CHAPTER 10
NEW AND USED
It had been a crazy three and a half months but the city was near completion. The target date of June 28, 1997 looked as if it would be met with no problem. Mikhail’s trip to Nirvana just last week left him amazed at what people could accomplish when they were motivated. He and Allison had stopped in to see the make shift school they had established for Harlain who was doing a wonderful job. The students were well versa in service, their manners impeccable and she had done it in just about a month.
Mikhail was proud of Allison as well because she assisted in screening the candidates, and solid judgment by Allison and Harlain was showing up at a major league level. All of the youths they had selected came from poor backgrounds so one of their strong suits was a drive for success. While he was hoping that the work ethic was what they would employ to reach that goal, the group had not ruled out theft by the hotel employees. To that end, they placed an extra heavy emphasis on security.
Because they planned to cater to an international crowd, they made certain that translators were around covering English, French, several dialects of Chinese, Spanish, Portuguese and Japanese. The small city had several restaurants to cater to the international cuisine and Mikhail was even able to get his friend Pablo to open a branch of his famous Tex-Mex restaurants. They were able to build that in twenty-five days and the food was already a big hit with the servants who had been treated to a taste. Allison’s gut feeling upon seeing their reactions was that it would succeed with the paying customers as well.
The airport was already completed with two full runways. While not an international airport by size standards, it was more than enough to accommodate the traffic that they expected. Alexi had demanded that they be security conscious and that desire had been met. Mikhail realized that it was essential to have good security for public relations reasons as well as safety reasons. One bad incident could ruin the city’s reputation, something they were first trying to develop. A good reputation was something that Mikhail had been trying to convince everyone about, that it was a necessity for a business to be successful.
The interior of the airport was like most with telephones, ATM’s, a necessity for people who had access to money but never carried any, news stands, waiting areas, large waiting areas, fast food and one restaurant. Of course there was the customary souvenir shop that he made certain was loaded with souvenir coffee mugs and souvenir tee shirts. The only color tee shirt they did not carry was red, a color that the country was trying to get away from.
The hotels were equipped with amenities that Mikhail had experienced at most top-flight hotels in America. They had beauty salons, flower shops, gift shops and they even modernized by having an Aeroflot reservation counter that was far more up to date than their headquarters. Mikhail even upgraded Aeroflot’s reservation system with the newest in computer technology. Allison argued with him about this because as she had pointed out, you could count Aeroflot’s routes on two hands. Two accidents and you could count them on one hand.
Tim Russo had over the weeks become a major factor in Mikhail’s scheme of things. While not having the contacts that B. Czar had, and not knowing where to get what and when the way B. Czar did, he still brought something very useful to the table, sanity. Had Tim not been around, Mikhail was certain that he would have lost it with Russia’s kingpin entrepreneur.
While B. Czar had served an extremely useful purpose, he had also made out very nicely in the process. It was some of the things he did that frayed Mikhail’s nerves, left them dangling out where they could easily be gotten to repeatedly. The last maneuver he pulled was getting New York subway cars when it turned out that Amtrak did not have quite as many wrecked rail cars as had hoped. Alexi believed that maybe the American news media was making Amtrak out to be worse than they really were. When Mikhail offered him a chance to ride one from Washington, D.C. to Chicago, the premier refused just in case the press was accurate.
The time was getting near and the five would be together to draw up a list of those they knew were coming and who they thought might make an appearance. Mikhail’s apartment had now become Nirvana’s war room, complete with barbecued ribs, cole slaw and beer.
“Well, I am surprised that Garland Smith accepted,” commented Allison, who looked at Tim Russo as she spoke.
“Why do you say that, Allison?”
“We are going to have gambling, that’s not something most people in his position want to be seen around.”
“This guy’s been gambling since he got into the White House. With as many guests as he’s put up for the night, I’m surprised he hasn’t added a wing.” The ribs were so good that Tim couldn’t stay up for air long before he had to dig back into his plate. The sauce that sat at the sides of his mouth and on his chin were going to stay there and be dessert.
“One of the things I heard back in Washington, Mikhail, is that once the scandals began to break around the president, he decided to go for broke,” added Tim as he finished another mouthful of pork.
“What do you mean, go for broke?” questioned Allison.
“Simply this, Allison, the word around the capitol is that Garland Smith is trying to create one media event after another so that he’ll be surrounded by so much controversy, the Republicans won’t know where to start if they want to attack him. It’s his last term, he has nothing to lose.”
“We will treat Mister Garland Smith with the dignity a world leader deserves,” suggested Alexi, his tone serious, so that it made everyone else realize that he was a world leader and wanted to be treated as such.
“We have some very special things planned for the president, Alexi,” quickly advised Allison, hoping to allay his fears. “The night he arrives we are planning a state dinner for him aboard one of the yachts. We are bringing in one of his favorite singers to perform and the meal will be special.”
