The ones who ensured Yeltsin’s reelection were the oligarchs.
It was a textbook demonstration of dia power. Controlling TV and newspapers, they only broadcasted bleak images from the Communist era while suppressing anything negative about the post-democratization period.
I wondered what kind of man Berezovsky would be as we drove.
Soon, the Kremlin ca into view in the distance.
The car that had been speeding along ca to a stop in front of a hotel.
“Please wait here a mont.”
Though we’d arrived, Igor stepped out first.
He exchanged a few words with the ard guards stationed outside the hotel, and then the rcenaries in the following car got out.
“You may step out now.”
Igor opened the door to the backseat for .
As I exited, I asked him,
“Are hotel guards usually ard here too?”
“In Russia, it’s standard practice.”
Apparently, Russia’s public safety wasn’t exactly comforting.
As soon as I stepped out, the rcenaries ford a tight periter around .
“Once we’re inside, you can relax. Even the Red Mafia won’t enter a hotel like this—especially not one owned by an oligarch.”
Flanked by rcenaries on both sides, I entered the hotel.
Upon reaching the lobby, the rcenaries surrounding stepped back.
“The eting will take place in Berezovsky’s office on the top floor. Half of us will remain here. The other half will escort us to the floor. Only you, , and Black will enter the room.”
More security than when I went to et U.S. Treasury Secretary Rubin.
I let out a scoff of disbelief.
We rode the private elevator to the top floor.
No sooner had the doors opened than Berezovsky’s guards started patting down the rcenaries.
“Only the three of us are entering.”
When Igor explained this in Russian, one of Berezovsky’s head bodyguards raised his hand.
“Go on in. If it’s you, Igor, the chairman won’t object.”
The guards and rcenaries glared at each other, but I walked calmly between them.
Our guide knocked on the door at the end of the hallway.
“Chairman, Igor has arrived.”
“Let him in.”
We passed through the door he opened.
A balding middle-aged man stood up and approached.
“Oh! Igor. How long has it been? I heard you joined an Arican rcenary company. What brings you back to Russia?”
“It’s been a while, Chairman.”
“Hahaha! Right, right. The life you saved is still ticking along. Did you co to check on it?”
Berezovsky and Igor seed closer than I’d expected.
Only after finishing his greeting with Igor did Berezovsky turn his curious eyes on .
“Hello, Chairman. I’m Kim Muhyuk.”
I spoke first with a smile—in perfect Russian.
“You’re the owner of Black Bear? Quite a young man. Or is that rude to say? I can never tell with East Asians.”
“Not at all. I’m still in my twenties.”
Berezovsky’s eyes widened slightly, and he laughed as he grasped my hand.
“Haha! Even younger than I thought. So, I hear you wanted to et through Igor.”
“I’d like to start doing business in Russia, but for that, I believe I’ll need permission from the oligarchs.”
“Your Russian is quite good. Have a seat—if it’s business, I’m always listening.”
He motioned toward the sofa and sat first, taking the main seat without hesitation.
Igor stood behind , and Manager Ma sat beside .
Berezovsky’s friendly smile quickly transford into the face of a seasoned businessman.
“I agreed to et you because I owe Igor my life. But what kind of business do you want to discuss? Let’s hear it.”
Russia’s economic crisis hadn’t touched the oligarchs at all.
They had already funneled massive amounts of dostic capital overseas, so whether the ruble collapsed or the economy crumbled, they remained unaffected.
“I’d like to negotiate with the governnt. I was hoping you could act as a bridge.”
In the U.S., thanks to Dreamhigh, I had ties with Washington’s political circles and the titans of Wall Street.
But in Russia, I had no foundation. I’d decided to use the oligarchs as my starting point.
“I see...”
Berezovsky didn’t look convinced.
‘He’s probably calculating what’s in it for him.’
I smiled as if I didn’t notice and waited.
Soon, Berezovsky spoke.
“I don’t trust Arican investors.”
“I’m aware.”
Given what U.S. investors had done in Russia, there was no way he could feel friendly toward them.
J.P. Morgan and other Wall Street banks had zero concern for Russia’s fate so long as they profited.
The Russian governnt, in desperate need of investnt, had no choice but to accept their offers. Many Russian companies had gone public on the New York Stock Exchange.
Now, their shares were trading at 10–20% of their IPO price—if they traded at all.
Behind this was a cozy relationship between the oligarchs and U.S. investnt banks.
‘What a joke. The guy who brought in the Aricans and profited the most is pretending to be a patriot now.’
I couldn’t stand him—but I couldn’t show it.
“I’m not like the old n on Wall Street. I plan to grow together with Russia. I don’t intend to suck it dry and run.”
Russia was a place worth investing in long term. With vast natural resources and strong military power, it could beco a reliable backbone for .
