To The East

My oft-travelled cousin, Sir Robert Hazeltown, brings me some odd news from Russia. He had seen Swan Lake in St. Petersburg, and was startled to note that the ballet had created a happy ending, with Odette and her prince happily going off, no doubt to raise a number of ugly ducklings. He wondered what had happened to Odile, and two fates sprung to my mind. She had gone to Wall Street, as a true Black Swan. Either that, or she had fled Russia and landed a job pole-dancing in Bangkok. Whatever the case, this bore investigation, and since I had business in Ukraine, thought I would extend the trip a bit further east. I also needed to raise a rather serious matter with Putin. The trip was fine with my pilot, Hank Grimsby, and soon I was in the Lear, sipping Laphroaig and pondering the ironies of existence.

In Kiev, I met with my sugar beet overseer, Bohdan. All was going well, although he was having trouble fending off requests for a larger piece of the action from Yuliya Tymoshenko. I said not to worry -- I will get in touch with La Tymoshenko and remind her of certain favours owed, not the least of which was getting the gas flowing again. And the woman still hasn't lost that damn braid. Yuliya can handle a leveraged buyout, but her sense of style is the pits.

Then on to Moscow. At the airport, I had just got off the Lear when my cell phone rang. Very few have the number, but one who does is Vladimir Putin.

"Simone, dorogaya, word reached me that you were likely to visit. Where are you precisely?"

"At Sheremetyevo airport. And I am not your sweetheart."

"One can always hope. Stay there. I will send a car."

Shortly after, I was ensconced in a suite at the Kremlin. We spoke in Russian, in that I am fluent and Putin's English is awful , although he has mastered one word very well: 'no'.

"Vladimir," I said, "What's this nonsense about Swan Lake, with everyone going off into the sunset in a state of bliss?"

"Yes," he replied, "rather neat, that. Leaves people very happy, and forgetful that the economy is not what it might be. And we have a new version of Romeo and Juliet in the works."

"Don't tell me. The lovers survive, and go on to become major shareholders in Gazprom."

"Not exactly, but you get the drift, and the endings will be well received. Czar Ivan did the same thing with various court entertainments."

"I'm sure he did. He wasn't called 'The Terrible' for nothing. But sooner or later the populace --"

"Will do what we tell it to." He leaned forward. "And by the way, we have intercepted some information from our operatives in Pakistan. Apparently you are Number One on Al Qaeda's hit list. Just what did you do? I can only think of one thing that would get them so impossibly riled up. Let me see if I have it right."

"Speculate away."

"Our information is the following. We know you were in Afghanistan, near Tora Bora, a few days before the Americans attacked. We also know that somewhere in those mountains was one Osama bin Laden. Finally, we know that you left the area in one hell 0f a hurry." Putin stared at me for some time, then finally said, "You got him, didn't you?"

I kept silent.

"It's OK. The room is not wired, nor am I."

"No, your not Richard Nixon, nor were meant to be." I fussed with my skirt for a moment, then spoke. "Hypothetically, it might just be possible to track down a six-foot Arab with kidney trouble traipsing about Tora Bora dragging a dialysis machine. How hard could that be? And putting a bullet smack into the forehead. Hypothetically, mind."

"Ah," he said, "and of course the Americans knew, hushed it all up, and created a, a... I've forgotten the English term --"

"A bogeyman," I finished. "And now it's my turn. Vladimir, you and Medvedev must pay more attention to Iran and, particularly, North Korea. The Dear Leader is spinning out of control."

"That's China's problem. But we are monitoring things closely."

"You and China may have to do more than monitor."

"Point taken." Putin rose from his seat. "Now I must go. I've been invited to attend a seminar given by our leading physics researchers. All on the origins of the universe and the Big Bang."

I rose as well, saying, "I understand. Oh, and if you're meeting with your physics scientists on the Big Bang, you might raise a certain question."

"What question?"

"Just WHAT banged?"

There, that should start a healthy debate.