Winter Palace (41 page)

“Good to hear. Come on up, the CG's waiting for us.”

As Jeffrey entered the Consul General's office, Allbright rounded his desk as usual, hand outstretched, only to drop it and say, “Guess that's not such a good idea.”

“They're a lot better than they look,” Jeffrey said. “Mostly just scratches.”

“What about your friend Sergei?”

“Fifteen stitches in his arm, and almost hugged to death by his grandmother when he got back home.”

Allbright smiled. “The old lady's given me and Casey a standing invitation to come and eat with them any time we like.”

“You should take her up on it; she's a great cook,” Jeffrey said. “How is Miss Stevens?”

“Left for Berlin last night as scheduled. Sedated, of course, but otherwise in good shape, all things considered. Our base doctors should have her back on her feet in short order. They've unfortunately had quite a bit of recent experience treating released hostages and kidnap victims.”

“A tough sign of troubled times,” Casey offered.

“You said it. Here, take a seat, both of you. Can I get you anything?”

“I'm fine, thanks.”

“Your reservation took a bit of arm twisting. As you know, most planes to and from the West are booked solid these days. But we managed to get you onto the midday flight for London.” Allbright glanced at his watch. “We'll drive you
out, of course. Probably should plan to leave here in a half hour or so; that'll give you time to pack.”

“Thanks a lot,” Jeffrey said, his spirits lifting dramatically.

“Don't mention it. The least I owe you is help with moving up your departure date and maybe an explanation.”

“You don't owe me anything,” Jeffrey replied. “As a matter of fact, it seems to me I'm the one who owes you a life.”

“Well, let's just put it down to one friend helping another, how's that?”

“Fine,” Jeffrey said. “Thanks.”

“I'd still like to fill in a few gaps,” Allbright added. “But before we start with that, would you like to call anyone and let them know you're coming in early?”

“If it's no problem.”

“What's the use of being a Consul General if you can't throw your weight around every now and then? Just give Casey as many numbers as you can think of. It improves your chances. Sometimes the operator hits with one, sometimes with another.”

“Modern-day Russian roulette,” Casey offered.

“Right. In the meantime, let me give you some of the background to the situation we've been facing here.”

Situation. Having almost been killed by one gave the word an entirely new meaning. Jeffrey handed three telephone numbers to Casey. “Thanks a lot.”

“No problem. Be right back.”

“Okay, let's back up about six months,” Allbright began. “Early this year, a senior KGB official was accused of staying in office after he was offered retirement, not out of patriotism or some misguided fervor for Communist ideology, but to get rich. He used the only existing network of contacts the nation had, the Party power structure, to swing assets and deals his way. His efforts came to light when one of his former KGB associates, now working with our buddies in
the new anti-crime squad, linked his activities to one of the most powerful mafia clans in Russia.”

“Your friends and mine,” Casey said, reentering the office. “The Tombek clan.”

“Word has it that this is just the tip of the iceberg,” Allbright continued. “As the scent of wealth grew, so did the number of KGB bosses clamoring for a piece of the action.”

The phone chose that moment to ring. “That'll be your call,” Allbright said.

Jeffrey sprang from his seat, accepted the receiver, shouted a hello, and heard Alexander's voice through the static.

“Jeffrey, what a delightful surprise. I hope you are not calling because of bad news.”

“Everything's fine,” Jeffrey said, looking down at his bandaged hands, thinking back over the previous twenty-four hours, feeling weak with relief. “Really. How are you doing?”

“I am very glad to report that I continue to progress on almost a daily basis. The doctors are quite pleased, so much so that they are actually puffing themselves up with pride, as if they were solely responsible for my recovery and I was simply along for the ride. But there you are. Human nature, I suppose.”

“Are you at your flat?”

“Yes, of course. Where did you think?”

“I gave the operator a string of numbers, and yours was the one that came up. I was just wondering if you were already back in the shop.”

“Ah, I see. No, my dear boy, I am still taking my leisure at home. Although I must admit that I have begun strolling down to the shop as part of my daily constitutional. Not to interfere, you understand. Your lovely young bride has managed things quite well in your absence, I am happy to say. Even the count has granted her his official seal of approval.”

Jeffrey turned toward the back wall so he could hide his tired smile from the two gentlemen. “I hope I still have a job when I return home.”

“Don't even joke about such matters. There is much awaiting you. Gregor called this very morning to ask if you might be able to arrange another trip to Cracow in the near future. When do you expect to return?”

“That's why I called. My work here was completed early,” Jeffrey replied. And, he added to himself, almost permanently. “Please, if you would call Katya and tell her that my flight should be arriving late this afternoon.”

“She will be delighted to hear this,” Alexander assured him, “as am I. But you sound quite exhausted. Are you certain everything is all right?”

“Everything is fine,” Jeffrey replied. “I have a lot to tell you.”

“I shall look forward with great anticipation to hearing every word.”

“I can't get over how much better you sound.”

“Yes, and grateful for every moment of life and relative good health left to me,” Alexander replied, then added, “And for the pleasure of good friends.”

“Good friends,” Jeffrey agreed, and hung up.

“Our buddies in the anti-crime squad are averaging a new discovery every other day,” Casey told Jeffrey as he drove them toward the airport. “The latest was a state research institute that set up a private company, then placed the former local KGB leader as president. The institute sold this new company one hundred state-of-the-art computers for pennies. The company then turned around and resold the hardware for three thousand times the purchase price. The senior directors of the institute split the profits.”

“People on the street call such deals ‘nomenklatura privatization,'” Allbright explained. “Who has money these days to buy the factories going up for sale? The list is limited to only three groups—foreigners eager to buy on the cheap, Russian mafia seeking to go legal, and the old Communist Party elite using funds they stashed during their heyday.”

