Chapter Twenty-Two
Moscow, Russia
The scent of hyacinth was all-pervasive, in the richly appointed conference room. For Yelena, it represented a stark counterpoint to the tension that could be felt between the attendees. Their host, Yevgeni Madalyuk, seemed utterly unphased by it... at least on the surface. But she, and her combination of expertise in reading body language, and CASIE implant assistance, had little trouble seeing the anxiety beneath the calm facade.
Career politician... he projects confidence well.
She thought, as she nodded in silent thanks, to a young serving girl depositing drinks in front of everyone.
Segmentation was like an alternative reality the cyborg woman experienced. She could hear, and interact with the proceedings, and offer input when needed, but the majority of her direct attention was focused on her surroundings – speficially, the rival Bratva members eyeing each other across the table.
And eyeing her, of course. The Moscow chapter members in particular; especially their spokesman, a broad-shouldered, tall, heavily tattooed, clean-shaven mountain of a man that was almost big enough to compare favourably with the late Barrett. He lacked any visible augmentations, but the amount of hardened muscle on his large, wrestler-like frame almost made up for it. Upon introductions, she learned that his name was Vasily, and that his cousin was one of the victims of the Tyrants' assignment to take out Kontarsky.
Needless to say, it was only the presence of the Sankt Peterburg members, and Igor's assertion that she was 'one of them', that kept the big man and his thugs from opening fire. Yet just by looking in his eyes, laced with hatred every time he glanced at her, Yelena could tell how much it took for him to restrain himself. A sidelong glance at Igor made it clear he kept as close an eye on the rival members, as she did.
So far, her alternate identity was holding up... for the benefit of their host, and their... rivals, she was Tanya Cristoff. And the woman had no intention of letting that perception slip. While the Sankt Peterburg chapter was by now... trustworthy enough, especially given her usefulness to them, that she had no reservations about them knowing who she really was... the same couldn't be said for anyone else in the room. Not even Madalyuk, who at best was – an unknown element, in Yelena's mind.
Him and Quinn were hip-deep into discussing the finer points of the potential benefits of UralPharma's shadowy alliance with the Collective, the latter staying true to his Quinn persona, the former making a rather enticing sales-pitch regarding his company's long-term prospects for the market. Yelena had to admire the man's optimism... despite the current attitude towards enhancement, not to mention to the UN resolution, he was ready and willing to not only adopt the recursive catalyst template, but also begin tentative manufacturing of the agent.
In some ways, Madalyuk's attitude was not unlike what she remembered having read about, in David Sarif's biography, that they were required to familiarise themselves with, prior to the assignment in Detroit. A risk-taker, and someone unafraid of potential consequences. But she saw something else in the man, and his expression.
Defiance. And almost... fanatical stubborness. As he spoke about his board of directors' attempt to subvert him, their collusion with TYM, and his willingness to do whatever it took, to retain control of his company. Regardless of risk to his personal safety, that he made clear he was very aware of.
"I will make one thing clear, to anyone... anyone... thinking they can dictate to me, how to conduct business. That there are no rules in corporate warfare, and that their attempts to subvert my authority will be met with consequences! Those squinty-eyed rats' greed will be their downfall. No matter how much power they think they have, and whose interests stand behind them." - he stated to Quinn, demonstrating, among other things, his racist attitude towards the Chinese, before turning his attention to her.
"Miss Cristoff. I wanted to congratulate you personally, on the point you made to said rats, in Mayrhofen. Not to even mention those leeches from the World Health Organisation... proving what I suspected for a while now, that TYM's monopolistic behaviour is condoned by globalist interests. Yes, my traitorous board members are still out there, but I know them. I know the way they think, and more to the point, my investigation into their list of contacts has pointed to several likely locations they could be hiding at."
Yelena noted the use of English... it was clearly intended for Quinn's benefit as well, just as it was clear that even Madalyuk was completely fooled by the 'Quinn' persona. Inwardly, she had to smirk to herself... so many were seemingly unable to see through it.
Am I that special... ? Or do I just have better ears for it? Note to self... find a native Scottish person, and ask them to hear him talk, sometime. Because I'm curious...
"Thank you, mister Madalyuk. I am looking forward to finishing the job." - she said out loud. The suave politician smiled at that, a glint in his eyes.
"Vozmozhno, nam stoit obsudit' eto nayedine? Za uzhinom i bokalom khoroshego vina?" - this time very clearly intended for 'Quinn' not to understand. At that notion, she simply had to restrain a visible smirk, noticing the older man's amused expression.