The Yeltsin era was nearing its end. Soon, Putin would rise.
“And why should I trust you?”
Berezovsky wasn’t easy to win over.
Without losing my composure, I responded directly.
“What would it take for you to trust ?”
“You’re the one trying to convince . What’s the point if I tell you how to do it?”
A foxlike old man.
Careful not to reveal anything prematurely.
“I’ll attach your na to every business I conduct in Russia. I’ll also guarantee you a stake.”
It was a dirty move, but necessary—for now, to build a bridge to Putin.
“Now you’re ready for a proper conversation. Hahaha. A young man who knows how to place bets. Right, Igor?”
Behind , Igor just bowed without answering.
“Still no fun, that one.”
Shaking his head, Berezovsky turned back to .
“Now, who would you like to introduce? The Pri Minister? Yeltsin? Though, sadly, his health isn’t great these days.”
He boasted that he could introduce anyone I wanted.
“Putin. He’s the current director of the FSB.”
“Hm? Putin? He has nothing to do with economics. He won’t be of any help.”
As expected, he didn’t understand my reasoning.
“I don’t exactly do everything above board. I’ll need the FSB’s cooperation. Is that difficult?”
When I asked provocatively, Berezovsky burst into laughter.
“Hahaha, this guy... Putin? Of course I know him. Fine, I’ll introduce you. Would the President’s daughter and his chief of staff be good enough, too?”
“Thank you.”
“Wait a mont.”
He picked up the phone and dialed sowhere.
“Yes, Vladimir? It’s Boris.”
The call was short—just a few minutes—but when Berezovsky hung up, he grinned at smugly.
“He said you can et him at his house this evening.”
“Thank you.”
At last, I’d built my bridge to Putin in Russia.
“Let’s have lunch. Igor, you too.”
Igor looked at for approval. I nodded and replied,
“I’d appreciate a recomndation for good Russian food. It’s my first ti trying it.”
“Russian food? Please. I don’t even eat that stuff. But the hotel’s French chef is amazing. I’ll treat you to that instead.”
Berezovsky got up and led the way.
That evening, as promised, I headed to Putin’s residence.
Looking over at Igor in the passenger seat, I asked,
“Igor.”
“Yes, Boss?”
“You seem pretty close with Berezovsky.”
He turned to face .
“I helped him once while I was in the military. After the Soviet collapse and my retirent, he offered a job under him. But I wanted to leave Russia.”
“Hm. Must not have been easy coming to Arica as a Russian soldier.”
“That’s all in the past. Thanks to eting Eric, I joined Black Bear.”
I nodded and smiled.
“So, in the end, we ca full circle—back to Russia.”
“Russia is still my holand. But I have no desire to work under the oligarchs. Their greed is too revolting.”
“What about , then?”
“I’m a soldier. Now a rcenary. I follow orders from the company I belong to. I don’t judge.”
I liked that about Igor.
“Do you know Putin?”
“I’ve heard his na, but never t him. KGB and the Soviet military weren’t exactly best friends.”
Sohow, infighting between governnt agencies existed everywhere.
After another thirty minutes of driving, we arrived at Putin’s ho.
Igor got out first and exchanged a few words with him, then returned to the car.
From the way he looked through the window, I could tell sothing was off.
“He wants to et alone.”
“Fine by .”
“It might be dangerous. You know the KGB’s reputation as well as anyone.”
“If he wanted to do sothing to , he wouldn’t invite to his ho.”
Igor’s concern was natural, but I knew Putin better than anyone.
I stepped out and patted Igor’s shoulder a few tis.
“Manager Ma, stay here as well.”
If Putin wanted to talk one-on-one, it ant he already had a read on .
“But—”
Manager Ma wore the sa uneasy expression as Igor.
I answered both of them with a grin and walked toward Putin.
“Putin? It’s a pleasure. I’m Kim Muhyuk.”
“Vladimir Putin. Welco.”
And just like that, I entered Putin’s ho alone.
The door closed behind . No one else was inside.
He led to the dining table and motioned for to sit.
“Do you mind tea?”
They say never accept Putin’s tea...
“Coffee, please.”
“That’s a sha. I had a good blend ready.”
I smiled bitterly inside.
Soon, he brought out two cups—coffee for , tea for him—and ✪ Nоvеlіgһt ✪ (Official version) took the seat across from .
“I can’t guarantee it’ll taste good.”
“Thank you anyway.”
Even so, I wasn’t going to drink his tea.
Coffee made by Putin, huh...
I took a sip and set the cup down.
Putin, sipping his tea, looked straight at .
“What is it you ca to see for? Surely the owner of Dreamhigh and Black Bear didn’t fly all the way to Russia just to et .”
As expected from the FSB director—
He already knew who I was.
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