July 9, 1993
Friday
11:00 AM
Zhorik gave the order to get dressed:
— Kirill and Vadik dug up an office, they’re launching today. Don’t fall behind, put on a suit and head to the «Terem.» Wait for me there, we’re going to see Yuri Anatolyevich.
He vanished. I shuffled off to the kitchen. Poured beans into the coffee grinder, pressed the button, listened to the machine whir, released the button, drifted into thought.
Snapped out of it, brewed the coffee.
Settled into the armchair with the cup. Took a sip. Good.
Three days of idleness, topped off by a dozen comedy tapes, had relaxed me into a state of complete couldn’t-care-less. Apathy, anemia, abulia, and whatever else they’re called… hard to concentrate. When would the caffeine kick in? Perk me up, drag me out of the trenches of procrastination, and throw me onto the barricade of business!
Ah, seemed to be taking hold. What had Zhorik said about the suit?
Headed to the clothes closet, transformed into a businessman: white shirt, silk tie, black trousers, red jacket, gleaming dress shoes.
About twenty meters from the «Terem,» I heard from behind me:
— Ha ha, student! Bug-eyes didn’t let us down! Registered the company! Though the name’s idiotic. Some «Interbik.» Let’s tear off to Yuri Anatolyevich!
That was Zhorik shouting out the window of Bucephalus, which had pulled up to the curb. I understood lunch was off.
We tore off toward Nauchny Proyezd. Made it in about ten minutes.
In my mind, Tretyakovskaya and Nagatinskaya sat an enormous distance apart. Half an hour minimum to ride from one metro station to the other. By car we covered it like it was the next street over. A paradox.
As we went up to the director’s office, I strained to picture the map of Moscow. Couldn’t.
In Yuri Anatolyevich’s office I threw the guesswork out of my head. Took a seat at the desk across from the director and furrowed my brow importantly. Zhorik pulled a folder out of his briefcase, took out some papers, laid them across the director’s desk:
— The cooperation scheme is coherent, just as agreed. We’ve registered a Russian representative office, a firm called «Interbik,» that is, «International Business and Consulting.» The main document will be a joint-activity agreement between VychMekh and Interbik. Paragraph forty-four spells out the possibility of using your premises. There’ll be two more firms from our side, commissioning research from you. Topics are up to you. That way we split the rent three ways…
Yuri Anatolyevich and I watched Zhorik’s maneuvering with interest.
About five minutes in I lost the thread of the conversation, and it looked like I wasn’t the only one. Yuri Anatolyevich concluded:
— In principle it’s all clear. No objections from me. Discuss the details with Rudakov. You can move in on Monday. Moving our furniture out is on you. We don’t have any movers.
— No problem! — Zhorik gathered the papers into a stack and returned them to their original spot, first the folder, then the briefcase.
We shook hands and left the director’s office. I headed for the exit, while Zhorik, crossing the reception room, winked at Lyudochka:
— So?
— Six o’clock! By the bus stop!
— We’ll be there!
