“He’s doing fine,” said Anna. “But he’s quite anxious to find out what happened at the board meeting.”
“No need to be, his father’s still the chairman of Lowell’s Bank.”
“How come?”
“Evelyn gave me her casting vote.”
“Why would she do that?”
“Because she’s had to accept that the bank can no longer afford to pay out any more money, and perhaps more important, she won’t now be able to get her hands on the Lowell Collection.”
“But why would she roll over quite so easily?” said Anna.
“Jackie Kennedy came to our rescue,” said Alex.
“I’m lost.”
“It seems that the police had to arrest either Ackroyd or Evelyn for stealing the Warhol, while allowing the other to turn state’s evidence. No prizes for guessing which role Evelyn cast herself in. In fact she’s so desperate, she even offered to sell me her shares in the bank.”
“For how much?”
“A million dollars. Just a pity I don’t have that sort of money at the moment.”
“Let’s hope you don’t live to regret it,” said Anna.
There was a tap on the door, and a nurse poked her head into the room. “I’m sorry to bother you, Mr. Karpenko, but there’s a traffic policeman outside who says he needs to see the evidence.”
BOOK FOUR
36
SASHA
Westminster, 1980
It would have been better if Mr. Sasha Karpenko MP had never left the Soviet Union, was the opening sentence in The Times’ leader that morning.
Sasha fell in love with the Palace of Westminster from the moment he walked through St. Stephen’s entrance, and joined his new colleagues in the Members’ Lobby. His mother burst into tears when he swore the oath before taking his place on the opposition back benches. As he held the Bible in his hand with members on both sides staring down at him as if he’d just arrived from another planet, it felt to Sasha like being the new boy at school.
Michael Cocks, the Labour chief whip, told him to keep his head down for the first few years. However, it didn’t take the whips long to realize they had a prodigious young talent on their hands who might not always be easy to handle. So when Sasha rose to make his maiden speech even the two front benches remained in their places to hear the member for Moscow, as the Conservatives referred to him. But Sasha had already decided to tackle that problem in its infancy.
“Mr. Sasha Karpenko,” called Mr. Speaker Thomas. The House fell silent, as is the tradition when a member delivers his or her maiden speech.
“Mr. Speaker, may I begin by saying what an honor it is for this Russian immigrant to become a member of the British House of Commons. If you had told me, just twelve years ago when I was a schoolboy in Leningrad, that I would be sitting on these benches before my thirtieth birthday, only my mother would have believed it, especially as I had already told my closest school friend that I was going to be the first democratically elected president of Russia.”
This statement was greeted by loud cheers from both sides of the House.
“Mr. Speaker, I have the privilege of representing the constituents of Merrifield in the county of Kent, who in their wisdom decided to replace a Conservative woman with a Labour man.” He looked across the floor at the Prime Minister seated on the front bench opposite, and said, “That’s something my party intends to repeat at the next general election.”
Margaret Thatcher gave a slight bow, while those seated on the opposition benches roared their approval.
“My opponent, Ms. Fiona Hunter, served in this House for three years, and will be sadly missed in Merrifield—by the Conservatives. I have no doubt she will eventually return to the benches opposite, but not in my constituency.” Hear, hears erupted from those around him, and when Sasha looked up from his notes, there wasn’t any doubt that he had captured the attention of the whole House.
“Some members on both sides of the House must wonder where my true allegiance lies. Westminster? Leningrad? Merrifield? Or Moscow? I’ll tell you where it lies. It lies with any citizen of any country who believes that the power of democracy is sacred and the right to live in a free society universal.
“Mr. Speaker, I have no time for political labels such as ‘left’ or ‘right.’ I am an admirer of both Winston Churchill and Clement Attlee, and the heroes of my university days were Aneurin Bevan and Iain Macleod. With them in mind, I will always attempt to judge every argument on its merits, and every member on the sincerity of his or her views, even when I profoundly disagree with them. I may occasionally shout from the highest mountain, but I hope I will have the good grace to occasionally dwell in the valleys and listen.
“The chief whip’s first words to me when I arrived in this place made me feel like Shakespeare’s whining schoolboy, with his satchel and shining morning face, creeping like snail unwilling to school.” Laughter arose from both sides of the House. “Ah, I can see I’m not the first,” he said. This was received by cheers, with only the Labour chief whip remaining silent. “He advised me to speak only on subjects about which I know a great deal … so you won’t be hearing from me much in the future.”