The Great Game

by D. R. Bell

  “What about Mark Androssian, did you kill him too?”

  “Who?”

  “Mark Androssian. He uncovered some of the connections, died in a single-car crash two years ago.”

  “Yes, I remember seeing a report with his name. No, that was not us. Probably the Chinese, or perhaps somebody in your country was getting worried about his findings.”

  “Why was it so important to you that the US states separate?”

  “To weaken you. Size matters. The combined population of Russia and our satellite states is a bit over 200 million. The US has almost 340 million people. We anticipate it will break into three states, perhaps more—as former Yugoslavia learned, once you start breaking up, it’s hard to stop—each one smaller and weaker than Russia. We now have to deal with powerful China and resurgent Turkey, we did not want to continue worrying about the US. Russia’s borders don’t have natural barriers like oceans. We always relied on having a land buffer to protect us. After the Soviet Union fell, we ended up with both NATO and Islamic fundamentalists on our doorsteps. Ms. Sappin, we know you were on Maidan Square during the Orange Revolution—do you realize how deeply the Americans were involved in that? We had to get involved as well. We could not afford Ukraine joining NATO. We will re-establish our sphere of influence to the west and to the south. Many of our neighbors, such as the Baltic countries, Poland, Ukraine, Georgia, became much friendlier when they realized that America wouldn’t be there to protect them. The opponents change, but the Great Game continues.”

  “The Great Game?”

  Nemzhov explained. “That was the name for a struggle in Central Asia between Great Britain and Imperial Russia. That particular episode is long over, but the game of power goes on. Have either of you read Fukuyama’s The End of History?”

  David shook his head no; Maggie nodded affirmatively.

  Nemzhov continued, looking at David. “That was an interesting book. The author was arguing that the West had won, no more wars, no more conflicts, liberal democracies everywhere, we all get along. I am oversimplifying. I did wonder back then whether he was right and the Great Game had ended. But of course he was wrong. I think he was too firmly, perhaps unconsciously, rooted in the context of American exceptionalism. ‘America is different’ has always been this underlying belief in your country. But you turned out to be not very different at all. Just like others before you, you made it to the zenith of power and reached for the spoils. And just like with the others, it became your undoing. Now we have new names, new actors, but the Great Game is going on. We have to recreate the position we lost when USSR broke up and project our naval power into the great oceans of the world. None of that would have been possible with a strong America. NATO without America poses no threat. Of course, China is much more populous than us, but we are lining up allies, and in a few years they will face some very serious demographic challenges. In the meantime, thanks in part to Mr. Schulmann, we can shape the events to our favor.”

  Nemzhov smiled, flashing his perfect small teeth. “You kind of started resembling the old Soviet Union a bit. Spying on your own citizens in the name of protecting them, unleashing government agencies on those that disagreed with government’s policies, this smell of insecurity emanating from those in power. Vibrating the air with empty words, throwing out clichés, trying every which shortcut to cure the ailments of your society. But did you ask yourselves the hard questions?”

  Maggie broke her silence. “General, what do you believe in? Communism?”

  He smirked. “Communism? Of course not. The Soviet Union fell because communism did not understand human nature. People act in their self-interest. When there is too little self-interest the economy sputters. Now America is failing because it also stopped understanding human nature. When there is too much self-interest, people just start voting themselves money or skimming it off others by any means possible. Deep inside, we are all little Robin Hoods. I think your founders understood this. That’s why democracies flame out: people will vote for those who promise them more for less, and politicians will say and do what they have to in order to get elected and re-elected. That’s how it’s been throughout history. You have to find the right balance between giving people some measure of self-interest, but within the context of a strong state that keeps those Robin Hood-ish tendencies in check. That’s what I believe in: my country with a strong state.”

  He drank the last of his wine. “Of course we need some cause for people to rally around. A dash of nationalism will do just fine. We don’t need world domination or quasi-religious fervor. People that are willing to sacrifice themselves are only too willing to sacrifice others. Balance hope for the future with enjoyment of the present, bread and circus and pride in your country, a good formula. We can do this without heavy-handed secret police; business and tax authorities can keep people in line quite effectively. Give them their entertainment and they don’t care about free will. All we expect is a certain degree of obedience, a bit of neglect if you like.”

  Nemzhov looked at his watch. “It’s been nice meeting the two of you. I am truly impressed by your daring and resourcefulness. But I am afraid it’s time for me to go. Just remember, we will be watching, we can get to you anytime we want. But as long as the information remains buried, you have nothing to worry about. Don’t try what Trimble did. You double-cross us, you’ll wish you were never born. But we have learned our lesson as well; that’s why we’ll continue paying you so you don’t feel the desire to look for buyers of the information. Please don’t worry about the check, you are our guests.”

  Nemzhov left. David and Maggie remained seated. Maggie looked inside the white envelope. “Two tickets to Zurich for 6:10 p.m. tonight,” she said in a blank tone. “Do you want to spend a few days in Moscow?” David asked.

  “No, I want to get out of here as quickly as possible.”

  He felt the same way. Visiting the places from Bulgakov’s book just didn’t seem important anymore.

