“Would he even recognize you if you ever turned up to one of his supervisions?” said Sasha.
Ben ignored the comment. “What about you, Fiona, will you join me for another round?”
“Much as I’d love to, Ben, I also need to get to bed. I don’t want to fall asleep during tomorrow’s Torts lecture.”
“I’d join you,” said Ben, “but I’ve just spotted a group of Liberals who I need to butter up if I’m to have any chance of being elected to the committee.”
“Remember to put in a good word for me,” said Fiona. “And don’t forget you’ll be disqualified from standing if you buy them a drink this close to the election.”
“Ben’s right, you know,” she said to Sasha as they headed out of the Union bar and down the cobbled path to King’s Parade.
“Right about what?”
“That you should stand for the committee,” said Fiona. “You might not be elected first time, but you’d be putting down a marker.”
“A marker for what?”
“Higher office.”
“I don’t think so. I’ll leave that to you.”
“You should at least consider it. Because once you’ve decided which party you support, you could even end up as Union president.”
“I thought that was the job you were after.”
“I am. But as there’s a new president every term, why shouldn’t we both achieve it?”
“I hadn’t considered standing for the committee,” said Sasha, “let alone president.”
“Then it’s time you did. Are you going to walk me back to my college?”
“Of course.”
“You’re so wonderfully old-fashioned,” Fiona teased, as she took his hand.
Once again Sasha was taken by surprise that it was a woman who’d made the first move. Queen’s pawn advances one square.
As they walked hand in hand toward Fiona’s college, he couldn’t help thinking about Charlie. He knew she didn’t care much for the Union, and Fiona in particular.
“Will you be able to find your way home, Sasha?” Fiona asked when they reached the entrance to Newnham. But before he could reply, she added, “Perhaps you’d like to come up to my room for a drink?”
“How would I get past the porter’s lodge?” said Sasha, looking for a way out.
Fiona laughed. “Come with me.” Once again she took his hand, and led him around to the back of the building. “You see the fire escape? The window on the third floor is my room. When you see the light go on, come up and join me.” Without another word she left him standing there.
Sasha tried to collect his thoughts. He was thinking about going straight back to Trinity when the light on the third floor went on. She pushed the window open and smiled down at her unwitting Romeo.
Sasha mounted the fire escape and climbed to the third floor. He scrambled inside, and saw Fiona standing by the bed, unbuttoning her blouse. She moved across to join him, slipped his jacket off his shoulders, and began to kiss his neck, his face, his lips. When he pulled away, he found she had already discarded her blouse.
“But I thought you and Ben were an item,” said Sasha.
“It suits my purpose for him to think so,” said Fiona, pulling him toward the bed. “But my only interest in Ben is his ability to pull in the Jewish vote.”
Sasha immediately stood up and pushed her away.
“What did I say?”
“If you don’t know, Fiona, I wouldn’t be able to explain it to you.” He picked his jacket up from the floor and headed for the window. He looked back, and had to admit that even though Fiona couldn’t hide her anger, she still looked beautiful. It was after he’d climbed down the fire escape and was walking back to Trinity that he decided he would stand for the Union committee.
15
ALEX
New York University
When Alex ran out of money, he wasn’t sure whom he could turn to to bail him out.
Most young men going to university as freshmen could take a few weeks to become accustomed to the routine before they settled in, but Alex didn’t have a few weeks. Bernie’s stall, as the locals still thought of it, was just about breaking even. Although Alex had found ways of cutting costs, the Wolfe at the door was still demanding his three hundred and twenty dollars a month—and, as he regularly reminded Alex, in advance, as agreed in the contract. But Alex didn’t have three hundred and twenty dollars, and if he couldn’t hand over the money by Monday morning, he would no longer have a stall. Whom could he possibly ask for another short-term loan?
He sat at the back of the theater scribbling on a notepad. Those undergraduates seated around him assumed he was writing down the lecturer’s thoughts, but he was too preoccupied with how to hold on to the stall. He had assured Elena at breakfast that morning that his grades were always good enough to put him in the top half of his class, but knew he couldn’t share his other worries with her.
“Could the Wall Street crash have been avoided, and should the financial experts have spotted the signs far earlier, or were they all just…”
Alex looked down at his notes and thought about his options: Mama, Dimitri, Ivan. He considered each of them in turn. His mother only knew half the story, and it was the better half. She’d never met Mr. Wolfe, and only ever saw Ivan from a distance when he joined Alex for lunch at Mario’s. A shadowy figure whom she didn’t like the look of, she’d told her son on more than one occasion.
Recently, Alex had begun to wonder if she might be right. Elena had assumed that Ivan worked in the market, although she’d never seen him there. She frequently made it clear that she hoped her son would not end up as a market trader, but would become a lawyer, or an accountant, with an air-conditioned office in Manhattan, who went home every evening to his wife and three children, and resided on the Upper East Side, rather than in Brooklyn.
Dream on, Alex would have told her. But he knew she would never accept that he was one of life’s street traders who, when he put on a suit, became an entrepreneur. He struck a line through her name.
