"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."
"So what's the point of hiring Mikhail?"
"I want to learn more about these people."
"That will take time. Maybe a lot of time. What will we do in the meantime?"
"We're leaving. Right away."
"Are we in trouble again?"
"Big trouble. This sounded very much like a final offer. The lady became very threatening at the end of the call."
"Are you as frightened as I am?" Elena asked.
"Terrified," Alex admitted.
Alex went to the closet, lifted their suitcases and overnight bags, and hauled them over to the bed. Inside thirty seconds, they were cramming clothes and belongings into the bags.
"What's next?" Elena asked.
"Hire a lawyer and apply for political asylum here in America. I have a perfectly legitimate case. They'll kill me if I ever return to Russia."
"So we'll be Americans."
"Why not, it's a land of immigrants. We're young and we can adjust. What do you think?"
Elena was struggling to fold one of her new skirts, a red thing with a thousand pleats that defied her every effort. "It's different… but I think I'll like it," she said, a little tentatively, a little sad. Until this moment, she had never really believed that they had departed Russia for good. The thought of leaving their lives behind, permanently, was deeply unsettling.
"Is there someplace else you'd rather go?"
