Their intimacy started on Marina’s initiative. At the time, Pavel Mikhailovich was licking his wounds after his divorce and regarded women in general with deep mistrust. The effect was that he was changing women constantly, avoiding any real connection. He did not urge Marina to go to bed with him.
“Mind you, you don’t owe me anything,” he said to her.
“I’m not doing it out of sense of obligation, Pavel Mikhailovich. A girl just needs sex,” she replied while untying his tie.
“I’m not marrying,” warned Samsonov.
“Don’t you be so sure,” she laughed while unbuttoning his shirt. “Hey, relax, I’m not asking you to marry me today. I’ll wait…”
Pavel Mikhailovich who was in mortal fear of any close relationship was uneasy about their affair.
“Still, what are you going to do?” he insisted.
“I’ll take up a job in your bank,” she declared once.
“What an idea! What kind of work are you going to do? You’ve got no skills.”
“I’m not going to work. I’ll be an adornment of your bank. You are all a bunch of ugly trolls there, aren’t you? You surely can use some beauty.”
“Ugly trolls? And how about me?” Pavel Mikhailovich cried out in feigned indignation.
“You are the biggest troll of them all!”
Pavel Mikhailovich laughed heartily but was in no hurry to take Marina on as an employee. Finally, he was brought around by Sinitsin who was privy to Marina’s story.
”Pavel Mikhailovich, why don’t you take Marina Anatolievna along to the talks? She doesn’t have to do anything, let her just sit there beside you. I assure you, it can be good for business.”
Pavel Mikhailovich had not had any such plans himself, but he had a flair for good ideas and decided to give it a try.
Gradbank was in for difficult merger negotiations. Samsonov had Marina dressed in a formal business suit and brought her to the conference room as his assistant. All the other negotiators were men, and at the sight of Marina, their jaws dropped. Paradoxically, the business suit, modest make-up and stern look that Marina was wearing only brought out her exuberant femininity.
Samsonov got Marina seated beside himself and charged her with holding on her dazzling knees some papers which supposedly could be needed for the talks (and which were never needed). As he started the negotiations, he felt at once that Sinitsin had been right. Samsonov was facing big-time sharks of business which were ready to fight tooth and nail for every piece, but in Marina’s presence, their reaction slowed down noticeably, and their aggression abated giving way to vain male flaunting and bragging. The negotiations went off well for Gradbank.
Samsonov gave Marina a job. Her daily duties consisted of managing the flow of visitors, invited to or seeking an audience with the director. But the real need for her arose at the business talks where she now also acted as a translator.
“She’s not dumb, mind you,” assured Klara Fedorovna. “She can speak two foreign languages. Not on technical matters, of course, but still…”
Each time after the talks, Marina received a large bonus and was now a well-off girl. If she wished, she could open her own model agency.
“And what about Pavel Mikhailovich? I mean, are they…?” Nina finally asked the question that had long tormented her.
“Sleeping together?” understood Klara Fedorovna. “No, definitely not. Pavel Mikhailovich has a rule about not mixing up work with bed. He doesn’t indulge in it himself, and he discourages the others. So, as he took Marina on, he warned her that their sexual involvement was over.”
“And how did she…?”
“She said, ‘Don’t be so sure’,” laughed Klara Fedorovna.
“How do you know all that?” asked Nina.
“She told me herself. She used to be mischievous and full of fun, you know. It’s only this past year that she’s been kind of sulky.”
“Do you think she is still hoping to marry Pavel Mikhailovich?” Nina asked trying to sound indifferent.
“Of course, she is,” answered Klara Fedorovna. “She would leave if she weren’t… And you know what, Nina? A think she would make a good wife for him.”
Nina gave no reply to that.
Chapter 4
As usual, Nina was the last to learn the news. She had been noticing for some time that the directorate floor was in a state of unusual commotion: the elevator kept bringing up people that she had never seen before; the door of the director’s office opened continually letting visitors in and out. But Nina, as she was wont to, took little interest in anything that did not relate directly to her work which she was still loaded with to capacity. Also, Klara Fedorovna stopped joining her for lunch in the cafeteria – the woman either came earlier or did with sandwiches at her workplace.
At last, the director’s assistant showed up.
Nina asked, “Tell me, Klara Fedorovna, what’s up? What’s with all these people coming and going?”
