Essentially the Japanese dude, who was also the Foreign Minister of the great nation of Japan wanted another great nation, Russia, to punch China in the balls. “Why not ask your cuddle buddy America?” Primakov had retaliated. The cute interpreter relayed “These days they are all about projection of power. Nothing real Primakov-san.” She had even made an emoji-style sad face, causing him to spill his tall black Americano. Her fervent cleanup effort with a napkin hadn’t helped either.
Yada, yada, yada… the sabotage mission in China’s Guangdong province had cost the Chinese economy a dollar value that was about 1/4th the GDP of Chicago.
So, here he was, outside the old Cheka-NKVD-KGB prison at Lubyanka square. Not for treason or espionage or some lack of belief in the system, but for heroically executing his mission and exceeding Japanese expectations. The Russian Foreign Minister was about to present him the ‘
As expected, parking around Lubyanka was a torture. Primakov cursed and rounded the Lubyanka prison for the third time in search of a spot as a man in a cool bomber jacket walked out of a side door and indicated him to stop.
“The fuck are you up to moron? You are making the snipers jittery.”
“Sorry. I have an appointment with my boss in 5 minutes… actually I’m receiving the
“Badge?”
Primakov handed him his laminated ID. The SVR-SB didn’t have badges.
After a long inspection, the FSB guy gave the nod, “We’ll take your car. Get out.”
Primakov waited with the fifteen other distinguished men. None spoke. There was a lone FSB photographer. No media or fanfare. This was the Oscars of high stakes defense.
On the dais sat the chiefs of the FSB and SVR. Their expressions mirrored those of Cossacks undergoing coffee colon cleanses. The third chair was empty. Apparently the Foreign Minister was running late. Something about Latvia and gas pipes. If the Latvians Ukrained-out, he could always resubmit his rejected, white paper ‘Tunnels under the Latvian SSR: A scholastic guide to Soviet Union 2.2.3’.
After about fifteen minutes, there was a shriek outside the hall. 2 seconds later, another Russian male shrieked. There were sounds of boots slamming and guys going into attention. As the commotion got closer the FSB guards rushed out. At the sight of something they too freaked out and parted away.
On the dais the SVR and FSB heads gasped and sprung up.
41 year old Anna Petrova had arrived at the Kremlin under extraordinary circumstances. The previous president, despite every western analyst’s prediction had stepped down at the end of his second term. On his retirement speech, President Val had said, “
Hoping for a clean change, the Russian people had barfed at apparatchiks and voted in the fresh faced female professor from Volgograd State University. Some thought it was a CIA conspiracy.
Trying to catch the new President off guard someone had set off the Kiev Maidan. Uncowed, the naïve President had foolishly sent in the Spetsnaz to take ‘back’ Crimea. In the process she had lost Ukraine. But then again, Ukraine was already a basket case… a parasite… it was no Estonia, Latvia or Lithuania where an easy turnaround was possible. Let Brussels deal with them. Whatever.
The western backlash and the frosty stances from friendly Beijing and Minsk had forced the new President to seek out brand-new-old friends… aka friends with benefits… aka frenemies — Japan and Germany. The Japanese going through their own lost double decade had been more than willing to mix it up.
Primakov along with everyone, rose to attention as the Russian President took the dais.
She began, “I apologize…” wow, a first for a politician thought Primakov. His other brain quickly evaluated her and wondered why she was unmarried.