But it was unexpected. Madalyuk was clearly - taken - by her, in more ways then one. As far as her tastes in men went – he was reasonably close to gold standard, and unlike Igor and his sophisticate act, glowering from the side of the table, clearly... irritated... by the politician's attention, she could see no pretence behind this man's courtly demeanour. A decisive, ambitious, ruthless mind, yet also a gentleman... Yelena would be lying if she claimed she didn't find the combination – intriguing.
And besides... if seducing him will assist in our goal to bring him into our pocket – so be it. Not to mention it might give me opportunity to dig around for more inside information on the workings of UralPharma.
She thought.
Taras Bulba restaurant, Mokhovaya Street, three hours later
~"You ever feel like you're freeloading? I mean, the only reason they even let you, an aug, into that fancy place, is because they think you're some auged-up escort floozy for mr. Madalyuk. Did you see the looks from those security guards?"~ - Jamella's sarcastic comment came subvocally over Yelena's infolink.
The aquiline woman allowed herself a microscopic smirk, looking around the high-class restaurant's lobby. Thinking back to Montreal assignment, and the reaction of a certain data-entry worker there...
~"Jamella dear, it would not be the first time someone thought of me as an auged-up floozy. In the meantime, stop tapping into my visual pickups! There is a little thing called privacy, you know."~
~"Hey, not my fault the link between you and the drones lets me piggyback a video signal! Not a good one, mind you... static everywhere... But okay, okay... I'm cuttin' out. Spoilsport!"~ - the girl's reply contained an equal mixture of mischief and sulking.
This left Yelena on her own, focusing hard onto the persona she was... not really forced into, but one the circumstances forced her into. Not that she minded... as she did learn a lot about Yevgeni Madalyuk, during the past couple of hours. Including the fact that Quinn had vastly understated the case, when he claimed the man wanted to meet her. He was positively smitten by her.
The suave politician was going all out, ever since the meeting – the official part of it – was concluded. He insisted on taking her shopping, dropping a lot of credits at a Boucheron jewellery store to buy her a pearl necklace and a pair of onyx earrings to match her eyes, then letting her pick out an evening dress of her choice, no price limit, at a Badgley-Mischa boutique, to wear for their dinner.
She picked out a low-cut, satin black one, going nicely with the ribbed, rubbery-black surface of her cybernetic legs, with laced, filigreed single left shoulderpad, letting the fine fabric droop down her arms, her right shoulder exposed, leaving plenty of folds and creases to conceal her pair of karambit blades within easy reach, if necessary. The midriff was partially exposed, accentuating her figure.
The pair of blades, were the only weapons she could find a way to incorporate into her styling, as she had to leave her pair of TMPs with Quinn, back at the meeting spot.
She knew that he would find a way to excuse himself from their Bratva 'escorts', and make his way back to Jamella and the drones, at their own staging area. The last she saw of them, Igor and his coterie of Sankt Peterburg crew were busy working out a drug deal with the Moscow crew. Clearly business interests eclipsed their rivalry, and she was grateful for that. It made a potential flashpoint between the two, more remote – and took away attention from herself.
And I have plenty of it, right now. Of a different kind. Not quite sure what to make of it, yet... being taken on a date by a politician treating me like a queen, was not something I expected today.
She thought, giving her – companion – a subtly hooded gaze, as they seated themselves at their reserved table, the politician's coterie of bodyguards standing unobtrusively nearby.
While she enjoyed the attention, and the opened doors being in such a high profile figure's company granted her, Yelena couldn't help but be slightly off-put by the amount of gifts Madalyuk was heaping upon her. She – suspected – that he might be buttering her up. A job offer with his company? Or something more – personal?
"YA khotel by predlozhit' tost... za samuyu krasivuyu zhenshchinu v etom gorode." - he raised a champagne glass with a smile, as a pair of waiters deposited an appetizer in front of both... a bowl of Beluga caviar with croissants to dip in with.
Despite her best efforts, Yelena felt her mouth watering... she was a fiend for caviar since childhood, but Beluga.. that was something she never had the opportunity to taste, being well beyond her family's means. She smiled, raising her own glass...
"YA pol'shchena. Khotya ty menya pochti ne znayesh'." - her tone subtly testing, as she had to make an effort not to let the unfettered complimenting get to her, taking a measured sip. The surroundings, her attire, the presents, Madalyuk's courtly mannerism and attentions... it evoked something she hadn't truly felt in many years, ever since her ballet theatre perfomances... and never thought she would feel again.
