CHAPTER ONE
THE TRAP

BRUSSELS AIRPORT - 1996 Bathed in sweat, Andrei paced the small, grey holding cell, waiting for the police.  He felt the nauseating fear in his guts.  He forced himself to walk faster, trying to relieve the unrelenting panic.
Andrei thought of every possible scenario, every trick which might free him, then rejected them one by one. This time, there was no way out.
He leaned his head against the wall, feeling the tears of frustration well in his eyes.  Again and again, he tormented himself with things he could have done just a little differently to have escaped.  But now, after all he had endured, he would end like this.  Like a rat trapped in a cage.
He slumped on the chair in the middle of the room and ran his hands listlessly through the stolen millions in bundled hundred dollar bills then he dipped his hand into a velvet pouch and withdrew a shimmering handful of smuggled diamonds.  Even in this desolate cell, their beauty seemed cold and uncaring. Andrei let the diamonds fall back into their pouch, closed it and stuffed it into his black leather bag. 
His hand touched something.  He grasped it and pulled it from the case.  It was his .45 automatic!
Andrei fingered it. He briefly considered shooting his way out, or even taking a hostage, then decided that all he would get for his troubles would be to get shot, . . then imprisoned.
He envisioned the years in prison stretched before him.  Endless grey days with nothing to look forward to, but death.  No, he would not end like that.  He had always controlled his own destiny and would choose his own death.
There was only one way out, if he acted fast and had the courage.
Andrei clicked off the safety on the .45 and turned the gun around to point it at his face.  He raised the gun until the muzzle rested against his lower lip.  He opened his mouth and felt the cold steel slip between his teeth.  His tongue flicked nervously across the tip of the barrel.
Sweat sprang from his forehead and ran into his eyes.  He shut his burning eyes tightly and slowly began to pull the trigger.       
His hand began to shake uncontrollably with fear.  He could already feel the bullet explode into his mouth, then shatter his skull before his blood coated the grey walls.He willed his numb, shaking finger to pull the trigger.  His hand felt leaden and shook violently, refusing to obey him, yet he pushed harder, feeling the barrel bounce against his teeth, tasting the oily metal on his tongue.
Andrei felt every piece of steel within the gun move with smooth, indifferent precision as the spring coiled, waiting to catapult the hammer forward, striking the explosive shell that would send the fatal bullet into his brain.
He heard the footsteps of the police outside his cell.  A key was inserted into the lock, as he applied the last ounce of trigger pressure needed.
Above the roar of his pounding heart, Andrei heard the loud metalic click of the hammer strike, . . . and waited for the impact of the bullet....

 

 

CHAPTER TWO
THE BEGINNING
RED SQUARE - MOSCOW
WINTER - 1992

Andrei Koslenok turned up the collar of his overcoat in a futile attempt to protect himself from the arctic cold of the wind blowing across the barren expanse of Red Square.
He muttered a few choice Russian curse words as a sudden gust of icy wind penetrated his threadbare clothing.  His brightly polished shoes disguised the worn soles stuffed with cardboard to keep the water from leaking into his shoes through the ample holes in both soles.
He cursed again as he stumbled on the crusted snow, causing him to slip one foot into an icy pool that had collected among the grey paving stones.  Almost immediately, he could feel the shoe fill with the cold slush seeping through the bottom sole

Andrei stopped as he reached the massive gates of the entrance to the Kremlin.  He rested his back against the stone pillars of the gateway, removed his shoe, muttered a few select profanities to himself, then slowly spilled out the excess water, careful not to lose the soggy cardboard insert that offered only slight protection from the elements.  He put the shoe on and stood for a moment, almost savoring the cold wind in his face, as he looked at the bleak, grey Moscow sky, billowing with the promise of another coming snow storm.

Andrei had turned thirty just a few days ago.  He had promised himself that by this time he would have escaped the dreary Russian winters for some warm exotic beach filled with bikini clad young women.

