Heads You Win Read online

  “Five years. And the contract would have to be signed by someone who isn’t a minor.”

  “Two hundred and fifty dollars a month, cash in advance,” said Alex, “and you’ve got yourself a deal.”

  “Three hundred and twenty a month, kid.” The bobbing cigar never left Wolfe’s mouth. “And only then when I see the cash.”

  Alex knew he couldn’t afford it, and should have walked away, but like a reckless gambler he still believed that somehow he’d come up with the money, so he nodded. Wolfe took the cigar out of his mouth, opened a drawer in his desk, and pulled out a contract, which he handed to Alex. “Read it carefully before you sign it, kid, because no smart-assed lawyer has managed to break it yet, and you’ll find the penalty clauses are all in my favor.”

  The cigar returned to Wolfe’s mouth. He inhaled deeply, blew out a cloud of smoke, and said, “Make sure you get here real early tomorrow morning, cash in hand, kid. I wouldn’t want you to be late for school.”

  If this had been a gangster movie, James Cagney would have filled Wolfe with lead and then taken over his empire. But in the real world, Alex slunk out of the office and slowly made his way back home, wondering where he’d get the second month’s rent if the stall didn’t make a big enough profit.

  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.”

  “It can only be a matter of time before he finds out. But I have to admit I’d invest in the boy myself, if I had any money,” said Kolya. “He’s got his father’s self-confidence and his mother’s common sense. Whoever this Rockefeller is, he’d better watch out.”

  Dimitri laughed. “I’ll keep you briefed on how my investment turns out.”

  “I can’t wait,” said Kolya. “Give them both my love.”

  “Of course. And is there anything you’d like me to pass on to my friends?”

  “Yes, it looks as if I might be the next convener of the dockers’ union and therefore follow in Konstantin’s footsteps, though without the same size shoes.”

  “He’d have been proud of you.”

  “Not quite yet. There are still a few more problems to surmount, not least Polyakov, who has his own candidate for the job. A fully paid-up party member who would report directly to him.”

  “So despite Polyakov being at the docks when Elena and Alex escaped, he somehow managed to keep his job?”

  “He actually turned the whole disaster to his advantage,” said Kolya. “Told the commandant that he didn’t go to the cup final because he’d been tipped off that someone might be trying to escape.”

  “Then why didn’t he arrest both of them?”

  “Said he was on his own when a dozen men took him by surprise, and that if it hadn’t been for him, a lot more dissidents would have been on that ship.”

  “And they believed him?”

  “Must have. But I hear he’s unlikely to be promoted in the near future.”

  “Did he try to pin anything on you?”

  “No, he couldn’t. I was back at the stadium well in time to watch the second half of the match. I drifted around the north terrace for the next hour, so by the time the final whistle went, over a thousand of my workmates were able to confirm they’d seen me, so I was in the cl
ear.”

  “That’s a relief.”

  “Not altogether,” said Kolya. “Polyakov remains unconvinced, which is another reason why he’s so determined to stop me becoming convener of the trade union.”

  “And who won?”

  “Won what?”

  “The cup final. Alex keeps asking me to find out.”

  “We beat Moscow two to one, despite the referee being a KGB officer.”

  Dimitri laughed. “Anything else you want to tell me?” he asked, aware that their time was running out.

  “Yes,” said Kolya, turning another page of his newspaper. “Alexander might be interested to know that his old school friend Vladimir has been elected to the committee of the university Komsomol. Don’t be surprised if he’s chairman by the next time we meet.”

  “One last thing,” said Dimitri. “Elena wants to know, if I was able to fix a visa for you, would you consider coming to New York and living with us?”

  “Thank her for her kindness, but Polyakov would make sure I was never granted a visa. Perhaps you could try and explain to my dear sister that I’ve still got important work to do here.” He folded his newspaper, the sign that he had nothing more to say, just as a train shunted into platform 17 and screeched to a halt.

