Gold Digger (2 page)

After the introduction, Nikolai’s throat loosened up, his voice became steadier, and he began to enjoy it.

I know nothing about mining, but you make it sound interesting
, Vadim had said one evening, when they’d sat together and he’d asked what exactly his son was doing these days. And that from a man who’d spent thirty years of his life on one battlefield or another.

Tamás always clicked on the next page of the PowerPoint presentation when Nikolai finished explaining the current slide, and that silent reliability was more than welcome right now. They were a great team. All of Cybele’s inner circle were. Ruslan liked to call them his “Attis boys.” One of those jokes you made when you were too saturated with mythological references.

Nikolai finished the presentation and pulled at the knot of his tie before he could stop himself. He balled his hands into fists at his sides and asked, “Any questions?” like Presentations Etiquette 101 demanded.

The board members all glanced at the elder LeBeau, who had pushed back from the table, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. By contrast, Henri was leaning forward with his forearms on the table, hands folded in front of him.

“Thank you, Mr. Krasnorada,” LeBeau finally said. “You’ve made your case.”

No questions? That couldn’t be good. Nikolai exchanged glances with Tamás.

“Who are you seeing next?” LeBeau asked.

Nikolai glanced back quickly at LeBeau, frowned. “I’m not.”

“You’ve come all the way to Toronto to just make one case?”

Nikolai shrugged. “Yes. Our adviser said that LBM would be the best partner for this enterprise, so we approached you.” They probably should not have put it all on one card. But the possibility that they might get turned down had never really occurred to him. He inhaled deeply, caught Henri’s expression—a crooked smile like a conspirator’s.

“Hmm, that is interesting. You’re either somewhat innocent, Mr. Krasnorada, or a great deal more genuine than will serve you in the cutthroat corporate world,” LeBeau said.

“To be perfectly honest with you, sir, I didn’t expect to walk into a den of cutthroats and thieves, or I would have brought my sword.”

LeBeau stared at him blankly for a moment, and tension descended on the room. Then Henri chuckled. “A gold digger with a sword, now there’s an image.”

LeBeau smirked, then got up and came around the conference table, hand outstretched. Nikolai shook it, still not sure where he stood with this man. Again, LeBeau grabbed his elbow as he shook his hand. “How long are you going to be in Toronto, Nikolai?”

Oh, it was
Nikolai
now?

“I’m flying back early on Tuesday.”

“That gives you at least three and a half days to do some sightseeing. Are you already booked for Monday evening?”

“No, sir, I’m free.”

“Good. We should get together and have another chat. By then, I’ll have some questions for you. I like to think these things through.” He tapped his temple. “The old cogs don’t spin as fast anymore.”

“I respectfully disbelieve you, sir.”

LeBeau grinned and looked at Henri, who’d just stepped to his side. “Maybe my nephew can show you the city. Since he’ll take over for me one day.”

Henri chuckled. “I think I can pick my own playmates, Uncle. I’m old enough now.”

Playmate? Nikolai smiled and shrugged. “I have no plans, and I don’t think Tamás has any.”

Tamás shook his head and busied himself with packing the laptop.

“Are you guys up for dinner, then? We happen to have a number of fantastic restaurants in the city,” Henri offered.

“Sure. Sounds good.” That had to be a positive sign; Henri LeBeau would hardly waste his precious time if he (and his uncle) weren’t interested. In business, it was all about relationships. And even if this deal didn’t come through, Henri might be willing to give them some pointers on who else was on the market to back Cybele’s mining program.

“Great. Where should I pick you up?”

“We’re at the Drake Hotel.” It wasn’t the Fairmount Royal York, but it had looked so much friendlier on the Internet, and Tamás had been enthusiastic about possibly meeting an American celebrity in the bar, as it was apparently
the
place to be in certain circles.

“At seven?”

“Fine, yes.” Nikolai pulled one of his cards from his pocket and handed it over. “My number.”

