Moscow Machination

As hell broke loose, the Federale and its Federale Cartel came under attack. As the Federale bravely went at the cartels, the Federale Cartel ran. The rank and file had made a beeline to the United States. The three hundred or so FC men had caught a Delta redeye to JFK. Being a part of the Federale family had a lot of perks.

Despite the bloodbath the origin of the drugs remained a mystery. Looking for a scapegoat the Federale had turned on its own Executive Estrada. Sensing the trouble, Ramon Estrada had hopped into his Toyota Tacoma and driven all the way to Laguna Beach. Once across the border, to maintain a low profile he had checked into a Motel 6.

Estrada was well aware of the tendencies of all parties involved — the Federale, the DEA, ICE, CIA, Cartels, FBI, ETC. — all bad.

After chilling for a bit, he planned to escape to Andalusia in Spain.

A failed actress or perhaps a cage cleaner at the San Diego Zoo smiled at him. She wasn’t bad looking but for some reason melded with the motel’s depressing decor. Ramon Estrada lifted his Budweiser at her. She seemed to have high cheekbones. Sweet.

Kremlin, Moscow

“Madam, are you sure about this scumbag?” prodded Primakov.

“The Japanese are having trouble with their supplies and chains… something to do with Yakuza clans… apparently product is piling up,” the most powerful woman on the planet replied, “Plus Foreign Minister Yamazaki thinks a face that’s familiar to the DEA would mean more business.”

“Sure… yeah, but can’t we just lend them one of our Chechens. They know this kind of stuff… they might be Chechens but they are still Russians.”

“Minister Yamazaki was adamant. He doesn’t need henchmen. He needs someone with business acumen… someone who has a sense of… knowing where the puck is going to be… Estrada’s dossier states that at one point he was running the 4^th largest cartel in Mexico. And when things went south, he successfully navigated the quagmire and repositioned the Federale Cartel as a boutique cartel. Trust me, this guy is a winner.”

The idea of acquihiring a D-List Drug Lord for the Japanese didn’t sit well with Primakov. “Ok. But what about diplomacy? What about the Mexican and US governments. There might be consequences.”

“Dude, grow a pair. What are they going to do? More sanctions?”

“At least we should make him an offer. Maybe, make this thing into a defection instead of an abduction.”

“It says in the dossier… that he spoke to some maid in Andalusia to tidy up his villa. This guy has no plans of returning to Mexico… or even the trade. And that will be a huge loss for all parties… Just grab him already.”

Laguna Beach, Greater Tijuana Area

“Hola… thirst?” said Ramon Estrada.

“I am” offered the probably failed actress.

“Would you like a Corona or a Bud Lite?”

“Hmm, sure.”

Tatiana got out of the pool and wrapped herself in a towel. She ruffled through her bag and brought out a pack of cigarettes and offered one to Ramon.

After casually inspecting the cigarette for telltale signs, Ramon Estrada lit one.

“Ramon.”

“Tatiana.”

LAX Airport, Los Angeles

Three hours later, Tatiana and Ramon Estrada were strapped into an Aeroflot, aimed at Moscow. Ramon was having a roofied riot.

Chapter 23

Kiev, Ukraine

31 year old Airline-Consultant-Indian-at-Large Pulikesi stood up and stretched. Standing at his Soviet era steel desk, he made a casual 180 degree sweep of the office floor. Unlike Bay Area tropes, this was a Stalinist-Brutalist set piece. There were no bicycle racks, coffee machines or lava lamps. Judging by the ancient steel furniture and ominous lighting, someone suggested that it had once been the Kiev franchise of the Lubyanka. But after the first 176hrs on the job, the forty two Ukrainians and the Indian couldn’t care less about the prehistory of their office space.

Being the leader of the team, Pulikesi commandeered an entire 7ft by 7ft iron table while the forty two Ukrainians huddled and exterminated bugs like it was 1941. Pulikesi and his team of software engineers were doing their best to salvage the Albatross, a brand new airline management system.

Lunch had been cabbage, cucumber, sauerkraut and fried chicken. It was four in the afternoon and they had been at it for three straight hours. Pulikesi was itching for a smoke.

“Ilya,” he called out to his Ukrainian counterpart and pointed outside. Ilya nodded and took a morbid look at the bug list before getting up.

Like many bad things, the Albatross had come out of an innocuous building on the outskirts of Berlin. The purported goal of the Albatross software was to replace American airline systems with a pro-European system that would integrate Russia and the FSU with the EU.

To showcase collaboration, cooperation and good will, the Albatross development had been splayed across several stakeholder nations. The blueprint had been developed in Berlin, while the actual magic happened in Kiev. Trials were carried out both at Amsterdam Schiphol as well as Moscow Vnukovo.