She felt like a lady. Like a main character of her own play. The interesting thing was, she couldn't see any trace of pretence, on Madalyuk's part. Not with her long experience reading body language, not by her CASIE implant. And despite his politician's background, he didn't strike her as someone capable of counterfeiting such interest. He seemed genuinely taken, by someone he only met three and a half hours ago, and knew only from second-hand reports that Quinn had no doubt provided in advance.
An abandoned suburban house at the outskirts of the city...
"You could've warned her, you know. That the guy was a secret admirer." - Jamella Couture emphasised with a headshake, glancing up from the portable terminal she was sitting at, monitoring the two drones' status and their continuining connection to Yelena's infolink.
Quinn shrugged, with a microscopic chuckle.
"I was planning to... until the Colonel's rather unambiguous emphasis on her priorities, back in the aircraft. In light of it, I thought a more spur-of-the-moment revelation would do more to drive home to her that this assignment might require a bit more... involvement... on her part."
She glared, fire in her human eye.
"So basically you set her up and pimped her out as an escort, for a bigwig? Quinn, that's... that's..." - she paused, trying to find the right word.
"That's business, Jamella." - the older man countered, "The intel-gathering portion of this assignment was something Janus never wanted to abandon, despite the alterations to the venue. So I had to improvise. I read Madalyuk's file, that the Collective managed to put together – he is a womanizer who considers himself something of an old-fashioned gentleman. With a special eye for the exotic."
The girl's glare could melt steel.
"What is this, the Mata Hari approach?" - she hissed, "I get the feeling Yelena's NOT the type to fall into that role. And I still think you should've warned her in advance."
Quinn shook his head, considering his words.
"That's where you'd be wrong. Colonel Fedorova is a complex individual. And I have been observing her long enough now, to be able to see past the many masks she wears. She wears them well, don't get me wrong, and they're not easy to unmask. But part of being an intelligence analyst, is knowing how to see past the surface. She misses the lost aspects of her life. She has segmented them away, to cope, but they are there. I have very little doubt she will take well to the role, and carry it out with enough excellence to gain Madalyuk's trust. Certainly his lust. And given the kind of man he is... those two are one and the same."
"In other words, you think she can femme-fatale him around her little finger?" - the girl shook her head.
"More likely she'll make him run for the hills, with her dominant personality!"
At that, Quinn laughed out loud.
"You might be surprised! As I said, I studied Madalyuk's file, too. And met him twice. He has a taste for the exotic, and he is a bit of a masochist. It's a common enough character trait with men in positions of authority. They get fed up being surrounded by serfs, and they crave someone to... be a foil for them. Someone who isn't a sychophant or a yes-man, someone with a will to challenge theirs. Can you think of an individual more... irreverent... then the Colonel? More willful? Less impressionable or easily awed? More confident, bordering on arrogance? And add to it, her disdain for authority figures?"
Jamella shook her head.
"Yeah... no. Not really. I just hope she don't stab him during dessert! Or make him the main course! That'd put an end to this little gambit of yours!" - sarcastically.
"Or that she don't stab YOU, when she gets back!" - with a sadistic grin.
"That is my share of the risk on this assignment, I suppose." - he muttered under his breath with a chuckle.
Back at Taras Bulba...
As time passed, the small-talk finally began giving way to business matters... and Yelena began to realise why was she being showered with attention and gifts – it wasn't simply a case of Madalyuk being taken with her. He was also grateful.
"YA khochu luchshego dlya moyey kompanii... kompanii, kotoroy ya otdal luchshiye gody svoyey zhizni. I ya dolzhen poblagodarit' vas za to, chto vy dali mne povod predprinyat' takiye reshitel'nyye deystviya bez riska politicheskoy reaktsii." - he stated with conviction.
She nodded in understanding.
"Vy imeyete v vidu to, chto proizoshlo v aeroportu Sankt-Peterburga? Da... YA ne mog upustit' vozmozhnost' postavit' nashe pravitel'stvo v tsentr vnimaniya. Slishkom dolgo takim organizatsiyam, kak Tarvos, razreshalos' beznakazanno deystvovat' v nashey strane." - playing the patriotic card. She knew who she was dealing with, and besides... it was the truth.
The man's eyes lit with almost fanatical fire, as he smiled.
"Da! V nashe vremya, v epokhu bezuderzhnoy globalizatsii, redko mozhno vstretit' nastoyashchikh patriotov. Bol'shinstvo lyudey slishkom zakhvacheny svoimi puzyryami konformizma, chtoby soprotivlyat'sya vneshnemu vliyaniyu. Vy, Tanya Cristoff, ne tol'ko zanyali svoyu pozitsiyu, no i izmenili situatsiyu! Patriot, prichom sposobnyy. Etoy strane nuzhny takiye lyudi, kak vy. Lyudi, kotoryye ne boyatsya deystvovat' vne zakona, kogda eti zakony prednaznacheny dlya rasshireniya vozmozhnostey vragov nashego suvereniteta."
