Doing Lunch

by Doing Lunch Free(Lit)

  “If I said it, Medansky, it is so. It is now your job to find out more about it.”

  “I will do what I can.”

  “You will find out more, that is it.” Looking around the table, the Foreign Minister’s eyes settled on Berchev, Minister of Finance. “If what Yalantov says is true that they were making deals and getting money for natural resources that they plan to deliver later, how come you know nothing?”

  The minister of finance sat quietly just staring outward with his eyes not fixed on any particular thing.

  “You should not ask redundant questions, Foreign Minister. Berchev’s wife often asked him how come he knew nothing.” Those words were enough to cause the Finance Minister to find something to focus on, Medansky. There was plenty of Medansky to have one’s eyes become transfixed on. If there were daggers in Berchev’s eyes, he would have scored more than a thousand points.

  “I have not seen any money. I have heard of no money.”

  “Well I suggest to you, Berchev, that if they are trading natural resources for advanced payment for those resources, they were doing it for more than a ruble or two.”

  “I have not seen any money. I have not heard of any money.” Sergotoff shook his head in disbelief, letting his gestures serve as a way to express his feelings that he thought he was surrounded by incompetents. He had thought that he had placed the right people in the right places, but now it looked as if he erred in judgment. There was nothing he could do about it either unless he could force Alexi to leave. That would then defeat the purpose since he put Alexi in power to take the fall so that he could come back to power, absolute power!

  “You will have to do better, Berchev. You must keep your eyes and ears open for anything and everything. If something seems out of the ordinary, make a note of it. It will become like a puzzle, we will take all the little pieces that we gather and put them together. We will figure out what is going on. There must be something.”

  “I do not want to change the subject, Mister Foreign Minister, but were we not to discuss the retreat that we had planned on the Black Sea?” asked Yalantov, whose priorities in life included tennis and hunting, not spying and hard work. The Communist party was much the same as the trade unions in America in that regard. To advance, it was whom you knew. Yalantov was fortunate that his uncle had been a communist leader in the Ukraine so he born into the party.

  “I have not forgotten the retreat. My staff is currently making the arrangements now for the food and servants that will be required. We will have our retreat the first two weeks in May starting on the first Saturday.” Since Sergotoff had the keys, Yalantov knew he would have to wait. It was not something he wanted to do.

  It was always good to end a meeting on a good note so that even if the meetings themselves were about something that raised passions, everyone would have something positive to take with them. Sergotoff decided that this was the place to end the meeting and so it was. If the men in this room only knew that this was about to be their last retreat, their leaving would not have left them feeling very good.

  Driving through the streets of the mighty Russian capital, the small fires that burned along the streets to keep people warm wore on Allison’s mind. She had taken life in the beach cities of California for granted. Seeing the struggles that people had to go through on a daily basis made her think twice about just how good she had life. It also made her more committed to Mikhail’s project of making the economy work. As Edmund Burke, Allison’s favorite philosopher, had said, 'government should be for the general welfare of the public'. Allison always believed in this, more so now than ever before.

  The cellular phone went off and Allison had two in her lap. Separating them so that she could tell which one was ringing, it was the one she was still holding.

  “Hello, is Mikhail Debenov there?”

  “Who’s calling?” inquired Mikhail, when Allison’s eyes turned toward him, signaling that the call was for him.

  “Tim Russo.”

  “It’s Tim Russo.”

  “Tell him something, I don’t want to talk to him right now.”

  “Oh hello, Tim. No, Mikhail isn’t in, he just stepped out for a minute.”

  “Not at fifty-five miles an hour he didn’t.”

  “Okay Tim, just a minute.” Allison handed the phone to Mikhail, now feeling foolish that she had attempted to give him a snow job. In reality, Allison was just disappointed that she didn’t get away with it.

  “Tim.”

  “Listen, my people are telling me that you’re about to swing a deal with a German car company?”

  “Nobody told me I was getting a Porsche with this job.”

  “You know what I’m talking about.”

  “Listen, no comment.”

  “Are you out of your tree, first you say listen, then you say no comment? Has somebody brainwashed you?”

  “No comment.”

  “Mikhail, I’ll print the rumor, you know me.”

  “Look Tim, I already promised you exclusives. Just hold on.”

  “Okay.” The peppy tone of happiness in Tim’s voice, from one that had sounded as if it bordered on anger just seconds before, told Mikhail that his friend was satisfied.

  “Good luck, Mikhail.” The young economy builder handed the cellular phone back to Allison.

  “He knows about the pending deal with the German car manufacturer.”

  “How did he find out?”

  “I didn’t ask and you know he wasn’t about to tell me. I think somewhere there is a leak.”

  “I didn’t tell anybody, Mikhail.”

  “I’m not blaming you, but we both have to think hard on this one. If it wasn’t somebody either of us told, then who else would have known?”

  “Alexi. We told Alexi.”

  “That could mean...” The two looked at each other wide eyed, knowing that the other had the same name in the front of their brain. They nodded affirmatively toward each other in agreement without words being spoken. Pulling into a parking garage, they exited the car and headed toward the elevator. Taking it to the fourth floor, they moved down the hallway toward the end where there was a set of double doors. Knocking on the door, they found themselves being asked to enter almost instantly.