Dimitri? He had proved to be a giver, not a taker. A man whose trust and generosity seemed to know no bounds. He had been responsible for Alex and his mother having a roof over their heads, and had supplied the original loan for his stall, which Alex still hadn’t repaid. To make matters worse, Dimitri was away at sea again and wasn’t expected back for another ten days.
Alex still thought Dimitri was hiding a secret. But perhaps his mother was right, and he was simply one of the good guys. Alex reluctantly put a line through his name, leaving only one person on the list.
Ivan. Their relationship had become increasingly fraught. His partner would often fly into a temper if Alex was even a few minutes late for a chess match, and recently Alex had begun to suspect that he wasn’t getting his fair share of the profits from their weekend games. Ivan never let him see what he’d entered in his notebook, and while the side bets were being placed his eyes were always covered with a blindfold.
During the past year, Alex had learned very little about Ivan. He didn’t know what his day job was, other than that he ran a small import and export business on the side. Despite this, Ivan was fast looking like the only prospect of keeping his agreement with Mr. Wolfe.
Alex slowly circled his name, and decided that as in chess, the best form of defense was attack. He would raise the subject of a loan during their lunch break on Saturday.
“I want you to write an essay over the weekend,” said the lecturer, “on whether President Roosevelt’s first hundred days in office were the turning point…”
That wasn’t how Alex planned on spending his weekend.
* * *
“Let me try and understand your problem,” said Ivan in Russian, as a large pizza was placed in front of him. “You are currently renting a stall—”
“I have a five-year license.”
“For three hundred and twenty dollars a month, and you’re only making a small profit.”
“No
t enough to cover next month’s rent.”
“But you think the problem would be solved if only you were given enough time?”
“Especially if I could get my hands on a second stall.”
“Even though you can’t afford the one you already have?”
“That’s true, but if you and I were to become partners, I’m confident—”
“Forget it,” said Ivan, cutting him short. “If you were to rent a second stall, the only thing that would double would be your losses.”
Alex bowed his head and looked down at his untouched pizza.
“However,” said Ivan, after he’d picked up a second slice, “if it’s simply a cash flow problem, I might be able to help.”
“I’ll do anything.”
“Last week I had to sack one of my couriers, and I’m looking for a reliable replacement.”
“But that would mean I’d have to drop out of NYU. If I did that, my mother would disown me.”
“Perhaps you could have the best of both worlds,” said Ivan, “because I’d only need you two or three times a week, and then just for a couple of hours.”
“But there’s no way I could earn enough to cover—”
“As long as you’re always on call, I’d pay you a hundred dollars a week, which would leave you with a few dollars over.”
“What would you expect me to do in return?”
“Nothing too demanding. Don’t forget, I’m an immigrant, just like you,” said Ivan. “I may not have got off the last ship that docked, but I haven’t been here that long. However, I’ve managed to build up a small import and export business that’s doing fairly well, and I’m always on the lookout for good lieutenants.”
“I won’t have anything to do with drugs,” said Alex firmly. That would be the surest way back to the Soviet Union.
“And neither would I,” said Ivan. “Although I confess the business is not quite what the Jewish would call kosher, so perhaps it’s best you don’t know too much.”
“Are the goods stolen?”
“Not exactly, but from time to time a few cartons of cigarettes might fall off the back of a truck on its way out of the docks, or the occasional crate of whiskey might not appear on the manifest after being unloaded from a ship.”
“But I wouldn’t be willing—”
“And you wouldn’t be expected to. That isn’t a side of the business you’d be involved in. All I’m looking for is a courier to deliver messages to my workers in the field. That shouldn’t be too demanding for someone of your intelligence.”
“But how could that possibly be worth a hundred dollars a week?” asked Alex.
“You’re bilingual, and most of my couriers only speak Russian,” said Ivan. He took a wad of hundred-dollar bills out of his back pocket, peeled off four, and handed them to Alex, which stopped him asking any more questions.
Elena watched from behind the counter as the cash changed hands. No one paid out that kind of money if it was legitimate. What made her even more suspicious was that Alex hadn’t touched his favorite pizza.
* * *
To begin with, Ivan was not too demanding. It was as if he was testing out his new recruit, asking him only to deliver innocuous messages to various contacts across the city. Alex rarely got much more than a grunt in return from his fellow countrymen, and when they did speak, it was always in Russian. But Ivan explained that they were all immigrants who, like him, had escaped the tyrannies of the KGB and didn’t trust anyone. Alex couldn’t pretend he liked the people he was dealing with, but he hated the KGB even more, and equally important, Ivan never failed to pay his wages on time. Most of the money was passed on to Mr. Wolfe the following morning, who seemed to be the only person making a profit.
Alex would leave NYU at around four in the afternoon, and be back at the market in time to relieve Bernie at five. He rarely shut up shop much before seven, when he would walk across to Mario’s and join his mother for supper. He would always carry a couple of books under his arm, leaving the impression that he was a hardworking student who’d just come from a lecture. Although he didn’t mind admitting to Elena that he was enjoying the economics course far more than he’d expected.
