Chapter 12 – Travel Plans
Having reached this seminal point in the partnership it occurred to the Junes that this was the logical time for Blistov to take his leave for the day. They had accomplished a lot, and needed time to assimilate it all. But Blistov didn’t seem inclined to leave. They didn’t know where he was living, though driving up in that huge Lincoln SUV told them he wasn’t skinned for money. They both had the same thought at the same time: he wasn’t thinking of establishing residency in their home as part of this partnership arrangement, was he? Oh my God. They stared at him now with very strange looks, which he recognized as problematic. This made him sit up straight. He thought for a few seconds, clocked the message, and said, “Don’t worry about me. I’m living on Sullivan’s Island again. I can’t afford the ocean side now, but my view on the marsh side is very nice. He got up, and they agreed to meet again in the morning to plan the next step.
Blistov called them at eight am sharp, which was weird as they had unlisted phone numbers. How did he get their number? They wondered if they could acquire people’s unlisted phone numbers in Russia, the way Jinny did here. The Junes looked at each other and thought, who is this guy? Is this a good quality to have in a partner, or a bad quality? He invited them to breakfast at his place, and they accepted. Gwen wondered what he would serve: boiled potatoes or just more donuts.
When they arrived Roger noted that Jinny’s new home was much more modest than the place where Roger had braced him a year ago. This place was only 3000 square feet with a view across the marsh and the Inland Waterway. It had very little furniture, just a few of the basics. What Gwen noticed was the smell of food. It was not the smell of boiled potatoes, and it was not the sweet sticky smell of fresh donuts. It was the smell of that Charleston staple, shrimp and grits, and for breakfast no less.
Gwen waltzed into the kitchen with Jinny behind, over to the stove, and looked into the pot. Yes, there is was, shrimp and grits. And it smelled good. She turned to Jinny and offered her hand in a high five. Jinny stood looking at her like, “What’s this?” Gwen took his hand, raised it to shoulder height, and showed him how to slap palms. She explained what a high five was, and Jinny seemed to understand. He liked learning anything and everything; he had learned how to cook shrimp and grits, right? Gwen was to regret teaching him to high five, because for the next week he wanted to do it all the time, for every little thing. She then had to teach him how to low five, so he wouldn’t be so noticeable out in public. Then she had to stop the nonsense all together, about which Jinny was a good sport. Jinny always seemed to be a good sport, and Gwen liked this about him. He had no bad pride.
The food was ok, and they began to talk travel. The first question was whether they would split up or stay together. Obviously Jinny’s mission was in Saint Petersburg, and Roger’s mission was in Paris, and Gwen’s mission was in Charleston. But they were getting along pretty well, and Jinny said he never had been to Paris, and Roger and Gwen never had been to Russia. So they talked about going together and how that might work. Roger asked Jinny very directly about money. Who was going to bankroll this venture? Jinny said, “Let’s all put money into a pot and that will be our expense account. An equal one-third into the pot to start.” With that, Jinny went into the other room, and came back with an envelope. From it he took $100,000 in hundred dollar bills, and put it next to the plastic serving dish that held the shrimp and grits. Gwen had hated the plastic dish from the second she saw Jinny take it from the cupboard. Oh well, lots of work to do on Jinny, and she supposed lots of work to do on the other Russkies when they arrived. No problem.
Both Gwen and Roger liked the sight of the money. They had been wondering how this angle was going to work. Roger put the money back into the envelope and put the envelope into his sport coat pocket. He said he would open a new account in the amount of $300,000, and have three credit cards issued in three names, a gesture that tells loads about the affect Little Jinny Blistov was having on the Junes. They just had agreed to give Jinny access to $200,000 of their hard-earned money (well, inherited money, actually), and Roger was amazed at himself. This was quite out of character for him, and he attributed this laissez-faire attitude to his wife. The key here was the total trust Roger had in his wife’s intuition. If she thought it was ok, that was good enough for him. Not that Gwen’s intuition was infallible; Roger knew it was not. But it was damn good. And they could spare the two hundred Gs, anyway. With this matter taken care of, they decided to hit Paris together first, and then go on to St. Petes. An odd trio.
