Page 67 of The Oligarch's Daughter

“Is this about StratforTech?” Paul had ignored Mr. Frost’s directive and done nothing about it yet.

“Yes. Listen to me,” Arkady said. “I know it seems like sleepy stock, but appearances can be deceiving. We have excellent source that tells us StratforTech will win very big contract from Homeland Security Committee. Next month. This news will make stock shoot up. You must to buy this soon, and no more games.”

“Arkady, you and I both know the risk here. This is called inside information, and . . . it’s illegal.” Paul had to stop himself from saying “in this country.” He continued: “If I were to buy this stock, and it went up when the contract was announced, you could pretty much be guaranteed the SEC would investigate. And I’d go to prison. And I don’t want to go to prison. And I’m sure you don’t want to, either.”

Galkin stared at Paul but did not speak.

Paul went on. “If you have a source on the Homeland Security Committee, he’s not allowed to divulge information about future contracts, period. If you make an investment decision based entirely on material nonpublic information, that’s illegal.”

Galkin smiled but said nothing.

Robin approached Galkin with a tray holding a large silver bowl heaped with berries. “Berries, sir?” she asked.

Galkin nodded.

“Would you like heavy cream on your berries, sir? Or clotted cream? Or crème fraîche?”

Galkin grinned joylessly. “I will skip the cream today, Robin.” He patted his gut. “Some might say I have Dunlap’s disease.”

The walls have ears. Paul’s stomach clenched.

“One more thing,” Galkin said. “I’m going to Moscow on Monday for some business, and you’re coming with me. Brush up on your Russian.”

It became clear that Paul was being dismissed. He got up and returned to his seat.

*

The plane landed in Chicago, and as soon as it had taxied to a stop, Galkin and his entourage rose from their seats. Galkin glided toward the exit without glancing Paul’s way.

As Paul started to stand, Robin came right over. She handed him a ticket. “Uh, you’re returning to New York, Mr. Brightman. On the next Delta flight.” He looked at the ticket. It was in coach.

43

Paul arrived home in a sour mood. He’d wasted an entire day because of his future father-in-law. An entire fucking day. He paused with his key in the lock, wanting to respect the boundaries between home life and work life on the one hand but, on the other, wishing very much he could just vent to his girlfriend about his asshole boss.

Tatyana lit up as he came through the door. She ran over and hugged him. “I have some news,” she said with a big smile. Then, sensing his mood, her smile fell away. “What’s wrong?”

He shook his head, scowling. “You don’t want to know.”

“I do, Pasha. Tell me.”

He took a breath. “Okay—truthfully? My day sucked.”

“Oh, no. Why? What happened?”

“Well . . . what happened is that your father flew me all the way out to Chicago and back just so he could talk to me in private for five minutes. I feel like he was making a point. Humiliating me, putting me in my place.”

“What happened, specifically?”

“He wanted me to buy a stock, but before executing it, I did some research and—”

“He told you to make a buy, and you disregarded his instruction?”

“‘Disregarded’? I was doing myjob, Tatyana. He could have saved me the entire day by just calling me. He could have taken me aside at dinner on Sunday night . . .”

“Well, if you’re doing yourjoband your boss tells you to get on a flight out of Teterboro, then you do it, right?”

Paul paused for a few seconds, looked at her. “He told you about this already, didn’t he?”

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