Heads You Win

Although Dimitri had already handed over three hundred and twenty dollars to cover the first month’s rent, Alex still needed his mother’s blessing, and he knew exactly what she would demand in return. He was all too aware that he hadn’t been working hard enough at school recently, and had been winging it for the past few months, although he’d still managed to stay among the top half dozen in his class. But while most afternoons were spent with Bernie learning the trade, and every weekend was taken up with trying to earn enough extra cash with Ivan to survive, he wasn’t surprised when, a couple of weeks later, the principal asked to see him on Saturday morning concerning a private matter.

Alex was standing outside the principal’s office at one minute to ten, having already been to the market at four that morning, and done an hour’s work on the stall before Bernie took over at eight. He knocked on the door and waited to be asked to come in.

“Are you still hoping to make it to NYU, Karpenko?” the principal asked before he’d even sat down.

Alex wanted to say, No, I plan to build an empire that will rival Sears, so I won’t have time to go to university, but he simply replied, “Yes, sir.” Alex had promised his mother he’d work harder at school, and make sure he achieved the grades he needed to get into university.

“Then you’re going to have to devote far more time to your school work,” said the principal, “because your recent efforts have been less than impressive, and I don’t need to remind you that your entrance exam is less than six months away, and the examiner won’t be interested in the price of a pound of apples.”

“I’ll work harder,” said Alex.

The principal didn’t look convinced, but nodded to indicate that he could leave.

“Thank you, sir,” said Alex. Once he’d left the principal’s office, he didn’t stop running until he reached Players’ Square. He realized he must have been a few minutes late when he saw Ivan pacing up and down looking at his watch. Twelve punters were already seated behind their boards, waiting impatiently to make their first move.

“What’s your excuse this time?” Ivan asked.

*   *   *

Whenever one of Dimitri’s chosen vessels tied up in Leningrad, he headed straight for the dockside pub where Kolya could be found most evenings.

Once eye contact had been made, Dimitri would leave and make his way across town to Moskovsky station. He would buy a ticket for a local train, then go to the waiting room between platforms 16 and 17. By the time Kolya appeared he would have secured a corner seat, well away from the window and any prying eyes. Few people other than the occasional tramp hung about in the waiting room for more than fifteen minutes, by which time they would be thrown out.

Kolya and Dimitri also limited themselves to fifteen minutes in case an observant porter, or worse, an off-duty KGB officer—they were never really off duty—might spot them and become suspicious. The rules of encounter had been established during their first meeting. Both would have their questions ready, and often several of the answers as well. This time, Dimitri knew that in their first meeting since Elena and Alex’s escape, Kolya would be desperate to know how his sister and nephew were progressing in the New World.

As soon as Kolya arrived, he took the seat next to Dimitri and opened his newspaper. They never shook hands, resorted to small talk, or bothered with any pleasantries.

“Elena is still working at a pizza parlor called Mario’s,” said Dimitri. “She’s been promoted three times already, and is now deputy manager. Even Mario is becoming nervous. Her only problem is she thinks she’s putting on weight. It seems that wasn’t something she ever had to worry about when she worked at the officers’ club.”

“Any men in her life?”

“Other than Alex, none that I’m aware of.”

“Alex?”

“Alexander. He now insists on being called Alex. More American, he tells me.”

“And how’s he doing at school?”

“Well enough, but not as well as he could do. He’s already been offered a place at New York University in the fall, to study economics. But if he had the choice, he’d skip college and start working straight away. Sees himself as the next John D. Rockefeller.”

“Rockefeller?”

“He’s an American tycoon—they’ve even named a building after him,” said Dimitri.

Kolya smiled as he turned a page of his newspaper. “But if I know Elena, she’ll still want the boy to go to college, and then get what she’d call a proper job.”

“No doubt about that,” said Dimitri. “But he’s hell-bent on becoming a millionaire. He even talked me into investing three hundred and twenty dollars in his latest venture.”

“Does he know why you can afford it?”

“No, I just told him there’s not much to spend my pay on while I’m away at sea.”