Over supper he would read a chapter of Galbraith or Smith, and when he returned home he’d write extensive notes before going to bed. A routine a Jesuit would have approved of, while disapproving of what Alex was trying to achieve.
* * *
By the time Alex returned to university for his sophomore year, he was renting three stalls. Fruit and vegetables, jewelry (three times the mark-up), and clothes, which he purchased from Addie, who put aside anything that didn’t look second-hand, which would then turn up in Alex’s stall the following morning at double the price. He spent every Saturday evening with Addie, occasionally staying overnight, which wasn’t always appreciated, as he had to be back at the market by 4 a.m., in order to make sure he didn’t get second-best. Five o’clock, and you ended up with the leftovers.
By the end of his sophomore year, Alex had paid back every penny of his debt to Dimitri, and had bought his mother a fur coat for the New York winters; a thrift store bargain of the month at sixty dollars. He was even thinking about getting himself a second-hand delivery van so he could speed up deliveries and save time, but not until he’d graduated.
Although Alex was working sixteen hours a day, he was enjoying a lifestyle no other undergraduate at NYU would have thought possible. But the real bonus was that his three stalls were now producing a large enough profit to make it possible for him to buy a fourth (cut glass, the latest rage).
Everything was going to plan, until he was arrested.
16
SASHA
University of Cambridge
“When do you think we’ll hear the result?” asked Sasha.
“The ballot closed at six o’clock,” said Ben, “so the returning officer and his team will be counting the votes now. My bet is that we’ll know in about half an hour, possibly sooner.”
“But how will we find out?” asked Sasha, not wanting to admit how nervous he felt.
“The outgoing president will announce the names of the new officers along with those who’ve been elected to the committee, and then we either celebrate or drown our sorrows.”
“Let’s hope we both make it onto the committee.”
“You’re a shoo-in,” said Ben. “I’m just hoping to scrape into fourth place.”
“If you do make it, how will you celebrate?”
“I’m going to have one last crack at getting Fiona into the sack. If she makes VP, I must be in with a chance.”
Sasha took a sip of his lager.
“And what have you got planned?” asked Ben.
“Either way I’m going to see Charlie, and try to make up for all the time I’ve been spending in this place.”
“She’s been pretty preoccupied herself since she joined Footlights,” said Ben. “Perhaps you should have become an actor, not a politician. Then you could have played Oberon opposite her Titania.”
“Lucky Oberon.”
A sudden silence fell over the room as the outgoing president of the Union made his entrance. He came to a halt in the center of the room, coughed, and waited until he had everyone’s attention. “The result of the ballot for officers of the Union in the Michaelmas term is as follows. President, with seven hundred and twelve votes, Mr. Chris Smith of Pembroke College.”
A loud cheer followed as Smith’s supporters raised their glasses. Carey didn’t speak again until silence had been restored.
“The treasurer will be Mr. R. C. Andrew of Caius, with six hundred and ninety-one votes,” which allowed the members of the Labour Club to join in the cheering.
“And the vice president, with four hundred and eleven votes,” continued Carey, to a hushed audience, “will be,” he paused, “Miss Fiona Hunter, of Newnham College.” Half the room leaped up, while the other half remained seated.
“She’ll be the next president,�
�� said Ben.
“Elected as members of the committee,” said Carey, turning to a separate sheet of paper, “Mr. Sasha Karpenko with eight hundred and eleven votes, Mr. Norman Davis with five hundred and forty-two votes, Mr. Jules Huxley with five hundred and sixteen votes, and Mr. Ben Cohen with four hundred and forty-one votes.”
“Congratulations,” said Ben, shaking Sasha warmly by the hand. “It can only be a matter of time before you become president. But for now, let’s go and fall at the feet of our new VP.”
Sasha reluctantly followed his friend across the room, where Fiona was surrounded by admirers. She gave Ben a warm hug, but when she saw Sasha, turned her back on him.
“We should celebrate,” said Ben. “Will you join us for supper?”
“No, thanks,” said Sasha. “I’m off to see Charlie. I’m hoping she’ll give me a second chance.”
“Good luck,” said Ben, “and congratulations on climbing to the top of the greasy pole.”
Sasha made his way slowly across the crowded room, having to stop several times to shake hands with well-wishers, although he was already thinking about Charlie, and hoping she would want to share in his triumph. He knew how he’d like to celebrate. The last time he’d seen her was for tea in her room just over a week ago. He’d been horrified to discover that Charlie’s room was on the second floor, directly below Fiona’s. She had been preoccupied—perhaps it was the thought of playing Titania, with the opening night only a few days away. Or maybe he’d gone on just a little too much about the Union.
Sasha broke into a jog as he passed Trinity, and ran all the way to Newnham, where he made his way around to the back of the building.
Although the curtains were drawn, Sasha could see a light shining in Charlie’s room. He grabbed the bottom rung of the fire escape and quickly climbed up to the second floor. He was about to tap on the window when he noticed a gap in the curtains. He peeped through to see Titania was in bed with Oberon.
* * *
The intermittent sound of a piercing siren accompanied by flashing blue lights caused the traffic on the Fulham Road to pull over and allow the ambulance to continue on its journey.
Heads You Win Page 15
