Rublevka is not a real place in Russia. At least, it is not on a map with official designation.
The name is an unofficial one given by Russian-speakers to a part of the western suburbs of Moscow. Due to the location along the Rublyovskoye highway. And also because it means ‘the place of Rubles’.
Due to its unpolluted nature, this area became popular for government officials and rich people. As a result it became one of the most expensive parts of Russia. It was an area of giant mansions and luxurious dachas, but still rustic enough to have vast tracts of free land and open space. Many important figures in Russian history had lived along this 35-km stretch of highway.
Rublevka was only an hour’s drive from the facility on Kirovskaya Ulitsa, but it was a world of difference. You can find gated communities, high end shopping areas, exclusive clubs and boutiques all in Rublevka. There were many high end facilities and foreign brand dealerships in the area. It was one part of the former Soviet Union where the residents could truly be said to enjoy a standard of living comparable with their Western counterparts.
“Incredible!” Angel exclaimed when she finished speed-reading the material. “We’re getting a place to stay in Rublevka!”
“Only for the purposes of this mission,” Stacy reminded Angel. “It’s essentially a loaner house so that we have a base for this operation.”
“I’m going to enjoy living in Rublevka. Even if only for a few days!” Marilyn had this dreamy smile on her face.
Marilyn was thinking: Up Yours, Tashkent Tyrants! Hardly any Uzbeks had the opportunity or money to ever live in a place like this.
“Wait a moment,” Riley said sternly. “We have a small problem. Do we actually look like people who belong in that neighborhood?”
This led to an excited discussion about makeup and dress sense.
This leads to ZIL Conversation 001b: On Appearances. “Do we look like we fit into this neighborhood?” If you’d like to read that, please click here. If not, just read on.
Eventually it was decided that ZIL would not try to put up an act.
“It’s too much work,” Stacy concluded.
“I don’t mind work,” Angel said.
“It’s not that. There’s too much we have to do and think and dress and speak in order to be convincing as natural residents of Rublevka. And there are five of us. We don’t have that much time.”
“Uh, there is no time limit set for this mission.”
Marilyn said this because she was hoping to stay in Rublevka for a few more days.
“Time is a valuable resource like everything else,” Stacy said. “I don’t think we should use an excessive amount of time for this – or any – mission. Just because Stealsky set up the Amber Room in his mansion, doesn’t mean that it will remain there forever. He might sell it and the Amber Room would get taken to somebody else’s more heavily guarded mansion.”
“And the problem is, we need to do and learn too many things in a short time. It’s too easy to slip up. Best to take a simple approach and focus on a cover that we can act out convincingly,” Riley agreed with Stacy.
“So we’re not going to do anything like deep undercover as rich people?” Marilyn was hoping to find excuses to dress up, wear nice makeup – basically look and feel rich.
“I think it would be just easier if we portrayed ourselves as a little team of home decorators working for the real owner,” Riley said. “Me as an electrician. Naz as an assigned driver. Stacy as an interior decorator or designer. The rest as general workers – painters, spare manpower, whatever.”
Stacy’s eyes flickered over her team. She was sure Riley meant no offence, but ‘the rest’ basically meant Angel and Marilyn. And they were being treated like the least important people in the team.
Central Asians were often just as hardworking and educated as European Russians, but there was a tendency for Europeans to treat them as ‘spare manpower, whatever’. Moreover the Baltics were among the most developed and wealthiest parts of the USSR, so Riley might have an unconscious tendency to think that everybody else was unskilled labor.
In a diverse city like New York, a dismissive approach would be definitely considered offensive. Fortunately Marilyn and Angel didn’t seem upset. Stacy hoped it was not because they were already used to this treatment, but because they recognized that their areas of expertise were coincidentally not helpful for building a convincing cover in this neighborhood. This was the kind of neighborhood that didn’t need chemical engineers and biologists or snipers.
Stacy reminded herself that building a team of true equals would take time. She should talk to Riley quietly later.
Mission planning
The ZIL members contributed their ideas on how to proceed with the mission.
As a sniper, Marilyn was used to stealth. Yet she was alert. She would keep watch from far off.
As the driver, Naz would be helping them with the getaway. So Angel, Stacy and Riley would be in the field. Or to be exact, sneaking into Stealsky’s house.
“It’s best that I park nearby when you’re inside.”
“A Rolls Royce on the side of the road is going to raise suspicions.”
“I’m going to pretend to be working on something.”
“People might stop and ask questions,” Stacy warned.
