Page 52 of The Oligarch's Daughter

“I don’t know.”

“What’s he worth, Galkin?”

Paul told Bernie the figure he’d heard. It was a lot.

“And do you know where it’s from, all his money?”

Paul didn’t reply. He took a long sip, set down the pint glass, shrugged.

Bernie answered his own question: “Who the hell knows, right? You know, there’s rumors about Galkin. That he got his start by blowing up the competition with a car bomb.”

“Seriously?” Paul asked.

“That his adversaries have an unfortunate way of dying.”

“You don’t really believe those rumors, do you?”

“That’s the trouble. It’s like you’re walking through a cave where you just don’t know what’s around the corner. You don’t want to put yourself in that position, Paul.”

The steaks arrived sizzling on aluminum platters, medium rare, which was how both men liked them. They tucked into their food, and Bernie continued as if in the middle of a thought. “You know whattsurismeans?” he said.

“Come on, Bernie,” Paul said through a mouthful of rib-eye. He’d been around Bernie long enough. It was a Yiddish word that meant “trouble.”

“Well, working for immediate family, that’s the definition of tsuris. You’re going to work for your father-in-law?”

Paul shrugged, gave a crooked smile.

“Plus, look, we got a good thing going, you and me.”

“I know,” Paul admitted. “I feel bad about that.”

“These Russian guys, these oligarchs, whatever you want to call them—you don’t know whether they’re criminals. You don’t know whose side they’re on.”

“Whoseside? Bernie, this isn’t the Cold War. It’s not like the capitalists versus the communists. These guys are all on the side of capitalism. They’re on the side of making money, which is our side, right?”

“I don’t think it works that way,” Bernie said, and he deposited another big chunk of prime beef into his mouth. There was silence as he chewed, then swallowed. “I need you, man. Like, when you dug down deep into Cavalier Enterprises and saved me from a lot of legalmishegas. And shame. You were a goddamned hero.”

“Thank you. That means a lot.”

“Maybe we could work out a partnership stake. I mean, it’ll be tight in the short run, but five years from now, you’ll be raking it in.”

“I’ve decided,” Paul said.

“But, candidly, Paul, I think you’re making a mistake.”

“I appreciate that, but I don’t agree,” said Paul.

Bernie nodded. “I hate to see you go, but that’s not it. I’m telling you as your friend. This is a mistake. Don’t make it.”

PART FIVE

EVASION SKILLS

Present Day

33

He saw a faint flicker of light through the branches that served as the walls of his improvised wolf’s den. Probably from someone’s flashlight.

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