“A thousand dollars a week for the next three years,” said Wolfe matter-of-factly. “And of course, I’ll expect a month’s payment in advance. Should you fail at any time to pay the full amount, the license will automatically revert to me.” He smiled, confident that he knew exactly what Alex’s response would be.
“That?
??s grand larceny,” said Alex. “I don’t need to remind you of the clause in our contract that says any rise in rent must reflect current market conditions.”
“I’m glad you mentioned that particular clause,” said Wolfe, allowing himself a wry smile, “because another stallholder recently took me to court claiming I was overcharging and cited that clause as proof. I’m happy to say the judge came down in my favor. So precedent has been set, Mr. Karpenko.”
“How much did that cost you?”
Wolfe ignored the comment as he pushed a familiar document across the table and, pointing to a dotted line, said, “Sign there, and the stall will be yours for another three years.”
Once again he looked as if he knew what Alex’s response would be. But to his surprise Alex sat down and began to read slowly through the contract clause by clause. Wolfe leaned back, selected a cigar from the box in front of him, lit it, and had taken several puffs before Alex picked up the pen on his desk and signed the agreement.
The cigar fell out of Wolfe’s mouth and landed on the floor. He quickly picked it up and brushed some ash off his trousers before saying, “Don’t forget that will be four thousand dollars in advance.”
“How could I forget,” said Alex. He opened his attaché case and extracted forty hundred-dollar bills. Every cent he, his mother, and Dimitri possessed. He placed the cash on the blotting pad in front of Mr. Wolfe, then put the contract in his attaché case, stood up, and turned to leave. He was just about to open the door when Wolfe spluttered, “Don’t be in such a rush, Alex. Let’s talk this over like reasonable people.”
“There’s nothing to talk over, Mr. Wolfe,” said Alex. “I’m looking forward to operating my stall for the next three years, and whatever the rent is when this license expires, I’ll pay it.” He touched the door handle.
“I’m sure we can come to an arrangement, Alex. What if I were to offer you fifty thousand dollars to tear up the contract? That’s far more than you could hope to make even if you were running a dozen stalls.”
“But nowhere near as much as the million dollars a year rent you’d be raking in if I were to tear the contract up.” Alex opened the door.
“How did you find out?” said Wolfe, glaring at his back.
“It’s not important how I learned that the council will be granting you planning permission for a new shopping mall on June the seventeenth, only that I did. In the nick of time, I might add.”
“How much do you want?”
“I won’t settle for anything less than a million,” said Alex. “Otherwise the bulldozers won’t be making their way onto your site for at least another three years.”
“Half a million,” said Wolfe.
“Seven hundred and fifty thousand.”
“Six hundred.”
“Seven hundred.”
“Six fifty,” blurted Wolfe.
“Agreed.”
Wolfe managed a half smile, feeling he’d still got the better of the bargain.
“But only if you throw in the freehold for Mario’s Pizza Parlor on the corner of Players’ Square,” added Alex.
“But that’s daylight robbery,” Wolfe protested.
“I agree,” said Alex. He sat down, opened his attaché case, and took out two contracts. “If you sign here, and here,” he said, pointing to a dotted line, “the builders can start work on the super-mall next month. If not…”
24
ALEX
Brooklyn
“Do you think I’m capable of that?” said Elena.