  Dimitri rose from his place, joined the jostling passengers now crowding the platform, and began the long walk back to the ship, making the occasional detour to be sure no one was following him. He couldn’t help worrying about Kolya, and the risks he was willing to take because he detested the communist regime. Unlike most of Dimitri’s other contacts, Kolya never asked for money. Some men can’t be bought.

  14

  SASHA

  University of Cambridge

  Once Sasha had read through his essay and made a couple of alterations, he glanced at his watch, then hurriedly pulled on his long black scholar’s gown, ran downstairs, and across the court. He charged up another staircase, stopping at the third floor, just as he heard the first of ten chimes.

  He couldn’t be even a minute late for Dr. Streator, who began his supervisions as the great courtyard clock struck, and finished them when it chimed again an hour later. Sasha caught his breath, knocked on the door, and walked in on the tenth chime, to find the two other scholars already sitting in front of the fire enjoying toasted crumpets.

  “Good morning, Dr. Streator,” said Sasha, handing over his essay.

  “Good morning, Karpenko,” said Streator in Russian. “You’ve missed out on the crumpets, but then, being on time doesn’t appear to be one of your strengths. However, I can still offer you a cup of tea.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  Streator poured a fourth cup before he began. “Today, I want to consider the relationship between Lenin and Stalin. Lenin not only didn’t have any respect for Stalin, he actively despised the man. However, he recognized that if the revolution was to be a success, he needed money to make sure that his political opponents were removed one way or another. Enter a young thug from Georgia who was only too happy to carry out both tasks. He raided banks, and didn’t give a second thought about murdering anyone who got in his way, including innocent bystanders.”

  Sasha took notes while Dr. Streator continued his discourse. It hadn’t taken him long to realize how little Russian history he actually knew, and that his teachers in Leningrad had parroted words from a book that had been vetted by the KGB in a blatant attempt to rewrite history.

  “I am only interested in proven facts,” said Streator, “with reliable evidence to back them up; not mere propaganda, endlessly repeated until the gullible have accepted it as the truth. Stalin, for example, was able to convince an entire nation that he was in Moscow in 1941, leading from the front at a time when the German army were within twenty miles of the city. Whereas it’s far more likely that he actually fled to Kuybyshev, and only returned to Moscow once the Germans were in retreat. Why do I say far more likely? Because I don’t have irrefutable proof, and for a historian, odds of ninety percent should not be good enough.”

  Sasha enjoyed his twice-weekly supervisions, and never missed a lecture, although Ben Cohen kept trying to persuade him there was a life beyond academia. Ben had recently joined the Union and begun to take an interest in politics. After much arm-twisting, Sasha had agreed to attend the next debate with him. Sasha rarely ventured beyond the walls of Trinity unless it was to spend time with Charlie in Newnham. But then, Dr. Streator had made it clear at their first supervision that he expected all three of them to be high Wranglers. Nothing less would be acceptable. While others excelled on the playing fields, Streator considered it his duty to stretch his students’ minds, not their muscles. However, Sasha felt a trip to the Union couldn’t do any harm.

  The hour went by so quickly, that when the clock chimed again, Sasha closed his notebook and reluctantly gathered up his papers. He was about to leave when Streator said, “Can you spare me a moment, Karpenko?”

  “Yes, of course, sir.”

  “I wondered if you had anything planned for this evening?”

  “I was going to the Union.”

  “This house would not fight for Queen and country.”

  “Yes, sir. Will you be there?”

  “No, I’ve had enough of war,” said Streator, without explanation. “But when you’ve got a free evening, perhaps you could join me after supper for a game of chess, where kings, queens, and knights are not imprisoned, executed, or assassinated, but simply moved across a board and occasionally removed.” Sasha smiled. “But I must warn you, Karpenko, I have an ulterior motive. I’m the don in charge of the university chess team, and I want to find out if you’re good enough to be selected for the match against Oxford.”

  * * *

  “Have you slept with her yet?”