  The elegant suite had a large window that overlooked Moscow. Mikhail knew it was a gamble laying out the kind of money for this room in the hopes of making a deal. It was something he knew he had to take a chance with.

  “Ah, Mister Debenov.” Before Mikhail realized it, he was shaking hands with Astrid Dunzwig, Germany’s wealthiest industrialist. During the earlier part of his career, he made a substantial fortune in airplanes. In the early 1960's, he turned his attentions toward automobiles where he was even more successful on the ground than he had been in the air. The fortune that he amassed in that endeavor required a mainframe computer to keep track of every aspect of the income. While not being able to spend what he had already accrued, his lust for more had not stopped him from increasing his wealth. Mikhail was hoping to have Russia benefit from this compulsive behavior.

  “I have studied your proposal. It has some merit, something that I must consider.”

  “I was trying to wet your appetite.”

  “You have done that. Is this your lovely wife?”

  “It’s my friend, Allison.” Shaking her hand as well, he then reached into his suit jacket for a cigarette.

  “You do not mind?”

  “I really rather...” Allison felt a pinch on her elbow from Mikhail and knew to leave the sentence right where it was.

  “You were saying?”

  “Well...”

  “You would rather be what, Allison?”

  “Eating.”

  “No problem,” declared Dunzwig, who quickly got on the telephone and ordered wine, a sandwich platter and caviar. Mikhail cringed when he heard the industrialist charge the room service to his room. He knew that Russia was paying the bill so to this guy the sky was the limit.

&nbs
p; “I will have to give your proposal some thought, Mister Debenov, although it appears to be filled with many promises. Can you keep these promises?”

  “Yes,” responded Mikhail quickly with an air of nonchalance and a boatload of confidence in delivering the word.

  “In your proposal to me, you claim that you will have railroad tracks laid directly from my plant into Bucharest, Romania, so that I can have the cars transported to Germany.”

  “That is correct,” replied Mikhail without hesitation. He knew that Dunzwig hated people that wavered.

  “You also said that it would be operational by the time the plant opened, did you not?”

  “I did, it will be,” answered Mikhail, making certain that he answered both questions since it was a two-parter.

  “Can you deliver on your promise?”

  “It will be done, Mister Dunzwig.”

  “Are you sure it can be done in time, Mister Debenov?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you sure, Mister Debenov?” asked Dunzwig one more time. This little game began taking its toll on Mikhail’s Southern California drive-by shooting mentality. He was very glad that he hadn’t put his holster on that morning.

  “Listen, Mister Dunzwig, we’ll have the tracks laid by the time construction on the factory is complete, but we’re not going to lay tracks from Bucharest to the middle of nowhere hoping that someday someone decides to build a factory there.” Mikhail had made no attempt to hide the irritation in his voice, Allison was surprised at the way he appeared to be handling a big deal that could employ several thousand Russians.

  “I will look at your proposal and give it thought.”

  “I would appreciate that and please get back to me soon so I could let Lindquist know what is going on.”

  “Ian Lindquist?”

  “Yes, that’s him, the CEO of Scandinavian Motor Works.”

  “Is he interested in this too?”

  “It is not too, Mister Dunzwig. If you pass on it, it will be him alone. Russia can’t commit to that many tracks being laid in that time if there were no commitment. There will only be one car factory for now.”

  “Then it will be mine,” declared Dunzwig, knowing that if he played the game too long it might get dark and the other kids would go home. The Russian labor that Mikhail was offering him on a guaranteed basis for three years was just too good to pass. He knew he could increase his profit by a thousand dollars a car and help feed the demand for his newest vehicle that was greeted with wild demand. The sales expectations that had been anticipated had grossly exceeded beyond his imagination. Those sales demands had left a backlog of orders more than three months long. Mikhail had known this going in when he sent the proposal to Dunzwig.

  The knock on the door could only mean one thing, Mikhail thought, food. Sure enough, as the double doors opened, there stood a waiter with a cart filled with covered platters and the bottle of wine. The large shrimp that surrounded the platter of sandwiches struck at the heart of Mikhail’s appetite. Knowing that he had a six o’clock appointment with Hans Brusweig of Arliose Watch Company of Zurich, he decided that he needed to be nourished, not on time. If anything, Brusweig would be able to tell him precisely how late he was.

  It was now April 15 and as usual Mikhail had filed for an extension to submit his tax return. He did this every year since he traveled so much he had trouble meeting up with his accountant. He did find it strange to be in Moscow on the income tax deadline. Mikhail did not mind missing the tax deadline, but he did mind missing the NCAA playoffs. That’s what Russia needed, the good old college spirit.

  The month that he had been in Moscow was more than his classmates in high school would have ever have given him credit. Now he was afraid they would all start seeking good paying government jobs. Thinking back over his accomplishments, he was quite proud of them. He had gotten substantial advances for resources before he produced them. He had sought the money to begin working on Russia’s infrastructure and plans for the first super highway privately financed were already on the planning table. The first thing laid down on the plans was the tollbooth.