He ran his hand through his dark wavy hair.  A woman passed by just at that moment and smiled a small inviting smile.  He was used to women flirting with him, and flashed her a quick, charming smile, more from habit he knew, than any particular interest in the woman. Andrei was what would be considered a handsome rogue with a charming demeanor.  His strong face was framed by dark, slightly curled hair that rumpled carelessly over his forehead.  His skin was finely textured and he purposely kept it tanned by a used sun lamp he had purchased inexpensively at a flea market, to give him the look of someone who had just returned from a tropical vacation.  His high cheekbones framed his best feature, dark, flashing, almost hypnotic eyes capped by long dark lashes and thick, black brows.  Had he wanted, with his lean, muscular six foot body and good looks, he could have been a model. He had been approached on occasion with such propositions, but when he learned that models in Russia got paid next to nothing, it held no interest for him.  He had only one goal in life, to amass enough money some day, to leave all this far behind him.

As he looked across the square to his right he saw St. Basil’s Cathedral with its brightly colored domes almost cartoonish in its contrast to the bleak Russian buildings which surrounded the square. He forced himself to breathe deeply of the cold air and feel the icy wind against his face.  If everything went right for him today, his life would change forever.
After years of pursuing one small bit of business after another, he finally had his big chance.  Through a family acquaintance, he had  heard certain people in the government wanted to find a way to circumvent the lock De Beers Consolidated Mines of South Africa had on the Russian diamond industry.

Andrei was intimately familiar with the Russian way of doing business.  In a small way, he had been in business ever since he was a young boy.  The older boys recruited him at the age of six to hustle the tourists who arrived on fancy European rented buses.  He quickly learned a few phrases of English, French and German, the languages most often spoken by the arriving tourists.  The older boys, sometimes only eleven or twelve years old themselves, quickly taught him the basics of hustling for money.
They would equip him with worthless Russian medals they bought in bunches at small kiosks, for only a few kopecks or a fraction of an American penny.  Andrei would then offer the tourists the trinkets for whatever they would pay him, from a few pennies to sometimes as much as a dollar.

He quickly learned to play on his small boy good looks, his angelic face framed by dark curly hair.  Andrei found he had a flair for the dramatic.  Each day he would invent a different tale to tell the swarms of tourists.  One day he would be an orphan his parents having died just days before.  Another time he was raised by a sickly old grandmother in need of medicine.  Whatever the story, he found the more dramatic it was, the more he was rewarded with money from the tourists who listened with sympathetic ears.

As he grew older he graduated to other things. Sometimes it was selling merchandise, the origin of which was somewhat vague, on the black market.  On various occasions, he did quite well and when he did, he would foolishly spend his resources on parties, vodka and women.  Other times, like the last few years, he had not done as well.  Except for an occasional odd deal such as selling Ukrainian marble to Israel or Russian gas masks to Kuwait, the transactions had been few and far between.  But this would be different.
  He had a meeting with the people who could fulfill his dream of making his big deal come true.  Today he was meeting with the heads of the Kristall Factory, a diamond-cutting company run by the Russian Government Agency, known by its acronym, Komdragmet.  Komdragmet controlled Russia’s entire diamond and gold industry plus its precious metals and gems.

Andrei clutched his worn briefcase under his arm, ran his fingers through his wavy hair, took a long last look at Red Square, then turned and walked through the Kremlin gates.

The pungent odor of stale Russian cigars hit his nostrils as Andrei entered the smoke filled room.  President Yeltsin’s Deputy Finance Minster, Anatol Golovaty, a distant relative of Andrei, walked brusquely over to Andrei who was standing in the doorway of the Kremlin boardroom.
”Andrei Koslenok, I am very glad to see you again.  How is your dear, lovely mother?” 
“She is fine,” answered Andrei, “and sends her warmest greetings.

He gave Andrei a friendly handshake and walked him about the private room.  As they walked, Andrei recognized several of the men sitting around the massive conference table as government dignitaries, others as members of the board of the Kristall Factory and a few faces with which he was not familiar.   