“And it is looking more and more like the lines separating the Party and the mafia are disappearing,” Casey said.

“Exactly. Now that their Communist Party power base is dissolving, the former bosses are scrambling like rats from a sinking ship, grabbing for anything that might keep them on top. The mafia is making money hand over fist right now, what with the breakdown in laws and security. Maintaining connection with the old Party bosses is a logical step to becoming legitimate.”

“In other words,” Casey summed up, “It's a real mess.”

Jeffrey sank back into the cushions, interested in the discussion but distracted by thoughts of the last few hours. The farewells with Yussef, Sergei, and Sergei's grandmother had proven more difficult than Jeffrey had expected. There had been a few tears from the old lady, a round of back slaps and numerous farewells from both men. Jeffrey had found himself making promises of another trip very soon just to get out the door.

But nothing could have prepared him for Ivona's goodbye.

She had taken him aside and with downcast eyes had solemnly thanked him for his gift of wisdom. Those had been her words: a gift of wisdom. Jeffrey had been so surprised he had actually kissed her cheek.

“Right now,” said Allbright, “this collection of KGB, former Party bosses, and mafia is gathering power with auctioned factories, and the people are again being crushed under the same old weight, now bearing a new name. And that means there are lots of angry, disaffected people out there. Every day, the public's hatred for all this chaos is mounting. It is a powder keg with the fuse tamped and burning.”

Jeffrey asked, “So why doesn't the government do something?”

“Because their hands are tied. You see, the current parliament was elected under the old Communist scheme, where the local Party dominated everything and opposition was outlawed. Given the circumstances, it is amazing that even a
third of them are backing the government's proposed reforms, which they are.”

“Which leaves two-thirds of the parliament against them,” Jeffrey deduced.

“Not necessarily. One-third, yes; the hardliners go all purple at the sound of the word reform. But another third, the pivotal group, is made up of the people smart enough to realize the old Communist system doesn't work, but frightened by the thought of change.”

“It's sort of like driving with one foot on the gas and the other on the brake,” Casey explained.

“Which pretty much sums up the government's position right now,” Allbright agreed. “In order to keep the hand-wringers from bolting, they have been forced to give up control of several key ministries, including defense.”

“And security,” Casey added.

“So, in regard to a lot of things, the government is simply powerless. This is one of those cases where we just have to hope that the tree of democracy will take root, and with time a good pruning of all these dead branches will be possible.”

“And you think that will happen?”

“I'd sure like to think so. Right here, right now, we're watching the biggest economic upheaval the world has witnessed since the Industrial Revolution. The largest country in the world is trying to go from complete anticapitalism to capitalism in one fell swoop. And they're doing it! But people keep pointing to unsolved problems and shouting out gloom and doom with these great voices, while the grass of change grows quietly.

“Look,” he continued. “Eighty-five percent of Saint Petersburg's economy depended on the military-industrial complex. Now the military isn't buying
anything
. So local companies are trying to go from tanks to toasters without investment capital. I've seen the result. You want to buy a three-hundred-pound toaster?

“But you know,” he went on, “nature can take a squirmy
little worm and turn it into a butterfly. So can they. They've just got to close things down, break them up, then rebuild. And it is happening.”

“But how fast?” Jeffrey asked.

“Yes, that's the million-dollar question,” Allbright agreed. “Can they do it before the people lose patience?”

“What do you think?”

Allbright was a long time replying. “After the Germans were defeated in the First World War, the country suffered this awful time of economic hardship. When historians look for reasons why the Nazis came to power, they point to this horrible depression and hyperinflation, and they say, ‘Look, see how bad things were? The Germans would have accepted just about anything to get food back on the table.' But for a few people, myself included, this just doesn't hold water. A lot of other places have suffered bad economic times and held on to democracy and basic principles of human justice. No, I think it was a bad economic struggle tied to something else, something just as big. The people faced a
vacuum
.”

“In leadership,” Jeffrey suggested.

“Not just leadership. Deeper than that. You see, the first World War didn't just destroy the country's industry; it defeated an entire value system. In those chaotic days after the war, the Germans had nothing to cling to, no basis for hope or confidence. Then the Nazis came along and filled this vacuum with hate. And on that hate they rebuilt a nation's pride.”

Jeffrey thought it over. “Seventy years of Communism swept out overnight could produce a pretty good vacuum.”

Allbright nodded grimly. “Our biggest hope is the Russians' own patience. They just might be able to see this through. Watch Russians standing in line for bread in the dead of winter, and you get some idea of how much patience these people really do have.”

“Seems to me there might be a better source of hope than that,” Jeffrey said quietly.

Allbright grew still. “You're talking about religion?”

Jeffrey shook his head. “I'm talking about faith.”

“Hard to see how,” the older man replied doubtfully. “It would be nice, I admit. I even have enough hope left myself to have asked the three churches to oversee the distribution of that recovered treasure. And maybe, when we are talking about just a few people, it might work. But with all the nation's churches?”

Allbright gave his head a doubtful shake. “The Protestants argue with one another, and some accuse the Orthodox of not being Christian at all. The Orthodox respond by urging all Russians to treat the incoming Protestant missionaries as heretics. Then they both look down their noses at the Catholics. And the Catholics don't like much of anybody except themselves. Long as you see these different churches at one another's throats, I doubt you'd find many people around here who'd agree that religious leaders could find their own hats, much less answers to a nation's problems.”

“I wasn't talking about religion,” Jeffrey repeated, his voice still quiet. “I was speaking about faith in Jesus Christ. The one hope eternal.”

Allbright examined him for a long moment before replying, “Something tells me it's a shame we don't have more people like you around here. People able to look to the heart of the matter and lay it out in plain words that plain people can understand.”