Advocat – Part II

He sat on the edge of the leather divan and smoked his Sobranie, looking down. An older man sat across from him on an identical sofa, bemused, one arm draped across the sofa back, legs crossed. “You are so young. Caprice and folly that is what you have. Do you not know that you are are killing yourself with that Russian poison?” Alexander looked up, smoldering. “This is why you have people ambush me in the street? So you can complain about how I am committing suicide?” The man shrugged and huffed a chuckle. “Sasha, Sasha. What do you want me to say?” He leaned forward and clasped his hands between his legs. “We all have responsibilities, Alex. Commitments, yes? I, to you; you, to me. And the people that depend on how well we honour our commitments . . .” He trailed off, leaving Alexander to fill in the blanks. He shrugged again, leaned back, clear that it was the younger man’s turn. Alexander’s face softened. “Look, you can’t do this. I can only do what I can do in my own time, in my own way. I explained this from the beginning. Pressure on me will do nothing if I can’t go any faster. Correct?” The man waited, lips pursed. Alexander went on, “These people can make a difference for us, but it will take time. Time and a lot of luck. You understand this, no?” The older man got up slowly. “We do not have the luxury of time, Sasha. If we do not move forward, we will stagnate. You understand this, yes?” Alexander hesitated before stamping out his cigarette in the Orrefors ashtray that had been placed there for his benefit alone. “Yes, sure. Yes, I understand exactly.” He stood. The meeting was over. They met past the coffee table on the way to the door. The older man put his hand on Alexander’s shoulder. “Why do you smoke such elitist gangster cigarettes, eh? Maybe you should quit now, yes?” Alexander shook his head with guiltily resignation. “I will call you,” he said, “and I don’t want your people stalking me. I have an American with me now and it will look very cheap. Okay? The older man smiled and said, “Sure, sure, Sashka. But remember what I said.” Alexander nodded and reached for the door. “And, please, open a window. I don’t want Mama to know I was smoking in here.” The older man clapped him on both shoulders and drew him in for a hug while Alexander’s arms dangled helplessly by his sides, clamped. His father was still very strong and he squeezed him quite tightly. “Okay, okay. I’m going.” The man let him go, beaming. “And open a window . . ” he said, and left.