“I hope so,” Nikolai said, casting a glance back at Zavier.
Zavier Markov and Nikolai were alike in many ways—both tall, dark, imposing. But where Nikolai could be charming when he wanted to be, Zavier had a bitter, brutish side to him, that was of benefit when it came to some of the dirtier parts of their business, but was less well-suited to moments like this, when friendliness and persuasion were in order.
“Let me get you a drink,” Nikolai said.
Without asking the men what they wanted, he got whiskey for Popov and vodka for Mikhailov.
“Clever indeed,” Popov laughed, swirling his drink around in the glass. “You know all our secret vices.”
“I certainly do,” Nikolai said. “That’s why I have a little blonde waiting for you, Minister, when our business is concluded.”
Popov chortled all the more, raising his glass in a toast to Nikolai.
Nikolai wasted no time getting down to it—he wanted to come to terms before the men became too drunk and comfortable, and Popov was clearly already on his way.
“What do you think of our proposal?” Nikolai said.
“It’s good, very good,” Popov said, nodding his head. “However, as you know, we have many good proposals. This is the biggest cut of meat on the table at the moment. And your company is not as experienced as some others.”
“True,” Nikolai said. “That’s why we’ll be using your son-in-law’s consulting firm, Minister.”
Of course, Nikolai knew as well as Popov how stupendously useless his son-in-law was, but the kickback would keep Popov’s daughter in diamonds and furs.
“And you Mikhailov,” Nikolai said, with a nod to the short, bald man, “You’ve worked with our company before, when we secured those mining rights for your son.”
Mikhailov gave a slow nod.
It was a little gauche to give such a blunt reminder of previous favors, but Nikolai could not let this opportunity pass. He would call in every chip they owed him if he had to.
“Let us be blunt,” Mikhailov said, putting down his drink. “We want to give you the job.”
“Good,” Nikolai said.
“BUT, there are other people in the cabinet who do not agree. Zavier, you’ve made some enemies.”
“The only men in Russia without enemies are the saints in their tombs,” Zavier said.
“They don’t trust you,” Mikhailov said flatly. “They remember how you dealt with the Kutnetsovs. There is too much bad blood. You would have to work with the Smirnovs, the Morozovs. And also, there is some snobbery at play. We like to think we are above such things, but there are those who think the Markovs want to rise too high.”
“Now what makes you think—” Nikolai began, angrily, but his father cut across him.
“All very understandable, Mikhailov,” he said calmly.
Nikolai fell silent in surprise.
“But nothing needs to be decided tonight,” Zavier said. “I’m sure we can put your concerns to rest, given time. How long until you must assign the bid?”
“A few weeks at most,” Mikhailov said.
“Good, good,” Zavier said, with a small smile. “We’ll meet again in a few weeks, then. In the meantime, gentlemen, let’s enjoy the party.”
Zavier shook hands all around once more, with no indication of the fury that Nikolai knew must be boiling inside of him, as it was boiling in Nikolai’s own chest.
As soon as the two Ministers had departed to mingle with the other guests, Nikolai turned to his father and said, “Why did you let them go so easily?”
“There’s a time to be hard, and a time to be soft,” Zavier said, his eyes dark and cold under the overhead lights.
“But they owe us that contract!” Nikolai said, furiously. “Mikhailov especially! After the millions we made for him...”