The woman stared at her: “Are you kidding? You really don’t know anything? There’s been such a lot going on here…”
As it turned out, Gradbank was experiencing a crisis – one not apparent to the outsider’s eye but the most severe in the organization’s entire history. An opposition to the general director had arisen within the board; the dissenters demanded that an urgent stockholders’ meeting be held at which they planned to put Samsonov out of office.
The main charge brought by the opposition against Samsonov concerned the involvement of Gradbank in the Zaryadje investment project. The director’s adversaries maintained that the bank had insufficient resources; that Samsonov got the bank mixed up in that adventure moved by his personal ambitions; that to participate in the project, the bank had to put its main assets at risk, and if the project failed, the bank was in for bankruptcy. The chances of success were illusory, they said. It was necessary to face the reality and do the right thing – give up the project and revert to the bank’s core business. Preferably – with a new director, one that was capable of conducting a more reasonable policy.
The opposition was an ill-assorted lot. Some were sincere in their doubts and worries about the bank; others had some score of their own to settle with Samsonov and hoped to make use of the situation to bring him down; also, there were the ambitious ones who nourished a dream to grab his seat for themselves.
A date for the stockholders’ meeting had been announced. That was to be preceded by a board meeting where the members were to hear the general director’s report and carry out an appraisal of his work as well as recommendations to the stockholders’ meeting.
“Wolves. Just a pack of wolves,” Klara Fedorovna commented hotly. “Scented blood, they have. But they’re messing with the wrong man. Pavel Mikhailovich will show them all!”
Klara Fedorovna’s feelings were understandable: the destinies of a lot of people in the bank were tied up with Samsonov’s career. Incidentally, so was Nina’s destiny. Nina imagined Pavel Mikhailovich tumbling down from his Olympus and becoming an ordinary man – possibly, a manager in some small firm with only one employee. Nina would be that employee. He would no longer be so unattainable – he would be just ‘Pasha’ to her – and then…
Carried away by her daydreams, Nina was slow to notice that Klara Fedorovna was very upset, actually on the verge of tears. “Well, of course, they’ve been together for twenty years…” thought Nina.
She tried to comfort the woman by changing the subject. “Tell me about Stas. How is he doing?”
Somehow, that did not go down well, either. Klara Fedorovna started, and her face got distorted.
“What? … Why? … Why do you ask? Everything’s all right with Stas, do you hear that?”
Without finishing her meal, Klara Fedorovna dumped her tray and left.
“What’s wrong with her?” Nina wondered, perplexed. “It seems all of them here have gone off their head.”
For a week already, Samsonov had not visited her – he had just passed the word through Klara Fedorovna that Nina was to carry on working as usual. Nina had wondered what could be the reason for that break, but now the reason was clear – the director had no time for her as he was preparing for battle. Before fighting the powerful Atlas on the contest, he had a fight to win in his own camp.
After the talk she had had with Ariadna Petrovna, Nina reported her audacious plan to Samsonov. As soon as she started speaking, she knew that her lady chief had not breathed a word about the matter to the director. Nina had made up her mind beforehand that she would present the plan in a matter-of-fact manner, as if it were some ordinary technical stuff.
At first, Samsonov was interrupting her with questions, but then he fell silent. The chair beneath him stopped squeaking. With his head propped up by his fist, he was listening to her in stony immobility.
When she was finished, he said, “I don’t get it. Let’s start again from the beginning – slower this time.”
On hearing her out for the second time, he said, “I’ll be damned!” – and started drumming his fingers on the table.
Then he asked, “Did Ariadna see that?”
“Yes,” replied Nina. “Ariadna Petrovna helped me specify certain points.”
For some time, Samsonov remained silent, with a pensive look on his face, and then he said, “All right, Nina. You go through all that once more, from the beginning, but this time I’ll be asking questions.”
And he was – picking on almost every word. “What’s this? And that? What’s this figure about? Where does this estimate come from? Why is this graph curving so?”
That went on for hours. Nina did not feel any fatigue, too excited by the intense discussion, Samsonov’s proximity, and her own audacity.
“All right, I guess I get it,” Pavel Mikhailovich said at last. “Hey, look, it’s dark outside already.”
Only now he allowed himself to stretch his spine. Still, the expression of stony concentration did not leave him.
“Here’s the deal, Nina. You copy this onto a memory stick for me.”
Nina did. There was such a lot of material that the copying took some time.
