Page 79 of The Cellist

“Oleg Lebedev, otherwise known as Mr. Aluminum.”

“Is it true he’s the richest man in Russia?”

“Second richest.” Arkady plucked two glasses of champagne from the tray of a passing waiter and gave one to Isabel. “I trust the drive from Geneva was comfortable?”

“Very.”

“And you brought the proposal?”

Isabel patted the Vuitton bag.

“Perhaps we should review it now. That way we can relax and enjoy the rest of the afternoon.”

Inside, they scaled a grand stairway and entered Arkady’s private office suite. It lacked the gold-plated tsarist vulgarity of the rest of the villa. Holding her champagne glass aloft, Isabel laid her right hand on the keys of a Bösendorfer piano and played the opening passage of Beethoven’sMoonlight Sonata.

“Is there anything you can’t do?” asked Arkady.

“I can’t play the rest of this sonata. Not anymore, at least.”

“I rather doubt that.” He led her to a seating area near the windows and opened a decorative box on the lacquered coffee table. “Place your mobile phone inside, please.”

Isabel did as she was told. Then she removed the prospectus from her bag and handed it to Arkady.

“Is this the only copy?”

“Except for the original file. It’s on an air-gapped computer in my office.”

He slipped on a pair of reading glasses and turned slowly through the pages. “There’s a great deal of British and American commercial real estate.”

“That’s because the pandemic has created a glut of available properties. We believe these assets can be acquired at favorable prices and that they will appreciate in value once the American economy regains its pre-pandemic footing.”

“How long will I have to retain possession to see a profit?”

“Three to five years, to be on the safe side.”

He looked down again. “Fifty million dollars for an organic food company in Portland?”

“We believe it’s undervalued and primed for future growth.”

“One hundred million for a maker of solar panels?” He turned another page. “Two hundred million for a company that manufactures wind-driven turbines?” He peered at Isabel over his reading glasses. “Have you forgotten that I’m in the oil business?”

“Owning these companies will allow you to atone for your carbon sins.”

Smiling, he looked down again. “Three hundred million for an aftermarket aircraft parts distributor in Salina, Kansas?”

“If you purchase the firm’s main competitor, you’ll be the dominant player in the American market.”

“Is it for sale?”

“We’re hearing rumors.”

He returned to the real estate section of the document. “The tallest office building in London’s Canary Wharf?”

“A not-to-be-missed opportunity.”

“A commercial-and-residential tower on Brickell Avenue in downtown Miami?”

“It’s a steal at six hundred million. What’s more, you’ll be able to process tens of millions of dollars through the resale of the luxury condominiums on the upper floors.”