Because the trading stretched throughout the international metal exchanges it meant that Malik and Lydia had to remain within the Kremlin complex until after midnight, Moscow time, in a telex room into which were relayed the fluctuations and reactions from around the world. By 2 am they were sure. Their bone-aching weariness came as much from the sudden release of tension as from the amount of time they had spent monitoring the global movements.
‘The mystique of the stuff is amazing,’ said Malik.
‘And now we appear rich in it,’ said Lydia. ‘Very rich indeed.’
‘I suppose this is really the beginning,’ said Malik grandiosely. ‘We’ve broken cover.’
Lydia grimaced at the analogy, but turned away because she did not want to offend Malik. ‘I wonder who’ll be the first to pick up the scent?’
It was Tom Pike, with his always-win determination. By six o’clock at night, New York time,the majority of the offices around him were already dark, closed for the night; from further along the corridor, the whine and burr of the cleaners’ machines intruded into the complete quiet of his room. That, too, was predominantly in darkness, only the desk pooled in light.
Traditional philosophy was that the Russian economy was chaotic, inadequately governed by men constantly forced to change direction by unworkable agricultural collectivization and three- or five- or seven- or ten-year plans strong on Party rhetoric but impractical on application. Certainly the indicators Pike had assembled were confusing. Like trying to understand a picture by lifting the top patterned matryoshkas to find under the first wooden doll another just like it and another like that immediately beneath. The gold miscalculation indicated incompetence, although he had to consider fully the Russian announcement that the apparently large amount was an accumulative under-estimate over an eight-year period. Averaged out, it meant miscounting by about sixty-nine tonnes a year. Still considerable, when the product was gold. Pike started doodling, drawing squares within squares, then stopped at a sudden thought. Could it have been intentional, to create the sort of heat that had been generated on the world exchanges and make a foreign currency killing out of their own speculation? Theoretically possible. Undetectable, too, because the buying and selling could have been concealed through nominees. But unlikely, he determined. They had announced from Moscow that it was being committed to reserves. They wouldn’t have said that if they were gambling: they’d have let the uncertainty continue. And there would have hardly been sufficient profit for the exchequer of a country to justify the exercise.
Simple, faulty accountancy still remained the likeliest explanation. Accountancy that had been improved, to make the discovery possible. Were there any other signs that there had been some economic improvement? Pike pulled towards him the latest figures filed with the Federal Reserve from the American commercial banks, checking every sheet. He filleted what he wanted, making his own calculations, smiling in satisfaction at the result. Every maturing loan and interest payment owed by the Soviet Union had been settled, on every due date. Pike got up from his desk, going to the stiff-backed dossiers which lined one wall, needing a comparison. It took him over an hour to compute it and again there was a smile of satisfaction at the pattern he saw emerging. From being bad repayers – even to the point of arrogance – there seemed to have been a complete reverse. Debt settlements had been consistently met over the previous six-month period. In some cases, even earlier. Moscow had paid its United Nations contributions in full for the preceding five years, which it had never done before.
What about the Argentinian trade announcement? The file was fairly thick, official government communiqués, opinions from financial commentators and finally the assessment from the Reserve’s own Latin American section. All were practically unanimous that the Argentinians had outmanoeuvred the Russians, gaining surprising advantages. Which precluded the possibility of there being more attractive benefits for the Soviet economic hierarchy. Pike once again sought a balance. It was obviously the wheat, the commodity for which the Soviet Union clamoured year after year, following the wearying succession of harvest failures. To get wheat, Moscow would be prepared to make concessions. And even if their side of the negotiations seemed questionable, it made sound business sense to diversify the American source, even though the smallness of that supply surprised him.
Pike paused at the reasoning, his thoughts taking a necessary tangent: wheat exportation to the Soviet Union was important, both politically in Washington and electorally in the over-productive wheat states of the Middle West. At the height of the Reagan administration’s attempts to reverse the military control in Poland, pressuring Europe with pipeline embargos and suspending Poland’s Favoured Nation trade agreement, the suspension of the wheat shipments were never considered. So did the Argentinian deal represent any danger to America? From the wall-covering dossiers Pike produced more statistics, comparing American and Argentinian productions, almost immediately reassured. The possible Argentinian capacity represented useful additional supplies. But that’s all they were, additional: replacement was as impossible as it was inconceivable. No problem then. In fact, decided Pike, for the West there could be positive advantages. If the debtor banks could impose sufficiently stringent controls, the foreign currency Argentina was going to earn under the Russian deal could go towards easing the country’s enormous deficiency.
The financial analyst sat back, blinking as he withdrew from the sudden concentration of light. Outside the skyscraper lights and neon of Manhattan produced their nightly firework display, glittering rockets in readiness. Eight, Pike saw, from the desk clock. So what had he got, from his late night dedication? Facsimile doll on top of facsimile doll, he thought agian. There was a pattern, but he had insufficient knowledge with which to recognize it; certainly insufficient with which to consider any analysis. A memorandum then; an advisory note, going no further than to indicate the possibility of improved financial responsibility from the Soviet Union. Was that too strong upon the evidence available? Not if he stressed that it was only a possibility.
