Heads You Win

“But when Lawrence left you his fifty percent of the bank’s shares, they were worthless,” said Anna, “and now they must be worth a fortune.”

“Possibly, but I can’t afford to offload any of my stock while Evelyn still owns the other fifty percent, because then she’d have overall control.”

“Perhaps she might consider selling her shares? After all, she always seems to be short of cash.”

“Quite possibly, but I don’t have that sort of capital available,” said Alex.

“But if I remember correctly,” said Anna, “on the day our son was born Evelyn offered you her shares for a million dollars and I suggested you might live to regret not buying them.”

“Mea culpa,” said Alex. “And at the time I even considered selling off Elena’s so I could buy the shares myself, but that would have been one hell of a risk, because if the bank had gone under, we’d have ended up with nothing.”

“Hindsight,” said Anna. “But dare I ask what those shares are worth now?”

“About three hundred million dollars.”

Anna gasped. “Will the bank end up having to pay her the full amount?”

“Possibly, because we can’t afford to let another bank get hold of fifty percent of our stock, otherwise we’d be looking over our shoulders for the rest of our lives, especially if Doug Ackroyd turned out to be advising them.”

“Perhaps you should have agreed to stand for the Senate. Far less hassle, and a guaranteed salary,” said Anna.

“While having to listen to the views of millions of voters, rather than a dozen board members.”

“It would be even more, if you fulfilled your lifelong dream and stood for president.”

“Of America?”

“No, Russia.”

Alex didn’t reply immediately.

“Ah,” said Anna, “so you do still think about the possibility.”

“Aware that like any dream, I’ll wake up,” said Alex, as François reappeared by their side.

“Can I tempt you with dessert, madam?” he asked.

“Certainly not,” said Anna. “We’ve both had quite enough. Anniversaries should not be an excuse to put on weight. And he,” she said, pointing to her husband, “missed his gym session again today. So definitely nothing for him.”

François filled their glasses and took away the empty bottle.

“To another memorable year together, Mrs. Karpenko,” said Alex, raising his glass.

“I wish you weren’t going to Russia.”

*   *   *

“I wish you weren’t going to Russia,” said Elena, as she placed two pizzas in front of them.

“You and Anna,” said Alex as a waiter rushed across and said, “I’m sorry to bother you, Mr. Karpenko, but your secretary has just called to let you know there’s been a problem with the visas, and asked if you could return to your office as soon as possible.”

“I’d better go and find out what the trouble is,” said Alex. “I’ll be as quick as I can.”

He left his mother and an anxious-looking Pushkin to finish their pizzas, while he quickly made his way back to the office, where Miss Robbins was waiting for him.

“Is it all going to plan?” she asked.

“Yes, Misha and my mother were sharing a pizza when I left them. She may not know a great deal about banking or business, but when you’ve been in the catering trade for as long as she has, there’s not much you don’t know about people. Anything important before I head back?”

“Ted Kennedy’s assistant called to confirm that all five visas will be on your desk by four o’clock this afternoon, and she also reminded me that the senator will be standing for reelection next year.”

“That’s going to cost me another hundred thousand.”

“I’ve also got you a thousand dollars in cash and the equivalent in rubles, as checks and credit cards still don’t seem to cut much ice in the Soviet Union. The team are booked into the Hotel Europa for five nights.”

“One night might turn out to be enough.”

“And Captain Fullerton is expecting you at Logan around eleven this evening. He has a slot booked for eleven thirty. You’ll refuel in London, before flying on to Leningrad. So now you can go back and find out what your mother makes of Mr. Pushkin.”

Alex took his time returning to Elena’s, and when he arrived, he could see his mother listening attentively to every word Misha was saying. The anxious look returned to the Russian’s face when Alex joined them.

“A problem with the visas?” he asked.

“No, it’s all been sorted out. I hope you enjoyed the pizza.”

“I’ve never had one before,” admitted Pushkin, “and I have already told your mother I know the ideal spot to open the first Elena’s in Leningrad. If you’ll excuse me for a moment, I have to go and do what you Americans call ‘freshen up.’”

The moment he disappeared downstairs, Alex asked, “What’s your verdict, Mama?”

“He’s pure gold,” said Elena. “Not even gold plated. I know nothing about gas except how to turn it on and off, and I accept I’ve only just met Misha, but I’d happily leave him standing next to an open till.”

“Family?” asked Alex, not wanting to waste a moment before Misha returned.