“Yes, Alexi, the meal will be very special. I have hired Yokoto Bwasonmura from Japan to prepare the dinner,” added B. Czar. Alexi was both impressed and troubled by the revelation. While Bwasonmura was Japanese, his cooking style used plenty of heavy creams. That would only mean one thing, Orlina would eat and enjoy for the two days of festivities but then she would make his life hell with the exercises, the “and a one and a two, and a one and a two” constantly screaming out of her boom box. Sure it was easy for her, she taught the damn classes while he was on the phone seeking loans and business commitments that would lend themselves to Russia’s economic development.
“Talking about Bwasonmura, didn’t someone say that Chenault of France said he would be here?” questioned Russo, wanting to confirm what he heard. Allison flipped through her pad and found the page that she was seeking; she flipped the legal pad open and handed it to Russo.
“Quite a list here of who's who.”
“Really. Dignitaries and celebrities from all over.”
“How did you get all these people to commit to coming, Allison?”
“I have no idea. Maybe it was the Red Cross envelopes I used.” Russo went back to looking at the list, his lips started mouthing some of the names but they were not mouthed in complete silence.
“Savade of Sweden, Hellcourt from Norway, Briar from England, Felliconi of Italy...” Russo’s mouth fell silent as his eyes scoured the list. There were at least ten Foreign Ministers and premiers promising to show up. “And all these actors, actresses and writers...”
“Let me see that,” snapped Alexi, in a mood that could not have been brought on by the ribs. Looking at the list, Alexi studied it carefully as he had studied back in his university days as a student. As he studied the list and the others looked on with curiosity, Alexi began demonstrating some strange, American behavior; he was reaching for the ribs with one hand while scanning the page with a finger from the other. It was as if he wanted to make sure that he did not get any sauce on the page and blot out what he was searching for.
“This is incredible! It’s damned incredible!” snapped
Alexi, the scowl having changed to a smile.
“What are you so happy about, Alexi?” Allison wanted to know. “Just a few moments ago you seemed angry.”
“I was angry because you talk of heads of state that were coming and I did not know. I, the premier, had not been told. Is that not wrong?” Mikhail looked at his girlfriend, then Russo, seeking confirmation. He knew better than to seek assistance from B. Czar on matters such as these since he had absolutely no idea of right from wrong. He was a "just do" it type of person as long as there was a profit attached to it.
“So how come now you are happy?” asked Mikhail, who was confused by the swift change in Alexi’s behavior.
“The celebrities. There will be so many actors and actresses there that Orlina will just have a wonderful time getting autographs.” Mikhail had not counted on Russia’s first lady seeking autographs and now he started to wonder how many Mr. Garland Smith’s wife had, since many of the president’s fund-raisers were sponsored by the Hollywood types. Allison started thinking that maybe they had poured the cement in front of the movie theater too soon, maybe they missed out on another attraction. Just then the telephone rang, and out of habit derived from group therapy, Mikhail answered it.
“Mikhail Debenov.” The voice on the other end did more than just disclose who they were, they were saying something of interest that had Mikhail’s ear glued to the receiver.
“That’s wonderful, Mister Yakim.” The mention of the name struck a chord immediately with the others as being the prime minister of Israel. “Russia appreciates that and you have a deal. By the way, what are you and your wife doing a week from Friday?”
The silence of Mikhail signified the prime minister’s answer. “Okay, I’m glad you two are free. We’re opening up a new city here on the Caspian Sea and we want you and your wife to join us in celebration.” The short pause barely gave Mikhail a breather before he broke into his next sentence. “Fine, I’m glad that you will be able to attend. We’ll be looking forward to seeing you and thanks for the loan.” Putting the receiver down, he found himself facing eight anxious eyes.
“The prime minister of Israel?” questioned Russo, the tone of his voice very serious.
“He’s giving us the equivalent of ten billion dollars in American aide to teach our people how to irrigate our dry lands, make the soil fertile and what crops to plant where.”
“How could they give Russia ten billion in aide, they are too busy themselves going to America for money?”
“Well it’s not really aide. We’re going to work out a price and they are going to get the money in natural resources. They in turn will furnish us with the materials and manpower to develop our own farmland.” Alexi started with the applause and, capturing the attention of the others, shouted out, “It’s going to happen! It’s going to happen!”
“What is going to happen, Alexi?” asked Allison, wanting to set everything straight for everyone.
“Russia is happening! When we learn to feed ourselves, we will be well on the way to becoming a nation, being self sufficient.” Alexi looked toward the ceiling and almost wanted to talk to it. Mikhail looked at his uncle as if he were the perfect candidate to visit Oz.
“Okay, let’s double check everything one more time. Nirvana has to go so smoothly that people will not be able to remember one bad thing no matter how hard they try,” suggested Allison. The next couple of hours were going to be spent on painstaking details, the kind that could bore a person to death. They were the kind of details that could make or break a city.
Having postponed their trip to Monte Carlo once because Serge had to appear in court on behalf of the Communist party to state why the facility at the Sea of Azov should remain in the hands of the Communist party, the Sergotoffs needed this vacation. It was a futile effort since the judge just did not buy the concept that it was just something the communists had to have.
