SNAP: New Talent (8 page)

“All branches?  I thought the Huszars were only here, in Hungary?”  My confusion must have shown on my face.

“Well, their main family is here,” Carola began in her light voice. “They aren’t nearly as diversified and spread as we are, but they do have smaller branches in Europe. And one of the reasons we’re pushing Jean-Louis to make you a partner in knowledge is that a major branch is in Russia and Ukraine.”

The Baron took up the story. “When the Cossacks, as well as other Russian Imperial troops, were running pograms throughout the edges of Eastern Europe, the Huszars were right along with them.  That family...” he broke off in disgust and shook his head then continued, “Wherever there’s been death and disturbances, the Huszars have been there.  I don’t think they’re smart enough to have stirred up troubles themselves, but they are the ultimate hangers-on.  They’d send scouts out to all the major cities in Central and Eastern Europe to watch the pulse of the people.  The minute they spotted trouble, they moved a small group in, to feed off the losers.

“Those small groups took some pressure for food off of the main branch of the family, the ones still here in Hungary, and allowed the native population of the area to successfully breed.  It was a strategy to keep food resources available.”

I was stunned.  Not because the Huszars had spread out, but because the Baron spoke so casually about the peasant population as a food resource.  Of course I knew that the Huszars, and vampires everywhere, lived off blood, and usually ended up killing their victims.  I just hadn’t followed that through to its logical conclusion.

I looked at them.  “Is this how you view all humans?  As a renewable food source?”

There was a chorus of gasps and denials then Pen spoke.  “I’ll put that rudeness down to the fact that you’re still naive about the world and proper behavior. Of course we don’t view humans as renewable food.  If we did, do you think that we’d be in the business we’re in?”

A good point.

“The Huszars are boors, uneducated and uncultured.  That does not make their behavior the standard for all vampires.”  Jean-Louis’ voice was tight, a sign he’d taken umbrage.  “We saw from the beginning that killing our neighbors was not the best plan for the long run and began recruiting donors and developing substitutes.  By using raw animal meat and blood, we were able to cut down our consumption of human blood.  Usually, some every month or so will keep us healthy, and the donors can easily supply that.  Of course it’s much easier in these days of refrigeration and fast, reliable transportation.”

Now the Baron broke in again.  “We’re discussing this now because beginning tomorrow, when you go to Kiev, you’ll be going into the areas that were part of the Huszar expansion a few hundred years ago.”

“And you need to know that you’ll be watched by some of the Huszar family as well as their paid goons, the Chechens and whoever else they’ve been able to scratch up. I want you safe and I want you to heed our warnings.” Jean-Louis’ glimmer was coming back.

I nodded to all of them.  “Thank you for including me in your confidences.  I will watch my behavior and not act so rashly.  I don’t want to endanger any of the demons or any of you.

“Now, please excuse me, I’m going to my apartment to pack.”

Jean-Louis didn’t follow me upstairs.

Chapter  Fourteen

Kiev.

The ancient city on the Dnieper River.

Land of,...what?  I didn’t know.

Like much of the old Soviet Union, Kiev and Ukraine were still little known in the West.  My most vivid recollection was that Kiev was the closest large city to the nuclear disaster at Chernobyl.  And that made me anxious. 

On the plane, I’d done some research.  It turned out that Kiev was really an ancient city, with its beginnings as a trade center in the 5
^th
century.  It had seen the Vikings come and make it their capital of the Rus, and suffered complete destruction under the Mongols in the 13
^th
century.  It resurfaced during the 19
^th
century industrial revolution and had been the capital of Ukraine for the past 75 years or so.

It had a population of about 3 million and was the third largest city in the old USSR, so it was a logical choice for a SNAP bureau.  I asked Cheri, the cabin attendant and one of the SNAP girls—pale skin, Russian Red lipstick, no doubt a donor—to have the pilot circle before we landed.  From the air, Kiev was reminiscent of Budapest; straddling a river with industry and commerce on one bank and residential areas on the other.

