After returning from Rublevka, ZIL members spent the night in the facility off Kirovskaya Ulitsa. The next morning the Benefactors contacted them again, and ZIL members finalized negotiations for their pay and job scope.
This leads to ZIL Conversation 002b Job Negotiations with the Benefactors. If you’d like to read more about how the ZIL team negotiated over their workplace, click here. If not, just read on.
After formally agreeing to a two year commitment as a team with the option to renew for another two years, it was time to drive out and board their airship. Stacy inspected the road maps that Naz was using.
“You’re going to take the A130, then the E101 past Kaluga.”
“This is a fair sized city. The biggest in the region,” Riley commented.
Although Kaluga was less than a hundred fifty kilometers from Moscow, this used to be an important fortress that marked Muscovy’s western border. At that time, the Grand Duchy of Lithuania lay past Kaluga.
“Bogtown,” Naz said with mischief.
“The word Kaluga meant bog or swamp back then,” Naz said when it became apparent Marilyn had no clue what was going on.
“It seems to be the last urban settlement of significant size before we arrive at the hanger where our airship is waiting,” Angel commented.
“All right, so everyone was Sovyetsky narod – a Soviet person, right?” Naz said.
“I would say my country was occupied and I was a political detainee, no, child hostage of Russians like the Siberians and Aleuts…” Riley said.
“I mean, everybody was either born or spent some childhood years within the borders of the former Soviet Union?” Naz raised her voice.
Nobody denied this, not even Riley.
“So we all understand about supply availability?”
“We know the drill,” Angel got it right away.
“We have to stock up. Seriously big time stock up,” Naz nodded.
Shortages was what Russians and ex-Soviet citizens had grown up with. Although now things were nowhere as bad as they were ten years ago, habits were ingrained.
The Benefactors had already promised to supply the ship with lots of victuals. An entire year’s worth! But remembering Soviet times, ZIL members were not completely expecting these victuals to make enjoyable eating. The canteens of Soviet workplaces had a well earned reputation.
Stacy decided to show some leadership and moderate her teammates.
“Look, we’re not going to any deserts,” Stacy said, “We’re just going to move around the CIS countries… no, scratch that, the ex-USSR countries. If we don’t like what’s on board, we can get stuff later.”
“Kin-dza-dza,” Marilyn sang sarcastically.
“We’re not living in penurious Soviet times anymore,” Stacy replied. “Russia has come a long way. There’s civilization here.”
Riley looked as though she might disagree with that. Marilyn saw it too.
“Riley, are you having difficulty processing the concept of civilization with Russia?” Marilyn put on a dimpled smile. “Don’t worry, Russians aren’t cannibals.”
Riley looked slightly exasperated yet sad.
“Nope, it’s not Russians who are the cannibals. It’s what they did to us – turned us into cannibals.”
Stacy felt a deep sadness at that. She knew what Riley was talking about. There were reports of Baltic deportees being deliberately sent to extremely desolate places above the Arctic circle, where conditions were so desperate some people resorted to eating corpses.
Even though Riley would never have experienced this herself, doubtless survivors’ tales must have circulated and held a very real terror for other deportees and their families. In the Soviet system, one could never predict when the government decided to increase the oppression level. They could send you to a relatively survivable place like Altai or Sverdlovsk – and then suddenly deport you again to the shores of the Arctic.
Deciding to show leadership, Stacy reached out and touched Riley’s hand.
“I’m part Nokhcho. I understand,” Stacy said briefly.
Now Riley looked mystified. “Knock…”
“It means Chechen,” Naz explained.
Riley replied with a nod. Stacy felt a bit of relief. Even though she did not think Riley would react like some people to the word Chechen, there were always people who had a very strong reaction. One funny- or not so funny – reaction was the backwards jerk. As though Stacy had a bomb belt strapped to herself, and it was vital to maximize one’s distance immediately.
Meanwhile Angel had been observing her other colleagues’ expressions. Their faces suggested that they preferred to err on the safe side by stocking up in advance. After all, they had been children growing up in a technologically advanced and industrialized country that could build space stations, yet failed to provision its people with basic necessicities.
Naz was also doing her own reflecting. To a Sakartvelian, the word Chechen did not connotate anything bad. Chechens were their old neighbor and a related, if dissimilar, people. Naz would definitely not have hesitated about referring to someone’s Chechen identity in front of other Sakartvelians.
However, Chechens were viewed negatively by most ethnic groups in Russia. And after the Moscow theater crisis and the Beslan massacre, the toxicity was too great to mention in polite company. So Naz would never have mentioned Chechen off the cuff when among Russians or a mixed group. Not to mention, she would be doing that person a disfavor, since negative consequences might follow.