   
Andrei realized that everyone here expected something from the deal and to exclude anyone would squelch any prospect he had for success. He quickly calculated the amount of money he might have to pay  multiplied by the fourteen people in the room.  Then he reminded himself that any money paid out would come from the funds they gave him.  He exhaled slowly and forced himself to smile and relax.  After all, if they wanted to take some of their own money, why should he care?

Andrei slowly walked around the table with Anatol, pausing to shake hands and introduced himself to each of the dignitaries.  Despite his anxiety he knew how important it was to his success to appear cool, confident and relaxed.  The cool part, he reminded himself with a wry smile, was no problem, as his toes were still nearly frozen due to his leaky shoes.

For a moment, Andrei was flushed at being suddenly thrust before the panel of some of the most influential, if not the richest people in Russia; however, the hesitation was only momentary as he opened his briefcase and removed his proposals.  After each of the members received a copy of the proposal which Anatol passed around, Andrei cleared his throat and began.

"Gentlemen, it is an honor for me to make this proposal in front of such a distinguished panel," Andrei began, gaining confidence with each word he spoke, he continued, “and I come to you today to propose a solution to a problem we are all facing; how we can become independent in cutting and distributing our valuable diamond resources without being dictated to by a foreign company." 

Andrei raised his voice notably on the last portion of the sentence as he knew the importance of getting the people in this room on his side, and against a common enemy, in this case the De Beers Consolidated Mines of South Africa.   If Andrei had learned anything in his 30 years in Russia, it was that Russians worked more successfully against a common enemy than for a common friend.
Andrei continued, "I have studied the contracts closely that we have with De Beers, and I have found a way for us to establish our own diamond cutting factories, without the interference of De Beers."

"Gentlemen, if you would please turn to page seven of the contract in front of you and refer to the second paragraph."  Andrei waited as each of the fourteen members obediently shuffled through the papers looking for the proper place.  He was suddenly filled with a feeling of power seeing he could dictate, if only for a few minutes, the actions of so many important men, that he continued with renewed vigor and confidence.

"You will see that paragraph two allows us to establish our own diamond cutting plants."
Yevgeny Bychkov interrupted, "Yes, but that paragraph refers to the plants that we already have within the borders of Russia."

Andrei smiled confidently, "Chairman Bychkov, you are absolutely right!" pausing for dramatic effect, then he continued, "however, it only states that we are allowed to establish our own diamond plants.  It does not specify that the plants have to be within the borders of Russia."

The room broke out into a loud discussion as the implication of what Andrei had just said began to dawn on each member.  Andrei watched with quiet satisfaction as smiles spread across their faces; first one, then another, then the rest of the men at the table.  Their faces lit up when they saw the ample opportunity to subvert the contract with De Beers, in the name of Russian nationalism, and at the same time, incidentally, enrich their own pockets.
"Are you certain of this?" Yevgeny Bychkov asked.

Andrei noted an almost pleading quality to his voice, much as a child asking for a piece of candy, wanting to hear a ‘yes’.  He hesitated for a moment for the room to fall silent as they waited for his answer, then Andrei gave them what they wanted.

"Dah," he said resoundingly "Yes, I have studied the contracts carefully and I am certain the contracts not only allow Russia to have its own factories, it absolutely guarantees Russia's right to establish diamond cutting factories, anywhere in the world."

Andrei looked directly at Yevgeny Bychkov as he finished his sentence.  He knew well that each man would follow the lead of Bychkov in coming to a decision.
Bychkov sat in silence as if contemplating what was just said, yet his eyes did not break contact with Andrei, as if he was seeking an answer to an unasked question.  For what seemed like an eternity to Andrei, their eyes locked.  Against all instinct Andrei forced himself to look steadily, calmly into Bychkov's eyes and not break away.  He could feel the room fall silent around them, waiting.

Unexpectedly, Bychkov raised his hands slowly and began to applaud.  One by one the men joined him.  Then Anatol stood up, and soon the entire room stood in tribute to Andrei.  It took a few minutes for him to realize the applause was for him.  He nodded appreciatively and smiled, almost self-consciously, knowing it would have a winning effect on the men.

