Pulikesi dived in, “For starters this is a nationwide, in your case, Russia wide air traffic management system.”
Mueller nodded.
“Plus there are all these requirements about landing on frozen lakes… in fact Lake Baikal, hope I am pronouncing it right, seems to be the main ‘repository’.”
“Treat this as an extreme test case. Inclement weather, hijinks… those types of situations… we need to be able to override the pilots in such a scenario.”
Pulikesi wrote down the shit Mueller was spewing, as Ilya did a couple of follow up questions. Ilya really wanted to show that he was an essential cog. Russian projects in Siberia tended to liquidate non-performing assets real fast. He had no intention of getting buried in a Code of Bones.
As the questions petered out, Primakov asked “Anything else?”
“First off, we are going to re-write the spec… given the circumstances that should take a week… and then Ilya and I would write up a technical spec. Two more weeks for that… hmm… let’s see… we need client approval at each stage… which is you guys Primakov and Miller?”
The old man said “Mueller.”
“Right Mueller. Miller, Mueller catches me all the time. Oookay. So once we have the specs we will do a project planning session… a week for that… finally we get to the easy part… development… ten weeks… make it twelve to be on the safe side… and testing… depending on your Russian regulations, could run anywhere between 6 months to years… obviously deployment would be up to you…”
Primakov looked crimson. He wasn’t a violent man. He was also a planner. Just like Pulikesi here. He tried that deep breath shit… That didn’t solve anything.
“Pulikesi. Look man, we need this thing like… yesterday… not 6 months down the line…”
“Haha, spoken like a true business owner. I get it man, but this is software, this is the way it works…”
“And could you elaborate more…” said Mueller icily.
Pulikesi had dealt with a million of these business head types in his consulting career. He put up a polite plastic smile and began, “Gentlemen, we use the Waterfall Model of development.”
“Waterfall? Whats that?” Mueller the mad scientist, who had cooked up Project Katie and Catie, was intrigued. Waterfall…? Sounded pretty cool.
“Waterfall model is a step by step model. Where you completely finish your first step before going to the next step. You see there is no turning back or backtracking… the major steps are 1)gathering requirements, 2)design, 3)development, 4)testing and 5)deployment. We go from one stage to another step by step… like a waterfall…” Pulikesi proceeded to mimic a waterfall with his arms and swooshing sounds.
Mueller nodded at Primakov.
“There is a secret about Russia. Do you want to know what it is Mr. Pulikesi?” asked Primakov.
“Only if you insist,” remarked Pulikesi blithely.
“There are no waterfalls in Russia.”
Chapter 33
Havana, Cuba
The big Boeing banked towards Havana Bay.
Calamity News was at the scene covering the historic moment. “Blow, I am standing here at the Ciudad Libertad Airport in Havana,” Jack Jizzer began. The camera panned away from the bearded Jizzer to the approaching aircraft. “As you can see now… the jet carrying the American delegation is on its final approach.”
A group of spicy tamales sashayed synchronously in the background. The mood seemed festive. No revolution today.
“Looks like the Ciudad Libertad airport is right on the beach. The views are fantastic man… and the airport itself seems to have a lot of old charm,” remarked Blow Jobbs.
“Absolutely Blow, the breeze, the sweet smells… it’s all pretty intoxicating. Whats ironic is that, after years of mistrusts and pig wrestling, one would imagine an atmosphere of suspicion, or utmost cautious optimism, but…” A feathered Latina handed Jizzer a tropical concoction with copious amounts of Bacardi, “… but as you can see it’s a massive party here. The word on the streets of Havana is that they want to out-party New Orleans, Rio, Cabo and Miami. They want to show what the Americans have missed out…”
“Not for long Jizzer. Not for long… For viewers tuning in live, this is Blow Jobbs at Calamity News, and we are at the precipice of some sweet history. The first American delegation to Cuba in 50 years is minutes from landing in Havana… hot, sultry, dirty Havana…”
“That’s right Blow, even my American phone has magically hooked up to a local provider… says it’s 90 degrees now, but I guess the women here account for about 70 of that. It’s almost like… like Miami… but everything is real… catch my drift, Blow?” Jizzer winked into the camera.
“Absolutely. Jizzer, can you tell us more about this American delegation… a who’s who perhaps. Give us the dirt.”
“Well, these are mostly financiers… Wall Street types, Silicon Valley VCs, banksters, the Commissioner of basketball… essentially the money men, Blow. IMO there isn’t going to be a lot of dirt coming from that demographic.”
“I see. So Jizzer, is there a chance that some of these delegates get to meet the big man Castro?”
“Good question. Honestly the details are sketchy, but what I can confirm is that the big man’s little brother is scheduled to meet our delegates.”
“Come on Jizzer, let’s face it, we want to see their superstar President not some wannabe backup.”
“You are preaching to the choir, Blow.”
Wheels out, the big Boeing descended rapidly.
Langley, VA / Trondheim, Norway
Jim Borland took a swig out of his rum laced coffee. It took the edge off while adding an edge.
“Trondheim, are you there?” asked Jim.
The Trondheim Marine Engineering Company specialized in some real deep shit. Its area of expertise was resurfacing wrecks and other stuff from ocean floors. Their MO: Balloons… big ass, super strong balloons.
While the oceans were Trondheim’s Nutella and chicken, the Barents Sea was their bread and butter. Being a playground/ scrapyard/ home ground for the Russian Navy, the Barents Sea Division had never failed to beat Wall Street expectations, in forty five years.
Thus, anytime a jet disappeared over an ocean, Trondheim Engineering was there. Anytime a movie about a sunk ship or a naked portrait had to be made, Trondheim Engineering was there. Anytime a Russian sub, however large had to be refloated, Trondheim Engineering was there. And anytime an oil well had to be plugged tight… Trondheim Engineering… was… there.
This new job was in Havana bay.
“Trondheim are you there?” repeated CIA’s Jim Borland. It was time to put an end to these newfangled KGB wannabes.
“Langley, we got a problem.” Of course they had a problem. Jim shook his head in disgust.
“It’s the puny balloons isn’t it? I knew it. It sounded too good to be true and here we are…”
“Langley, the balloons are fine.”
“Then what the fuck is it Trondheim?”
“Submarine traffic. We aren’t sure which one it is?”
“Fuck’s sake Trondheim, I sent you guys all the sonar signatures. Just run it down and match it.”
“Langley… there are too many subs.”
“Too many… what are you talking about? We just scouted that cesspit.”
“Well, our sonar has gone bonkers. We are reading at least 2 Akula Class subs, 3 Ohio Class, 2 Los Angeles Class… 2 Jin Class, 1 Yuan Class…1 Arihant Class…1 Yasen Class…”