But Stacy had made Naz feel comfortable. And she almost certainly made everyone else feel comfortable too. So Naz had given no second thought to mentioning the word Chechen.
Was this the natural skill of a journalist? To make others feel comfortable, so they could utter truths that were normally difficult to mention?
XXX
The ZIL members packed up their few personal effects and prepared to head to the airship hanger for good. It seemed that the other four had also been rescued with nothing except whatever they were wearing or carrying at that time. So they had purchased two or three changes of inexpensive clothing and nothing else.
It seemed to be an unspoken agreement that Naz would drive the Rolls Royce with Riley, Stacy and Angel inside. While Marilyn would drive the Lada.
“All right, see you at the intersection,” Naz said to Marilyn.
“Wha… which junction are you talking about?”
“Crossroads, of course.”
“But what do you want to do there? We can’t do anything.”
“What do you mean we can’t do anything? You can even… get… halal there.”
Naz’s voice grew smaller. She wasn’t actually that sure, since she didn’t pay special attention to halal labels. She had just assumed that a huge hypermarket chain would stock halal products.
“I’m looking for normal food products. Not street vendor stuff!” Marilyn protested.
“You’re not going to find street vendors at the junction.”
“Which junction are you talking about in the first place?”
“Just see the map. It’s that big place on the southwest corner past the Ring Road.”
“Moscow is big! Intersections are everywhere!”
…
Stacy figured out what was going on.
“Perekrestok is a big hypermarket chain,” she told Marilyn, and pointed out the location of the outlet Naz was referring to. Which was a big square on the map. Apparently this chain was not found in Uzbekistan.
“Please let me have some of the cash,” Naz held out a hand.
“Cash… where?” Stacy asked. Was it something that leaders are supposed to carry?
“Cash box is with the second in command,” Riley waved her hand. “And it isn’t a lockable metal box. It’s just a couple of fat envelopes that I was told to locate in one of the kitchen cabinets.” And Riley lifted two envelopes for all to see.
“Our starter funds. Four point seven five million rubles in big notes, and a quarter million rubles in smaller denominations,” Riley said. “Our Benefactors are very trusting.”
It could just be a system of checks and balances, Stacy thought. The Benefactors certainly didn’t tell me anything about the starting funds. Putting the money in the second’s hands instead of the leader’s…
“Maybe they trust us to be honest with each other,” Angel offered.
“To be frank, I would jump at the opportunity,” Marilyn said.
“Opportunity to do what?” Riley narrowed her eyes.
“To be the best I can be,” Marilyn said with an innocent, dreamy smile. “To be trusted and show that I won’t betray that trust.”
It occurred to Stacy that Marilyn might have a really good nature, but always found that reality was harsher than she preferred. Maybe the envelopes were an example of what the Benefactors expected of the ZIL team: mutual responsibility and trust. That’s why they didn’t lock things up. They didn’t even write the amounts on the envelopes, so Riley could have stolen money if she so wished.
But Riley was so against anything Russian that the idea of appropriating public funds for her own pocket, Russian-style, would probably be completely repugnant to her.
…
The conversation was moving on.
“Hey, we can buy a whole lot with that kind of money,” Angel said.
“Nope, as the ship’s engineer, I veto that,” Naz said. “We should keep 4.95 million rubles for ops matters.”
“Ninety-nine percent?” Angel sounded disbelieving.
“How much would you reserve for maintenance of a petrochemicals complex… say a cracker plant versus staff welfare? At least ninety-nine percent too?”
Angel nodded reluctantly.
“We’ve got to assume it costs a lot to maintain everything,” Naz said. “Until our financial position becomes clearer, we must have plenty of money for aviation fuel at the very least.”
Stacy could not help nodding to that. Naz was showing herself to be very practical minded, and Stacy really appreciated it.
“Fifty thousand rubles aren’t going to be that much money left over,” Riley observed. “But we can divide it into ten thousand per person.”
And Riley commenced counting out ten thousand rubles per person in smaller bills.
“Anybody want to buy clothes?” Angel asked.
“Our Benefactors have promised stocked wardrobes on board, and I’m used to having issued uniforms anyway,” Marilyn said. “So I’m going to call them on this promise and not buy any clothes. At least, until I have more money.”
“Fine with me,” Riley said. “I’m not great with clothes. Always felt I’d go with any professional attire that the employer wants.”
“I’m one of the guys when it comes to clothes,” Angel shrugged. “And chemical engineers don’t have that much wardrobe choice at work anyway. As long as it fits and is safe to wear, I can wear it.”