I was met by Taras Chemenkov, a businessman and journalist we’d tapped as the first bureau chief.  He was experienced and had been the freelance Ukrainian correspondent for several of the weekly news magazines, including the World Report.  Of course, the real power was the Kandesky family member Nikoly, a vampire I’d never met.  He was in the backseat of the Mercedes limo.  Taras and I piled in, Vladmir and Vassily got in front with the driver—another demon?—and we headed into town.

“Is this your first visit to Kiev?”  Taras spoke good English, with a trace of Slavic intonation.  If he’d been writing for Western magazines, he must have been able to speak several languages.

“Yes, and I’m surprised that it reminds me so much of Budapest.  Your English is very good, what other languages do you speak?”

“Russian, of course, German, French, Ukrainian.”

“Not Hungarian?”

“No.” Nikoly broke in, his voice silky and low.  “I speak Hungarian, so I translate anything from the Baron for Taras.  We need Taras’ skills in languages we use for business, not communication with the family.”

Lord, had I put my foot in it already?  As a regular, Taras wasn’t far enough up the chain of command for family discussions.  I was never sure in this game of friend or foe and shifting alliances.  It was like trying to capture smoke.  Just when I had it all thought out, understood and safely packaged, somebody new popped up.  When I got back to the castle, I was going to pin Jean-Louis down and get a complete cheat sheet from him of who was who.  And an organizational chart as well, even though it was tricky because some of the family members who worked for SNAP actually reported to regulars, like me, so there weren’t lines of supervision...more like circles on a Venn diagram.

“Hummmm.  What else is in your job description?”

I couldn’t see Nikoly’s eyes behind his enormous dark glasses, but the corner of his mouth lifted slightly.  “I handle the logistical interface for the supply chain.”

What?

“What?  I’m not sure what that means.”  I was trying to keep a stupid expression off my face.  This guy may be a vampire and a member of the Kandesky family, but he spoke like a newly-minted MBA.

This time Taras translated for me.  “I’m the bureau chief.  I make all the assignments, decide on the coverage.  I’ll be working with you on the mock-up of the Slavic edition and making sure all the print tallies with the broadcast.  Nikoly is the one who will work with all the technical people, the government folks, and...”

“And the Russian Mafia, the Chechens and others.  This is Eastern Europe, it doesn’t work like the West.  After the Soviets, there’s been a vacuum of power.  I’m the one who works in the vacuum.”  This time there was a definite smile.

Ah, the clean-up man.  Now him being a Kandesky family member made sense.  He had the juice, backed by the Baron’s money and all the demons, to get things done.

“Will it require a lot to get the bureau up and running?”

”We’ve been working on it for a few months now.”  Taras nodded.  “We’ll drop your bags at the hotel then give you a tour.”

We pulled up to the forecourt of the Premier Palace Hotel and I gasped.  What I’d expected was probably some radiation-dusted Econolodge.  What I got was a grand European hotel.  Shades of the Sacher in Vienna, George V in Paris or the Grand Bretagna in Athens.  It took up an entire block and looked like a Victorian wedding cake.

“This is wonderful.  I usually stay at apartments owned by SNAP or the Baron, but this is lovely.  I’m changing my mental image of Kiev.”

Taras giggled.  “A lot of our visitors are surprised that we have amenities.   This is part of the kind of information we want to get out.  Attracting celebrities will make our job easier.”

“And it may dilute the power of the oligarchs and their boys.”  Nikoly’s voice was light, but the words held menace. 

Once in my suite, I freshened up and then the demon parade followed me back to the limo where Nikoly was waiting.

“Where’s Taras?”  I looked around.

“He’s gone to the offices to make sure everything is ready for your visit.  I wanted to have a few moments with you alone.”  I got in, the demons took their places in the front, the communication window zipped up and Nikoly said, “Jean-Louis told me about the Chechen attack in Paris”

Damn the man!  I thought we were all going to hand out the story of a slip-and-fall.  Like any good vampire, Nikoly read my body language, or maybe the waves of anger I was sending off, because he held up a hand.

“No one knows about the true event beside me.  Jean-Louis and the Baron felt I needed to know because I’m here, in the home of the thugs.  We’re hoping that I can trace the money and the orders and find out who’s hired the Chechens.”

“The Huszars have hired them!”