  “Ben, you’re the crudest individual I’ve ever come across.”

  “That’s only because you’ve led such a sheltered life. Now answer the question. Have you slept with her?”

  “No, I haven’t. Frankly I’m not even sure how she feels about me.”

  “How can you be so clever and so stupid at the same time, Sasha? Charlie adores you, and you must be about the only person who doesn’t realize it.”

  “But it still wouldn’t be easy,” said Sasha, “because Newnham doesn’t allow their undergraduates to have a man in their room after six, and even then, if I recall the regulations, he has to keep both feet on the floor at all times.”

  “This may come as a surprise to you, Sasha, but people have been known to have sex before six o’clock, and even with both feet on the floor.” Sasha still didn’t look convinced. “But that isn’t the reason I wanted to see you. Are you still coming to the debate tonight?”

  “This house would not fight for Queen and country,” said Sasha. “Yes, even though it’s a ridiculous motion, which I assume will be overwhelmingly defeated.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure of that. There are an awful lot of Bolshies around who’d happily support the idea of the Queen living in a council house. But there’s another reason I want you to come. So you can meet my latest girlfriend.”

  “Have you slept with her yet?” asked Sasha, grinning.

  “No, but it shouldn’t be long now, because I know she’s got the hots for me.”

  “Ben,” said Sasha in disgust, “English is the language of Keats, Shelley, and Shakespeare, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

  “You clearly haven’t read Harold Robbins.”

  “No, I haven’t,” said Sasha, letting out an exaggerated sigh. “However, if for no other reason than to meet this unfortunate lady who’s got what you so elegantly describe as the hots for you, I’ll come along.”

  “Actually, she’s also quite bright.”

  “She can’t be that bright, Ben. Think about it.”

  “And she’s the only woman on the Union committee,” said Ben, ignoring the gibe.

  “Then she must be out of your league.”

  “There is no league once you get
them into bed.”

  “Ben, you have a one-track mind.”

  “Why don’t you invite Charlie along, and we can all have supper together afterward?”

  “OK, I give in. Now go away. I’ve got a supervision in an hour’s time, and I need to check through my essay.”

  “I haven’t even written mine.”

  “I didn’t realize writing was a prerequisite for anyone studying Land Economy.”

  * * *

  It was Sasha’s first visit to the Union, but as soon as the two of them walked into the debating chamber, it was clear that Ben was already a fixture. He grabbed two free places on a bench near the front of the room, and immediately joined in the noisy chatter emanating from the benches around them. It only ceased when the Union’s officers walked in and took their places in the three high-backed chairs on a raised platform at the front of the hall.

  “The one seated in the center,” Ben whispered, “is Carey. He’s the current president of the Union. I’m going to be sitting in that chair one day.” Sasha smiled, as Carey rose and said, “I will now ask the vice president to read the minutes of the last meeting.”

  While Chris Smith read the minutes, Sasha looked around the packed hall and up into the gallery, which was crowded with eager students leaning over the railings, waiting for the debate to begin.

  When the minutes had been read and the vice president had sat down, the president rose again. “Ladies and gentlemen, I shall now call upon the Right Honorable Mr. Anthony Wedgwood Benn MP to propose the motion, that this house would not fight for Queen and country.”

  As Mr. Benn rose from his place, he was greeted by loud, enthusiastic cheers. Sasha could see, as he looked around the hall, that he appeared to be supported by the majority of students present.

  “Mr. President, I’m delighted to have been invited to propose this motion,” Benn began. “Not least because we all know Britain isn’t a democracy. How could anyone claim it is when our head of state isn’t even elected? How can we consider our fellow men and women to be equals in the law, when our second chamber is dominated by seven hundred hereditary peers, most of whom have never done a day’s work in their lives, and whose sole contribution is to turn up and vote whenever their birthright is threatened? Yet these are the very people who can decide if you should go to war with whom they consider to be their enemy.”