6

I found Sidorov by description in the hotel lounge. He was clad better than required his appearance. The Russian type of physique includes a great variety of figures and faces, to some of which is more suitable a prison uniform or at least a khaki outfit of a paratrooper. This guy Sidorov was one of them. He had a large face with a bony forehead, on top of which there was scanty hair that was cropped to conceal its rapid loss. Large nostrils and prominent cheekbones gave him a rather grim expression which was somewhat softened by neatly shaven skin. His eyes were blood-shot and glistening with gloomy light as though he was back from a long drinking night.

He shook hands with Hewlett, Pavel and me, and made an ungainly attempt at kissing Mary's hand which she aptly eluded.

"I'd prefer we came up to your room, it might be unsafe here", he said, looking around. Hewlett did not mind.

Once inside the living room, he made way to the window and drew the curtains. After that he made a dramatic statement in a very matter-of-fact tone, as he was putting his briefcase on the round table in the middle of the room:

"If I'm killed by tomorrow morning, you should contact my deputy, Ivanov Valerij Nikolaevich, I'll give you his card in a moment."

He yanked open the briefcase and all gasped at the view it presented: it was crammed with one-hundred dollar bill rolls. Some of the rolls were rather dirty and worn-out, held together with rubber strings.

"One million", said Sidorov. "This is a down payment, as a guarantee of the seriousness of our intentions and proposals."

Everyone was looking at that heap of money like enchanted. The first to speak was Hewlett:

"Well, this is impressive. I don't quite understand, what are you offering such a lot of money for? And, I must say, it's highly unsafe to get about with it in your hand."

"Ok, I admit, it's unsafe but it's more reliable, that's the way things are in today's Russia. Now that the money is here, I can get straight down to business", said Sidorov, grinning, pleased with the effect that the money produced. "The Western Yorkshire Rifle Company", whose Managing Director you are, is producing some devices – here is the list of them – that we need for our missiles and small arms. If you accept the deal, we could earn very good, I mean both our firms, we already have good clients for our arms."

Hewlett said:

"May I have a look at your list?"

Sidorov handed him a sheet of paper he took out from the breast pocket.

Hewlett stayed a little in silence studying, then remarked with a sigh:

"Impossible. They're all under ban."

Sidorov grinned as if he expected such a reaction:

"You were not so scrupulous in Iraq two years ago".

Hewlett objected promptly as if he, too, expected that remark:

"I had the agreement with the American licensee."

Sidorov smiled again:

"That doesn't change anything from the legal or patriotic point of view, you know well that it amounts to high treason. And what the hell, selling arms to both belligerent parties has always been a good practice in the history of arms trade. The so-called patriotism is only an excuse for the impossibility of doing business with both parties. Let's not pretend to be rotten patriotic sissies."

Hewlett wanted to be stubborn:

"I'm only the managing director, not the owner. Even if I agreed, I couldn't get it done", but Sidorov replied quickly with a knowing grin:

"You can, you can."

Hewlett said:

"But how do you imagine this our collaboration would be defined? Like what?"

"Very simple. Consulting and logistics services. Here's the draft agreement."

Another sheet of paper came out of the yellow file on Sidorov's lap.

Hewlett gave it a cursory look, and muttered:

"You're extremely efficient, but somewhat ahead of time."

"We have to face mighty competition", said Sidorov. "And I'd like to caution you against some unscrupulous and aggressive dealers who could contact you one of these days. They might promise you the moon, but that doesn't mean they have something to substantiate it."

"You know", said Hewlett, "you offer is so sudden. I really have to think it over. And I have to make two or three phone calls."

"Sure", said Sidorov. "I'd like you to do me a favor of putting your initials on this list. It means nothing to you, but it's a justification for me, that I really have seen you and handed you the briefcase." He moved the list of devices across the table before Hewlett.

Hewlett looked at me, then shifted his eyes to Mary. The moment was delicate and tense. I waited until Hewlett looked at me again and slightly nodded. Mary said nothing.

"And what if I say no to your briefcase?" said suddenly Hewlett.

"It would mean practically a death sentence for me", said calmly Sidorov. "As I said, putting your initials you run no risk nor have to feel committed. As to the money, you can return it any moment you like, after you take your decision."

Hewlett sat still for a few moments, staring blankly at the paper in front of him, then shook his head and scribbled his initials. In a world where the difference between life and death became suddenly of so little account, two letters were not such a big deal.

"Thank you", said Sidorov and repeated the phrase which opened our talks:

"If by tomorrow morning I happened to be killed, you should contact my deputy". With these words he handed Hewlett a card he produced out of the same breast pocket.

After he took his leave, Hewlett neared the briefcase that still stayed open on the table, took a roll of banknotes from it, ran his fingers on it as if checking whether it was real, threw it back and said:

"I wonder where they get such an awful lot of money in cash. What do you make of it, Mary?"

Mary shook her head in doubt:

"I don't know. Russia has always struck me as something extremely unpredictable and resourceful. As far as this particular case is concerned, there might be a fight inside their factory over the control, a sort of a civil war, which doesn't stop until one faction exterminates the other. Democracy isn't their style, you know. I'd say this man Ivanov isn't going to live much longer than this day."

"Ah, is this as bad as that?" said Hewlett with anxiety. "And what if he should be proactive and strike first?"

