The Garden of Betrayal - Lee Vance [50]
“Narimanov,” I relayed to Walter, covering the mouthpiece with one hand. “He wants to speak to me right away.”
Walter raised his eyebrows, and I shrugged.
“Take it,” he said.
“Put him through, please,” I told Amy.
The phone clicked.
“Nikolay?”
“Mark. Your secretary tells me that I’ve reached you at a difficult time.”
“I’m afraid so.”
“Let me get straight to the point. I’ve been reflecting on our conversation yesterday, and I’ve decided that I don’t want any of my confidential information put into the public domain, with or without attribution.”
“Then there isn’t much for us to talk about,” I said, feeling simultaneously crestfallen and pissed off. Narimanov was theoretically only backing me up on Saudi, but I was counting on him as my primary source for Russia. “All of my prime clients see everything I’m working on at the same time. I can’t do a special analysis for you and not share it with my other subscribers.”
“I assumed as much, which is why I’d like to change the terms of my proposal. I’ll buy you out. I’ll capitalize your current income stream at a favorable discount rate and pay it down in cash over five years. In exchange, you agree to work for me exclusively for the same period.”
I swallowed hard, running the numbers in my head. It worked out to three or four million bucks a year. Walter was staring at me quizzically.
“That’s unexpected,” I said, keeping my voice neutral. “I’ll have to give it some thought and get back to you.”
“Do. And think about this—working for me will give you access to information you won’t be able to obtain elsewhere.”
“I understand.”
“Perhaps not as fully as you imagine. Here’s a small sample: Russian and French paratroopers have just completed a clandestine assault on a Ukrainian ultranationalist paramilitary base north of Zhytomyr, about a hundred kilometers west of Kiev. Early reports are that they’ve seized evidence of Ukrainian involvement in the Nord Stream assault and captured two prisoners directly linked to the attack.”
My jaw dropped.
“You’re certain?”
“What?” Walter interjected. I waved him silent, intent on Narimanov’s answer.
“Yes. There’ll be a press release within the hour. Act quickly. And get back to me on my offer as soon as possible, please. I don’t like to be kept waiting.”
He hung up. I was too shocked to move for a second, and then I leaned over Walter’s desk and punched a free line on his phone, dialing Amy.
“What’s going on?” Walter demanded.
“News,” I said. “Just listen.”
Amy answered on the second ring. I cut her off mid-greeting.
“Open an e-mail to my full client list immediately.”
Walter got up and moved to the door, poised with one foot in his office and one foot on the trading floor.
“Done.”
“Subject line URGENT, all caps. Message body: Reliable report received of successful Russian/French military strike in Ukraine. Evidence seized implicates Ukrainian ultranationalists in Nord Stream attack. Press conference expected soon. Look for capital markets to rally strongly and energy markets to decline. Detailed analysis follows. You got that?”
“Got it.”
“Hit send. I’ll be at my desk in two minutes.”
I hung up the phone and turned around. Walter was already out on the floor, barking orders to his trading staff. He looked calm and collected, like a battle-hardened officer directing troops in an attack. I guessed we were done talking about Alex. I closed the door behind me as I left his office. It was going to be another long day.
15
Amy popped in on me just before lunch. She had a plate in one hand and a steaming mug in the other.
“You got a minute?”
It had been a crazy couple of hours. The Russians and the French had staged a mind-blowing press conference about half an hour after I got the heads-up from Narimanov, replete with slick exhibits detailing the forensic evidence that had prompted them to act and capped by stark video footage of their combined forces carrying out a successful Apocalypse Now–style daylight assault on the Ukrainian paramilitary