Pike put the material into the drawer for the following day, stretching the cramp from his shoulders. Energetic evening or a quiet one? Loraine had become boring but the Japanese interpreter at the United Nations was a new novelty; she’d been keen enough to give him her number at the UN reception a week ago. He tried it but there was no reply and he decided she was probably between First Avenue and home. Later then. If not, then there was always Loraine. He made his way from the office, nodding goodnight to the cleaners and with the evening rush hour over he easily got a cab uptown.
Pike had a machine answering service. He ran it back and put it on play. The first call was from his father, suggesting a convenient meeting, either lunch or dinner and asking him to telephone. The other message was from Janet, timed an hour earlier. She was at the Plaza and lonely and would wait until nine for him to return the call. He wondered how many other answering machines had received the same message. Did it matter? They were divorced: quite separate. More importantly, did he want to see her? Not a new question. He’d purposely avoided calling her after the Washington meeting, unsure whether he wanted to resume the friendship. His mother had asked about Janet every time they spoke on the telephone, increasing his uncertainty. He could wait, long after nine, then leave a message at the hotel that he’d called back, to appear polite. But why? There was no reason why they shouldn’t meet. She answered at once, her voice lifting when she realized it was him.
‘You win,’ she said.
‘What game?’
‘The game of who calls first.’
‘Busy,’ he said.
‘Liar.’
‘I intended to.’
‘Liar again.’
‘I have now.’
‘Only because I gave in.’
‘What’s the prize?’ The conversations had always been brittle, glass words that could break at any moment.
‘Victor’s choice.’
Why not? Japan could
wait until another day: or rather another night. ‘Dinner?’
‘God, you’re spontaneous!’
‘How long will it take you to get ready?’
‘I capitulated, remember? I’m ready now.’
He took her to Elaine’s where he was known and got a table immediately, ahead of the patient bar-queuers who read society columns.
‘How long are you staying in town?’
‘Until Friday. I’m seeing lawyers.’
‘Oh,’ said Pike.
‘The understanding “Oh”, ’ she said.
‘I couldn’t think of anything else.’
‘Hank wants a divorce,’ she said. ‘Seems he’s been screwing a student for months and now she’s pregnant. They all do it, you know – lecturers screwing students, I mean.’
‘I’ve heard,’ said Pike.
‘Hank’s fucked it up of course: literally. But then he does. Usually they’re more careful. Hank was always careless, dropping crockery and stuff like that. Maybe that’s why I found him more attractive than you and the others. You don’t drop things, make mistakes, do you?’
‘Not if I can help it,’ he said.
‘You weren’t as pompous at that before.’
‘Sorry.’
‘Still collecting pubic scalps like a drunken Apache?’
‘Did I ever?’
‘The most worshipped totem pole in Manhattan, that was the word.’
Their meal arrived and Pike ordered a second bottle of wine because Janet had drunk most of the first.
‘I’m getting a lot of “I told you so’s” from my mother.’
‘Mine asks about you, whenever I phone,’ he said.
‘Why didn’t you phone?’
Pike shrugged. ‘I would have done.’
‘Crap!’ she said. ‘Did I make you nervous in Washington?’
‘No.’
‘I don’t believe you.’
‘So don’t.’
‘I don’t imagine us getting married again,’ she said. ‘That’s for books and Ali McGraw movies,’ she added.
‘It’s good to know,’ he said.
‘Everyone else thinks it’s possible: our parents, that is. I just don’t want you to think I’m part of the D-Day assault.’
‘I didn’t.’
‘Just so you know.’
‘What are you going to do?’ he asked.
‘There’s always the gallery,’ she reminded him. ‘It was fun before.’
He felt suddenly very sorry for her and realized it was not an emotion he’d ever felt for Janet, even when they were married. She wasn’t the sort of person to feel sorry for.
‘Know something?’ she said.
‘What?’
‘My pride’s hurt.’
Pike frowned. ‘Your pride!’
‘I don’t know that I ever loved Hank; that I know what love is. I suppose doing what I did, shocking everyone by having an affair with a schoolteacher and making all those headlines when the divorce happened was me telling my parents … your parents too, because they were just as involved … to go to hell. It couldn’t possibly have worked and I know that now and if it had been me who demanded the divorce and not him then I wouldn’t have felt this way …’ She stopped, breathless from the rush of words. Recovering, she said, ‘Want to know something else?’
‘What?’
‘I wish I hadn’t told you that because it makes it sound as if I couldn’t have given a damn about you. And that’s not true. I didn’t think about it at the time I’ll admit, but I did afterwards. I know you didn’t love me any more than I loved you, but I felt too much for you to have openly hurt you …’ There was another pause. Then she said, ‘Were you hurt?’
He shrugged, uncomfortable with the soul-baring and unwilling to join in. ‘I don’t know,’ he said badly. Not wanting to offend her he said hurriedly, ‘Yes, sure I was hurt.’
