‘First,’ said Hammond, extracting the inevitable files from his briefcase, ‘we’d like to bring you up to date on what happened to your former chess partner, Ivan Donokov, while you were away in Vietnam.’
At the mention of Donokov’s name, Alex felt sick, and tried to stop himself trembling.
‘Thanks to you, we were able to arrest him, along with several of his associates. They’re now all safely behind bars.’
‘For how long?’
‘Ninety-nine years, in Donokov’s case,’ said Travis, ‘without parole.’
‘Let’s hope his cell mate’s a Grand Master, otherwise he’s going to get very bored,’ said Alex. The three men laughed for the first time. ‘That can’t be the only reason you wanted to see me.’
‘No, it isn’t,’ said Hammond. ‘We felt we owe you one. We know you’re now down to your last market stall, and its licence comes up for renewal next month. We also know that the landlord, Mr Wolfe, will try to extract a price you can’t afford.’
‘But more important,’ said Alex, ‘do you know why?’
‘Yes,’ said Hammond. ‘Our colleagues in the FBI have a cabinet full of files dedicated to Mr Wolfe, but they’ve never been able to lay a finger on him. However, they’ve passed on some information that might be of interest to you.’ He nodded towards his colleague, who proceeded to explain exactly why Wolfe needed to be in possession of the licences for every stall in Market Square by midday on 17 June. ‘And yours is now the only one left.’
‘Thank you,’ said Alex. ‘Although I should have worked it out for myself.’
‘And, by the way,’ said Travis, ‘there’s something else you’ve probably worked out by now.’
‘Dimitri is one of the good guys,’ said Alex.
*
Alex put on one of the suits Addie had given him, along with a white shirt and a blue silk tie he would never have been able to afford. He opened the attaché case and checked that everything was in place, before glancing at his watch. This was one meeting he wasn’t going to be late for.
He couldn’t resist whistling as he walked slowly along Brighton Beach Avenue. He reached 3049 Ocean Parkway a few minutes before nine, opened the door and walked into the reception area to be greeted by Molly, the long-suffering receptionist, known among the market traders as the devil’s gatekeeper.
‘Have a seat, Mr Karpenko. I’ll let Mr Wolfe know you’ve arrived.’
‘Don’t bother,’ said Alex, not breaking his stride or stopping to knock before he marched into Wolfe’s office.
Wolfe looked up from his desk. He didn’t attempt to hide his annoyance at being taken by surprise. ‘I’ll have to call you back,’ he said, slamming down the phone. ‘Good morning, Mr Karpenko,’ he said, pointing to the seat opposite him. Alex remained standing. Wolfe shrugged. ‘I’ve drawn up the new licence for your stall.’
‘How much?’
‘A thousand dollars a week for the next three years,’ said Wolfe matter-of-factly. ‘And of course, I’ll expect a month’s payment in advance. Should you fail at any time to pay the full amount, the licence will automatically revert to me.’ He smiled, confident that he knew exactly what Alex’s response would be.
‘That’s grand larceny,’ said Alex. ‘I don’t need to remind you of the clause in our contract that says any rise in rent must reflect current market conditions.’
‘I’m glad you mentioned that particular clause,’ said Wolfe, allowing himself a wry smile, ‘because another stallholder recently took me to court claiming I was over-charging and cited that clause as proof. I’m happy to say the judge came down in my favour. So precedent has been set, Mr Karpenko.’
‘How much did that cost you?’
Wolfe ignored the comment as he pushed a familiar document across the table and, pointing to a dotted line, said, ‘Sign there, and the stall will be yours for another three years.’
Once again he looked as if he knew what Alex’s response would be. But to his surprise Alex sat down and began to read slowly through the contract clause by clause. Wolfe leant back, selected a cigar from the box in front of him, lit it and had taken several puffs before Alex picked up the pen on his desk and signed the agreement.
The cigar fell out of Wolfe’s mouth and landed on the floor. He quickly picked it up and brushed some ash off his trousers before saying, ‘Don’t forget that will be four thousand dollars in advance.’
‘How could I forget,’ said Alex. He opened his attaché case and extracted forty hundred-dollar bills. Every cent he, his mother and Dimitri possessed. He placed the cash on the blotting pad in front of Mr Wolfe, then put the contract in his attaché case, stood up and turned to leave. He was just about to open the door when Wolfe spluttered, ‘Don’t be in such a rush, Alex. Let’s talk this over like reasonable people.’
‘There’s nothing to talk over, Mr Wolfe,’ said Alex. ‘I’m looking forward to operating my stall for the next three years, and whatever the rent is when this licence expires, I’ll pay it.’ He touched the door handle.
‘I’m sure we can come to an arrangement, Alex. What if I were to offer you fifty thousand dollars to tear up the contract? That’s far more than you could hope to make even if you were running a dozen stalls.’
‘But nowhere near as much as the million dollars a year rent you’d be raking in if I were to tear the contract up.’ Alex opened the door.
‘How did you find out?’ said Wolfe, glaring at his back.
‘It’s not important how I learnt that the council will be granting you planning permission for a new shopping mall on June the seventeenth, only that I did. In the nick of time, I might add.’
‘How much do you want?’
‘I won’t settle for anything less than a million,’ said Alex. ‘Otherwise the bulldozers won’t be making their way onto your site for at least another three years.’
‘Half a million,’ said Wolfe.
‘Seven hundred and fifty thousand.’
‘Six hundred.’
‘Seven hundred.’
‘Six fifty,’ blurted Wolfe.
‘Agreed.’
Wolfe managed a half smile, feeling he’d still got the better of the bargain.
‘But only if you throw in the freehold for Mario’s Pizza Parlour on the corner of Players’ Square,’ added Alex.
‘But that’s daylight robbery,’ Wolfe protested.
‘I agree,’ said Alex. He sat down, opened his attaché case and took out two contracts. ‘If you sign here, and here,’ he said, pointing to a dotted line, ‘the builders can start work on the super-mall next month. If not . . .’
24
ALEX
Brooklyn
‘Do you think I’m capable of that?’ said Elena.
‘Of course you are, Mama. Your problem is that you’ve spent your whole life underestimating yourself.’
‘That’s certainly never been one of your problems.’
‘Frankly, you’re too good to be working in a pizza parlour,’ said Alex, ignoring her reprimand. ‘But with my help we could build the brand, turn it around, sell it on and then set you up in your own restaurant.’
‘Great restaurants aren’t run by chefs, Alex, but by first-class managers, so before you risk one cent of your money on me, you must find an experienced manager.’
‘Good managers are two a penny, Mama. Great chefs are a far rarer commodity.’
‘What makes you think I’m a great chef?’
‘When you first got the job at Mario’s, I could always get a table, at any time of day. Now there are queues outside from eleven o’clock in the morning. And I can assure you, Mama, they are not queuing to meet the manager.’
‘But it would be such a risk,’ said Elena. ‘Perhaps you’d be wiser to put your money on deposit in a bank.’
‘If I did that, Mama, the only one making a profit would be the bank. No, I think I’ll risk a little of my new-found wealth on you.’
‘But not before you find a manager.’
‘Actually, I’ve already got someone in mind.’
‘Who?’ demanded Elena.
‘Me.’
*
Elena stared at the gold-embossed invitation card that Alex had put on the mantelpiece for all to see.
‘Who’s Lawrence Lowell?’ she asked as he sat down for breakfast.