“Well, yes.  But who exactly?  And what are they planning to do?  And many times when one hires them, the employees take over the business.  They have a history of going off on their own when they smell money.  There’s not a lot of money with the Huszars, but with the Kandeskys...”

He didn’t need to say any more.  I was reading this picture, and it wasn’t a pretty one.  The Chechens were after me.  The Huszars had put out a contract.  But now, the Chechens may have made a target of their own.

 Where was my quiet bedroom overlooking the ocean in Santa Monica?  Where were my friends, the warm afternoons of coffee in Westwood, even zany Venice Beach?

Nikoly looked over at me.  “Do you want to quit?  Jean-Louis told me you weren’t the quitting type.”

Chapter Fifteen

Of course I wasn’t the quitting type. But I was, for damn sure, the scared type.

I took a deep breath.  “Okay, let’s go to the SNAP offices.”

“We’re here.” Nikoly gestured to a very modern steel and glass building several stories high that wouldn’t have looked out of place in Century City.  Workers on scaffolds were busy attaching the SNAP mirrored logo to the outside and when I walked in, I was met with an ice-blond SNAP girl as the receptionist behind the black marble counter.

Her Russian Red mouth smiled but her blue eyes stayed cold.   “And you are?”

“I am Maximilla Gwenoch, the Managing Editor of SNAP,” I snapped.  Really, didn’t anyone call ahead?

At least she had the grace to smile at me with her eyes this time.  “I’m sorry Ms. Gwenoch, we expected you to come in the employees entrance.  Let me page Taras for you.”  She murmured into her earbud while the phone gurgled then said “Taras’ assistant will be right out.”

Sure enough, a dark-haired young woman wearing four-inch stilettos came through the wall of mirrors behind the reception desk and said, “Follow me.”  I assumed she said that, because she waved me in, but she wasn’t speaking English.  Like Alice, like L.A., I walked into the mirror.

The interior offices were much quieter and smaller than home, but the designer had spent time making the look-and-feel as close to L.A. as he could.  There were probably 10 people working in cubicles, phones gurgled, voices spoke a variety of languages. 

Taras was standing in front of his office, tucked away in a back corner.  “Welcome to the Kiev bureau.  Do you like it?”

“”I do.  It reminds me of home.”

“We had our designer come in and shoot a lot of video of the headquarters, and used that as our plan.  We even have an attached garage and employee entrance.”  He nodded as Nikoly came through an access door.

“What are you planning as a premiere?” 

“I’m glad you asked that.  Working with the oligarchs is difficult.  They have money rolling out of their pores, but they’re very private.  They spend their money on huge houses, cars, second homes on the Continent or in America and on bodyguards.  They hire armies of bodyguards.  If you have money in this post-Soviet era, you’re a target for bunches of thugs looking to kidnap you.   And they’re not picky, kind of like the Somali pirates.  Anybody who can pay the ransom is fair game.”

“Well, that’s going to make finding and reporting on celebrities a little hard.  Do you have plans?”

“That’s where part of my job in the vacuum comes in.”  Nikoly waved us into an empty office and took a seat on a couch.  “Much of the social scene is in private, at homes and clubs, and I’m in charge of finding where they are and getting us in the door.”

“Do you have a lot of freelance talent?”

Taras nodded.  “I still have some good contacts from my freelancing days.  Here it’s not enough just to hang out in front of somebody’s house.  All you get are pictures of blackened limo windows or, if you’re lucky, the bodyguard’s profile.  There are some clothing designers who are coming up, there’s a small film culture, and then we do a lot of trades.  People are interested in celebrities from other places, primarily movie stars, so we use copy from the U.S. and send them, you, what we can get.”

What he said about the nouveau-rich was true.  Even in the media-hungry, paparazzi crazy U.S. most of the Eastern Europeans buying property stayed under the radar.  One sale of a New York apartment, for a reputed $38 million, was only reported as being purchased for the 22-year-old daughter of a Russian billionaire.  She was attending college in the city.

The highest price ever paid for a single family home in the U.S., $100 million for a 25,500 square foot mansion in Los Altos Hills, on the San Francisco Peninsula, was to Yuri Milner, a Russian with investments in Twitter and Facebook.  But you never saw these people in any of the magazines or on any of the network or cable shows that followed celebrities.