Moscow Blue. Philip Kurland
of here.
Slava took a deep breath before continuing. ‘The same generals, the ones who own this osmium, they also control the sales of warplanes. They have done so for many years, from before Krushchev’s day.’
Crocker shifted deeper into his seat as he sensed something in Slava’s voice that compelled his attention.
‘You remember Krushchev, don’t you?’ Staring into Crocker’s eyes Slava pressed home what he felt was an opening. ‘Well, these generals arranged the sale of warplanes to Egypt, to Syria and Albania and a few other countries. You know how much these planes are worth?’ His question was rhetorical. ‘They are worth more rice than these countries can produce in a thousand years. So these countries owe us. You can imagine. They owe us a great many dollars. But …’ He raised a stumpy finger. ‘But they don’t have the dollars, only their own useless currencies.’
‘But what use is this to me?’ Crocker interjected as soon as Slava gave him the opportunity. He looked fleetingly at his watch. ‘Please get to the point, Slava, because I’ve got to go. I’m very tired.’ He downed the last of his vodka.
‘Yes, Mr Lee, please,’ implored Slava. ‘Please wait just one more moment and I will explain. Now this useless money, if it could be converted, is worth many billion dollars. So …’ His stubby finger rose again while he swallowed and topped up Crocker’s glass. ‘Anyone who does big business in Egypt would jump at the opportunity of buying local currency at a fraction of its value. You know what I mean? At a discount. You see what I am saying, Mr Lee?’
Crocker crossed his legs and settled right back in his chair. This sounds more hopeful. Beauty sleep may have to wait.
‘The Russian government has officially written off these outstanding I.O.Us,’ explained Slava. ‘But if the bureaucrats can get back some of this money…’ His eyes opened wide to emphasise the significance of what he was about to say. ‘Part of a few billion dollars is better than a smack in the face. Is this not right, Mr Lee?’
The room was silent for a few seconds as Crocker took in the idea. He could feel his interest being rekindled.
‘Our people cannot be seen to be bargaining with these countries,’ said Slava. ‘Especially when officially the debt does not exist.’ The signs of strain were leaving his face.
‘So what has this got to do with osmium?’ Crocker asked, trying to get to the kernel of the deal.
‘Yes, you are right, Mr Lee. I am jumping because you are in a hurry. What has this got to do with osmium? Well, let me tell you. With the proceeds of the currency transactions, you will not have to find the money to buy the osmium, which you can have at a very good price anyway.’
‘But do we have to consider both? Why on earth should anyone want to buy the osmium, with all it involves, when they can take the profit from the safer currency deal and be finished?’
Slava sighed, slowly deflating his lungs, indicating subtly his disappointment at his guest’s lack of patience.
‘Of course you have heard of what is happening in North Korea?’
Crocker felt himself tense. He had anticipated that the deal must have some downside, but this sounded as if it could prove insurmountable. North Korea? Is the deal about to be killed off before I even get to see the whole picture? He badly wanted to go to bed and sleep.
‘North Korea wants to buy all twenty kilograms of the osmium for cash,’ said Slava, dropping his voice. ‘But our generals don’t really want to deal with them because they know it would spoil the good relationship our country is building with both the United States and the European Common Market. But, if it is their only option, they will take their money and run. You understand what I am saying, Mr Lee?’
Crocker considered for a moment. Did he smell a touch of blackmail here? He lifted his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose, thinking.
‘How did you say you knew about the generals?’ he asked.
‘One of them is married to my cousin.’ Slava grinned. ‘He is one of the senior and most respected generals, and a very good friend of mine. And when you take this further,’ he continued presumptuously, ‘you will meet him and his fellow officers.’
‘Why did you ask me, Slava? You must know that finance isn’t my usual line of business. I could understand you asking my brother, Paul, but why me? Moscow’s full of traders, Slava.’ Crocker pushed the point. ‘Why me?’
Slava spread his hands. ‘Perhaps they did ask Paul. But I only do what I’m told. I don’t know, Mr Lee. I was given your name by one of the generals. You can be sure your name was well researched.’
‘Which general?’
‘The name will mean nothing to you.’
Crocker rapidly became conscious of the fact that powerful people he’d never met seemed to know him personally: Kolyunov, the police and now this unknown general.
‘As I have already said,’ explained Slava, ‘I only do what I am told. They must have their reasons. I do know that the Government cannot be seen to deal direct in these matters. It needs an established trader who can be trusted as an intermediary. It doesn’t matter to them, I suppose, whether you are here in Moscow or in New York. You are an experienced trader. Perhaps in America you have better contacts? And if you cannot do this yourself, I am sure you know who to ask. Is that not right, Mr Lee?’
There was a long silence as Crocker considered the deal now that he was beginning to understand it more fully. He removed his glasses again and began wiping the lenses with his fingers. This could be on, he told himself. His gut instinct now made him feel more positive about the offer. He could see Slava’s expression slowly transforming into a warm smile, his colour returning. The light from the chandelier reflected off his gold teeth once more as his lips parted in a triumphant grin.
‘I’m not saying I will do anything about this,’ said Crocker cautiously, not wanting to sound too keen. ‘But in case I decide to take it further, answer me this.’
Slava waited for the question, confident that his guest had taken the bait.
‘How long before your generals will want to make a decision, Slava? And who does one deal with? I mean, who’s the decision-maker?’
Slava judged the questions augured well.
‘The answer to the first part of your question, Mr Lee, is I really don’t know.’ He shrugged. ‘But your first contact will be me, of course, and then I will arrange a meeting. Oleg has my numbers and knows how to contact me at any time. Night or day. Okay, Mr Lee? I hope I haven’t wasted your time. I know you are a very busy man.’
But to Slava’s surprise, his guest didn’t prepare to leave.
Although he had concluded many deals for the company in the past, Crocker was not at ease with this one. There were many unanswered questions chasing each other around in his mind: serious questions and serious consequences. This was far from a straightforward deal where he would have expected all the answers at the outset. But on the upside, if there were a successful outcome here, he and everyone else involved could retire.
‘Would we have exclusivity for both these deals?’ he asked. ‘The osmium and the Egyptian funds?’
Slava smiled. ‘I am sure you can have exclusivity, Mr Lee. But you must let me confirm this for you.’
It seemed to Crocker that Slava had stepped back from the edge of the abyss, his self-confidence returning fast.
As they both rose, the Russian touched Crocker’s shoulder.
‘Just one more thing, Mr Lee.’ The stubby finger came up again, but this time to emphasise a warning. ‘A very important point.’ The smile was gone momentarily.
‘Yes?’ said Crocker.
‘What we have discussed here this evening, you must understand, Mr Lee, is not