"At least, I didn't used to. Back in the eighties, if you pointed a video camera at me it would crack, or split, or the chip would blow. I just never registered on videotape."
Slowly, Khoklov removed a silver flask from within his suit jacket. He had a long contemplative glug, then shuddered violently. He focused his eyes on Starlitz with weary deliberation. "I beg your pardon. Would you repeat that, please?"
"It's that whole video thing man. That's why I got into the online business in the first place. Originally, I was a very analog kind of guy. But the video surveillance was seriously getting me down. I couldn't even walk down to the comer store for a pack of cigs without setting off half a dozen goddamn videos. But then -- I discovered online anonymity. Online encryption. Online pseudonymity. That really helped my personal situation. Now I had a way to stay underground, stay totally unknown, even when I was being observed and monitored twenty-four hours a day. I found a way that I could go on being myself."
"Lekhi, are you drunk?"
"Nyet. Pay attention, ace. I'm leveling with you here."
"Did Raf give you something to drink?"
"Sure. We had a coffee earlier."
"Lekhi, you're on drugs. Do you have a gun? Give it to me now."
"Raf gave all the guns to the Suomi kids. They're keeping the guns still the mercs sober up. Simple precaution."
"Maybe you're still jetlagged. It's hard to sleep properly when the sun never sets. You should go lie down."
"Look, ace, I'm not the kind of fucking wimp who doesn't know when he's on acid. Normal people's rules just don't apply to me, that's all. I'm not a normal guy. I'm Leggy Starlitz, I'm a very, very strange guy. That's why I tend to end up in situations like this." Starlitz ran his hand over his sweating scalp. "Lemme put it this way. You remember that mafia chick you were banging back in Azerbaijan?"
Khoklov took a moment to access the memory. "You mean the charming and lovely Tamara Akhmedovna?"
"That's right. The wife of the Party Secretary. I leveled with Tamara in a situation like this. I told her straight-out that her little scene was coming apart. I couldn't tell her why, but I just knew it. At the time, she didn't believe me, either. Just like you're not believing me, now. You know where Tamara Akhmedovna is, right now? She's selling used cars in Los Angeles."
Khoklov had gone pale. "All right," he said. He whipped the cellular from an inner pocket of his jacket. "Don't tell me any more. I can see you have a bad feeling. Let me make some phone calls."
"You want Tamara's phone number?"
"No. Don't go away. And don't do anything crazy. All I ask is -- just let me make a few contacts." Khoklov began punching digits.
Starlitz walked by the sauna. Four slobbering, buck-naked drunks dashed out and staggered down the trail in front of him. Their pale sweating hides were covered with crumpled green birch leaves from Finnish sauna whisks. They plunged into the chilly sea with ecstatic grunts of ambiguous pain.
Somewhere inside, the New World Order comrades were singing Auld Lang Syne. The Russians were having a hard time finding the beat.
Raf was enjoying a snooze in the curvilinear Aalto barcalounger when Khoklov and Starlitz woke him.
"We've been betrayed," Khoklov announced.
"Oh?" said Raf. "Where? Who is the traitor?"
"Our superiors, unfortunately."
Raf considered this, rubbing his eyelids. "Why do you say that?"
"They liked our idea very much," Khoklov said. "So they stole it from us."
"Intellectual piracy, man," Starlitz said. "It's a bad scene."
"The Alands deal is over," Khoklov said. "The Organizatsiya's Higher Circles have decided that we have too much initiative. They want much closer institutional control of such a wonderful idea. Our Finnish hacker kids have jumped ship and joined them. They re-routed all the Suns to Kaliningrad."
"What is Kaliningrad?" Raf said.
"It's this weird little leftover piece of Russia on the far side of all three independent Baltic nations," Starlitz said helpfully. "They say they're going to make Kaliningrad into a new Russian Hong Kong. The old Hong Kong is about to be metabolized by the Chinese, so the Mafia figures it's time for Russia to sprout one. They'll make this little Kaliningrad outpost into a Baltic duty-free zone cum European micro-buffer state. And they're paying our Finn hacker kids three times what we pay, plus air fare."
"The World Bank is helping them with development loans," Khoklov said. "The World Bank loves their Kaliningrad idea."
"Plus the European Union, man. Euros love duty-free zones."
"And the Finns too," Khoklov said. "That's the very worst of it. The Finns have bought us out. Russia used to owe every Finn two hundred dollars. Now, Russia owes every Finn one hundred and ninety dollars. In return for a rotten little fifty million dollar write-off, my bosses sold us all to the Finns. They told the Finns about our plans, and they sold us just as if we were some lousy division of leftover tanks. The Finnish Special Weapons and Tactics team is flying over here right now to annihilate us."
Raf's round and meaty face grew dark with fury. "So you've betrayed us, Khoklov?"
"It's my bosses who let us down," Khoklov said sturdily. "Essentially, I've been purged. They have cut me out of the Organizatsiya. They liked the idea much more than they like me. So I'm expendable. I'm dead meat."
Raf turned to Starlitz. "I'll have to shoot Pulat Romanevich for this. You realize that, I hope."
Starlitz raised his brows. "You got a gun, man?"
"Aino has the guns." Raf hopped up from his lounger and left.
Khoklov and Starlitz hastily followed him. "You're going to let him shoot me?" Khoklov said sidelong.
"Look man, the guy has kept us his end. He always delivered on time and within specs."
They found Aino alone in the basement. She had her elk rifle.
"Where's the arsenal?" Raf demanded.
"I had Matti and Jorma take all the weapons from this property. Your mercenaries are terrible beasts, Raf."
"Of course they're beasts," Raf said. "That's why they follow a Jackal. Lend me your rifle for a moment, my dear. i have to shoot this Russian."
Aino slammed a thumb-sized cartridge into the breech and stood up. "This is my favorite rifle. I don't give it to anyone."
"Shoot him yourself, then," Raf said, backing up half a step with a deft little hop. "His Mafia people have blown the Movement's program. They've betrayed us to the Finnish oppressors."
"Police are coming from the mainland," Starlitz told her. "It's over. Time to split, girl. Let's get out of here."
Aino ignored him. "I told you that Russians could never be trusted," she said to Raf. Her face was pale, but composed. "What did American mercenaries have to do with Finland? We could have done this easily, if you were not so ambitious."
"A man has to dream," Raf said. "Everybody needs a big dream."
Aino centered her rifle on Khoklov's chest. "Should I shoot you." she asked him, in halting Russian.
"I'm not a cop," Khoklov offered hopefully.