Moscow Machination

On the ride back to Moscow, Anna explored the limitless possibilities of Project Catie. Project Catie was well beyond the realms of CIA, Mossad, MI6 and even the old KGB put together.

Project Catie felt like the iPhone moment of doomsday weapons. It was smarter, cleaner and way cooler than any of the existing tripe. And just like the iPhone it was bound to usher in crappier, mass market competitors. But as the great sage once said, ‘they were five years ahead’, which in the weapons world translated to about two decades. Two decades of superiority. Two decades of dominance. Enough to make Russia better.

In Moscow, Anna Petrova was reunited with her dazed guards, Mika and team. A simple, Presidential stare that conveyed ‘keep the whole thing quiet’ was sufficient.

Chapter 13

Pyongyang, North Korea

The Leader of Laidback Korea was unimpressed with the beast. He took a few steps back and cocked his head. After 2.6 seconds of holding Zoya’s eye he shook his head again.

“No, no. Are you sure this is the Presidential tiger, Dong Ki?”

Dong Ki Moon offered to take a blood oath. Uninterested, the Leader continued to walk around the tiger’s cage. Dong Ki, the second best black ops operative and the tiger had rode an army Antonov out of the tri-border area to Pyongyang. His men and equipment were sitting pretty on the deluxe, Leader’s Light Express.

The Leader had insisted upon getting the tiger away from their manic neighbors. Overtly he put out the vibe that the South… South Korea was his enemy No.1. They had started out as his grandpa’s enemy. They had always been his dad’s enemy and today, seventy years later they still kept up with their enimitude. The Leader preferred the South in a ‘known devil’ sort of way.

Plus his supposed friends, the bear and the dragon had been acting like big time bitches. Always annoyed, always questioning, always helicoptering… and even threatening to cut off his pocket money at the drop of an uncle’s head. All he wanted was a few rockets for the 4^th of July celebrations. He couldn’t understand what his dad and grandad had seen in his northern neighbors. Some day he hoped to find true love, like the one between Seoul and Washington. Someday…

And this tiger… what a buzzkill. It wasn’t even half the size of the Bengal tiger in his basement. Now that was a majestic beast. This… this Russian Zoya looked morbid. Eww.

“Nope. I don’t want this thing. Just FedEx it to Moscow or wherever the heck. I don’t want this carcass anywhere near my great collection.”

All Dong Ki, wanted to do was to return to his apartment where his hot Asian wife waited. Which again proved that there was no safe haven when it came to yellow fever. No vaccines. No shots. Nothing.

Dong Ki had done his job. That was it. Nobody ever asked for opinions inside Pyongyang’s beltways. Dong Ki had received a few medals in the past from the Leader, so it wasn’t even like a thing he could cross off his bucket list.

“I understand, Great One. Shall I call the vet?” asked Dong Ki.

“Call the vet, but call my cook first. Don’t want this thing to die on our hands. Tell him to get a few cold cuts.”

Dong Ki relayed the Leader’s commands to a nameless female assistant, as another assistant rushed in.

“Great Leader, Dimitroff the Russian ambassador is here to see you,” said the assistant.

“Fuck. Let’s get this over with.”

* * *

The Russian Ambassador Gregory Dimitroff walked into the great leader’s sitting room. Dimitroff was doing time in the DPRK for trying to encash a few Gazprom options right after the Crimean clusterfuck. He sorely missed the Bratislava posting.

“Mr. Leader. How are you?”

“Yo wassup homie?” replied the Leader was nonchalantly, “Long time no see.”

“Well, we thought we were at an understanding… until I heard you aren’t returning our tiger. Do I need to remind you that the tiger is Russian state property?”

“A ‘thank you for preventing a nuclear ass rampage’ would have been a better opener.”

Dimitroff looked at the morose tiger and wondered what could be lower than Pyongyang on the diplomatic ladder. Somalia? Perhaps an Ebola country? Or Haiti? Probably Afghanistan? Ah wait… Thailand. Pyongyang vs Mogadishu — Pyongyang had only one moron; Pyongyang vs Monrovia — Ebola unlike yellow fever wasn’t on Pyongyang’s visa exempt list; Pyongyang vs Port-au-Prince? DPRK was seismically solid. Pyongyang vs Kabul? Hmmm, nothing off the top… oh wait, that little thing with the Soviet invasion. Fuck. Pyongyang vs Bangkok? Sweaty Russian dudes who didn’t know what a ladyboy was.

Well, Pyongyang wasn’t that bad.

“Fair enough. Thank you Leader. You and your people did us a solid.”

“Apology accepted.”

“Well can I have my tiger back?”

“Dimitroff my man, not so fast. Don’t you wanna taste some kimchi, perhaps catch a game?”

“Dear Leader, I kinda got this report to write, to Moscow of course. You know Anna, she can get pretty iffy during this time of the month…”