Heads You Win

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TO BORIS NEMTSOV

I wish I had his courage

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

My thanks for their invaluable advice and research to:

Simon Bainbridge, Sir Rodric Braithwaite, William Browder, Maria Teresa Burgoni, Jonathan Caplan QC, Captain Rod Fullerton, Moonpal Grewal, Vicki Mellor, Sir Christopher and Lady Meyer, Andrey Palchevski, Melissa Pimentel, Alison Prince, Catherine Richards, and Susan Watt.

BOOK ONE

1

ALEXANDER

Leningrad, 1968

“What are you going to do when you leave school?” asked Alexander.

“I’m hoping to join the KGB,” Vladimir replied, “but they won’t even consider me if I don’t get a place at the state university. How about you?”

“I intend to be the first democratically elected president of Russia,” said Alexander, laughing.

“And if you make it,” said Vladimir, who didn’t laugh, “you can appoint me as head of the KGB.”

“I don’t approve of nepotism,” said Alexander, as they strolled across the schoolyard and out onto the street.

“Nepotism?” said Vladimir, as they began to walk home.

“It derives from the Italian word for ‘nephew,’ and dates back to the popes of the seventeenth century, who often handed out patronage to their relations and close friends.”

“What’s wrong with that?” said Vladimir. “You just exchange the popes for the KGB.”

“Are you going to the match on Saturday?” asked Alexander, wanting to change the subject.

“No. Once Zenit F.C. reached the semifinals, there was never any chance of someone like me getting a ticket. But surely as your father’s the docks’ supervisor, you’ll automatically be allocated a couple of seats in the reserved stand for party members?”

“Not while he still refuses to join the Communist Party,” said Alexander. “And when I last asked him, he didn’t sound at all optimistic about getting a ticket, so Uncle Kolya is now my only hope.”

As they continued walking, Alexander realized they were both avoiding the one subject that was never far from their minds.

“When do you think we’ll find out?”

“I’ve no idea,” said Alexander. “I suspect our teachers enjoy watching us suffering, well aware it will be the last time they have any power over us.”

“You have nothing to worry about,” said Vladimir. “The only discussion in your case is whether you’ll win the Lenin Scholarship to the foreign language school in Moscow, or be offered a place at the state university to study mathematics. Whereas I can’t even be sure of getting into university, and if I don’t, my chances of joining the KGB are kaput.” He sighed. “I’ll probably end up working on the docks for the rest of my life, with your father as my boss.”

Alexander didn’t offer an opinion as the two of them entered the tenement block where they lived, and began to climb the worn stone steps to their flats.

“I wish I lived on the first floor, and not the ninth.”

“As you well know, Vladimir, only party members live on the first three floors. But I’m sure that once you’ve joined the KGB, you’ll come down in the world.”

“See you in the morning,” said Vladimir, ignoring his friend’s jibe as he began to climb the remaining four flights.

As Alexander opened the door to his family’s tiny flat on the fifth floor, he recalled an article he’d recently read in a state magazine reporting that America was so overrun with criminals that everyone had at least two locks on their front door. Perhaps the only reason they didn’t in the Soviet Union, he thought, was because no one had anything worth stealing.

He went straight to his bedroom, aware that his mother wouldn’t be back until she’d finished her shift at the docks. He took several sheets of lined paper, a pencil and a well-thumbed book out of his satchel, and placed them on the tiny table in the corner of his room, before opening War and Peace at page 179 and continuing to translate Tolstoy’s words into English. When the Rostov family sat down for supper that night, Nikolai appeared distracted, and not just because …