Stacy didn’t say anything. To be honest, she would like to get some clothes, but she didn’t want to hold up the team. Besides, she was quite practical and her needs were modest and simple. Seeing how solidly the Benefactors had equipped and furnished and organized everything so far, surely nothing could go wrong?
…
“All right, so we go get some food at least,” Angel was saying.
“Taip, the pantry at the Kirovskaya Ulitsa facility was not that well supplied,” Riley commented. “Nothing beats having your own customizations for food.”
Angel didn’t reply. But she was half expecting that Riley’s idea of customization would probably be Sour Cream from Supermarket, Sour Cream from Local Grocery, Sour Cream from Mother’s Recipe and Sour Cream from Grandmother. Since she had the impression that Lithuanians ate sour cream every meal.
“I found it great,” Marilyn said. “Could easily make plov or laghman.”
“They probably hired Uzbeks to do the work like in so many things in Russia,” Riley sniffed. “The stocks seemed to have been equipped by some Central Asian.”
“Well, then I had better get some of my own foods,” Naz spoke up. “Nothing against Central Asian foods, but I do have my likes.”
Stacy felt that Marilyn’s plov had been tasty but was too greasy. She also wanted something healthy.
…
Naz stopped the Rolls Royce somewhere along the way.
“Where…” Riley failed to see the significance of this place.
Naz left, went up the street at least fifty meters and vanished into a doorway. She came back a few minutes later carrying a sack.
“This is khinkali.”
“Must be a ton!”
“Nope, it’s just ten kilos.”
“You could have parked nearer that Georgian restaurant.”
“And have them see the car? No way. We’ll end up paying more!”
…
Naz stopped a second place. This time she parked nearer, but still out of sight for people inside the establishment. Then she came back out with a bag with bottles and packages inside.
“And what are these?”
“Tkemali – sour plum sauce. Pkhali – walnut and spinach paste. Khmeli suneli – traditional spice mix…” Naz had this happy expression on her face and looked as though she was already smelling the foods.
“Yummy,” Naz said happily.
“Yammi – what’s that? Another super-secret dish from the Kavkaz?”
“It means good to eat.”
…
Now Naz stopped near a third establishment. This was more obvious, because there were some huge bottles hanging outside the restaurant. Apparently they had their own house brand wine.
This time Naz took fifteen minutes. And she came back with only one bag.
“We were wondering how many bottles of chacha you would get,” Riley said with a grin.
“Nope, I ran out of funds,” Naz said in a disgruntled tone. “Moscow is so expensive! So only one bottle of chacha for me.”
Meanwhile, the starting and stopping was starting to get on Marilyn’s nerves. It was one thing to be stopping your huge black Rolls Royce by the roadside – the militsya didn’t want to ask too many questions. But Marilyn couldn’t do the same in her Lada.
So she came over to grumble. And the rest started to grumble too.
“Naz, I believe we should stop at at least one halal supermarket,” Stacy said.
“Oh wait, I’m sorry, I forgot -but my khinkali aren’t halal.”
“Halal is not the issue,” Marilyn said. “Just that I need some spices… and I don’t just eat quintessential Uzbek stuff.”
…
So Marilyn went off to make some purchases at a Central Asian supermarket. And Naz proceeded to the Crossroads – Perekrestok branch that had been pointed out earlier.
“I must get vodka,” Riley said.
Naz turned in the driver’s seat to look at Riley. She seemed to look at Riley for two seconds before turning back to the road.
“I need vodka.”
“And how much would you need?” Naz deadpanned.
“A case.”
Angel turned her head to look at Stacy. Angel smiled.
“Surely a crate would be more appropriate?” Angel drawled.
“I don’t drink that much!”
“We were here for two weeks. And she finished all the vodka in the place!”
“That’s not excessive! It’s just one bottle a week!”
Stacy decided to speak up. She wanted to interrupt the flow of conversation before Riley got defensive.
“Riley, there were two bottles of vodka in the Kirovskaya Ulitsa facility?”
“Yes. Two unopened bottles. We were told it was stocked for us, and we could consume all the food and drink. So I wasn’t doing anything that cost us money.”
“Impressive,” Stacy commented.
“Yup, she drinks it everyday.”
“No, I didn’t mean that. I mean, our Benefactors. Their workmen actually stocked vodka and didn’t steal anything to drink.”
Maybe it was her prejudice from having worked in a war zone. But Stacy had the sense that Russian men would grab and consume all the alcohol they could ever find. Maybe – just maybe – the Benefactors ran a very different kind of workplace. Their employees seemed to be very quality conscious, and focus on delivering quality. Things were done well all around.
