"I only wish a short visit with him. I don't want to trouble you too much," Galia said.
"Of course, Mr. Chairman. You can talk with him as much as you like." The nurse rapped the surface of the desk set up outside Putin's door. "I'll be right out here if you need me."
Galia gave a grave nod, before he entered the room. Inside was a familiar, but most intensely depressing sight.
On top of a cavernous bed, lay a wizened, elderly figure. Hooked up to him were all manner of IV drips, monitoring equipment, and other hospital hardware. This was stuff that provided not only the best medical care in Russia, but almost the entire world. No expense had been spared in order to preserve the president's life, even if it meant purchasing aid from the hated BnL.
Moving with a smoothness that showed this was an often repeated ritual, the Prime Minister sat down on the ancient overstuffed chair that was always next to the bed. He removed and lit a cigar from the tarnished case in his pocket. After getting comfortable, he started speaking.
"Well, here I am, my president. I apologize for not visiting you sooner. My work got the better for me, as it always does.
As I have mentioned before, BnL has been snuffling around, making all sorts of offers. The last time they came, they offered me my own personal island, in the Carribean.
I refused, of course. I said that I could never make such a decision. I pointed out that only you had the authority to perform that monumental a task.
"They laughed."
He rubbed his face, letting out a massive sigh. "To tell you the truth, old friend, I am scared. They have never been this insistent. This demanding. No matter what I said, they had a counterargument. I eventually had to throw them out when they wouldn't leave.
"I do not know what is happening anymore, my president. In the old days, we used to be a rising star. Under your firm hand, Russia was becoming a first-class power. We even started to rival the Americans, again.
"Now, all anyone talks about is BnL, BnL, BnL. The party is rotting from the inside. Even the country, our country, is dying. Many are talking openly of becoming a part of the 'Great Consolidation.' Pfagh!" His mouth twisted, as though he were sucking a lemon.
"There is this man… this Grigori. He is a member of United Russia, of course. As anyone who wants to amount to anything in Moskva is."
Galia took out his cigar case and begin fiddling with it tensely. "He is a bold man. Very bold. It is he, I am certain, who is the driving force behind this effort to join Buy n Large." He said the company name awkwardly, as though unfamiliar with its' pronunciation.
"He is an eloquent speaker, and has great harizma. People listen to him, unlike me. It is only a matter of time..." Galia's eyes unfocused, as though he were seeing into the future.
Coming back with a start, he shook himself, and said, "Speaking of time. It is running out, my president. With your current illness, there is no one to oppose Grigori in the party. No strong, forceful figure to balance him out. But on the other hand, none dare speak of replacing you while you yet live."
He stubbed out his cigar, and opened the case. Rather than getting another cigar, he took out a gleaming metal syringe, which contained a murky fluid. Galia regarded the needle mournfully. "The doctors say that you cannot hear me. I… am not so sure."
"So I will tell you this, old friend. What I am about to do is not for myself. It is not even for the party. It is for rodina. For the motherland."
He stabbed the syringe into one of the many IV bags, emptying it in seconds. "Farewell, my president. I will pray that a better place lies ahead of you."
Nurse Repin smiled at the Prime Minister as he exited the bedroom. "Already finished, sir?"
The older gentleman gave her a sad look. "I am afraid not. Our work, it is never complete."
Poor man. "I know, Mr. Chairman. You always feel bad after seeing your friend." She said encouragingly, "He can still get better, sir. It's never too late…"
Ryzkhov put up a hand. "No. You do not need to lie to me. It has been too late for Vladimir for a long, long time." Pause. "I can only hope that it is not the same for Russia." He walked off after giving this cryptic statement, leaving the confused nurse behind.
Three hours later, every alarm went off on her desk. The president had died of massive heart failure. Repin cried for a little while before composing herself for the coroner's arrival. It wasn't unexpected, after all was said and done. Putin had been sick for a long time.