Before they even left Moscow, the trip had cost Serge more than two thousand American dollars for a new wardrobe. He knew it would but it hurt even more when on the plane to Monte Carlo, Sophia had commented that she just could not wait to see what the West had to offer now. He knew that two thousand American dollars was nothing for clothing in Monte Carlo so he had decided that he was going to have to develop some form of damage prevention. He was very glad that credit cards had not come to Russia yet.
Arriving at the small airport, Sergotoff noticed an official band waiting and he could see several limousines nearby. The situation made him think that the new king of Monaco had come to greet him and he knew this would impress Sophia, that it would be like in days past when he led the Communist party in Russia.
When the plane came to a complete stop, the passengers began gathering their personal belongings. Looking around at all the people, Sergotoff’s mind again drifted to the past when he would travel, when he as leader of the Communist Party, Russia’s only party, he would have had complete privacy. Alexi now forced him to take along many businesspeople and heads of government agencies.
Right there in the plane Sergotoff could see how Russia had changed. The businesspeople and the agency heads were along to try to drum up some business for Russia. Everyone in the service of the motherland was now a salesperson and if they wore nametags they would read sales associate. The only media person aboard, a woman writer for Pravda, was now her own person. When the Communists were the sole authority, she would have known what the finished story would be before she had ever set foot on the aircraft.
Sergotoff did not even know who was going with him until almost at the last minute. Years ago his spy inside Alexi’s office, Volitov, would have had the information for him and gotten it to him in plenty of time so that he could be well prepared. Now Volitov would only spy for money, and he was doing well at what he was selling to American journalists, including the National Tattle Tale. Since Volitov had started selling information, he now had enough money to buy an expensive German sports car and a top of the line camera imported from Japan.
The moveable steps were rolled out to the plane and when they were secured against the side of the plane against the door, a long red carpet was laid out along the runway leading up to the base of the stairs. As the door to the plane opened, Sophia and Sergotoff exited and began waving. The band began playing the “Nutcracker Suite” which left the communist leader in a quandary since he had been expecting the Russian National Anthem.
Climbing down the stairs, they were approached by a young couple, who appeared to be in their late twenties. While Sergotoff was aware that the new king was young, he did not believe that he was that young.
“Hello, I am Brandon Truffeau, assistant Minister of Finance.” The young man then extended his hand and he and Sergotoff shook, the expression of disbelief on Sergotoff’s face quite noticeable. The young assistant minister then kissed Sophia’s hand and solicited a small smile of delight
“I am Maria Drudeaux, assistant Minister of the Interior.” Sergotoff viewed this as a chance to play tit for tat and he now was the one kissing a woman’s hand.
“I am Serge Sergotoff, the Foreign Minister of Russia.”
“I am here to show you and your wife around Monaco. We will take you to your hotel and then I will give you the grand tour. It should take about an hour.” Hearing how long it was going to take to see an entire country, he started to wonder if maybe the reason that the KGB did not have any photos of the country was that they could not find it. With so little area to cover, this woman probably had a very small office if for no other reason than the fact that space was at a premium in this country. He was certain that it was going to take him more than an hour to learn all the games of chance that he hoped to indulge in during their stay in the small principality.
Making their way to the limousine at the head of the line of limousines, Sophia found herself looking around at the women’s wear. The elegant casual style had grabbed her attention since even the women that she did not believe to be particularly attractive facially
somehow seemed to catch her eye. Not noticing what his wife was looking at, the Foreign Minister had no idea what kind of storm was brewing.
Climbing into the car, Sergotoff thought it rude of the Assistant Minister of Finance to sit down next to him, making Sophia sit on the other side. Once everyone was comfortably settled in, the limousine moved away leading the pack of limousines toward the hotel where they would be staying.
“So, Foreign Minister, it seems that maybe there is a chance that your country might soon begin making some economic headway?”
“We would hope so.”
“This new city, Nirvana, it is supposed to have gambling is what I have been told.”
“Yes, it is what I have been told too.”
“You do realize that this new city is very close to Monte Carlo.”
“I suppose.”
“Both Monte Carlo and Nirvana will be competing for the same gambling dollar.”
“I suppose.”
“There might not be enough money to go around.”
“I would not know. I have not counted it.”
“Believe me, Mister Foreign Minister, there is not enough. Your new city will never survive.” The Finance Minister’s last words sounded like a line Sergotoff had heard in the film “The Mouse That Roared," one of his favorites.
“Well since we are talking gambling here, I suspect Russia will just have to take her chances.”
The Assistant Finance Minister looked at Sergotoff, who knew he was being sized up for future reference. He just wanted to know why he was being sized up? If only it were for a new tuxedo, something he could use, then he would feel comfortable about being sized up.
“Monaco is prepared to make you an offer if Russia does not offer gambling. The king has asked me to offer Russia one billion dollars a year not to allow gambling.”
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