Henri looked down at it, then smiled brightly. “Great. I’ll show you out, eh?” He led the way and guided them both to the elevator. Once the doors slid shut, he looked back at Nikolai. “Don’t worry too much about this. It’s very much business as usual.”

“I haven’t done this before.”

Henri grinned. “Ah, a corporate virgin.”

Nikolai glanced at him, lost for a riposte, and was glad when the elevator binged open. Henri led them out into the foyer and waved the security guy to unlock the turnstile. “See you later.”

“Looking forward to it,” Nikolai said and crossed the expanse of the foyer. Once outside, he breathed a sigh of relief that he’d held inside to not look like a complete idiot. “Wow, that was weird.”

Tamás shrugged. “I think we did a good job, though.”

“Best we could, given the circumstances, but we should have left it to the bankers. It’s not like we can’t afford a corporate finance shark to smile and polish door handles.” Nikolai moved toward a row of taxis. “Let’s get back to the hotel. Shit, we should have booked the Royal York or Westin Harbor Castle or whatever.”

Tamás patted his shoulder. “You going to call Ruslan?”

“The moment I get this suit off.”

Nikolai got into the taxi and gave the address to the driver, then leaned back and pulled at the knot in his tie. “Shower, a bite, and then I’ll call him.”

“I’m just wondering how I can bow out of the dinner tonight.”

“Why? At the very least, it’s going to be a free nice meal.”

“Just haven’t been sleeping very well. Didn’t get any sleep on the plane, either.”

“I slept like a baby.”

“I know. You snored.” Tamás smiled at him. “I’ll probably just call it an early night and order something to the room.”

“I can make excuses for you. It’s probably just schmoozing—checking us out, I don’t know. If it were business, I’d think the old man would be there.”

“I’ll owe you.”

“That’s fine, Tamás. You worked hard for all this.”

Tamás looked relieved and Nikolai had to admit that he looked stressed and exhausted now that the corporate façade was falling away. The guy urgently needed a shower and his bed, rather than to be dragged around town by some manager type who had a lot more energy after a long day than either of them.

Nikolai fastened a towel around his hips and settled on the bed before he dialed Ruslan’s number, but Ruslan didn’t pick up. So he pulled out his laptop, connected it to the Internet, and typed a quick email, telling him the meeting had gone well and that he’d be out talking to one of the LeBeaus some more.

There was an email from his father, telling him he’d arrived back in New Zealand from a trip to the States and he was welcome to visit any time. Nikolai typed a quick response saying he’d love to once he got a few days off.

Of course, Vadim wasn’t getting any younger, but New Zealand was a long way away and not really on the way to anywhere Nikolai would need to go. Okay, he’d fly over. It had taken so long to build a relationship with his father that he did his best to keep it. It hurt to think they might not have that many years left, or that his father’s health could deteriorate.

Thinking of Vadim as a frail man didn’t work at all. He’d always looked enormous, indestructible, but maybe all fathers did when you were a kid. During his soldiering days, he’d been absent more than at home, and then he’d left permanently and divorced Nikolai’s mother before Nikolai had hit puberty. He’d reconnected with Nikolai only two years before marrying a Scotsman in 2006. They’d managed to stay in touch, but Nikolai always expected Vadim would simply walk away and reappear a totally changed man yet again. He was lucky that Szandor, a gay friend of his mother’s, had been there during the roughest years of growing up.

Of course I’ll come. Currently in Toronto, any chance we can meet up in a week or so? I’ll get tickets booked ASAP.

He was dry after he’d gone through his email, and he pulled his suitcase out from under his bed to dig for fresh clothes. Suit for dinner? Had Henri said restaurant or bar? What was the custom here? If it was business, suit, but this wasn’t purely business. Then again, why else would Henri want to chat? The dinner invite was about letting his hair down. Damn, an invitation to a bar or pub would have been easier to parse.
Don’t be a tool, Nikolai. Go with your gut.