Yelena could recognise a descent into demagoguery when she heard one. But it was one that she approved of, and it drove home to her, why the Collective was so interested in currying this man's allegiance.
Patriotic businessmen – the best kind of businessmen. And frankly, if we do not bring him in and under our protection, he will end up... disappeared. Just like Kontarsky. No matter how minor a player UralPharma is, in the global scheme of biotech development, they wouldn't allow someone with his views to remain in charge of such a company. They would buy him off, and failing that... well. The Tyrants were sent to silence people with MUCH less outspoken anti-globalist views then his, if they proved a potential threat to their interests. Even if he nationalised the company... that never stopped them before. I know...
She remained silent with a nod, taking a bite, as Madalyuk went on, finally moving specifically onto the matter of the rogue board members in hiding. Both of them apparently had offshore accounts in Antigua and Barbuda, where their credit line from TYM ended up. Needless to say, as soon as he found out, he contacted the government of Antigua, under diplomatic auspices, and requested a temporary seizure of the two's accounts, pending 'investigation into corruption'.
Without concrete evidence of course, the seizure would only ever be temporary, but that wasn't the point. The point was to make them overreact, since there was a lot of money at stake, and given his position, he could keep the 'investigation' frozen for months on end, while 'evidence is being gathered'. All the while their accounts would be frozen.
"Vy khotite, chtoby nashi khakery opustoshili ikh akkaunty? Legko sdelat'." - she suggested, but he shook his head.
"Net net. Eto protivorechilo by tseli. YA khochu, chtoby oni sami svyazalis' s ABDB i podali zapros na vypusk... kotoryy pozvolil by nam otsledit' ikh tekushcheye mestopolozheniye. Ili yesli oni reshat priyekhat' lichno, chto, uchityvaya summu deneg, veroyatno... dazhe luchshe. Nash posol v Antigua predupredit menya zaraneye." - he explained. Yelena nodded at that.
"Tak chto ya libo otpravlyayus' na Antigua, libo... kuda by ni vel telefonnyy sled." - a flash in her eyes.
The man rubbed his chin, thinking... before he took a bite of his own. Finally, he spoke.
"Voobshche-to, ya podumal, chto tebe vse ravno stoit poyekhat' na Antigua... uchityvaya otsutstviye tam ogranicheniy na augmentatsii, tebe budet gorazdo legche smeshat'sya s tolpoy, ozhidaya ikh pribytiya. A yesli okazhetsya, chto net, vam takzhe budet gorazdo proshche zabronirovat' reys tuda, kuda vedet sled."
Yelena pretended to mull it over, but inwardly, she smiled.
Oh, this is perfect! Not only will I have an ironclad excuse to leave the continent as I planned to, but since I AM technically on assignment from Madalyuk, Janus and the Collective will have no pretext to keep me here. And even better... it's only a short hop to New York, from Antigua... and I could even get in touch with Saxon in Panama, if I need additional intel sources to track Rand's movements.
Out loud, she flexed slightly, taking a long sip of her champagne.
"Kak vy skazali, ya tot, kto ne boitsya vykhodit' za ramki zakona, kogda mne nuzhno... YA doberus' tuda, kuda mne nuzhno, nesmotrya ni na chto. No ya tsenyu predusmotritel'nost'. Plyus, ya by v lyubom sluchaye ne vozrazhal protiv rabochego otpuska na Karibakh." - confidently.
But even she had to admit to herself – it would be nice to get away from the anti-augmentation attitudes of Europe. She expected to find similar ones in the US, of course... but if her experience in Panama was anything to go by, the Central American countries were a different story.
Their date ended, very much on a high note, so much so that Yelena decided to accept Madalyuk's invitation to continue their evening together, in the privacy of his own mansion. He mentioned that he was married, but that his wife was away. She could read him well enough... he was definitely interested in taking her to bed – and honestly, given the opportunities he presented her... not to mention the copious amount of – expensive – attention she received...
What the hell... I never did fuck a politician before. And it pays to build – connections. Not to mention have ample opportunity to snoop around his home and personal computer. He will certainly be too - exhausted - to care, once I'm finished with him!
She allowed herself a self-satisfied smirk, thinking of Jamella's remark. Sometimes, being an auged-up floozy was a very viable strategic asset, on assignments.