“So Wong, how’s your ankle?”
“Enough chit chat Madam. Unlike your country we have real business in Africa. The dictators love us.”
“Happy for you Wong. I actually requested this meeting to… make you an offer.”
“Ah compensation for our sweet trains. Finally. But only after apology.”
Without losing her stride, Petrova said, “Ok, I guess I am sorry.”
“Hahaha. No. A public televised apology on Calamity News, The Nephew… only respected western outlets…”
“Ok. If we do that, we would have to double the gas prices to Urumqi.”
“What the fuck? I knew this was a mistake. This is a travesty. I could be having a threesome in Bamako right now… You, you owe us a massive apology Anna.”
Anna Petrova added the sixth pack of sugar to her decaf.
“Final offer: Triple the gas prices to Urumqi. Double the freight passage rates to Germany. And a new pipeline from Sakhalin to Beijing.”
“Jesus Anna… you can’t be serious. Why would we ever agree to these fucked up terms. You do realize that I am your last non-enemy at the moment.”
“Premier. One more thing… we want you to stop selling your fucking forged trains.”
“Haha… do you know what the Americans are offering me to flip… to come over to their side?”
“Hmmm let me guess… you get to buy the iPhones on the same day as the Americans?”
“Enough…”
“Whoa that must be cool, having the opportunity to buy Made in China phones IN China… wow man one heck of a deal.”
“This meeting is over Anna,” Xiannian brushed aside his green tea and rose.
Chapter 18
Chukotka, Palin’s Russia
Primakov watched the blip approaching from the south. His team had been monitoring the progress of the Antonov cargo aircraft for over four hours now. Bound for Mexico City the Antonov had departed from Guangzhou in Southern China. Its planned flight indicated a path over Anchorage-Alaska, Alberta, Montana, New Mexico and finally Mexico City. After refueling at Harbin the Antonov had been straddling the Russian airspace.
The aircraft was the legendary Antonov 225 Mriya aka, the Dream. The AN-225 was and is the largest aircraft ever built. Larger than the 747, bigger than the A380 and sturdier than the Globemaster, it was the epitome of Soviet psychology — always one up the Americans. The AN-225 had something like a dozen engines and probably hundred wheels.
There really was nothing this woolly mammoth couldn’t lift. Smaller planes? Check. Bigger planes? Check? Locomotives? Check. Power plants? Check. Abduct the entire Swiss populace? Check. Fuck the Swiss, just get the gold? Check. Bill Gates on the run from IRS? Check. Gunrunners? Check. Capitalists? Socialists? Nihilists? Check, Check and Check.
Costing like 1% of GDP only of these beasts had been built. Tragically though, at the end of the red haze, this product of engineers gone wild had ended up with the Ukrainians.
Twenty years on, the Russians had secretly revived the AN-225 program. Despite heroic efforts by the Antonov Design Bureau and its factories in Komsomolsk-on-Amur, the designers had managed to produce just one shitty prototype whose landing gear was still a hot mess. Russia’s Aviation Authority had rated this new AN-225 for a maximum of 3 takeoffs and 1 landings in its lifetime. A group of engineers and machinists, who would have otherwise ended up in the gulag for engineering crimes, had volunteered for the test flight. Incredibly, the big plane had not only stayed up but had even performed a series of insane stunts before landing beautifully. The absence of the Titanic ending had left the Siberian firemen high and dry.
But despite the successful flight, Russia’s Aviation Authority had brought down the hammer citing some newfangled euro babble concerning safety. This had rendered the Mriya II to a lonely hangar in Komsomolsk-on-Amur.
33,200 ft. Ukrainian AN-225 — Mriya I, International Airspace
Andriy the Ukrainian pilot left the big Ukrainian plane’s cockpit to take a dump. Probably had something to do with those Harbin dumplings.
His co-pilots were heatedly debating the bohemian malady: Soccer — A 0-0 (4OT) draw between Dynamo Kiev and PSV Eindhoven. This away draw was a huge blow to Dynamo’s UEFA dreams. Nothing less than a hard 2-2 draw at Galatasaray could fix this calamity. And then they were on the road at Zenit St. Petersburg where no one had ever drawn above 1-1 (5OT).
Outside the cockpit a group of animated Chinese engineers were betting on something… perhaps they were pawning their Asian wives. Andriy wondered if he should get in on the action. He was growing tired of buying a gallon of Chanel for his girlfriend in Kiev.
Before he could sign language his intentions to the Chinese dudes, his lower needs knocked hard. Abandoning the wife betting conundrum, Andriy began his long walk to the back of the aircraft.
In the 80s, after slurping a Harvard study smuggled in by the KGB, the Soviet designers had put the restrooms at the ass end of the mile long Antonov 225. This study had suggested that productivity and distance to restrooms were somehow directly proportional — unless of course they were janitors.
Naive Andriy, unaware of this CIA plot, steeled his glutes and began the voyage at a safe speed. As he walked through the cavernous cargo hold Andriy admired the sleek CRH400A high speed train they were transporting to Mexico City. Animated hand signals and vigorous nodding with the Chinese had suggested that the train was capable of speeds well over 400Km/hr. It could easily do a Kiev-Odessa-Donetsk-Kiev run in like three hours. Someday…
Kremlin, Moscow
“Madam the Japanese Foreign Minister is on line 13.”
President Petrova unhinged line 13 and listened.
“Yo, Madam. Is this deal going down or what?” bellowed Yamazaki the Japanese FM.
“Yes. Absolutely, Yamazaki. You aren’t chickening out right? We already have assets in place.”
“Hellz noz Madamz. That Chinese bitch is actually selling a train to the cartel. If anybody is selling to the cartels it should be my country. Our Shinkansen can carry cocaine, heroin, poopy, AK47s you name it. I am 100% sure the Chinese haven’t accounted for moisture and vibration… which as you know can alter the heroin’s molecular structure.”
“And you… your Shinkansen has?”
“Of course madam. Dollar bills, euro bills, silver bars, soap bars, cocaine, meth — every product is different. Everything reacts differently to speed. Those Chinese copycats, what the hell do they know. Let me tell you something, we always help our clients help themselves.”
“Are you… is that… Top Gun?”
“Of course not.”
“Oh…”
“It’s Jerry Maguire… ever since we began to use it, our Shinkansen sales have quadrupled.”
“Well… good for you,” offered Anna, trying to end the call.
“Ya, it’s so good that even the Chinese are using it now. Crush those fuckers, please.”
Anna Petrova hung up.
Chukotka, Palin’s Russia
“Is that fucking fax machine working?” Primakov yelled into the phone.
Despite the presidential backing and his new powers, Primakov simply couldn’t convince one Mr. Ruslan Bratikov. The Ruslan was the Russian Aviation Authority’s midlevel pencil sharpener who had the authoritah to un-mothball planes stored inside Russia.
Primakov’s one sided conversation went something like:
“This is insane… Yes I have notarized the forms…”