  He started thinking about the number of companies that were starting to commit to building factories in Russia. Yes, he thought to himself, he had sold out somewhat, that names not easily recognizable to the Russian population would be towering over the factories that the Russian people worked. The Russian people that would be manning the assembly lines in these new factories would be grossly underpaid while they learned trades, something unthinkable just a few months before. He knew that some money was better than what most of them had now, nothing. He knew that skilled labor was the only way for Russia to progress and he knew the people needed money; that they could not spend the time going to school to learn a trade. It had to be on the job training. He knew these companies that were coming in had some of the best technicians and tradesmen around so who better to learn from while they worked?

  Opening the door to make his way to meet Allison, he found Tim Russo heading his way. Knowing him for some time, Mikhail knew that he couldn’t put off a face to face with him forever, Tim would find him.

  “Tim.”

  “Don’t Tim me, we have some talking to do.” Tim walked into the apartment without being asked. This left Mikhail no choice but to become the host.

  “Something to drink?”

  “A vodka.” Mikhail went into the kitchen and poured a glass of Smirnoff's quickly just hoping that he was not next week’s cover story.Not wanting Tim to drink alone, he decided to pour himself a glass. Returning to the living room, he handed the small glass to Tim.

  “I want to know what is going on with this city?”

  “You want to know what is going on in Moscow, Tim, just look out the window.”

  “I am not talking about Moscow, you know that. I want to know about this city on the Caspian Sea that seems to be springing up.”

  “Whoever mentioned anything so ridiculous is out of their mind.” Tim Russo, aware of his friend's ability to lie with a straight face, came fully prepared. He removed a long, white envelope from his coat pocket and gave it to Mikhail.

  “Look at them.” Reaching in, Mikhail removed several eight by ten photos of the city under construction. Once his eyes saw the aerial photographs, he knew that Russo’s source was not Russian, but probably someone in the Pentagon.

  “Now what’s up, Mikhail?”

  “I am trying to get the economy going.”

  “With a city on the Caspian Sea? That’s ridiculous!”

  “It’s not so ridiculous. I’m trying to bring foreign capital into Russia.” Hearing his friend’s statement, it started to make sense. Almost. Rethinking the statement, Tim concluded that one city did not make a country.

  “How about the truth, Mikhail? Don’t I deserve a little something for all the information I’ve gotten you over the years?”

  Mikhail quickly downed his vodka and walked toward the kitchen. Watching his friend pour another drink, the journalist viewed Mikhail’s action as reaching for a crutch. It was something to support him while he was about to lie again.

  “What is with the city, Mikhail, come on, don’t be afraid to tell me.”

  “I have told you.” The cool manner in which Mikhail had just answered started to sway Russo. He started to think that maybe his friend was telling the truth. Mikhail moved back toward Russo with a new drink in hand.

  “There is a lot more, Tim. The city near the Caspian Sea was just but a small part of it. Earlier this afternoon I met with Dunzwig of Heidelberg Auto Works and he had agreed to build a plant near Peradel. They will begin with twenty percent of their workers being Russian. They will train them and each year they will increase the number of Russians that they employ.”

  “That’s great!”

  “I need your help. I will give you the exclusives like I told you before but please keep this quiet for a few weeks. You keep pushing me and I need this kept quiet since the communists do not yet know.” />
  “How can you hide something this big from them?”

  “Believe me, Tim, I know just how an elephant feels, but I need your help on this one.”

  “Mikhail, they have to know what is going on. You saw the photos of the city I got from my sources. If I could get them, then Medansky, a communist and head of the KGB, could easily get aerials.”

  “Tim, Russia is so broke that even if they could afford to send a plane over the area to take pictures, they couldn’t afford to develop the film.”

  Mikhail’s quick wit came as no surprise to Tim, who had met the entrepreneur in a singles bar just before he met Allison. The journalist knew just how sharp his Russian friend was right from the start. In the bar the night they had met, Tim remembered that Mikhail had bought a round of drinks for everyone and had women laughing themselves silly to the point they were almost getting ready to fight just to get close to him. Tim had estimated the crowd at a hundred, give or take ten. He had also remembered that when paying for the drinks, Mikhail had asked for a receipt and Tim just knew that his friend was going to claim that he took a few business associates out to discuss a deal over drinks.

  “Listen, Mikhail, I will give you two weeks, that’s it, two weeks! Then I have to run with something. I don’t even know if in two weeks I’ll have an edge on the other magazines.”

  “Great Tim, that’s all I need, just enough time to get a couple of things going before they have a chance to put the brakes on it.”

  “Listen, about that article about Russia’s successful businesspersons, what did you need that for?”

  “I’m trying to find one with ties to both the mainstream and to the black market.”

  “I figured that so I took the liberty of having someone on my staff do some research for you. Your best bet is Berrenstyishav Czar like I told you before. My researcher says he knows the black market inside out. Says he’s pretty good on the world market too.”

  Tim reached into his overcoat one more time but this time he only came away with a small piece of paper.