Page 92 of The Oligarch's Daughter

“Yes, I was doing—”

“You will excuse me. I have to go to gulag.” Galkin got up from the couch, almost stumbling at first.

“The gulag?”

His father-in-law smiled as he walked toward the door. “What we say when we use toilet.” He chuckled.

Galkin made a motion for Paul to get up as well. “You know, Paul, I am tired and not at most sharp,” he said, waving him out. “Goodnight.”

Shit. “To be continued in the morning?” Paul said, trying not to sound desperate.

“Everything will wait.”

“When can we talk in the morning?”

“I have breakfast with Berzin at nine.”

“Before that, then?” And hope Berzin didn’t come early.

“You come at eight.”

Paul had meetings starting at nine. “Eight is perfect,” he said. It was worth a try.

*

He got up at seven the next day, had a leisurely coffee in their suite, and got dressed.

Galkin answered the door to his suite. He was wearing an expensively tailored–looking suit and a tasteful maroon tie. He looked a little grumpy, maybe hungover.

They went to the same sitting room. Coffee was set out on the glass coffee table, next to Galkin’s briefcase, in the same place where Paul had seen it the night before.

“So Polina doesn’t come back to Moscow very often.” Paul poured them both cups of coffee.

“Bad blood, I think,” Galkin said and didn’t explain further. He changed the subject. “Your meetings go well, yes?”

“Yes. And yours?”

Galkin ignored that question as if it were impertinent. “Marriage is good?” he asked abruptly. “You don’t look at other women, I hope. Or maybe you do—but look, but don’t touch.”

“Marriage is good.” There was a pause during which both men took sips of their coffee. “So I’ve been doing a little research into Hyperion,” Paul said.

“Giperion?”

“I had a bad feeling about something, so I did a little digging.” He told Galkin how the company had just been shut down by a Siberian court for polluting Lake Baikal. Paul hadn’t seen anything online about this, so he was taking the chance that “Dick Foley” had been telling the truth.

Arkady narrowed his eyes, nodded shrewdly. If he’d had eyestalks, they’d have been waving.

“We don’t want to own the biggest polluter in Russia,” Paul explained.

“No,” Galkin said quickly. “Is bear trap.”

Paul outlined for him what Galkin himself had surely already figured out: that by buying a share in that company, they’d be taking on enormous debt. Then Galkin said, standing up, “Is time to take leak.”

Paul watched him lumber out of the room. He heard the bathroom door close.Finally, Paul thought.Now I’d better hope the pee takes him a while.

His heart galumphing, he leaned to his left and picked up the briefcase. It gave off a nice musky, animal smell.

It wasn’t locked.

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