THE GAVEL SLAMMED WITH FINALITY and a short, exultant cry went up from the executives gathered on the podium. Jett Gavallan shook hands with the Russian president, and then it was everyone else’s turn, Meg’s and Bruce’s and Graf’s. Each received the same firm grip, the same swift shake, the same sober nod. The president turned to Cate and kissed her on the cheek three times in the Russian custom. He had been learning English, and Gavallan overheard a few words.
“We are grateful to you both for saving our airline. I only hope the public will treat it as fairly.”
“I’m certain it will,” answered Cate graciously.
Novastar Airlines had begun the day trading on the New York Stock Exchange at $14 a share and had closed at $15.25. As thanks for returning to Novastar the money that Kirov had stolen, the president had awarded Gavallan the mandate to bring the company public a year later. Black Jet Securities had brought the $500 million offering to market at the upper end of its price range. A first day’s jump of nearly 10 percent wasn’t too bad for a Russian company, all things considered.
The president clapped a hand on Gavallan’s arm. “Now we must talk about our aluminum industry. It is not in good condition. When can you come again to Moscow?”
“Not for a while, I’m afraid. This is our last trip until the big day. Cate can’t fly much longer and I don’t want to be away when the moment arrives.”
“A boy or a girl?”
Gavallan looked at Cate. Her cheeks wore a slight flush, but at seven months pregnant, she’d never looked more beautiful. “It will be a surprise,” he said. “But Mr. Byrnes will be happy to travel to Moscow—say in a week? He has some business with another company we’re helping to sell.”
“Mercury, yes?” asked the president.
“Yes,” said Gavallan. “Mercury’s being purchased by Bluephone, an Anglo-French telecom company.”
“What is the price?”
“One billion.”
“Rubles or dollars?”
Gavallan smiled. They both knew the answer to that one.
Cate wrapped an arm through his and gave him a squeeze. Actually, if you added the 50 percent stake in Novastar Cate had inherited from her father and her 85 percent ownership of Mercury, they would be nigh on billionaires. But they had decided not to keep the money, feeling that it didn’t really belong to them. The shares in Novastar and her proceeds from the Mercury sale were to be placed in a philanthropic foundation Cate would chair.
With a final handshake, the president left with his entourage. Graf Byrnes headed down the stairs a moment later, with Bruce Jay Tustin and Meg Kratzer in tow. Gavallan stood at the podium, looking over the paper-strewn floor, the blinking monitors, the bold American flags. Ten minutes after the end of trading, the floor of the New York Stock Exchange was quiet, though not deserted. Traders had returned to their posts to tally their books. Brokers were on the phone with their head offices. Over a billion shares had exchanged hands. The cogs of capitalism never stopped turning, Gavallan mused.
Slipping his hand into his wife’s, their fingers intertwining, he walked with her down the stairs and across the floor. “See you at seven,” he said. “You thinking dinner out?”
“How ’bout room service?”
“You got it.”
They walked outside the building. A fierce summer sun cut through the latticework of skyscrapers, warming their cheeks. Ahead, Graf Byrnes was climbing into the rear of a limousine that would take them to Black Jet’s midtown offices. “You coming?” he shouted.
“Be right there.”
Gavallan kissed his wife on the cheek. “Seven o’clock,” he said. “It’s a date.” Then he brought her close and whispered, “Hey, we did it.”
Cate didn’t answer. He saw a memory dance in her eyes, a tear well up, then die.