“It’s Russia,” Naz said. “And since this is Rublevka, I’m going to bet on Russians not lending any help. They’ll leave me alone.”
“If any Siberians come along, they’re going to insist on helping you,” Stacy warned.
“Siberians aren’t going to be found here. You think Moscow is in the habit of doling out such goodies to Siberians that they could afford to live in Rublevka?”
“Come to think of it, that’s true,” Stacy conceded. “But all the same, well-intentioned migrant workers might bother you.”
Safe Driving
The ZIL members got into their two cars. Once again, they traveled down two separate ways to the loaner mansion. Since Marilyn often had to take the longer route, this time she would go directly. Naz would drive the Rolls Royce via another route. Which coincidentally would give Stacy and her teammates a very scenic drive through one of the poshest parts of the ex-USSR.
As they were driving out of Moscow city proper, Riley casually told Naz not to run over any babushkas. Stacy jerked up in shock and inquired further. Riley suggested that Naz had been disrespectful of pedestrians in Moscow.
“Wait, Naz, you do that?” Stacy felt uncomfortable. Too many Russians drove recklessly; it was a very bad cultural phenomenon.
“No, not all the time. I was putting up an act.”
“Putting up an act. She almost knocked someone down.”
“That wasn’t true. In fact nobody was getting knocked down,” Angel spoke up. “Just that Naz went through a red light.”
“That true, Naz?”
“That’s true,” Riley spoke for Naz.
“The light had been yellow for a few seconds, so it was actually almost red already. But still not red on my approach!”
“It turned red as you crossed the line,” Riley said reproachfully.
“Well, we’re in a Rolls Royce, and we don’t stop for things like that,” Naz said.
It was evident that Naz believed driving aggressively was a necessary act to fit in Moscow, especially when driving a high status car. Which wasn’t that far from the truth so Stacy didn’t know how to respond. Because she didn’t want to get noticed. Moscow Big Shots were expected to act like jerks, not milquetoast.
“Her sin, as Riley saw it, was that there were elderly people at the crossing. So Naz was not driving defensively. If any of these babushkas had started walking…” Angel said.
“Come on. It’s Moscow. Old folks will know. Moskalis are mudaks…” Naz began. Then she realized she had made a mistake.
Her new leader Stacy was sitting right behind. Stacy lived in Moscow. And Naz had went off and spouted two things that most would consider offensive. Firstly, referring to Muscovites as Moskalis*. Secondly, adding a derogatory word.
Naz’s face reddened.
Stacy was unpeturbed though. It was normal for a journalist to make others feel comfortable enough to say whatever they liked.
“That’s all right, Naz,” Stacy spoke evenly. She didn’t show any indignation at the reference to Moskalis. Besides, having worked as a journalist in a war zone, Stacy had heard a lot of unflattering comments about Moscow.
“It’s fine to drive like a local for now. But once we get out of Moscow, we drive safely, all right?”
[I have an Author’s Note about Riley and Naz’s use of language. If you’d like to read that, please click on the asterisk above or here. If not, please read on.]
Approaching the Base of Operations
“Rich, rich, rich, rich,” Angel muttered. “Russia is rich.”
“Finally I see this. This is the Russia they’ve all been talking about,” Naz put a hand to her forehead in a mock salute. “All hail Kleptocratov, Oligarchenko, Corruptovich and Stealsky!”
“The ‘real’ Russia that we couldn’t see in Moscow,” Riley said with a slightly sour tone.
Stacy allowed her team to make mocking comments for a while, before intervening.
“It’s a national shame. I am not proud of this.”
Stacy’s tone changed the direction of conversation. Previously her teammates had been leaning towards criticism of obscene ‘Russian’ wealth. Now they discussed the uneven distribution of income and wealth in the region.
“Kazakhstan, Mongolia are like this too,” Angel asserted. “Too many new rich folks, and also too many folks left behind. And the new rich folks got rich by selling assets that actually belong to everybody.”
“They call it fair competition. But I’m not so sure of the fairness of an unrestricted capitalist system,” Riley said.
“It’s everyone for themselves with no sense of social responsibility,” Naz agreed.
“We can’t let it go on like that when so many people are living very badly,” Stacy noted. “This so-called ‘real’ Russia is living on top of a vast base of very poor people who are nearly invisible. Just because they live in the small towns and villages.”
The conversation would have continued, but they soon came to the mansion that the Benefactors had arranged for ZIL as their temporary base. Marilyn was already inside, pretending to be a gardener. Actually she just had a biologist’s general interest in flora and fauna, so this wasn’t a complete pretense.
