April 22, 1996
Monday
11:00 a.m.

Zhorik got into the office and sat down in an armchair. Hm. Usually he was like a hurricane, like Andrei Mironov as Figaro or Ostap Bender. Now he looked like Oleg Dal in the role of Zilov: staring into emptiness, muttering... instructing me:

– Tomorrow you fly to London. Three days for the papers. Then Paris, the notary and the Gare de Lyon. Night train to Nice, I’ll be waiting offshore.

I didn’t understand a word, nodded just in case. Zhorik ordered me to head out in half an hour.

We went out to the courtyard and, against Yasha’s orders to travel separately, both climbed into the back of the Balmung.

We drove off.

We raced to Khryakino under the wail of recently purchased flashers. My «Durandal» followed in convoy with the «Balmung», two «Land Cruisers» and an «Iveco Daily» minibus. The combined security, mine and Zhorik’s, rode together for the first time.

On the road, the mumbling continued:

– From here on without me. If you were a military man I’d dress you in a tunic with galloons and aiguillettes so people could see a general a verst away. But you’re in civvies. So when they invite you to drinking bouts and revels, to hunting and fishing and other activities in the form of sabantuys and land-reclamation workers’ days, answer that you’re loaded up to your sideburns, you’ve bought a little house in Tunbridge Wells, England, and you’re busy with the renovation. And the villa at Cap Ferrat still needs fitting out. Every weekend is accounted for. And in the same breath invite them to visit after the renovation, but don’t advertise where. Got it?

— Not really!

— You still look like a Young Pioneer. Trading your Breitling for a Vacheron, sure, good move! But you need different flexing: a villa on the Riviera and a cottage in Kent, so you can invite acquaintances of federal rank over. They don’t give a damn about these particular guests, they’ve got their own shacks a street over, but the flex still counts. Ask the passing-through regional-level types to stop by too — say your old mother would be delighted — but don’t give them the address. Give it only to the ones who actually settle things.

— How do I know who settles things?

— Simple. A problem comes up, you’ll figure out who’s actually got their hands on the levers and who’s just puffing out their cheeks. In every region there’s one guy all the threads lead back to, and it’s not the governor. Our job isn’t to spray cash across the region trying to settle things — it’s to hand the final bribe to the one specific local who settles things for good. Got it?

— No!

– You’ll understand later. Remember the principle, the main one for safe business and safe sex: «Always give it to the head». Remembered? Now the personal part. My convoy is yours now. Land Cruisers first and last, then the «Durandal» with the «Delka». The «Delka» is yours now, tomorrow we’ll have the interior cleaned. Don’t use the same car two trips running. Alternate the «Durandal» with the «Delka». You can ride in a Land Cruiser. Yasha will explain how to travel properly. Follow his security advice to the letter. Now the office.

Remember this. Officially, Ida reports to you now, but really she keeps my office and you don’t give her orders. Come up with some unobtrusive title. Consultant, or advisor. Everything in the briefcase, — Zhorik nodded at the red briefcase sitting between us on the back seat — is in Ida’s head. She’ll tell you what to do. Work it like this: after any negotiation or standoff, don’t decide anything off the cuff. Slow down. Be alone, no one around. Think it over, drink on it, sleep it off, in the morning with a hangover think it over again, consult whoever you think worth consulting over a bottle... Then in the morning, think it through one more time, sober, alone. Whatever you land on, dictate it to Ida. Once you’ve dictated it to her, the matter’s under control. Ida will handle it. If you thought it through right, it’ll turn out right. If you dictated nonsense, she’ll make you redictate it... sober and sensible... until you sober up and smarten up, basically...