Stacy already had the sense that her teammates were the same. They were not your average Soviet ethnicities grabbed off the street. Everyone seemed to harbor some basic self esteem and integrity, and want to do a good job.
…
It didn’t take very long before Riley changed her mind about getting vodka, and she came back to the car empty handed.
“You’re not getting any?” Naz asked in disbelief.
“The only brands I want are too expensive in Moscow. I don’t trust Russian brands. Goodness knows what’s inside some Dumpfkov’s moonshine. I only take Lithuanian and Polish vodka. Ours is the best.“
Naz could not resist sniggering. Riley’s actual speech had stopped after ‘Dumpfkov’s moonshine’. The next two phrases had been added only in Naz’s imagination.
…
This conversation is continued in ZIL Books 002 Riley and Naz try to understand Stacy. If you’d like to read that, please click here. If not, just read on.
Naz’s introspection was ended when Angel came back. Predictably, Angel had loaded up on lots of meat.
“What kind of meat did you get?”
“I frankly don’t care, so long as it’s meat,” Angel said. “So I grabbed some of each type and cut.”
“You know how to cook these?”
“Just toss everything in a pot and boil long enough, and it all works out,” came the answer.
“And Stacy?”
“Still choosing vegetables.”
Her curiosity aroused, Naz exited the car and found that Stacy had obtained cabbages, onions, potatoes, semolina, dill and cucumber.
“That’s your favorite food?”
“No, it’s not, but it’s simple stuff everybody can eat,” Stacy said. She was thinking of making shchi and onion salad.
Eating a Russian staple had nothing to do with being a Russian citizen at all, because Stacy was perfectly aware of foreign food options. Rather, she wasn’t sure how religious Marilyn and Angel were. They didn’t seem to be too concerned with halal, but many unreligious people nonetheless could be particular because of family upbringing. Also, shchi could be made vegan, in case anybody was inclined towards eating veggies. The team was being assembled in a hurry and they had yet to learn many things about each other, so it was wise to be cautious to begin with.
Naz noticed Stacy loading up on these bulky but cheap vegetables, as Angel came back into the supermarket with extra cash.
“Riley agreed I could spend some of her funds on meat, since she didn’t get vodka.”
Angel went off.
“I don’t get it, Stacy, why are you doing this? Basic foods aren’t important. Surely it’s the nice foods that we have to be worried about not getting. Angel is getting steaks.”
“I agree with you in theory,” Stacy returned. “But in practice, we do need basic foods.”
Stacy showed Naz all the different foods. “There’s fiber and vitamins here. My biggest concern is that because the Benefactors were equipping the ship Expedition-style, they might stock the ship with too much canned, processed and preserved foods. Especially meat.
It’s perishables and leafy, fibrous vegetables that tend to be left out. So I am targeting my purchases to make up for that likely shortage.”
Most of what Stacy had gotten was inexpensive by volume. And since they were perishables, Stacy did not buy too much. So she was left with more rubles than anyone else in her team. Like a good home economist she decided to save the money for later.
XXX
Although outsiders often think of Russia as an immense wasteland of ice and snow, actually central Russia is not that big when modern infrastructure and modern transportation is factored in.
It would take only two and a half hours to drive to the warehouse where the airship was being kept, and that would already bring them closer to Shaykovka airbase than to Moscow.
The airship was constructed and housed far enough from both the airbase and Moscow, that it did not risk being detected by air defenses.
Close enough that the Benefactors could hire skilled persons and obtain specialized services helpful for airship maintenance and servicing.
And by this point, they would already be two thirds of the way to the border with Belarus, Stacy reflected.
Moscow is now closer to the border than it has ever been for 300 years.
Russia’s borders in 21st century Europe have become more compact than at any time since Catherine the Great.
The world has become a small place, and it keeps getting smaller.
Gone were the days when someone who wanted to invade Russia required months of preparation and trudging through mud.
In these times, a determined invader could cross the border in motorized vehicles and reach Moscow by land within a day if all things went right.
Stacy put a finger to her lower lip thoughtfully.
For a journalist with economics education like her, there was nothing frightening about Russia’s heart being nearer the border than it had been for almost three hundred years. 21st century Russia did not have territorial disputes with anyone except for Japan. Japan didn’t have nuclear weapons and nobody else was on Japan’s side.
But for someone from the security services, this compact border might be an intolerable burden on Russia’s security. People in the Russian Federation’s security services were just as paranoid as people who worked for the United States’ security services. They saw enemies and troublemakers everywhere. And consistently refused to recognize that their own search for absolute security threatened others’ security, resulting in more fear and paranoia and more enemies.