The screen quickly filled with talking heads who, as so often was the case, proceeded with silky conviction and utter certitude to get it all incredibly wrong. One graying authority in oversized horn-rimmed glasses made an analogy to Hitler's failed putsch in Munich. Another crowed that Yeltsin was the Lincoln of this era, a decisive, principled man who had locked horns with the devil and kicked his butt. Russia was saved, democracy triumphed, Yeltsin the hero of the hour, was the common refrain across network world.
Alex watched it all in sheer disgust. "They have no idea what they've just seen," he whispered to Elena, who was nibbling on a piece of cold toast.
"No, they're idiots," she agreed between bites.
"You saw who saved Yeltsin?"
"The Security people and the army."
"Yes, all former KGB people. You know what this means? Yeltsin cut a deal with them."
"How much trouble are we in?" Elena asked, though she knew the answer.
"A lot. This is the end of our Russian experiment in democracy. From here on, the old boys will take back what Yeltsin took from them, and there's nothing to stop them. The people who stole our money now have no fear. Even if I got through to Yeltsin, he's in their pocket. "
"He won't lift a finger to help. He sold his soul," Elena said, finishing the thought. The call came a full two days later. The voice was a woman's, Anna, throaty and sultry, no last name.
Alex cut off her attempt at pleasantries and opened the bidding. "You heard my requirements?"
"Volevodz explained everything."
"Good. What's your answer?"
"Thirty percent might be a reasonable compensation, but it will be structured differently. I'll draw up a contract that pegs your take a little more precisely." And along the way, I'll whack off as many points as I can get away with and add them to my own total, she thought, but didn't explain.
"I won't commit until I see the details," Alex told her very quickly.
"That's understandable. But forget the five million bonus. Out of the question."
"I considered it a reasonable request. Of course, I have no idea how big the base is. Volevodz mentioned several hundred million."
"So you were for shooting for the stars. I don't blame you. But let's say it's in the several hundred million range now. It will be more in the future, considerably more. Down the road, based on your performance, we can talk about a structured bonus. Not until we see how good you are."
"Who are you?" Alex asked.
Anna, actually Tatyana, laughed playfully. "Alex, you're smarter than that."
Yes, he was. Also a painfully good listener. She was playing it close to the vest, but she had already made one serious slip-"I'll draw up a contract." Alex took a moment and added it up. Female by sex, Anna obviously an imaginary name, a lawyer most certainly, from her voice late twenties, early thirties at the outside, and Alex guessed she probably worked in the Kremlin or held a senior government position of some sort. Also arrogant and pushy and sly-of course, that could fit almost any lawyer. From her tone of smug self-assurance, Alex suspected she was very pretty, possibly beautiful.
"Explain how this is supposed to work," Alex asked. "Obviously you have no intention of assigning me direct control over the money."
"Good guess. You'll work through a team of accountants and brokers who report to me. You tell them what you'd like to do, they inform me, not a penny gets moved until I approve it. You'll receive daily updates from them. Satisfactory?"
"It's not ideal, no."
"From your angle, I'm sure it's not. It looks perfect from mine." "Listen to me. The best investments don't give warning. A difference between interest spreads, for instance, can last seconds. The same is true in the arbitrage game. It's a very narrow strike window-miss it, and you can forget about it. If you want spectacular returns, I can't be handicapped by time. How many people have to approve my decisions?"
"Nice try. Next question."
"Where's the money now?"
"Try again."
"How much is it earning?"
"You're starting to bore me."
"Am I? Look, I won't take this job if Golitsin is in the decision loop. I've read what he's done to my companies. What a disaster. He couldn't make two cents if it was raining dollars."
Another very serious mistake on her part. A long, revealing pause before she snapped, "Who and how the decisions are made is my business." Then, after another moment, "You'd better be done with your demands. Let me remind you, you're broke, on the run, and wanted for crimes here in Russia. But you can lose more, a lot more. I'm offering you a chance to make some of your money back."
"Your generosity chokes me up."
"I know. Do you want it or not, Alex?"
Alex glanced carefully at Elena, who was resting on the bed, biting her lip and trying her best to appear noncommittal and supportive of whatever choice he made-and failing miserably.
This was the moment; did he or didn't he? Yes or no?
"Not," he replied without hesitation.
"Don't be foolish. I'm offering you a great deal."
"A great deal for you. It stinks for me."
"Take a minute, Alex. Cool down and think like a businessman, be practical. You really have no clue of how powerful we are, do you? How easily we can reach you."
"I'll take my chances."
"You'll regret it. Believe me, I'll-"
"I'd say nice talking with you, but it wasn't," Alex interrupted and pushed disconnect.
The instant it hit the cradle, Elena lifted up the phone and immediately placed a call to the hotel switch in the basement.
Her friend Amber, the head operator, had a live-in boyfriend who happened to work for the phone service that tied the hotel to the outside world. Amber promised to get right back with the phone number of their recent caller.
Two minutes later, Amber called with the number, which Elena hastily scribbled on the hotel stationery. Alex took it, studied it a moment-he did not recognize it-then stuffed it inside his pant pocket.
Elena sat on the bed, quietly pleased that her husband had refused the offer. An enormously talented genius at business he might be, but she was sure he was over his head with these people. He'd been surprisingly successful to date, and she prayed he didn't delude himself about why. Too much of that success rested on underestimation and beginner's luck. With each success the underestimation wore off. And luck could run out. Also, his plan had relied on Boris Yeltsin, an ambitious man she had never fully trusted. Alex had seen him as an embattled figure struggling to end dictatorship and bring democracy to Russia. Elena was convinced that his own hopes had blinded him to the man's considerable faults. He was a politician, for all the good and bad that implied. Boris had grabbed a tiger by the tail, and the tiger was angry and hungry.
Boris would happily cram Alex into the tiger's jaws if that kept the resentful tiger from eating him.
"So what will we do?" she asked.
"Hire an investigator in Moscow. Mikhail Borosky always did great work for me. He's incredibly competent, and discreet. I trust him completely."
"I know Mikhail's good, but what's the point?"
"We won't know until he digs and finds out a little more. Maybe it'll help, maybe not. At least he'll have a few leads to go on."
"Do you want to get the companies back?"
He shook his head sadly. "You haven't been reading the business news online. What's left isn't worth owning. Golitsin is way over his head. Banking is a business built on confidence. In two short months, he's ruined everything."