The Domino Game by Greg Wilson Read Free Book Online Page B

the lens creating a strangely exaggerated perspective.
    Nikolai stepped in closer, squinting, trying to understand what he was seeing.
    The two men further away from the camera were unfamiliar and by their posture appeared to be the supporting characters, each sitting back, apparently observing the interplay between their associates.
    The man closest on the left sat erect and confident, his forearms resting lightly on the table’s polished surface. Dark suit, white shirt, elegant patterned tie. A thick mane of long black hair swept back from a steep forehead. Dark beard and moustache surrounding a mouth frozen partly open in the midst of speech.
    Nikolai’s gaze traced cautiously from the image of Marat Ivankov to the man sitting opposite. He was shorter than Ivankov by half a head, with a heavy, drooping face that descended into sagging jowls. Crimped silver hair and polished skin that shone pink from the fight above. It was a face Nikolai recognized but couldn’t place. He lowered himself onto the sofa, sensing rather than seeing Natalia taking a place hesitantly beside him. His thumb played across the remote, found the play button and pressed it.
    The end of Marat Ivankov’s sentence was swallowed by the spooling of the tape, then his mouth closed and came to rest in a confident smile. Silence for a moment. Then the man sitting opposite Ivankov began to speak in a deep, gravelly voice.
    ‘There should be no problem. The Director of the International Monetary Fund approved a further $1.5 billion under the Systematic Transfer Facility a few weeks ago. This money is due to be shifted any day now to the Central Bank of Russia’s account at New York’s Federal Reserve. Part will be transferred to the Republican State Bank and the loan to your ZAVOSET subsidiary will be made from there. A hundred and ten million, interest free for ten years.”
    Ivankov sat impassive. “We had agreed on a hundred.”
    The man opposite responded with a benign smile. “We have expenses. We ask you to pay a little more to cover them.” He tossed his hands apart. “But we arrange it for you anyway. So, what’s the problem, eh? It’s not as if it’s coming out of your pocket.” His deep voice crackled with humor. “Besides, my friend, as you well know, for a state owned and operated business, AGEX is already surprisingly profitable. With a virtual monopoly on agricultural chemical production east of the Urals my people tell me it’s already worth five times the price you’re paying. Probably more. Under your control, what will its value be ten years from now, Marat? Two billion wouldn’t be beyond reason.”
    Ivankov nodded impassively. “And, if it is, Viktor, your 25 per cent will be worth five hundred. That’s a lot of money.”
    Nikolai sat forward. Christ! That was who it was! Viktor Patrushev, Deputy Minister of the Economy.
    Patrushev sighed. “Not quite, I’m afraid. You’re forgetting, we will probably have to repay the principal eventually, unless of course you can think of some creative way to get around that. And besides,” his jowls lifted as he smiled, “My share is just 10 percent. The rest goes to our Patron who makes these opportunities possible, you know that. Besides, I’m older than you, Marat. Ten years from now when it’s time to collect who knows where I’ll be.” He glanced at the man seated beside him. “We just need a little pin money to tide us over for now, don’t we Aleksandr?”
    Ivankov hooked a glance at the man beside Patrushev. Nikolai’s own eyes followed. Mid-thirties. Cool and aloof. Sleekly groomed. The appearance and air of a career bureaucrat.
    Ivankov’s gaze swung back to the older man. “You have the papers?”
    Patrushev threw a lazy hand towards his assistant and waited as the younger man delved into a thin leather satchel, extracted a sheaf of bound documents and passed them into his grasp. Patrushev took the documents without looking and swung them through ninety degrees