Samsonov grabbed the memory stick and hid it in the breast pocket of his jacket.
“Now erase all this stuff from your computer.”
Nina was bewildered.
“Did you hear me?” said Samsonov. “Erase everything and make sure there are no backup copies left. Do it right now, while I’m here.”
Nina obeyed.
“Don’t discuss it with anyone, not even with Ariadna Petrovna, understand?” Samsonov said in a stern tone, but then, noticing Nina’s confused look, he added, “Don’t take offence – it has to be this way. You have no idea what almighty mess is brewing about this business now. It doesn’t concern you, though.”
“Is that it?” thought Nina. She had expected Pavel Mikhailovich to recognize her work in some way. But the man fell silent and remained so for a while.
“Come on, my dear Tin Man, praise me – admit that I’ve been a brave girl!” Nina urged him in her mind.
Suddenly he covered her narrow hand with his huge, tough palm.
“You know, I’m not good at saying nice words, but… thank you, Nina. I’m going to consult someone else about it, but it seems your idea might work. If it does, then… Quite possibly, you’ve just saved me. I’ll not forget that.”
He squeezed her hand, looking at her point-blank with his grey eyes.
After a pause, he nodded, said, “All right then,” and left.
Nina’s cheeks were burning. For this man to hold her hand in his, she was ready to invent a dozen financial schemes.
For some time, Nina had to move to the director’s reception. The date of the board meeting was near, and it meant preparing piles of papers. Many employees were involved in that, and Nina was mobilized, too.
Nina shared the desk with Klara Fedorovna who needed help with financial documents which were multiplying as an avalanche. Watching closely Klara Fedorovna at work, Nina was amazed – that was really a great secretary. The woman’s fingers flitted about the keyboard at an incredible speed; she kept everything in her memory and never mixed up things. Having received a handful of disparate pieces of text speckled with hand-written editing marks, she would take only a couple of minutes to produce a final document, completely corrected and formatted.
Nina joined in with Klara and got infected with her breakneck pace, but even absorbed in work, she could not help noticing what was going on in the reception. An endless succession of visitors were passing through it. Some of them Samsonov came out to greet personally and showed out afterwards; others were let in and out by Marina. Nina saw for the first time how diverse Samsonov could be with people. Sometimes he was unceremonious and rude, sometimes businesslike and formal, sometimes markedly respectful, and sometimes easy and matey. Occasionally, laughter could be heard coming from his office, but more often heated arguments, or even fierce rows.
Samsonov was no natural diplomat or sly dog; he was a fighter, but the fight that he was waging required diplomatic skill and slyness, so he was maneuvering as best he could. As the French say, à la guerre comme à la guerre. The date of the board meeting was nearing, and Samsonov was busy from morning till night talking to the right people and cementing the ranks of his supporters.
One day Nina heard a familiar voice in the reception. She was sitting side by side with Klara Fedorovna, with her back to the waiting visitors and could not see the one who spoke, but there could be no mistake about it – the voice belonged to Konstantin from Gradstroiinvest. Nina froze up.
“What the hell’s going on?” Konstantin said, not loudly but with passion. “This is the limit, really. How can he not understand it? In another month we’ll complete the reorganization, and then this business will soar up in value…”
“Quiet, Kostya,” said another visitor. Undoubtedly, that was accountant Revich.
“I don’t give a damn!” Konstantin raised his voice. “I’m not going to keep mum, I’ll tell him everything.”
“You will, for sure. You just quiet down for now,” muttered Revich.
They were silent for a minute. Then Konstantin said, “Listen, it doesn’t look like we’re going to be let in for another half hour. Let’s go have a smoke.”
“You’ve given up smoking, remember?”
“With all this bedlam going on? Not a chance… Come on, let’s go.”
The men left the reception. When the door closed after them, Nina waited out a few minutes, and then ran away to her room under some pretext never to show her face in the reception until the end of the day.
She never saw Konstantin again. Much later she found his name on the list of the top executive staff of the project, “Zaryadje XXI”. For the young manager, that was a huge promotion.
A few days before the date of the board meeting, Samsonov disappeared. Nobody – not even the bank’s top management – knew where he was or what he was up to. For the time of his absence, he assigned Sinitsin to act for him, thus bypassing the first and second vice directors. Apparently, Sinitsin was the only one Samsonov kept in contact with. At any other time, such an assignment would cause a lot of gossip, but in the turmoil of those days it was taken for granted.
