Chapter 5 – A man of power

Maxim Fokin was a man of power, one of the siloviki as Russians call them. It had been a long way from the Siberian boy born in a shabby family of Novosibirsk, to the international coal mining tycoon with smooth manners and bespoke suits. He was a clever man, beyond the shadow of a doubt, but what would have been cleverness to him, without his very special talent for seducing people and choosing the right direction? Plain cleverness would have led him at best to a drab office in some state administration, and Maxim Fokin had certainly other ambitions. After starting his studies at the Novosibirsk Electrical Engineering Institute, he had been given an opportunity to complete his degree in power engineering at the prestigious Moscow State University.

His encounter with the city had been the real start of his career. There, he had been noticed for his promising abilities: as a natural leader, a gifted manipulator and cynical ambitious, he was definitely a good candidate for KGB. He was soon admitted at the KGB Intelligence and counter-intelligence academy, where he learnt invaluable skills. The refinements of strategy and tactics, foreign languages, covert communications, subversion and many other subjects were now open to him, and he felt new horizons were opening wide, horizons he had always deemed he deserved. At twenty-five, he was at last given the rank of lieutenant and affected to the First Chief Directorate, in charge of foreign operations. There, he spent some exciting years as a field operative mainly in Europe and North America, gaining experience, and the reputation of a ruthless, cold and cruel agent.

The young Maxim Fokin enjoyed this life for a time, but he knew the winds were about to turn. At the end of the eighties, still in his early thirties, he obtained thanks to his technological background to be transferred to the Sixth Directorate of KGB, in charge of economic counter-intelligence and Industrial Security. There, he thought he could be safer from the political stirs he felt coming, and work more effectively at his own advancement in life. For this was what really interested him: he had never been a patriot or ideologist, and couldn't care less about the predictable end of the Soviet Union. On the contrary, he was quite excited at the thought that only crumbling empires can offer ambitious men the fate they deserve...

However, his calculation proved to be clever: the regime changed, the KGB became FSK and then FSB, but Maxim Fokin stood firmly in place. In times of change, nothing is as valuable as a stable network of friends and informants, so he applied himself to develop his influence in Russia, and to maintain his connections with foreign countries. At the end of the nineties, he thought it was finally time for him to quit the secret service and live by his own rules. Now a colonel, he had been assigned the task of coordinating the FSB operations to crack down on labour unions in 'Kuzbas', the historical Kuznetsk Siberian coal basin. He had now enough experience of economics and industry, and enough supports in Siberia and over the world, to build his own empire. He had chosen energy, and specially the Siberian coal mining industry he had grown familiar with, as his kingdom, and in a few years, he had entered the circle of the new Russian billionaires. For nothing, and no one, could resist Maxim Fokin. At least, this was what he prided himself on, and to this point, there had been no reason to contradict him.

But as ruthless as he was, Fokin was a man of culture, wit and good tastes. This was part of the many things he had learned during his career. His wit, together with a certain sense of humour, had led him to sponsor his own Peace Enforcement Program, promoting peace particularly in the turmoiled regions of Central Asia and Eastern Europe. What a wonderful cover for keeping up his own intelligence network, and getting in touch with all local warlords, clients for his little gunrunning that allowed him to nicely balance the accounts of his program! It was definitely a clever and funny idea, but its only drawback was that Maxim Fokin had to give his program some public support, through charity events or public conferences, like the one he was to give this evening in Paris.

He sighed at the idea of it, crushed his cigarillo in a silver ashtray, and leaned back in the sofa of his suite at the Ritz. He rubbed his hands over his face, and pushed aside the thought that he endured less and less timeshift with age. Looking at the gilt framed mirror over the mantelpiece, he considered himself for a moment. The early fifties had brought their usual share of marring: the now sparse hair was almost grey, and deep vertical wrinkles gave his once handsome face a sterner and harder look than he would have liked. But his rather athletic build hadn't changed too much, and he was still good looking in a suit. Most of all, his piercing blue eyes had lost nothing of their magnetic glare. He knew these eyes could still freeze or bewitch anyone with a single look.

He took a glance at his watch: only less than one hour free before going out... He'd better finish his work quickly. With a deep breath, he bent over the ultraportable laptop set on the coffee table in front of him. Through the secure Internet connection, he started to go through the new encrypted messages. He let aside a couple of routine reports from his informants in Central Asia, and wrote a quick and thorough list of instructions in answer to his "assistant" in Tehran. He didn't pay much attention to the report of one his contacts in South America, stating that an important local oil company had requested support from his organization for some shadowy operations: he had not enough time to deal with this issue at the moment. He finally opened the last message, and ran through it carefully, squinting his eyes:

From: PRH-1008
Subject: Mercurius completed
Operation completed successfully.
James Bond "cleared" the case: Dobroski and his men are out, and the data is at the hands of MI6 now.
Bond left Prague this morning for Budapest. I think this assignment is over for him. We are now waiting for your instructions.

Maxim Fokin smiled. Perfect. But nothing was to be neglected. He clicked the "reply" button, and started typing his answer:

From: MF
Subject: Re: Mercurius completed
Follow Bond immediately. Make sure he really is on another mission. No risk is to be taken.
I am very disappointed to learn that your outfit is not already on his lead in Budapest.