"We shouldn't bank on it," said Mary. "And we're better put away this briefcase in a secure place, until next visit from their competition."

"Will there be one?" said Hewlett.

"I'm sure of it." She added after a pause:

"Did you notice there was a kind of doomedness in Ivanov's words, as if he were feeling his end is near. This readiness to obey fate is a deeply Asiatic feature in Russian national character. Fate isn't something you can change, that's their deep conviction, and the source of their stunning courage they had displayed in the course of their history".

"There's no need to be so profound, Mary", I said. "Probably, he's had clear threats from their rivals and know what it means, seeing every day fresh corpses of his colleagues."

"Ok, but what are we going to do?", said Hewlett. "This Russia frightens me." The view of the million on the table was anyhow very vivid and enticing. "And what shall I do with this money?". The questions, however, sounded a bit rhetoric. Anyone knows what to do with money.

Mary said in somewhat trembling voice:

"For the moment the best thing to do is to put this briefcase away, in your personal safe. Or, better, under your bed, in case your room would be searched."

"Mary, now you frighten me!", cried Hewlett. "Why should anyone come to search my suite?"

Mary answered, quick and wise:

"In a country, momentarily plunged into chaos, the best way to maintain a minimum of credibility is to display the efficiency of its law-enforcement force."

"I don't quite understand you," said Hewlett with a puzzled look.

At that moment there was a knock at the door. Mary closed quickly the briefcase and carried it to the wardrobe.

Hewlett went to open the door. On the threshold stood two men in plain clothes, one of which held a sheet of paper in his hand.

"May I come in?", he said politely in an English that was quite good. "Federal Russian police. We have a search warrant for your suite, Mr Hewlett."

"What?!" gasped Hewlett. "Outrageous! How dare you!" Anyhow he stepped back, letting in the two men.

The first of them was very visibly displeased in seeing me and Pavel. He stood some moments looking at me and Pavel, non knowing what to say.

Then Pavel acted resolute. With a swift movement he took out his ID card from his breast pocket and said:

"May I see your ID card and the warrant?"

"Who are you?" the first man tried hard to keep his calm, holding forward his hand to take Pavel ID card

Pavel withdrew his hand with his card and said:

"You can see who I am. Now let me see your papers."

The man stood silent a little without doing anything, then said, with a short laugh:

"As I see, your department has taken over the case. Ok, guys, the clients are all yours."

Turning on his heels, he said:

"Au revoir, so long. I hope we'll be friends on new cases."

Pavel did nothing to stop them, as they disappeared behind the door.

"What does it mean? Are they from the police?", said Hewlett with widely opened eyes.

"I doubt it," said Pavel. "At best they are from the private security of the rival group of the man we saw ten minutes ago. And that may mean they have installed bugs here and had followed the whole talks. And now they came to recover the briefcase."

Hewlett looked bewildered. Pavel gave a short laugh:

"This is new Russia, you have to get used to it."

"But why didn't you detain them? You seem to have the authority to do it", Hewlett couldn't calm down.

"Just to avoid useless shooting," said Pavel. "Those guys are quick to pull the trigger, they don't think twice about it. I wouldn't like to compete with them at cowboy-style shooting. If you're are eager to have this experience as well, next time I could arrange it for you."

"Oh, no, thank you, I prefer going back home without a bullet in my head."

"Our next client," said Mary, "preferred, quite understandably, seeing us inside the British Embassy."

"When?"

"At three o'clock. But I expect a confirmation. He speaks English quite fluently."

"When did you talk to him?" I asked astonished.

"Twenty minutes ago. He might be Ivanov's rival, as I can see it, and he knows what risk he's running."

"I didn't know that the situation here was as bad as that", said Hewlett. "Our newspapers write quite positive articles about Russia."

"They have to," said Mary. "They don't write that every day ten to twenty businessmen, bankers and high-ranking government officials in Moscow are being shot or done with in some way. The stakes are high, time is short, the country is being torn apart, everybody who knows the real state of things, is in a terrible hurry to get his slice of the cake. Tomorrow it may be too late, who is in time today may become a billionaire tomorrow, if he doesn't die in the meantime".

"How do you know all this?", said Hewlett with a puzzled look in his face.

"I told you all that, but you were too much engaged in your personal affairs," Mary said in a tone that might be that of mild reproach.

"It's worse than being at war. There, at least, you know on what part you might expect the bullet. But what interest can they have at putting me out? At killing me, in plain words?"

"No interest at all. Only damaging the rival part."

"And for how long will it be going on?"

"Until the extinction of the competition. At least the hot phase of the war. Then it will pass in chronic one. It was the same in the USA, do you remember?".

I don't remember who of us said the last four sentences, after all it doesn't matter now, a life later.

Hewlett paused a little, then said:

"So, I might expect a bullet entering my precious head any moment I go out of this darned hotel?" "No," he cried suddenly. "I don't agree, I'm going to the airport immediately, I'm leaving this damned country this very moment".

He bolted to the wardrobe and swung it open. Then he stopped still, because just in front of him there stood the briefcase with a million dollars in it. He stood staring at it for a few seconds, then he had a second thought. He turned and said:

"Anyhow, I might be shot even on my way to the airport. I'm being silly. I should go on. Right, Mary?"

I looked at Mary and saw her loving, approving glance. Oh God, I felt something like a pang of jealousy.