The Boy Who Stole From the Dead by Orest Stelmach

word for eagle. He was the majority owner of eleven companies. Six traded publicly on the Russian stock exchange. A seventh traded on the Ukrainian exchange. Nadia subscribed to a global database of financial statements. She checked the most recent financials for the publicly listed companies in his portfolio. Nadia was certain he would never share private company financials with an outsider, let alone use them to test analysts. The two Russian companies had to be public.
    She was right. The small Russian company was a specialty steel manufacturer. The large Russian company was the consolidated corporate entity. That left the third company. The American one.
    The other candidates’ inability to identify the American industrial company perplexed Nadia. They were industrial analysts. They knew the American marketplace cold. If they couldn’t recognize the company, that meant it either wasn’t American, or it wasn’t an industrial. But it had to be an industrial. Ehren had emphasized his client’s obsession with industrial expertise. And if Simeonovich was looking to acquire an American industrial, it made sense to craft a test accordingly.
    That meant the company wasn’t American. It was a Russian company whose financials had been re-stated according to United States GAAP standards. That’s why no one could identify it. The company itself existed but its American financials were manufactured for the test.
    Nadia converted 2010 revenue numbers for the remaining company into rubles. She scanned the income statements of Simeonovich’s other companies. She checked five of them. None matched. She converted the sales numbers for the last company in Orel, a mining equipment manufacturer. Compared it to those of the third company. They were close, but didn’t match. The sales number on the Russian financials was higher. Then Nadia remembered they probably shouldn’t match. American accounting standards were notoriously strict. The Russian accounting system allowed sales to be recognized earlier. Revenue numbers might be higher under the Russian system.
    Close only mattered with horseshoes and grenades, Nadia thought. And Russian accounting standards.
    She scribbled the names of the three Russian companies on top of the financials. Stacked them together, flipped them upside down, and set them to the side. Sipped her iced tea and dug into her salad.
    Ehren arrived. When he saw her eating, he smiled. He nodded at the stack of financials and donned a sympathetic look.
    “You shouldn’t feel bad,” he said. “You were put in an impossible situation.”
    Nadia flipped the financials upright and slid them across the table. Ehren froze when he saw the first name. His jaw dropped when he read the other two.
    “This…this is impossible,” he said. “You couldn’t have…You…you cheated. You called someone.”
    “The best industrial analysts in the world couldn’t identify those three companies. Whom exactly do you think I called?”
    A cell phone rang. Ehren stood oblivious.
    Nadia speared a chunk of grilled chicken. “It’s yours.”
    Ehren fumbled with his pocket.
    “It’s Mr. Simeonovich,” Nadia said. “He’s calling to tell you to hire me.”
    Ehren’s eyes widened. He answered the phone. Stared at Nadia. He listened and interjected a few “yes, sirs.”
    After he hung up, he slipped into the chair across from Nadia. The dazed expression never left his face.
    “He wants to meet you as soon as possible,” he said.
    “I have some urgent business in London. I’m leaving tonight.”
    Ehren’s expression brightened. “How long will you be there?”
    “Today is Friday. I’m returning home Sunday. We can set something up for Monday.”
    “No. Mr. Simeonovich is based out of London. He’s only in New York City for the day. Let me see what his plans are. How is your schedule on Saturday? Could you meet with him there?”
    “I have some meetings in the afternoon but I’m free in the evening.”
    “Let me