Sinitsin refused to occupy Samsonov’s office and exercised his directorship from his own, very modest one. He behaved in a studiedly plain way, not posing as a big boss, and to almost every question, he gave the same answer, “Pavel Mikhailovich will decide on that when he’s back.” It was only the arrangements for the board meeting that Sinitsin left to himself. He checked up thoroughly on the work made by Klara Fedorovna and Nina. Nina had an occasion to find out that, although not being a specialist in finance, Sinitsin knew his way around all the papers. He gave some very reasonable instructions; then, just before the meeting, when everything was ready, he suddenly sent off on a two-day vacation Klara Fedorovna, Marina, Nina, and all the rest of the twelfth floor staff except for the board members. Samsonov’s battle against the opposition was to take place without witnesses.
As soon as she got home, Nina dumped onto her bed. “Gosh, am I tired,” she murmured as she was sinking into the dark abyss of dreamless sleep.
When she woke up, it took her a while to figure out what time of day it was – morning or evening. She took a shower, had something to eat and went to sleep again. Thus she slept through all the main events and it was only afterwards that she learned how things had turned out in the bank.
Samsonov arrived at the board meeting dead on time. Without explaining anything to anyone, he opened the session.
The opposition were well-prepared and bursting to fight. Samsonov was markedly polite to everyone. If his opponents had feared that he was going to abuse his authority to shut them up, they had been wrong.
The board included twenty one members. By prior estimates, eight of them were solidly on the director’s side, seven flatly against him, while the rest were undecided. Samsonov gave the floor to everyone who wished to speak. One by one, his opponents rose and voiced their grievances against the director. The charges mainly focused on the project Zaryadje; the speakers maintained that it was an insane adventure which was bound to wreck the bank.
The opponents’ arguments clearly impressed the undecided members who exchanged glances and remarks in whisper, watching the director worriedly, or else looking aside in confusion.
Finally Samsonov took the floor. He thanked all the speakers for their genuine concern about the future of Gradbank as well as their principled stand and valuable criticism which he promised to take account of in his work.
Then he set off a bomb. The bomb was the stunning news that Gradbank’s general director, acting through the bank’s subsidiaries, had sold off at one go a huge package of the bank’s assets including over one hundred businesses in the public utilities sector. Taken separately, none of those businesses were large, but as Samsonov listed them, it became clear that Gradbank had let go – and somebody had got hold of – a solid lump of the local utilities industry which gave the owner real influence in the city.
Baffled, the board members attacked the director with questions. To the first question, “Why did you do that?” – the answer obvious: Samsonov had been accumulating resources for Gradbank to bid for Zaryadje. With the additional injection of funds, the prospects of financing the project no longer seemed hopeless. But it was almost in chorus that the board members asked the next question, “Who’s the buyer? Who did you sell all that to?”
Samsonov took a theatrical pause, and then said calmly, “Atlas.”
When the members grasped the meaning of what they had heard, there was a deafening uproar in the conference room. To make a deal with Gradbank’s main competitor, give up to them a great package of assets… That was unbelievable!
Samsonov waited for the noise to subside, and then started explaining calmly. As it turned out, he had conceived the operation a long time ago and made a secret of it for security reasons. The idea was to provide the bank, at the expense of its most dangerous competitor, with financial resources that could decide the matter in favor of Gradbank. Besides, Atlas was becoming the owner of assets that, although very valuable potentially, required considerable urgent investments to maintain the current liquidity and complete the necessary reorganization. That was going to tie the hands of Atlas even more.
“But the Atlas people are no fools. Why did they swallow that?” wondered the board members.
“Well, they didn’t – not off the bat; it took a while to bring them around. I had to do some seducing,” Samsonov replied. “Finally, greed took the better of them. They’ve long had an eye on this business of ours for which they have a greater need than we do since Atlas is after control over the city. As to the contest, they’re totally confident of winning it, so they decided to kill two birds with one stone. Then again, it would be a shame for them to miss such a chance. Mind you, I let them have the assets for half the price.”
“What?! …”
“Yes, for half of what they’re worth. Otherwise, Atlas would never rise to the bait – as you said, they’re no fools.”