  Friday, 5/6/2022, 3:20 p.m. EDT

  From her window seat, Maggie could see the approaching US coastline. Would she have to call it something else soon? The separation was less than two years away, but the names had not yet been decided. She looked at her watch and realized that she had stopped adjusting it a few cities and time zones back.

  They’d left Moscow in a hurry. Did not have to check out or call a cab, a car was already waiting downstairs, as if Nemzhov knew exactly what they were going to do before they did. Both were too tired and hungry to talk. Courtesy of GRU, the tickets were first class, with decent food and drinks. David looked up hotels near the Zurich bank that had Nemzhov’s numbered accounts. When they landed and cleared customs, he asked the taxi driver to take them to Hotel Ambassador. They checked in, walked toward the lake that was only a block away, continued along the footpath that skirted the water, and sat on a bench. It was mostly quiet, with only sounds of traffic from the nearby bridge. The air was chilly, and David took off his jacket and put it around her shoulders.

  She asked, “Do you think they will leave us alone?”

  “For a while.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I think it’s like a chess game for Nemzhov. We are two small, poorly defended pawns, but he does not want to risk attacking. They will keep looking, trying to make sure they can stop the release of Schulmann’s report if we die, but they won’t touch us in the meantime.”

  “Then why did you say for a while? As long as they are not sure, we can be safe.”

  “They might be able to outsmart us. Even if they don’t, the value of Schulmann’s report will decline over time. After the US separation is complete, it becomes less valuable. The people that they are blackmailing with the report now, they will eventually be displaced. At some point the cost-benefit analysis that Nemzhov was talking about will shift in favor of eliminating us.”

  “And how long until then?”

  “I don’t know. Probably at least a couple of years, but less than ten
.”

  She fell silent, then said, “We should get our money tomorrow. You are cold, let’s go back.”

  They made love for the first time since Phoenix, which was half the world away and ages ago. It was different, gentle, not rushed. They clung to each other for warmth and reassurance, like two people who had nobody else to turn to.

  When they woke up, David called from the room to reserve two seats on a one o’clock flight to New York. They had breakfast and headed to the bank. Neither of them had ever visited anything but a typical American banking branch before. This was quite different: like a small private office on the outside, but with security resembling Fort Knox on the inside. The credentials that Nemzhov gave them opened the doors. They had to separate, with Maggie handling one account and David the other. Both of the accounts were indeed funded with $1MM. As agreed, they entered instructions to transfer the money to numbered Zurich and Cayman accounts that Javier had set up for them. They were done by 10:30 a.m. and headed back to the airport.

  The Swiss Air plane landed at JFK. The customs officer greeted them with a smile. “Welcome back, Mr. and Mrs. Brockman.”

  As they were walking through the airport, Maggie asked, “Do you feel like we are being followed?”

  David replied, “Yes.”

  They took a cab to the Plaza. David marched to the front desk and said, “Daniel and Alena Brockman, we have a reservation.”

  The clerk checked and said, “I am so sorry, I don’t see a reservation under this name.”

  “My secretary must have messed up again. Do you have anything available, preferably with the view of Central Park?”

  “We do have rooms available, unfortunately nothing with a view for tonight. Would you like us to check you in, and we’ll see if we can move you into the view room tomorrow?”

  “OK, please check us in for one night, and we’ll see what happens tomorrow.” David offered his credit card. “By the way, are there any packages for me? I told my secretary to send things here, hopefully he didn’t mess it up the way he did the reservations.”

  “Certainly.” The clerk went to the back and returned carrying a small package. “Your secretary got this one right.”

  David quickly put the package into his jacket. They took the keys and went to the room. He tore open the wrapping. It was a cell phone with a note: “text the last called number.” He punched in “arrived.” A response came twenty minutes later. David showed the message to Maggie: “Don’t repeat anything. Get yourself a new set of clothes for warm weather. Wear them tomorrow morning. Everything you have now you will have to leave behind in the room. Be ready at 7:00 a.m.”

  She read it and said loudly, “I need to do some shopping.”

  It was only 6:00 p.m. They went for a walk in Central Park, ate soup and fresh bread at a communal table in a Belgian bakery, and then watched the sunset by the lake.

  “So, which of these people are following us?” mused Maggie.

  “Hmm, how about that guy on the bench?” David nodded to a portly middle-aged man in an overcoat, spread on a bench about twenty yards away.

  “No, I think it’s those two.” Maggie smiled in the direction of a tall couple in their late twenties, hugging each other next to a tree.

  Following a shopping suggestion from one of the locals, they walked a block to Madison Avenue. David stopped to look into a shop window and saw the tall couple inspecting a boutique half a block behind. Maggie smiled when he said, “You win.”

  Maggie took charge of outfitting both of them. Afterwards, David said he wished they could have caught a Broadway show, but it was far too late. Instead, they walked through the streets of Manhattan, taking in sights and sounds of the city that never sleeps. Both hadn’t been in New York in a few years, and the change was not for the better. While heavy police presence on Madison Avenue and around Central Park kept things safe, there were quite a few people panhandling or sleeping on the sidewalks and in doorways. She asked a policeman how to walk to Broadway, and he explained but suggested that they should stay on main, well-lit streets.