Over the next week Jinny worked his angle, and Roger worked his angle, and Gwen worked her angle. Jinny started by calling his contacts in Saint Petersburg in order to set up a secure communications system. This op was not the kind of thing one wrote about in emails, especially emails he knew would go through Russian servers. On an intermittent basis he had kept in touch with a few people, but now he had to reestablish relationships with old friends and acquaintances in a more serious way. He had to find Plouriva, number one. The last time he had spoken to her by phone was just before he went into the South Carolina slammer. He thought American jails were like Russian jails: when you went in, that was the last anyone heard of you till you came out…if you came out. He was surprised to learn that phone calls, and even visitors, were permitted. One of the cons told him that in the liberal state of Massachusetts, some prisoners even got conjugal visits. This was not the case in the great State of South Carolina, and it definitely is not the case in the great country of Russia. A conjugal visit in Russia means one thing and one thing only, and that will be left to the imagination. He had decided to contact Plouriva at that point because he had a soft spot for her, and he really didn’t know what to expect from the American penal system. Her reply didn’t exactly amount to a sentimental, “I’ll be waiting for you, dear,” but it was sympathetic, after a fashion. From it he knew she cared.
Jinny had to reestablish contact with this woman, get to Saint Petersburg, and convince her of the viability of his scheme. She then had to figure a way to get the goods to some Russian seaport from which container ships sailed for foreign ports. And not get caught. Jinny loved a challenge.
While the Russian was contemplating this scenario, Roger was contemplating his beloved French wine scenario. And he, too, had started calling his contacts in that rarified world, a particular Frenchmen coming to mind. He was in his late sixties, and Roger had known him for ten years. This guy was the former, and now retired, CEO of the French national railroad, a position that had resulted in great wealth finding its way into this man’s possession. His hobby in retirement was organizing mind-blowing dinners composed of great wine and great food. He was both a wine connoisseur and a food gourmet. This man had had the temerity to enter into parenthood both early in life and late in life, having become a father for the third time at the age of fifty-five. He had produced two daughters early in life, and now a son late in life. He loved this young child more than anything except his older daughters. And it was through this young child that Roger had met the man.
Roger and Gwen were in Burgundy on holiday, walking through the region, tasting wines and eating Burgundian foods. At a restaurant one day the rich Frenchman was with his family enjoying a late lunch, and the Junes were at the next table, also enjoying lunch. And then something happened. The young boy, the son, had inhaled when he shouldn’t have, and a piece of food got sucked into his windpipe instead of his food gullet. His gasping alerted everyone to the problem, and the rapid change in color of his face from pink to ashen dramatically emphasized the problem. The members of his family did not react with the Heimlich maneuver, but Roger did. He grabbed the boy, executed the squeeze successfully, and from that minute forward became a defacto VIP in the father’s eyes. A very special person. The person who saved his son’s life.
The wealthy Frenchman’s hobby was serving great wine wit
h great food at his great dinners, and he had connections in the wine world that were at the highest levels. And now, ten years later, Roger was going to ask a favor: introduce him to some wine makers in Burgundy and Bordeaux and the Rhone Valley.
Gwen’s Charleston mission was somewhat simpler than those of her two partners because it didn’t involve foreign countries and all that bureaucracy. She had to gear up her real estate contacts, and her social butterfly contacts, and her weapons contacts (her father). Piece of cake, for now. Her challenge would kick in when the Russkies arrived. So she kind of sat back and watched the boys perform, and searched the internet for interesting things to do in Paris and Saint Petersburg. She thought this was going to be fun, and volunteered to do the travel planning as soon as Roger and Jinny had some logistics figured out.
A week later the team met, and both Roger and Jinny had positive news to report. Roger’s special friend had produced, in spades. Jinny said that Plouriva was willing to talk, and further said she had suggested a way for Jinny and his team to get into the country. With this, the three amigos were ready to travel.
Aristocratic Thieves Page 12