The Hunted

Golitsin smiled and rubbed his hands. "I'm sure you had already explained to him what he thought."

The answer was too obvious to merit a response. "He told Yeltsin he always considered Konevitch a conniving crook. Charming and likable, perhaps. But for sure, nobody earns that kind of money, they steal it. Warned him that he always believed Yeltsin allowed Konevitch to get too close. Whatever emotional or political bonds they shared, the only tangible connection was money. Konevitch didn't contribute all that cash out of the goodness of his heart. Plus, the Congress is filled with mutinous former communists who want to cut Yeltsin's balls off. He's walking a tightrope between trying to placate them and the frustrated reformers in his camp. They're always threatening to impeach him, and here's Konevitch, making a huge splash on the front pages. Exactly the kind of connection Yeltsin doesn't need."

Nicky yawned. Politics bored him to death. It made absolutely no difference to him whether commies or democrats or pansies in birthday suits were in charge. His business was bulletproof regardless of whichever idiots ruled the land.

"Did Yeltsin buy it?" asked Golitsin.

"He wasn't not buying it. He knows he's got enough problems already. There are dirty rumors regarding his daughter flying all over the city. She has almost literally hung out a sign saying, I'm daddy's little girl-leave your bags of cash here and I'll twist old poppa around my pinkie and bring home the goods."

Nicky perked up at this hint of corruption in high places. "Is it true?"

"Yes, and stay away from her," Tatyana warned with a knowing wink. "She doesn't know it, but she's already being investigated by the chief prosecutor. Bugs and undercover cops surround her everywhere she goes."

Nicky laughed and slapped his thighs with a loud thump. At least his brand of crook made no pretenses.

Golitsin merely grunted. He already knew about Yeltsin's daughter, of course. He could in fact educate Tatyana about how much little Miss Piggy had stashed in a Swiss bank, the account numbers, who gave her the money, and why. It was invaluable knowledge he had no intention of sharing.

"Tell you what, babe," Nicky announced. He leaned toward her and his left hand landed with a lecher's grip high on Tatyana's right thigh. "You still gotta get Konevitch. Put up all the roadblocks you want, eventually he's gonna find a way to get through. You thought about that?"

A twitch of irritation crossed Golitsin's face. "We'll take care of it," he sneered in Nicky's direction.

"Yeah? Like you took care of him in the first place?" Nicky snapped back.

"Stick to your own business." The two men glared at each other, Golitsin's face glowing with anger, Nicky sneering, as if to say, "You couldn't find a needle if it was sticking in your ass."

Tatyana waited until the men cooled off, then said to Golitsin, "Where's the money?"

"Tucked away in a safe place."

"I know that. Where?"

"None of your business."

"Okay. Will you take a little advice?"

"That depends."

"Don't be that way, Sergei. I'm looking out for all our best interests."

Golitsin sniffed and stared straight ahead. Bullshit. Given half a chance she'd rob him blind. She was smart and beautiful, and utterly without a conscience.

Tatyana plowed on. "You know why Konevitch was so popular with Yeltsin and his people? Money. He bankrolled Yeltsin's election. He bought them all their jobs. Literally. An election is coming in another few years, and believe me, they're scared. Yeltsin is being blamed for the mess we're in. His popularity's in the toilet and it'll take a load of cash to get him out of it. They'll miss Mr. Moneybags."

"You're assuming he'll still be alive in another year."

"I assume nothing. I'm just telling you there's an opportunity for whoever's clever enough and rich enough. Somebody is going to pump cash into the big hole Konevitch left. Why not us?"

Golitsin thought about it a moment. What was there not to like? Nothing, really. A million a year could buy a world's worth of influence; a few million, in the right hands, at the right moments, and who knew? It was a no-brainer, actually-he was only surprised he hadn't thought of it himself. He puffed a few times, stretched out the contemplative pause, then nodded. "Let's do it."

"Good decision," Tatyana said. "Funnel it through me. I'll make sure everybody knows where the money came from." And who inside the Kremlin arranged this infusion as well, though of course there was no need to point that out.

"How much are we talking?" Golitsin asked, suddenly concerned because it was his money.

"Not much. Relax, Sergei. A hundred or two hundred thousand a month, for starters. As the election draws closer, we'll increase it, have a real impact."