’t know the difference between being laid and being screwed. By the way, chairman, can I now resign?”

44

SASHA

London, 1999

“Does the right honorable gentleman plan to visit his other constituency in the near future?”

Sasha smiled, while some laughed at the gibe, but then he had his answer well prepared.

“I can tell the right honorable member that I have no plans to visit Russia in the near future. But I am looking forward to seeing the opening night of Swan Lake at the Royal Opera House, danced by the Bolshoi Ballet.” He was about to add, the greatest ballet company on earth, but thought better of it.

“Mr. Kenneth Clarke,” said the Speaker.

“When the right honorable gentleman does next visit Moscow, could he point out to President Yeltsin that for a nation now posturing as a democracy, his country’s human rights record leaves much to be desired.”

This time the hear, hears were loud, and not in jest.

Sasha rose again. “If the right honorable gentleman would be kind enough to bring to my attention any particular examples he has in mind, be assured I will look into them. However, members of the House may be interested to know that Mr. Boris Nemtsov, a former vice premier of Russia, is sitting in the Distinguished Strangers’ Gallery, and I’m sure he will have heard the honorable gentleman’s question.”

Sasha glanced up at the gallery and smiled at his friend, who seemed amused by his moment of notoriety.

When questions to the Foreign Secretary came to an end and the Speaker called for the business of the day, Sasha quickly left the chamber and made his way to the Central Lobby, where he had arranged to meet up with Nemtsov.

“Welcome to Westminster, Boris,” he said as he shook his guest warmly by the hand.

“Thank you,” said Nemtsov. “I was delighted to see you more than holding your own against the rabble. Although I have to agree that our record on human rights does not bear close scrutiny, and it will give me a great deal of pleasure to tell my colleagues back home that I heard the subject raised in the British House of Commons.”

“Do you have time to join me for tea on the terrace?” asked Sasha, reverting to his native tongue.

“I’ve been looking forward to it all day,” said Nemtsov. Sasha led his guest down the green-carpeted staircase and out onto the terrace, where they sat at a table overlooking the Thames.

“So what brings you to London,” asked Sasha as a waiter appeared by their side. “Just tea for two, thank you.”

“Officially I’m here to visit the Lord Mayor of London to discuss environmental issues affecting overpopulated cities, but my main purpose is to see you, and bring you up to date on what’s happening on the political front back home.”

Sasha sat back and listened attentively.

“As you know, the presidential election is due to be held in a year’s time.”

“Not long before the next general election in Britain,” said Sasha.

The waiter returned and placed a tray of tea and biscuits on the table.

“Yeltsin has already announced that he won’t be fighting the next election, possibly influenced by his current approval rating, which, according to the opinion polls, is languishing around four percent.”

“That’s quite difficult to achieve,” said Sasha, pouring them both a cup of tea.

“Not if you wake up every morning with a hangover, and are drunk again before lunchtime.”

“Does Yeltsin have an anointed successor?”

“Not that I’m aware of. But even if he did, it would be the kiss of death. No, the only name in the field at the moment is Gennady Zyuganov, the Communist Party leader, and most people accept that it would be a disaster if we were to return to the past, although the possibility can’t be dismissed. Frankly, Sasha, you may never get a better chance to become our next president.”