The First Billion

Baranov continued. "On the seventeenth of March, Novastar management sent a directive to all its foreign sales offices ordering all remittances to be wired to an account in an offshore bank." He picked up a new document and read from it. "I quote, 'All proceeds from advance ticket sales, tour bookings, late fees, and penalties are to be paid into the account of Futura S.A. at the Banque Sino-Suez.' The directive is, in itself, an infraction of our legal code. Revenues accruing to the Russian government are to be transferred to Moscow. I could have you thrown in Lefortovo for that alone. What was the purpose of this measure?"

Lefortovo. Stones dripping with damp. Lice-infested beds. Midnight searches of prisoners' cells.

"Ease of accounting. A Swiss firm does all our work."

Baranov dismissed the answer with a sneer. "What concerns me more, however, is that since the time of this directive there has been a shortfall in income of over one hundred million dollars from last year's sales."

"Business has fallen off this year," Kirov explained, his mouth grown parched. "It would help if the government initiated a campaign to bring tourists to the motherland."

For once the pasty lawyer smiled. "Actually, bookings are up fifteen percent over last year."

"Fifteen percent?"

"Fifteen point six to be exact."

Kirov held the attorney's eye, hoping to conceal the tide of unease crashing inside him. First Futura and now mention of Novastar's bookings. Next thing Baranov would say he had the banking records to boot. A word scratched at Kirov's throat, begging to be acknowledged, spoken, screamed. Spy. Someone was slipping his organization's most important records out of his offices.

"I don't involve myself in the day-to-day affairs of my companies," he finally said. "I know nothing of the directive, but you have my word it will be discontinued immediately. I'm sure the shortfall in revenues is simply an accounting error."

"One hundred twenty million dollars is more than an accounting error."

"Then the error is surely yours, not mine."

"I think not, Konstantin Romanovich. Don't be surprised to find a government delegation coming to your offices for an early visit one of these days. You know my boys- the ones with ski masks, camouflage utilities, and machine guns. I've been made to understand that you are a demon for order- some might even say obsessive. Who knows what we might find. Perhaps some documents with the Banque Privé de Genève et Lausanne name?"

The Banque Privé de Genève et Lausanne? How the hell had Baranov come up with that name?

Kirov colored, but his voice remained calm and modulated. "Is that a threat?"

"One hundred twenty million dollars is missing," said Baranov solemnly. "Return to the state that which it is due and this inquiry will be terminated."

Confess! Collaborate! Apologize! The iron voice echoed across forty years.

"A raid will not be allowed," protested Kirov. "If you wish to launch a formal investigation into my handling of Novastar's affairs, you're welcome to do so. But use the proper channels."

Baranov slammed an open hand on the table. "The Rodina is in a pitiable condition. Our people need money, not justice. The rule of law must take a backseat to economic necessity. We will no longer stand by as you and your like continue to rape the country, as you strip Mother Russia of her wealth to line your own pockets. You oligarchs are jackals, one and all."

"Never have I robbed the Rodina," said Kirov, his voice silk to Baranov's sandpaper. "I do not sell her minerals on the cheap. I do not smuggle her diamonds or gold out of the country. I do not squander her oil. I am a builder. A creator. Look around you. Half the new buildings in this city are mine. Offices. Apartments. Restaurants. I started a television station from nothing and built it into our city's most popular. A thousand rubles says the radio in your car is tuned to my station. It is I who have upgraded our country's phone lines, I who have brought the Internet to our young people and businesses."

"Yes," said Baranov, all outward calm evaporating. "You have constructed buildings, but at twice the true cost. Your offices charge outlandish rent to your own companies. Advertising billings collected by your television station are booked to offshore companies. Income tax- I don't even dare ask what you pay… or don't. As for Mercury Broadband and your interest in the upgrading of our nation's infrastructure, it is as suspect as the rest of your operations. Be most assured, Konstantin Romanovich, we are aware of your ambitious plans- all of them- and we will decide which are acceptable."