“I am that,” Mike replied. “But there are several things I’ll need. Some of them are legal, normal and proper. Some of them may be legal and some I suspect are illegal.”
“Let us start with the legal ones, shall we?” Vadim said, smiling again.
“I need a new overseer,” Mike said, quietly. “One who knows the Keldara and who knows farming. Preferably modern farming. And not a loud-mouthed dirtball. I can tell I won’t get along with Otar.”
“Genadi Mahona,” Vadim said, just as quietly. “He is actually one of the Keldara. He took his degree in agronomy at the University of Tbilisi then returned. He tried to get Otar to change some of his practices and got forced out of the homes. He works in the mill as a laborer at the moment.”
“Figures,” Mike said, sighing. “Okay, I am not an agent of the United States but I am a former SEAL. And a SEAL instructor moreover. I’m not going to just sit here and let the Chechens have anything they want. Besides working on the farms, I’m going to try to turn the Keldara into militia. For that I’ll need arms.”
“The problem is one of funding,” Vadim said, shrugging. “I can register them as a legal local militia. But finding the funding for weapons is another thing.”
“Funds are available,” Mike said, dryly. “But what about obtaining them? How do we get them here?”
“You’re serious?” Vadim said to a nod, “If you are, it is simple enough. I put in the order through the Georgian government for whatever you wish. You pay the supplier and it is shipped to us.”
“Not through a central armory, right?” Mike asked. “I’d like to get everything I pay for.”
“No, straight to us,” Vadim replied.
“Anything?” Mike asked. “RPGs? Mortars?”
“They are a bit more sticky about heavy weapons,” Vadim admitted, frowning. “Are you forming a militia or an army?”
“Say a well-armed militia,” Mike said, grinning. “What about nonfirearm material? Electronics, uniforms, that sort of thing?”
“That will be less of a problem,” Vadim said. “There is a very large surcharge on imports, but equipment for a militia is exempt. There is paperwork; I know how to file it.”
“And what about farming equipment?” Mike asked.
“Again, it is exempt from import duties,” the cop said, frowning. “How much are you planning on spending?”
“A lot,” Mike admitted. “It’s worth it to have a functioning farm and a functioning militia. With the sort of technology they’re using, most of the men are tied to the farm. If I can bring in some equipment to free them up for training, especially serious training, it will be worth it. Speaking of which, can I bring in trainers? I don’t want to do it all myself.”
“That can be arranged, as long as they are not here to engage in combat,” Vadim pointed out. “That would make them mercenaries.”
“What about if I get stuck in a combat situation?” Mike asked.
“I think the American military puts it well,” Vadim replied, smiling. “Don’t ask, don’t tell.”
“And on that subject I believe we need to come to some accommodation?” Mike asked.
“A reasonable one,” Vadim admitted. “A few hundred euros extra a month would be nice. But, frankly, just having the area somewhat secure would be wonderful. Anything they can do beyond that would be tremendous.”
“You can’t just secure a position like that,” Mike said, shaking his head. “You have to know what is going on in a bubble around you. Which means intensive patrolling. I think that some of the changes I’m going to make will shake the Keldara to their core. But they’ll be good changes. Where can I find this Genadi character?”
“Finding him will not be so hard,” Vadim said. “He works at the mill and lives in a building at the edge of town with about a dozen other workers. Meeting with him without everyone in town hearing about it will be harder.”
“Can you or one of your men, one that doesn’t talk, pick him up and meet me outside of town?” Mike asked. “I’d say at the caravanserai but that would be a bit obvious.”
“There’s an old patrol house up the road at the pass,” Vadim said, pointing south. “Around eight PM?”
“Works for me,” Mike replied. “Thanks for the help.”
“I don’t care for Otar either,” Vadim admitted.
Mike had a fire going in the stove by the time a battered police car pulled up. The drive up to the post had been much harder than down to the valley; he wondered that the old battered Trebia had made it at all. A man got out and looked around, then walked through the door of the small patrol post as the car pulled away. He was in his twenties, wearing old and soiled clothes and the weathered look of a farmer. But his light skin, blue eyes and bright red hair betrayed him as a Keldara.
“Siddown,” Mike said in Russian, gesturing to a folding chair he’d brought from town. He’d been reheating tea on the stove and poured a cup. “My name’s Mike Jenkins.”
“Everyone in town has heard of you,” the man said in passable English. “You got lost and Katrina saved you.”
“Is that how it’s told?” Mike said, smiling. “I didn’t even know her name. And I think it was a matter of mutual help. I think she would have died in the storm.”
“So do I,” Genadi said, looking at him over the rim of the cup. “But you nearly got her in a lot of trouble.”
“Why?” Mike asked.
“She was alone with a man,” Genadi said, shrugging and setting down the cup. “She was nearly sent to town over it. That is what they call selling girls into slavery.”
“Is she going to be sent to town?” Mike asked.
“Not over that,” Genadi said, sighing. “Not yet, anyway. Do you understand why women are sent to town?”
“Because they get caught with men that they’re not married to?” Mike asked, frowning.
“That is a direct cause,” Genadi said, his brow furrowing. “But… I took an economics class in university and we talked about this. Women in low-tech agrarian societies, and that means all of the Georgian mountains and most of Russia, have very little economic worth. You know this?”
“I suppose,” Mike said, interested. He’d sampled the fruits of the economic situation, but never really gotten into why so many women from Eastern Europe, of their own accord or not, ended up in the sex trade.
“They cannot do as much as men on a farm,” Genadi said, shrugging. “So they don’t bring in as much money. But they cost nearly as much in food and shelter costs as men. So they are… if there are too many women, they are excess to needs, yes?”
“If you say so,” Mike replied.
“There are none of the usual jobs that women can do just as well as men,” Genadi said. “And even where there are, men are preferred. So women have little worth both in the agrarian and industrial areas. But the Chechens that come here, they will pay what is very good money for the women. As much as a half a year’s pay for a man. This is money that the farms need. So they sell their daughters. It is an old custom and so normal that no one in the mountains really thinks there is anything wrong with it.”
“I do,” Mike said. “I hope like hell they haven’t sold Katrina or there’s going to be words at the very least.”
“She has not been sent to town,” Genadi said, definitely. “I talked to her brother only yesterday. But I think she probably will be sooner or later. And maybe it would be for the best. Katrina is one of those that doesn’t do well in the Families.”
“Like you?” Mike asked.
“Oh, I did well enough,” Genadi said, shrugging. “Until I told that bastard Otar that running wheat three years in a row on the same field was idiotic. I think I shouldn’t have used that word.”