His gut was firmly in the “could eat a horse—in bed” camp, though, so no big help.

Jeans then. As much as Vadim liked to dress up, his father wore a mean pair of jeans himself, and these had gotten Vadim’s approval. Dark blue stonewashed, designer, but scuffed and softened from getting down and dirty all over the world. His favorite pair. He then selected one of the tailored shirts and snatched the suit jacket off the hook. It was the casual-but-expensive look that covered both bases. He wouldn’t look too out of place either in a bar or a restaurant, and he figured Henri would have warned him if it was supposed to be more official than that.

He combed through his damp hair and let it dry like it wanted. It was too short to look like a total mess. He then settled in front of his laptop and answered the less urgent emails, a couple sent by Tamás, who was on the same floor but probably already conked out on the bed.

And a reply from Vadim:
I’ll be here. Want to meet in Wellington or at home?

Whenever they met, Vadim usually showed him a part of New Zealand—probably, Nikolai suspected, a part he’d just explored himself. He remembered the long nights in Rotorua, finally talking about all the things that had remained unspoken for way too many years. Vadim never found that easy, talking, but he appreciated it when they could speak somewhere with few distractions.

Wellington,
Nikolai emailed back.
I’ll book a hotel there. I’ll be done here on Tuesday.

He’d barely typed “hotel” and “Wellington” into Google when Vadim forwarded him a booking confirmation for the Museum Art Hotel in Wellington. Seven nights. Suite.

Nikolai pulled his phone from his pocket and hit the speed dial.

“Krasnorada.”

“Yes, same here,” Nikolai muttered, slightly exasperated at being outrun by his old man. “How are you doing?”

“I’m doing well. I was just at the computer.”

“I figured.”

Vadim huffed softly.

“I mean, it’s appreciated, but I’m earning my own money these days.”

“You’re covering the flights.”

“That’s . . . beside the point, but yeah, you’re right.” His father was financially comfortable. A few hundred Kiwi dollars more or less wouldn’t kill him or lose him the house. Damn, it was that same eggshell dance again. Somehow, dealing with his father always made him cautious, and it wasn’t just because they were missing so many years of shared history and frankly still had no idea how to treat each other naturally or easily. “I mean, thank you. I assume that’s a good one?”

“Jean and Solange loved it when they came over.”

“Jean’s going to love anything near the gay district,” Nikolai said half to himself.

“Well, then trust Solange’s taste.”

“Mixed results there, with that husband.”

Vadim chuckled. “You don’t like him?”

“Did I ever tell you he tried to come on to me?”

“When was that?”

“When you and your husband got married. He got drunk and I thought he was getting awfully close.”

“Jean’s always been challenged in terms of personal space.”

“Or, you know, truthfulness and honesty.” Cheating on his beautiful wife with a number of gay buddies.

“He’s not going to be here when you come over. They’re in France.”

“Anybody else going to be there?”

“No.” That meant his partner was traveling and meeting friends. But digging for specifics was useless. Vadim shared as much as he was comfortable with and nothing more.

“Any other responsibilities?”

“I’ll let people know I won’t be teaching that week. It’s fine. I’ll leave them in the hands of one of the advanced students.”

“Okay. I just don’t want to disrupt your life too much.” That was one of the harder lessons he’d learned in life so far. That other people had normal jobs and owned houses (or were still paying them off), and that he couldn’t just blunder into their routine and hope they’d always welcome him.

Thoughtful silence. His father might be building up to say something very profound out of nowhere, like he sometimes did.

“I mean, I’m looking forward to it,” he continued, aware it sounded lame.

“That’s all that counts,” Vadim said. Something creaked in the background. Maybe he was getting up or pacing in the living room. “Send me your flight details. I’ll pick you up.”

“Palmerston North?”

“That would be ideal. We’ll drive down to Wellington together.”

“Okay.” Nikolai smiled. “Thanks, Dad.”