Once more, there was a terrible uproar in the conference room. Agitated in the extreme, the board members spoke all at once, their heightened tones rising to shouting. The double oak doors were incapable of blocking the noise; it could be heard all around the floor. Apparently, it was for that eventuality that Sinitsin had cleared the place of all the staff.
In order to dampen the emotions a bit, Samsonov ordered a break.
After the break, the opposition launched a new attack. They believed that they had it in the bag since the director himself had admitted to squandering the bank’s assets. It appeared to have been a desperate move on his part – an attempt to break a hopeless situation he was in. Apparently, the director had lost his grip, and all it took to topple him over was one good final push.
Again, Samsonov quite politely gave the floor to everyone. Then, when the steam had been let off, he said, “Now, my dear colleagues, I ask you to kindly give me your attention. I’ll tell you how we are going to win the contest for Zaryadje XXI.”
And he did. Deliberately, point by point, he expounded the project financing scheme that had been suggested by Nina. He omitted some important details but presented the main points very clearly and colorfully.
The board members were stupefied – they had not heard of anything like that. The board consisted of financiers and lawyers. They showered Samsonov with technical questions. Samsonov answered them all calmly one by one, and as he was doing that, the board began to realize that the idea was not a groundless fantasy, but rather a real, although incredibly bold plan.
One more thing became clear. With the means gained from the sale of the utility business, Gradbank had enough resources to carry out such a plan while Atlas, drained of those means, was no longer up to anything like that.
The prospect of winning the contest loomed before the board, with all the ensuing huge opportunities which dwarfed the city utility assets to a mere trifle.
It was clear to everyone that Samsonov had won, and the opposition had been beaten. His antagonists tried to muddle the case by raising some other questions, but Samsonov was no longer polite. Not listening to anyone, he put his (and Nina’s) plan to the vote. The plan was approved by sixteen votes to five.
The defeated opponents suggested canceling the stockholders’ meeting scheduled for the next day, but now Samsonov himself insisted on holding it. He also demanded that a vote of confidence be taken in him as director.
“In this critical time, what the bank needs is cohesion,” he argued. None of the board members dared to dispute that.
The stockholders’ meeting was held in an elite out-of-town hotel located in a beautiful countryside. Contrary to the expectations, it did not last long.
Before the meeting, Samsonov was approached by the five remaining dissenters.
“You win, Pavel Mikhailovich. Let’s make peace. We’ve decided not to speak against you at the meeting.”
“Glad to hear that, my friends, but that’s not good enough,” Samsonov responded cheerfully. “I said that the bank needed cohesion. It seems, you didn’t quite get my point. I’m going to propose some changes to the board roster. I’m afraid, you won’t find your names on it.”
The former opponents were choked by anger, but they were men of business and knew when they had lost a game.
“Pavel Mikhailovich, there’s no point in wasting us. Name your price.”
“Really, why waste you?” Samsonov replied as cheerfully. “I just wanted the board to be solid for the contest. To act as a clenched fist, so to speak. This means that at the meeting, each of you in turn must take the floor and speak in support of the project Zaryadje and me as director. I hope you will be convincing.”
The opponents took the floor and were quite convincing. Pavel Mikhailovich Samsonov and his policy were given an almost unanimous vote of confidence.
He called when Nina was in the kitchen, about to fry some eggs. It was the first time she heard his voice on the phone, and she did not recognize him.
“Nina?”
“Who’s that? … Papa, is that you?”
“No, sorry… It’s Samsonov,” said the voice.
Nina dropped an egg which she had had in her hand. The egg broke and spread out on the floor as an ugly yellow pool.
“Pavel Mikhailovich! …”
Taken by surprise, she could not utter anything else.
“Nina, you remember that we’re partying tonight?”
“Partying? …”
“What’s wrong with you, Nina?” laughed Samsonov. “You don’t know anything? Shame on you. How can you be so indifferent to the life of your company?”
Finally, Nina came to herself and realized that Samsonov was referring to the results of the board meeting and stockholders’ meeting. She really did not know anything – she had slept through it all and was just about to call Gradbank to inquire about things.
“I’m sorry, Pavel Mikhailovich. Did it go well?”
“Very much so. Some bad guys tried to knock us over, but we beat them off and now we’re back in the saddle.”
Samsonov was not bragging, but he was not hiding his triumph either.
“I am very glad,” Nina said.
In fact, she was happy for her man, although it meant an end to her dream of becoming the only employee of the befallen Pavel Mikhailovich.
