“Which is?”
“Fish.”
“Fish?”
“Yes my people love some good fish and chips.”
“We have been sending the fish… by the train load,” interjected Sergey.
“No. You have been sending us rotten fish you rotten piece of shit,” remarked the Leader.
“Rotten?” asked Anna. Sergey was silent.
“My people have been eating the same rotten fish that Zoya ate for months. The same rotten fish that made Zoya sick. The same rotten fish that made Zoya salivate at the Chinese snipers. The same rotten fish that made Zoya puke and faint.”
“Jesus that’s awful. Sergey did you know about the rotten fish?” asked Petrova.
Sergey seemed lost. Eventually he shrugged, “I delegated it to our Vladivostok office.”
“No shit,” yelled the Leader, “that clown is fishy as fuck Anna.”
“Dear Leader, I am terribly sorry. I am sorry for what we have put you and your people through.”
“Wow! Anna, Anna, Anna…did you just say sorry? Now there’s a word I have never heard a Russian utter!”
“We will fix this right away Dear Leader. I will ensure that your people, the North Korean people… get the best fish from our Kamchatka fisheries. You have my word on this Great Leader.”
“Anna I could kiss you right now. If Sergey wasn’t listening in, I swear, I would.”
“Please Dear Leader. Nothing pains me more than sending rotten food. Again I’m truly sorry.”
“Man, I knew you were different,” proclaimed the Leader of North Korea before hanging up.
Anna Petrova sighed and turned to the defiant yet shaky Luzkhov.
“Sergey, I don’t know what you did in the past. I sure as hell don’t care how you delegate stuff. From now fucking on, you better pull it together.”
“Madam I can explain…”
“Rotten fish? Your rotten fish almost got my tiger killed, then ended up killing the head of Chinese intelligence, took out the Chinese Premier and now this… starving innocent people… that’s fucking genocide man.”
“Madam… but you started this. You authorized the hit on the Chinese train.”
“On your FUCKING advice. You vouched for it. Plus this has nothing whatsoever to do with the Chinese hit.”
“Oh come on… Anna…”
“Don’t ‘Come on Anna’ me. You know what… you don’t seem to be getting the situation. Here we have a sweet, misunderstood boy, whom you made me believe was a drug addled maniac.”
“Anna, the whole world knows he is bat shit eating crazy…”
“Hey even I was accused of being a crazy cat lady…”
“Exactly. And due to my spin, you are now associated with a tiger…”
The President had heard enough. Anna Petrova picked up an intercom, “Send in someone from my security detail. Wait, send in as many as possible.”
“Whats going on Anna?” asked Sergey Luzkhov the Foreign Minister.
“Well I thought up a fun adventure for you Sergey.”
The three guards, hearing the rising argument, instinctively encircled the Foreign Minister.
“Haha. So… what are you going to do… send me to Lubyanka? This isn’t 1936 anymore… don’t you dare let these gorillas touch me… hey… get off me… hey.”
“Lubyanka is still in Moscow and I don’t trust the FSB.”
“So? Hey… hands off me.”
“You are off to Vorkuta. I want you to oversee the mining operations for a couple of months. Consider this your last warning. Guards.”
The three guards secured the former Minister and dragged him away.
“The Guuulag?” screamed Sergey as he was taken away, “Nooo.”
Chapter 15
Washington DC
Sarah McAllister, the Under Secretary of State stared at the doofus from Ukraine. This was his second trip to DC in the past three weeks. His laundry list of needs included more weapons, more ammo, more training, more yoghurt, more antacid, more teargas and more riot gear. The only stuff missing were the requests for clothing from Macy’s and perfumes for his mistresses.
Viktor rocked a bald egghead, wimpy spectacles and some never shaven smooth cheeks. With his incredible lack of masculinity he was probably the last unsullied man in Ukraine. Hmm… he did seem cute from that perspective.
Sarah shook herself out of the daze.
“Ms. Sarah, I know you have given hope and change to my Ukrainian people. But we need more.”
“Look man… Viktor. Our aim was to catch the Russians offside. And we succeeded, with your help. That’s it.”
“But Ms. Sarah, that wasn’t our deal…”
“What was our deal Viktor? We made you the Prime Minister. What more could you want?”
“I am the President.”
“Oh. Ok sure. We promised you the Presidency and here you are, a year later in that… strong Presidential throne.”
“But what about our economy? Investment in our industries… you promised all that…”
“Viktor let’s face it, the Ukraine is a basket case. You guys have the worst economy in Europe. Worse than Greece, worse than Portugal. Even if we grouped you with Africa and made a new MEA-U, you won’t crack fifty. I bet you guys tie with Chad.”
“This is unacceptable to me and the Ukrainian people who voted for me…” Viktor tried fury.
“Please Viktor, stop the act. Or are you that retarded. Even you can’t believe that 78% of the electorate voted for your egghead.”
“Egghead…? What do you mean 78%?”
“Jesus. You are one seriously dumb Prime Minister.”
“President. I am the President…”
“Look here Viktor, you are a puppet, a device, a folly, a yokel, a village idiot and a tool… a tool that we used to advance our agenda… the United States’ agenda. That’s all. I mean we can give you a few used F-16s and some old tanks but… that’s it…”
“But our air force flies Migs….”
“Exactly and you use T-90 tanks, which you freakin co-designed with the Russians.”
“Yes, but…”
“And you can’t integrate our Aegis or Patriot defense systems….”
“Yes but…”
“And your rail tracks aren’t standard gauge.”
“They are Soviet standard gauge…”
“Which means European trains can’t run into Kiev with toilet paper.”
“But we can’t re-lay 60,000 miles of tracks just for toilet paper Ms. Sarah. That’s insane.”
“And you have made my point. You have been too close to Russia for far too long man. I mean we can only do so much. As long as we can rankle and irritate Russia, my job here at the State Department is done. Finished.”
The President of Ukraine remained silent for a while before saying, “You are saying I don’t matter? The people of Ukraine don’t matter?”
“Oh no! You matter to us very much… like say Afghanistan, Kosovo or Mexico or even…”
“But those are failed states.”
The Undersecretary chided the Ukrainian, “Now Viktor, we don’t use that term anymore. It’s considered offensive.”
“But… but your President said so himself at the White House Correspondents’ Dinner.”
“Jesus man, the Kardashians were there. He would have sent the Queen of England to G-Bay for a glance at Kim’s dimples. That’s not our foreign policy man… unless of course Kim wants it to be, but…”
“But isn’t comedy supposed to be the truest form of truth…?”
“Man your idioms are all fucked up. You are misinterpreting a lot of things. I suggest you get a better interpreter Viktor, like someone who isn’t using you to get to New York and get on the runway.”
“FYI, I went to Cambridge. My English is just fine. Also Elena isn’t my interpreter, she is my body woman.”