The meeting continued with only perfunctory questions from some of the panel members on how best to establish such a factory.  Andrei confidently fielded each question by referring to the plan for establishing a factory in California, already drawn into the proposal in anticipation of a multitude of questions.  However, the questions were few and Andrei soon realized they were asked now only as a means of appearing professional in front of Chairman Bychkov.  He knew that from the moment Chairman Bychkov indicated his approval, no one would dare oppose the plan.

With the final questions from the panel completed, Bychkov turned his attention to Andrei and asked in a booming voice, "Isn't there something you forgot, Mr. Koslenok?"
Flustered by the vagueness of the question, Andrei raised his eyebrows and looked at Bychkov, waiting uncomfortably.  I knew it was too easy he thought, feeling the tension in his stomach.  What is it I could have forgotten?

Then Mr. Bychkov smiled, amused at his own little joke, "The money Mr. Koslenok, the money!"
"The money?" Andrei repeated blankly.

"Yes, Mr. Koslenok, I believe to establish a plant you will need some money to begin your operations before the shipments of diamonds start arriving, don't you think?"
"Yes, why yes, of course, . . . the money." Andrei repeated, not knowing how to continue.
Mr. Bychkov conferred briefly with Boris Ilich, his Assistant Deputy who looked at Andrei inquisitively, then Bychkov turned to Andrei and smiled.
"Do you think $1.5 million would provide you with enough capital for you to go to the United States and find us a suitable location for a factory?"

Andrei was speechless and his knees felt suddenly weak.  He had hoped only to make a good presentation today.  Then maybe in a few months they would make a decision as to whether or not they would send Andrei to establish a plant.  But this was far more than he had dared to hope for.

Andrei was in shock.  This was beyond anything he could ever have dreamed.  His mouth fell open for a moment. Then he composed himself long enough to smile and vigorously shake each of the hands of the departing dignitaries, while he too was quietly shaking inside. Finally, only he and Yevgeny Bychkov were left in the room.

Andrei walked over and enthusiastically shook Bychkov’s hand repeatedly until the older man freed his hand and put a fatherly arm over his shoulder.
"You are a very intelligent young man Andrei.  You have managed to solve a great problem for us all, and for Russia. However, you understand Andrei," Bychkov almost whispered, "we must all  prosper from this venture."  Andrei understood all too well what was meant by the intonation on the word ‘all’  and nodded in silent agreement.

Knowing the Russian KGB penchant for having bugs or other devices planted in offices of the Kremlin he immediately grasped why Bychkov was speaking in a hushed whisper.  Andrei replied in a low tone, "Mr. Chairman, I understand that ‘all’  must prosper. 

I consider it my duty to uphold your faith in me."  and louder, just in case any hidden microphones had caught their conversation, he continued "Mr. Bychkov, it is my honor to be able to further the fortunes of Russia in this endeavor."

Bychkov smiled broadly at the quickness of this man and his charming manner.  He understood that the loudly announced message was for the benefit of whoever else may be listening.  He gave Andrei a brief bear hug and whispered in his ear, "Come to my office tomorrow, I will have $1.3 million waiting for you. The $200 thousand is for expenses.  I am sure you understand."

Andrei understood.  The two hundred thousand dollar expense was to go into Bychkov’s and the other dignitaries pockets.  He knew that was the way in which business was conducted in Russia, so he thought nothing more of the incident.

Andrei’s mind reeled with excitement.  He had come here with nothing but the threadbare clothing on his back, and now, with just a few words spoken by a close friend of Yeltsin, a man he had just met,  . . . he was a millionaire!

When Andrei left the Kremlin gates it had started to snow heavily.  In his exuberance, he made several snowballs and threw them at Lenin’s statue before hailing a cab.  As he got into the taxi, Andrei impetuously took off his leaky shoes and threw them high in the air.
 Dark storm clouds had gathered over Red Square and the wind was bitter cold.  To Andrei Koslenok, the world had never looked more beautiful.

***