“We owe a lot of our victory to you,” Samsonov added seriously. “You are our hero. I’ll reward you for that, trust me.”
“It’s nothing, Pavel Mikhailovich, you don’t have to…” Nina murmured, showing due modesty. In fact, she was in seventh heaven.
“Well, then, it’s eight o’clock at…” Samsonov named one of the city’s most expensive restaurants which was hired up completely by Gradbank for the night.
“I was planning to play tennis tonight,” Nina recalled irrelevantly.
Samsonov’s voice thundered in the receiver: “What’s your problem, Nina? You’re what – messing with me? To hell with your tennis! Now listen – you get prepared, and Kolya will come by to pick you up.”
“Oh, there is no need…”
“He’ll be with you at half past seven.”
Samsonov hung up.
Nina did not feel the floor beneath her feet. It seemed she only had to push off with her toes lightly to float up in the air like a real fairy. Her man had called her. Her! Himself! He had invited her! He was grateful! He was thinking of her!
Suddenly, the flight of the fairy named Nina stopped short, and she sank onto the floor beside the pool that had once been an egg. “What am I going to wear?” That eternal question, the curse of all women, had bothered Nina very rarely, but now it posed itself to her in the most threatening way.
Nina rushed to her wardrobe and drawers. Their contents flew onto the sofa and bed. An inspection of her clothes gave disheartening results, testifying eloquently that Nina had no life of her own. All those mouse-grey blouses and skirts were only suitable for sitting behind the computer or jostling in the underground.
True, there was a special case in the back of her wardrobe where chic, unworn things were kept that Nina had bought once following Aliska’s instructions. Nina retrieved them and laid them out. The things were beautiful – Nina felt intimidated by them. However, inexperienced in fashions as she was, Nina realized that some items were lacking if she meant to go out. For one, a purse. And the right costume jewelry. And good perfume. “And my hair? Oh, goodness!” Nina could not recall when she had last done her hair.
After some rummaging in her note-books, Nina found Aliska’s number.
Aliska took some time to recognize her. “Shuvalova? Who is Shuvalova? … Ah, hello.”
Nina asked her former university mate for some more instructions. Aliska started enlightening her, but then she cut herself short.
“Listen, I’m going downtown now – I need to do some shopping myself. Join in, if you like.”
They met in the shopping center of the city. Aliska was still the same – strikingly showy, cynical, and chain-smoking. Together, they made the round of a dozen fashionable boutiques. Aliska solved easily all of Nina’s problems, throwing in some precious advice in passing about the right time to put on this or that ‘rag’, and the time to take it off, the right way to wear a thing, and the right pose to assume to best display it.
“All right, spit it out – what beast are you hunting?” Aliska asked as they landed, with their bags, in a coffee-shop to have a cup of coffee.
“What are you talking about?” Nina wondered sincerely.
“Who is it you’re going after? Let me guess… Your boss?”
Nina flushed.
“No, I never…”
“Don’t be coy,” Aliska said, ignoring her protests. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of, you know. True, I didn’t expect that of you – you’ve always been a nerd.”
“I’m not such a total nerd,” Nina murmured.
“Uh-huh. Not any longer, to be sure,” Aliska laughed, patting the bags of purchases.
“How are you doing?” Nina asked to change the subject.
“Kicked out of the job again… Because of the boss, too. He’s the right kind, and we had some very good time together, but his frump of a wife got the wind, and – goodbye, dear Alisa…”
“Speaking of jobs, could you fix me with a job in a bank or something?” she asked suddenly. “Clearly, I’m not like you – work is not my hobby – but one has to draw salary somewhere.”
Nina pondered a moment. She was grateful to Aliska for her help.
“Yes, I think I could put in a word for you.”
She would never think of recommending the lazy, immoral Aliska to Gradbank, but she did not care much about the shady financial institution in which she had once committed a malfeasance.
“There is this growing bank. I worked there for some time and I know a vice-director. His name is Kirill.”
She pictured Aliska thrusting her claws into the soft body of her former chief and laughed.
“What’s this about?” asked Aliska.
“Nothing, sorry. Only, mind you, that guy Kirill adores his wife.”
“We’ll sort it out,” Aliska said resolutely.
At half past seven sharp Kolya called.
“Nina Yevgenievna, I’m here, down by the entrance.”