Naz pulled up at the front door as Marilyn closed the gates.
“Stacy, do the honors,” Riley said as she handed Stacy the keys.
(This leads to a debate and vote: ZIL Vote 001 Shoes on or off? If you’d like to read how ZIL members make their decisions, just click here. If not, just read on.)
This mansion was indeed a loaner. It was entirely empty inside, except for a few boxes and some cheap furniture.
“Work benches, plastic chairs, folding tables…” Naz commented. “Not like something for rich people.”
“And that’s a great relief to us,” Riley said. “I was afraid it would be richly furnished inside, and that everything we did could damage some ultra valuable furniture.”
“I think it might be between rentals?” Angel guessed.
“Rentals? Come on, it’s dangerous to rent out your place in Russia. People won’t take good care of it!”
“Tak. This isn’t Almaty, Angel! Don’t expect people here to be considerate!”
Stacy had been thinking about something. Now she moved to a more central position.
“Everyone, I have been wanting to say this. But let’s keep this place as clean and free of our presence as possible. You can see that vacuum cleaner in that corner. Let’s agree; we’ll limit the places where we lie down. Don’t go around touching everything. We keep the bathroom spick and span. We should collect all rubbish in a single plastic bag that we will dispose of later.”
Riley looked steadily into Stacy’s eyes, a sense of respect growing within her.
This was their first mission, and already Stacy was sounding completely un-Russian. Russians from the time of Peter the Great were notorious for trashing the places that they stayed in. Of course, not every individual was irresponsible and obnoxious. Plenty of Russians rented properties in Europe and there was no fuss. But the reputation of being bad lodgers was a widespread and much-detested phenomenon thanks to the poor conduct of Russian soldiers.
“Keep your workspace clean. I fully agree,” Angel was the first to speak. “Makes things safer.”
“Me too,” Naz said. “I hate a messy workspace.”
Marilyn kept her usual smile and tossed her long brown hair. “Got it. Military discipline.”
“Actually, Taoist philosophy,” Stacy said cheerfully.
“Uh?”
“Taoist philosophy calls for leaving no trace of one’s passing on the environment. And I also have a Japanese-influenced sense of aesthetics and respect. You know, keep the place clean.”
Actually you didn’t need to go to the Far East. Stacy’s own maternal ancestral group, the Vainakhs, also had a strong sense of respect for the environment and appreciation for general cleaniness. But due to the events of the past century, there was too much baggage to mention.
And there was also another more practical reason for wanting this, but Stacy would leave it for now.
Everyone agreed to be clean and limit what they touched.
…
Once ZIL was settled in the mansion, they discussed the mission.
“I think the first thing to do is to put our drones to work,” Naz said. “Anyone know how to use these things?”
“I haven’t operated a drone before, but I’ve had a couple of remote control car projects,” Riley said. “It’s probably the same, except in 3D?”
“Sounds like you know,” Naz said and handed over a box. “Manual and everything’s inside.”
Angel stirred. “I’m a chemical engineer. I’m sure I know how to read complicated manuals.”
“But do you know how to operate small machines?”
Angel’s reaction suggested a lack of confidence.
“That’s all right,” Naz said. “We have three drones here. Riley and I will start practicing on ours. Angel, you just try yours. But remember, please do not make the drone rise more than 3 meters above ground. And if your drone is noisy, stop immediately.”
“Do they have a service ceiling?”
“Not a service ceiling. I just don’t want our neighbors to see what we’re doing,” Naz said. “They mustn’t know that we have drones. Riley and I will be practicing operating these drones first. Then at night under cover of darkness, we’ll be using these drones to spy on Stealsky’s house.”
“What about the drones still in the car?” Riley had noticed.
Naz smiled. “I was hoping to get to that later. After you’d had enough practice on one drone each.”
“Might as well do so now, so we have the big picture,” Stacy urged.
“Simple. More drones means more eyes in the sky,” Naz said. “Since we have six drones, that’s actually enough to have one on each corner of the compound, with two more saved for useful angles or directions. I was actually hoping each of you could control two drones after some practice.”
“Not crashing my drone into the neighbors’ is probably the best you can expect from me,” Angel said.
“I can handle two drones at a time,” Naz said. “Riley, can you do two?”
“I’m an electrical engineer. Not a remote control car racing hobbyist.”
“The fewer drones we have in the air, the more we’ll need human eyes on the ground.”