‘Thanks,’ she said. ‘For trying to be kind.’
‘I wasn’t.’
‘Shit.’
‘We don’t like losing,’ he reminded her. ‘We neither do.’
‘Sometimes it’s difficult to play games all the time. Thanks for being a friend and not being put off by my upfront bullshit.’
‘That’s in the Divorcee Book of Rules as well.’
‘You going to invite me back to your place?’
‘All I’ve got is booze,’ he warned.
‘I don’t think I need even that.’
‘What would you have done if I hadn’t called by nine?’
‘Waited until ten.’
Like everything else, the announcement of the trade agreement between Poland and the Soviet Union was carefully stage-managed. There were simultaneous declarations in Moscow and Warsaw and then, a week later, an official signing in the Russian capital by the Finance Minister of both countries. Afterwards there was a banquet, with toasts to renewed friendships.
Vladimir Malik’s speech was the most carefully stage-managed of all. The Soviet Union did not seek to dominate its partners but to work with them, one equally dependent upon the other, he declared. Mistakes of the past were recognized and would not be repeated. In a proper socialist order, workers governed. It was right, therefore, that workers should be properly represented by trades unions with sufficient negotiating influence to rectify problems. The inability to recognize that was one of the mistakes of the past to which he was referring.
After the speech Malik said to Lydia, ‘Well?’
‘Perfect,’ she said, pleased that he’d sought her approval.
Chapter 10
Tom Pike met his father at the Union Club, a quiet, mahogany-panelled oasis of soft-footed waiters and discreet conversation and more bewigged and frock-coated founding fathers. After lunch, at his father’s suggestion, they took their coffee into the library, submerged shoulder-level in high-armed leather chairs. Pike looked across at the older man – it was like seeing someone over the gun-whale of some clumsy boat. A canoe, maybe, like the ancients on the wall would have travelled in.
His father retained the brandy decanter between them. ‘We should do this more often,’ he said predictably.
‘I spoke to mother on the telephone yesterday,’ said Pike. ‘She told me you were soon off to Europe.’
‘Paris mostly,’ said the older man. ‘I’ll have to spend some time at the Fund’s offices in Geneva but I don’t expect she’ll come with me.’
‘How long will you be away?’
‘A month.’
The waiter returned with the humidor but Pike shook his head against a cigar. His father took one, carefully wetting the leaf and then clipping the end. ‘Thought any more about our conversation in Washington?’
Frequently, thought Pike. He said, ‘I didn’t think there was any hurry.’
‘There isn’t,’ said the man. ‘But I’ve just said I’m going to be away for a month.’
‘I’m very happy at the Fed.’
‘So Volger tells me. I gather you’ve got some interesting views about all this Russian activity.’
Pike looked sharply at his father. The old man smiled and said, ‘We had lunch yesterday.’ Conscious of the suspicion he added, ‘Long standing arrangement: fixed up months ago.’
‘I’m not at all sure it would be a good idea if I did join you,’ said Pike. It would have had to come, sooner or later.
‘Why not?’
‘Nepotism is the most obvious, I would have thought. What sort of respect do you imagine you’re going to get from the permanent officials and the other directors if you start out filling spots with your immediate family.’
‘I don’t give a damn about their respect!’ said his father. ‘I’m the one in control.’
‘Whether you give a damn or not is immaterial. The IMF is like a government, a permanent bureaucracy on the top of which are grafted leaders who periodically change. The permanent officials can either work with you or against you. Latent opposition isn’t going to help what you’ve got planned
for later, is it?’
‘It wouldn’t be anything I couldn’t handle.’
‘Why create the difficulty in the first place?’
‘Because I want you.’
‘There are dozens of analysts.’
‘I explained in Washington why I didn’t want anybody else. And Volger told me that your opinion was ahead of anybody else’s on this Soviet thing. He’s being inundated now, with matching opinions, but yours was the first.’
Pike hadn’t known that: he felt a momentary stir of satisfaction. He put his hand over the bowl, refusing his father’s offer of any more brandy and said, ‘Being first isn’t the major requirement. The major requirement is being right.’
‘Being first and right is the requirement,’ disputed his father.
‘We don’t know yet that I am: that any of us are.’
‘What about Poland?’
Pike shrugged uncertainly. ‘I just don’t know what to think about Poland.’
‘And the speech of Malik, the Finance Minister?’
‘Or that, most of all,’ said Pike. ‘Admission of errors like that is unprecedented. And certainly on such an occasion.’
‘The Wall Street Journal and The New York Times are speculating about a change in Politburo leadership.’
‘There’s always speculation about changes in Politburo leadership,’ said Pike. ‘But the place was wrong. There’s a predictability about a lot of what Russia does. Purges usually begin with unattributed criticism, in Pravda or Izvestia. Then a name appears. And finally the open criticism. But not at a trade signing where, whatever is conveyed to the contrary, Moscow does want to remain in the supremacy. The last thing they’d do is allow admissions of error.’
‘What if Malik is the one on the way out, already making his apologies?’
Kremlin Conspiracy Page 9