‘But Mr Gorbachev has already beaten me to the punch, so there’s no reason to return. In any case, I’m an Englishman now.’
Vladimir laughed. ‘You’re Russian, Alexander, and you always will be. Just as you told your adoring public last night. And in any case, Gorbachev won’t last forever. In fact he may be going far sooner than he realizes.’
‘What are you suggesting?’
‘That we should keep in touch. No one knows better than you that timing is everything in politics. All I ask in return is to be appointed head of the KGB. Which is no more than you promised me all those years ago.’
‘I made no such promise, Vladimir, as you well know. And in any case, my views on nepotism haven’t changed since the last time we discussed the subject,’ said Sasha. ‘And that was when we were still friends.’
‘We may no longer be friends, Alexander, but that doesn’t stop us having mutual interests.’
‘I’ll take you at your word,’ said Sasha, ‘and even give you a chance to prove it.’
‘What do you have in mind?’
‘Your boys taped my minister last night.’
‘Yes, the stupid bitch was very indiscreet.’
‘She’s only a junior minister, and she might be much more useful at a later date.’
‘But she’s not even a member of your party.’
‘I realize, Vladimir, that’s a concept you must find difficult to come to terms with.’
Vladimir didn’t reply immediately, then shrugged his shoulders. ‘The tape will be in your hotel room within the hour.’
‘Thank you. And do tell your operatives to get their files up to date. I’ve never cared for redheads.’
‘I told them they were wasting their time with you. You’re incorruptible, which will make my job so much easier when you appoint me as head of the KGB.’ Vladimir walked away without the suggestion of a goodbye, and Sasha would have returned to his little group, if someone else hadn’t walked across to join him.
‘You don’t know me, Mr Karpenko,’ said a man who must have been about his own age, and was wearing a suit that hadn’t been tailored in Moscow, ‘but I’ve been following your career with some considerable interest.’
In England, Sasha would have smiled and taken the man at his word, but in Russia . . . he remained silent, and suspicious.
‘My name is Boris Nemtsov, and I think you’ll find we have several things in common.’ Sasha still didn’t respond. ‘I am a member of the Duma, and I believe we both share the same high opinion of one particular man,’ said Nemtsov, glancing in the direction of Vladimir.
‘My enemy’s enemy is my friend,’ said Sasha, shaking Nemtsov by the hand.
‘I hope in time we will be friends. After all, there will be other conferences and official meetings where we can casually meet and exchange confidences, without someone opening a file.’
‘I think you will find that someone’s already opened a file,’ said Sasha. ‘So let’s give him the first entry. I don’t agree with you,’ he shouted, loudly enough to ensure that all those around him turned to listen to the exchange.
‘Then there’s nothing more to discuss,’ said Nemtsov, who stormed off without another word.
Sasha would like to have smiled as Nemtsov marched away, but resisted the temptation.
Vladimir was staring at both of them, but Sasha doubted that he had been fooled.
38
ALEX
Boston, 1988
When Alex entered the bank on Monday morning, he didn’t notice the man sitting in the corner of the lobby. On Tuesday, he registered the lone figure for a moment, but as he had a meeting with Alan Greenspan, the chairman of the Federal Reserve, to discuss OPEC’s latest demands on oil prices and the strengthening of the dollar against the pound, the lone figure didn’t remain uppermost in his mind. On Wednesday, he looked more closely at the man before stepping into the elevator. Could it be possible he’d been sitting there for three days? Pamela would know.
‘Who’s my first appointment, Pamela?’ he asked, even before he’d taken off his overcoat.
‘Sheldon Woods, the new chairman of the local Democratic Party.’
‘How much did we give them last year?’
‘Fifty thousand dollars, chairman, but it’s an election year.’
‘Election time always brings back memories of Lawrence. So let’s make it a hundred thousand this year.’
‘Of course, chairman.’
‘Anyone else this morning?’
‘No, but you’re having lunch with Bob Underwood at the Algonquin, and don’t forget, he’s always on time.’
Alex nodded. ‘Do you know what he wants?’
‘To resign. “Time to hang up my boots,” if I remember his exact words.’
‘Never. He remains on board until he drops dead.’
‘I think that’s what he’s afraid of, chairman.’
‘And this afternoon?’
‘You’re clear until your session at the gym at five. Your coach tells me you’ve missed the last two workouts.’
‘But he still charges me even if I don’t turn up.’
‘That’s not the point, chairman.’
‘Anything else?’
‘Just to remind you it’s your wedding anniversary, and you’re taking your wife to dinner tonight.’
‘Of course it is. I’d better go downtown after lunch and get her a present.’
‘Anna’s already chosen the present she wants,’ said Miss Robbins.
‘Am I allowed to know what it is?’
‘A Chloé bag, from Bonwit Teller’s.’
‘OK, I’ll pick one up this afternoon. What colour?’
‘Grey. It’s already been gift-wrapped and was delivered to my office yesterday. All you need to do is sign this.’ She placed an anniversary card on his desk.
‘I sometimes think, Pamela, that you’d make a far better chairman than me.’
‘If you say so, chairman. But in the meantime, can you make sure you sign all the letters in your correspondence file before Mr Woods arrives?’
Getting Pamela to return to her old job was the wisest decision he’d ever made, thought Alex as he opened his correspondence file. He read each letter carefully, making the occasional emendation and sometimes adding a handwritten postscript. He was considering a letter from the president of the Harvard Business School inviting him to address the final year students in the fall, when there was a tap on the door.
‘Mr Woods,’ said Miss Robbins.
‘Sheldon,’ said Alex, jumping up from behind his desk. ‘Has it really been a year already? Can I offer you some coffee?’
‘No, thank you,’ said Woods.
‘Now, before you say anything, yes, I am aware it’s an election year, and I’ve already decided to double our contribution to the party, in Lawrence’s memory.’
‘That’s very generous of you, Alex. He would have made a fine congressman.’
‘He would indeed,’ said Alex. ‘In fact not a day goes by when I don’t mourn his death. That man quite literally changed my life, and I never had a real chance to thank him.’
‘If Lawrence were alive, it would be him who was thanking you,’ said Woods. ‘Everyone in Boston knew the bank was in serious trouble before you took over. What a turnaround. I hear you’re to be named as banker of the year.’
‘A lot of credit for that must go to Jake Coleman, who couldn’t be more different from his predecessor.’
‘Yes, that was quite a coup. I assume you’ve heard that Ackroyd was released from prison last week?’
‘I did, and I wouldn’t have given it a second thought if he hadn’t been seen boarding a plane to Nice the following day.’
‘I’m lost,’ said Woods.
‘And it’s better you stay that way,’ said Alex, as he signed a cheque for $100,000 and handed it to Woods.
‘I’m most grateful,’ he said. ‘But that wasn’t the reason I came to see you.’
‘Isn’t a hundred thousand enough?’
‘More than enough. It’s just that we, that is to say my committee, hoped you would allow your name to go forward as the next Democratic candidate for junior senator here in Massachusetts.’