Marilyn stirred. “I’m getting the picture. So I’ll be doing my part. I’ll scout out the region and find high places to position myself.”
“Um, this is not a sniping mission,” Stacy said.
“I don’t have my sniper rifle with me anyway,” Marilyn lifted a pair of binoculars. “I’m just going to be a bird watcher.”
“Wait. That doesn’t work. At least, not in these parts.” Stacy didn’t want to say that Uzbeks going bird watching with binoculars in a rich Moscow suburb were not going to be believed. “Here, take these.”
Stacy took some documents out of her handbag and handed over a small camera.
“What this… press pass?”
“If you’re caught, don’t say bird watching. That’s suspicious. Say you are paparazzi doing freelance work for the New Paper.”
“Isn’t that even more suspicious?” Marilyn’s habits had been shaped by life in Uzbekistan. It was not healthy to be a member of the press caught snooping around rich people’s homes.
“In Russia, it’s all right…
I mean, in the worst case scenario you might get roughed up. Or shaken down for a bribe. But it’s basically understood. Russian press is currently full of journalists snooping around for scandals and making up stories. Better to be thought of as a busybody, than as a potential burglar or political activist.”
“All right. I’ll be back before supper.”
Marilyn put up a half smile and left.
Stacy turned around to see Naz and Riley setting up a computer system. They would probably be monitoring Stealsky’s house for the next day or two. No one had requested that Stacy do anything, because she was the designated leader and everybody still had Soviet-influenced work habits. This meant that Stacy was free to do some other things…
“Say, does this computer do VOIP?”
“Software’s all installed. I only need to plug in the satellite uplink. What’s up?”
“I want to do my part. Make some calls. Receive some photos or faxes.”
Naz helped Stacy set things up correctly, then went back to her work.
Angel decided to use the huge living room of this house to practice her drone flying skills. Soon Stacy heard cursing coming from Angel. She might have trained to operate expensive and huge petrochemical facilities. But Angel had virtually no experience with operating small machines by remote control.
After the third crash followed by more cursing, Naz called out.
“Angel, why not take that outside? At the rate you’re going, you will inflict substantial damage to our clients’ house and make them angry.”
“If I take this drone outside, it’s going to be even worse. I might fly it into our neighbors by accident.”
“Just fly low. This compound has a nicely mowed lawn. Try to get the controlling done in 2D first. Just front back left right. Get speed and distance under control first.”
“It’s a question of fine motor controls,” Riley said. “I can’t do anything now, but I’m now inspired to work on one in my spare time.”
“One what?” Naz asked.
“I think we can either do dual remote controls with one calibrated for smaller movements, or I can set up a system to toggle between fast and fine movements. Otherwise as you can see, it’s tough to navigate indoors.”
XXX
Stacy got to work. Using her journalistic skills and some paid contacts, she quickly obtained the building plans for Stealsky’s mansion from the authorities.
Of course, there was no guarantee that these were the current building plans. After all, plans could be filed and not followed in practice. But Stacy figured that most people won’t completely change the plans. After all, these involved the basic structural elements and the architect had already been paid. At most there could be some hidden rooms on the premises.
Looking at the plans, Stacy suggested narrowing down the search.
“It’s probably in the basement.”
“Big surprise,” Riley said. “I don’t see Stealsky showing off his Amber Room to your average ground floor guests. No matter how well connected he is, nobody will ever be allowed to keep such an important heritage item.”
“Ah, but look at this basement,” Stacy showed Riley a printout.
“That’s one big basement.”
“Super big room.”
“Not surprising. Lots of rich people have these,” Naz said.
“For their cars,” Naz added when she saw Riley and Stacy looking at her in surprise. “My family did a bunch of group servicing house calls.”
“Ah, but will there be a room separated by two layers of doors? One that appears to be roughly the same size as the Amber Room was reported to be?”
“I guess it’s a store… oh.”
“Too big to be a normal storeroom, but with dual layer reinforced walls as though you want to keep something very valuable.”
“I think we should prioritize checking out this area.”
Stacy took a look at her computer. Another paid contact had just sent her some recent aerial photos of the region, taken by a cellular phone company for planning purposes.
“Oh wow, our leader has some good info.”
“I was just using my journalistic skills,” Stacy said. “But I can’t always promise similar results. Information is not always available.”
Riley inclined her head in acknowledgment. “A place like Rublevka would be well documented, yet have a low population density. I do have the sense that our Benefactors are starting with an easy mission for us.”