Heads You Win

“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.

“And the balance sheet?” asked Jake, turning to their number cruncher.

“They don’t seem to understand the basic tenets of modern accountancy practice,” said Mitch Blake. “Which isn’t surprising, as their economy’s been run by party hacks for decades. But it’s still the best goddamn bottom line I’ve ever seen.”

“So let’s play devil’s advocate for a moment,” said Alex. “What’s the downside?”

“They could steal our twenty-five million,” said Andy Harbottle. “But I don’t think we should pack our bags just yet.”

*   *   *

Over dinner that night, Alex was pleased to see the team relaxing for the first time.

“Are you still seeing your uncle for lunch tomorrow?” asked Jake.

“Sure am. I’m hoping he might be able to give me some inside knowledge on how to handle the current regime.”

“Do you know what this country needs?” said Jake as he cut into a tough steak.

“For my mother to open a pizza parlor on Nevsky Prospect—Elena’s Thirty-seven.”

“That first, and then you should stand for president. An honest Russian who understands free enterprise is exactly what this country needs at the moment.”

“That was always my boyhood dream,” said Alex. “If my father hadn’t been killed, then perhaps…”

“Perhaps what?” said Jake, but Alex didn’t reply as he stared directly ahead. He’d just noticed the three men seated at a table on the other side of the restaurant. The one fear he’d pushed to the back of his mind was suddenly facing him. He wasn’t in any doubt who the older man was, or why the two thugs seated on either side of him were there.

The vicious scar that stretched down the left side of the man’s face and neck was an instant reminder of where he and Alex had last met. Polyakov’s chilling words, “You’ll hang for this,” reverberated in his ears. Anna was right, he should never have made the trip. Jake and his team were more than capable of handling the deal without him. But he’d allowed the thrill of the chase to overrule common sense.

The man continued to stare at Alex, his eyes fixed on him. Alex wasn’t in any doubt of his intentions. While the rest of the team discussed tactics for the next day, Alex sat on the edge of his seat, tense and alert as he waited for the major to make the first move in a game of chess, which wasn’t likely to end in stalemate.

Alex touched Jake’s elbow. “Listen carefully,” he whispered. “The man I nearly killed the day I escaped from Leningrad is sitting directly opposite us, and I don’t believe in coincidences.”

Jake glanced across at the three men, and said, “But, Alex, that was over twenty years ago.”

“Look at that scar, Jake. Would you forget?”

“And the two men with him?”

“KGB, so they’re above the law. They’ll have no interest in how I die, only when.”

“We must get you to the American Consulate as quickly as possible.”