“I haven’t seen him for years,” said Pushkin. “When I last heard, he was a KGB colonel stationed somewhere in East Germany.”
“I can’t imagine that’s part of his long-term plan,” said Alex. “However, I’m sure you didn’t travel all the way to Boston to reminisce. What did you mean when you said you hoped I might see my uncle sooner than I thought?”
“You will be well aware that the new Soviet regime is very different from the old. The hammer and sickle have been run down the flagpole to be replaced with a dollar sign. The only problem is that after so many centuries of oppression, first by the tsars and then the communists, we Russians have no tradition of free enterprise.” Alex nodded, but didn’t interrupt. “So nothing has really changed on that front. When the government decided to sell off some of the state’s more profitable companies, it shouldn’t have come as a surprise that no one was qualified to handle such a dramatic upheaval. And dramatic is what it turned out to be, which I found out when my own company was put up for sale,” said Pushkin as he handed over his card.
“The Leningrad Petroleum and Gas Company,” said Alex.
“Whoever the new owners of LGP turn out to be, they’re going to become billionaires overnight.”
“And you’d like to be one of them?”
“No. Like your father, I believe that wealth should be shared among those who have made the company a success, not just handed to someone who happens to be a friend of a friend of the president.”
“What’s the asking price?” asked Alex, trying to find out if the meeting would be lasting more than fifteen minutes.
“Twenty-five million dollars.”
“And what was LGP’s turnover last year?”
Pushkin unzipped an old plastic bag, took out some papers, and placed them on the desk. “Just over four hundred million dollars,” he said, without needing to refer to them.
“And the profit?”
“Thirty-eight million six hundred forty thousand dollars.”
“Am I missing something here?” said Alex. “With that profit margin, the company must be worth over four or five hundred million.”
“You’re not missing a thing, chairman. It’s just that you can’t expect to replace Communism with capitalism overnight simply by exchanging a boiler suit for a Brooks Brothers tuxedo. The Soviet Union may have some of the finest universities in the world if you want to study philosophy, even Sanskrit, but very few offer a serious business course.”
“Surely any major Russian bank would lend you the money if you can guarantee those sort of returns,” said Alex, looking intently at his fellow countryman.
“The truth is,” said Pushkin, “the banks are just as much out of their depth as everyone else. But they’re still not going to lend twenty-five million dollars to someone who earns the equivalent of five thousand dollars a year, and has less than a thousand dollars in his savings account.”
“How long have you got before I need to make a decision?” asked Alex.
“The deadline for the deal is October thirty-first. After that, it’s open to anyone who can put up the money.”
“But that’s only a month away,” said Alex as Miss Robbins entered the room prepared to escort Mr. Pushkin to the elevator.
“Which suits the KGB, who I know already have their eyes on it.”
“Cancel my lunch, Pamela, and then contact every senior member of the management and investment team and tell them to drop everything and report to my office immediately.”
“Certainly, chairman,” said Miss Robbins, as if there was nothing unusual about the request.
“I’ll also need half a dozen pizzas for delivery at one o’clock. And before you ask, that’s a decision my mother can make.”
Miss Robbins didn’t enter the chairman’s office again until the meeting had finally broken up some five hours later.
“You missed your afternoon gym session again, chairman.”
“I know. The meeting overran.”
“Will you still be taking your wife to dinner?” asked Miss Robbins, placing the anniversary gift on his desk.
“Damn,” said Alex. “Tell Jake that I won’t be able to join him and Mr. Pushkin for dinner after all. Explain to them that something even more important has come up.”
39