  They ended up walking back to the Plaza, having a drink at the bar, and turning in for the night. David was anxiously pacing the room, until Maggie got tired of it and said, “Come to bed. I’ll help you to relax.”

  Saturday, 5/7/2022, 5:54 a.m. EDT

  Both woke up well before the alarm went off, took showers, got dressed in the outfits that Maggie purchased the night before, and sat down staring at each other and at the phone that was on the bed between them. At 7:00 a.m. a message light lit up: “Make sure you leave EVERYTHING behind. Wear only what you bought yesterday. Leave the door slightly ajar. Be at the entrance at 7:20. There will be three taxi cabs standing to the right of the entrance, one of them will have a driver standing by the driver’s door, smoking. Don’t ask, get into that cab.”

  David and Maggie quietly checked their pockets making sure they were empty. They slipped out of the room without closing the door completely, took the elevator down, and walked through the hotel trying to look like two tourists out for sunrise in the park. Maggie had to stop for a second from the butterflies in her stomach.

  When they came out, there were actually four cabs standing by the entrance, which momentarily confused David. Then he saw a driver smoking by the driver’s side of the second cab, grabbed Maggie’s hand and, trying to keep from running, walked to that cab, opened the door for Maggie, and then got in himself. Everything then went into fast motion, the first act of the show had ended, and the next one began:

  - the driver threw out his cigarette, got in just as David closed the door, and took off, tires screeching;

  - the driver of the taxi in front started screaming, “It’s my ride!” and jumped into his cab;

  - the driver of the cab behind also shouted something unintelligible;

  - sounds of other engines revving filled the quiet morning;

  - then a loud crash.

  When David looked back, one cab was positioned perpendicular to the road blocking a half of the driveway, while the other cab was blocking the other half. An SUV crashed into the first cab; the driver jumped out screaming furiously, while whistles were filling the air. Another SUV tried to go on the sidewalk to get around the second cab, scattering a few pedestrians that were there, but there was not enough room. The SUV’s driver backed away, turned around, and raced back.

  In the meantime, their driver made a sharp left, then right, then left again, pulled into a narrow alley, and stopped behind an old Ford Taurus. The driver said, “Get into that car.”

  David and Maggie did as they were told and quickly slid into the back seat. The Taurus took off. A young dark-haired woman in the front passenger seat turned back and said, “How are you today?”

  Somehow the question must have struck Maggie as funny, because she started laughing uncontrollably. It was contagious, so David and the woman joined in, and even the heavyset driver started chuckling.

  Finally, wiping off the tears, Maggie managed to squeeze out, “Just fine, thank you,” and then broke down laughing even harder.

  Another voice intruded. “Can someone explain to me what’s going on?”

  The front-seat woman handed a computer tablet to David and Maggie. Javier’s face stared at them from the screen. “I am glad you’re enjoying yourselves! Do you know what time it is here on the West Coast?”

  Maggie tried to compose herself. “I’m sorry. You are our guardian angel! It’s just that everything has been miles away from normal for such a long time, so to get a normal ‘how are you?’ question seemed strange.”

  Javier softened. “I am sorry. I know you must have been under a lot of stress, and I need another cup of coffee. Oleg says hi by the way. Did you leave everything—and I mean everything—behind?”

  “Yes. We are wearing only what we bought yesterday, and our pockets are empty,” David said.

  “Not quite,” Maggie said apologetically. “I brought these glasses.” She held up her gree
n cat-eye glasses up to the computer screen. “I want to keep them if possible.”

  “You should have not done that! Leah, can you take a look?”

  Leah pulled a small magnifying glass out of her bag and inspected the glasses. “There is nothing there.”

  “OK. Listening and tracking devices are miniature now, and we can’t take chances, for your sake or for ours. The room you stayed in has been emptied already. The front desk will get a call that you had to leave on an urgent business and to keep the charges on the credit card you gave them. There is no need to create any headlines about Mr. and Mrs. Brockman; they will quietly slip away. Obviously you’ve met Leah already.”

  “That’s me,” said the woman in the front seat.

  “Leah, please hand a wallet to Mr. McCarren and a purse to Ms. Gronko.”

  “Who?” Maggie and David asked in unison while taking a wallet and a purse from Leah.

  “Unfortunately, Mr. and Mrs. Brockman will have to disappear now for good. Given all the work and expense that went into them, it’s a shame they lasted only ten days. But perhaps they helped to keep you alive, in which case it was worth it. Mr. McCarren and Ms. Gronko are cheap, short-term identities designed to get you from Point A to Point B and never to be seen again. We did not marry you this time, this way you can go through security separately in case they are looking for a couple. In your wallets you’ll find a New Jersey driver’s license, a credit card, insurance cards, and a bit of money. Except for the money, all are fake of course. In the trunk of the next car there are two rolling travel bags, a blue one for David, the one with a flower pattern for Maggie.”

  “The next car?” David asked.

  “Yes, you will change cars when you get to New Jersey. That car will take you to the airport.”