“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.”