Ray couldn’t wait to get to Moscow.
Chapter 26
Day 32: Departure
On June 16, the day that he, Nicole, and Janice were heading to Moscow, Ray was packing when Kim Wach called. “Hey,” she said, “glad I caught you.”
“I leave in three hours,” he said. “Please tell me you’re calling with good news? The Markses dropped their suit?”
“I wish,” she said. “I’m actually calling with bad news. I wish I didn’t have to tell you before you leave for the competition, but there’s no way around it.”
His heart hit his throat. “What is it? Is it them? The Marks family?”
“Yes,” she said. “They’ve altered their claim. Since the violin has been stolen—allegedly through your negligence—they’re now going after the insurance money. All ten million dollars. They’re claiming it’s theirs. Their lawyer sent a raft of paperwork over to me—I’ll email it to you if you want to read it on the plane. But it’s fine by me if you just want to wait until after you’re back.”
He slumped against the wall. “You know that the Tchaikovsky Competition is supposed to be the biggest pressure cooker in the classical music world? I was reading over the guidelines last night. Before I head to Moscow, I’m supposed to get at least eight hours’ sleep and not panic about all the music I’ll be playing. There are websites with meditation suggestions. I’m pretty sure this wack-ass lawsuit isn’t in their rules.”
“Glad you haven’t lost your sense of humor,” she said. “There’s one more thing. It’s not hugely urgent, but I figure I might as well tell you.”
He waited.
“The lawyer is asking that the original violin case be examined and documented. Photographed, appraised, etc.”
“Holy crap, are you serious?”
“It’s not a big deal,” she said. “You just have to take it to a mutually agreed-upon appraiser who’ll photograph it and appraise it. Easy.”
“Can I do it when I get back?”
“Of course,” she said, “But I’ve talked to the attorney, and they’re okay using the people who restored the violin in the first place. They may want a second opinion if they contest the value, but this feels a bit pro forma at this point. The case is probably only worth a couple hundred dollars.”
“So Jacob Fischer can do it?”
“Yes,” she said. “If there’s time, you can drop it off before you head to the airport. If not, you can take it after you get back. I’d love to get this sorted sooner rather than later, but in any case that’s all I need from you for the time being.”
“Okay,” he said. Ray had almost forgotten the case, stuffed in a garbage bag under his bed. Now he dug it out from under the bed, wiped the dust bunnies off the garbage bag, and carried it, still in the bag, to Jacob’s for photographing.
What a waste of time and money, Ray fumed as he tossed the case into the back of his car. Whatever. Everything with the Markses wasted his time and money. He should be getting used to it by now. He’d drop the case off with Jacob, since the shop was on the way to the airport.
Chapter 27
Day 33: The Prequalifying Round
Six stories of ornately clad windows glared at Ray as he emerged from the taxi. The Moscow State Tchaikovsky Conservatory brooded down: an enormous Greek Revival building, with ionic columns flanking an austere pediment.
On the other side of the driveway, a colossal bronze statue of Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky, conducting a silent symphony, gleamed in a small park, the reds and yellows of the roses, marigolds, and dozens of other flowers glowing in the late-afternoon sunshine. Quite a sight for a Black guy who’d never been out of America before.
He’d made it. The Tchaikovsky Competition. The Music Olympics: ten days of arguably the most grueling performances in the classical music world.
Three hundred sixty candidates had been selected for the live preselection/qualifying round, with sixty each from the following categories: violin, cello, brass, piano, woodwind, and voice. Two days from now, the numbers would be cut: there would be twenty-five violinists in the First Round, then that number would whittle down to twelve in the Second Round, and finally to six in the Third Round.
Only a handful of Americans had ever made it to the First Round, and only one had actually won. Now, Ray vowed, it would be two.
Nicole and Janice were back at the hotel. They’d flown over with him on the sixteen-hour flight, and they’d all staggered gratefully to their rooms at the flamboyant National Hotel, near the city center. Despite his weariness, Ray was charged up. “I’m going to go over and register,” he told Nicole.