 
Aristocratic Thieves

By Richard Dorrance

Copyright 2013 Richard Dorrance

Smashwords Edition

This book was written at

The Charleston Library Society.

Thank you for downloading this free book. Although this is a free book, it remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be reproduced, copied, and distributed for commercial or non-commercial purposes.
Chapter 1 –An Interrupted Dinner

Roger June's finger stopped moving down the items on the wine list. His finger stopped on the lines Chateau Latour 1989 and Chateau Latour 1990. He knew he had drunk one or the other of these two superb vintages, but couldn't remember which one. His eyes glazed over trying to mine this memory, and with his finger on the page, for a few moments he looked like a six year old trying to read.

When the memory attempt failed and his eyes refocused on the here and now, he didn't like what he saw. He really, really didn't like it, because what he saw was Little Jinny Blistov entering through the door of the restaurant. June and his wife were seated at a banquette table against the back wall, quite a distance from the door. June's memory had failed him, but his eyes didn't; he saw Blistov long before Blistov saw him, his right hand brushed aside the panel of his suit coat and he pulled his gun. The sound of him racking the slide under the table alerted his wife to an urgent situation. Being married to Roger for so many years, she was used to all sorts of urgent situations, some life-threatening and some not. She liked the not-life-threatening ones better, and of these, she liked the sexual ones best. Roger always made those lots of fun.

The sound of a slide racking on a semi-automatic handgun was common to Gwen, her having done this hundreds of times at the gun range, and a few times not on the gun range. However, the sound coming from under the table at one of Charleston's fanciest restaurants gave her pause, however brief. Five seconds after hearing the sound, Gwen bent slightly, picked her purse up from the floor and pulled out her own gun. Another ominous racking sound came from under the table.

Only when Gwen had her gun securely in her hand and her hand in her lap did she look out at the room. She didn't need to look at Roger, the sound having told her everything, and she knew he had his gun securely in his hand and his hand in his lap. At least she hoped he had the good sense to keep the gun hidden and not just lay it on top of the table next to the wine menu.

Gwen scanned the thirty or so people in the room, and her gaze came to rest on the face of Little Jinny Blistov. She'd never seen Blistov before, but she knew his story. Her husband and Blistov had come face to face in the past, in a confrontational way. She didn't know the guy standing out near the check-in desk was Blistov, but sure as shit she knew he was the guy who had garnered her husband's very serious attention. She knew he was serious because he was not in the habit of pulling his gun while trying to select the wine to accompany their dinner. In point of fact, she couldn't remember it ever happening before. She had been present a couple of times when Roger had pulled his gun in a serious way, but never before at dinner. This was a new one.

Gwen knew Blistov was the guy because he just didn't fit into this restaurant's crowd. The guy standing out there was Charlestonian, neither in nature or presentation. Blistov stood five foot five, and weighed in at an even 200 pounds, yet he wasn't fat. He had shaved that morning but looked like he last had shaved three days ago, and his whiskers wrapped backwards around the sides of his neck below his ears. He was wearing a black cotton sweatshirt and black cotton jeans, and on his feet were the ugliest pair of white sneakers Gwen ever had seen.

Gwen was thankful she was female because she was a shoe aficionado. She knew beautiful women should wear beautiful shoes on their beautifully sexy feet, and she performed this duty flawlessly. She was sorry for males, knowing they didn't have beautiful feet upon which to wearing correspondingly attractive shoes.

Blistov's shoes were so ugly she was tempted to shoot him on that count alone, never mind whatever was bothering her husband. There were plenty of people in the restaurant wearing black clothes, but they certainly weren't made out of cotton. The dresses were silk, the suits were merino wool or better, the mock turtlenecks were silk, and a half dozen men were wearing silk socks. Blistov's black stood out from all the rest of the black in the room, and Gwen didn't like it.

Now she looked at her husband and found the rather tight smile on his face amusing. Gwen preferred her dinners to be uninterrupted by gunfire, but there was something oddly humorous about this situation. Here they are, essentially at ease within a world of ease, about to pull the string on ordering a $400 bottle of Bordeaux, and they find themselves face to face with an ex-Russian mobster who has a beef with Roger, and Roger seems to think, as evidenced by the racking of the slide on his gun, that the beef might be serious. If Blistov's issue was with Gwen rather than Roger, she might not find the situation so amusing, but as it was, well, she smiled a bit inside.

Which tells you something about Gwen. It's nice when a wife has complete confidence in her husband to protect her. It's more interesting when she has complete confidence in herself to protect her husband. Either way, Gwen knew with absolute certainty that if Blistov started anything, he was dead meat. With this thought her amusement disintegrated, she tightened the curve of her mouth, and went back to meditating on the hate she felt towards his shoes.

Despite the look on his face that only his wife could tell meant he was in a serious mood, Roger was reasonably relaxed. The way a person grips their gun under stress tells you something about them, and Roger's grip was firm but relaxed.

By now Blistov had finished his scan of the dining room and had located Roger and Gwen in their banquette table. He smiled and sent his 200-pound body into motion towards them. He not only acted like he owned the place, he acted like he and Roger and Gwen were the only people in the joint. He walked straight up to their table, stopped, looked at Roger, looked at Gwen, and said, "You heeled, Roger?" This amazed Roger, who knew what it meant to be heeled. Roger was shocked that a guy from Russia, and a criminal no less, knew an archaic and very American word like heeled. Roger likes to be surprised when it comes to cultural trivia, so his estimation of Blistov was raised a notch. To be heeled means to be armed with a gun, and is a cowboy word from the 19th century American west. Roger had learned it reading Elmore Leonard's old novels. Today, Leonard is known for writing crime novels, but he started his craft by writing westerns.

While Roger sat for a moment in amazement, with his appraisal of Blistov edging upward, the appraisal by his wife declined. In fact, right after Blistov asked Roger if he was heeled, Gwen let out an audible snicker, and inherent in the word snicker is an inference of derision, which is exactly what Gwen felt. The reasons? First because Blistov asked Roger if he was armed, and second because of Blistov's height. He is short. In Gwen's eyes, he isn't just short, he is munchkin short. She thought Blistov could just walk up to a table and start eating, without even sitting down. Other people would sit and eat while Blistov would stand and eat, and this vision is what made Gwen snicker. Not many women can snicker at someone while holding a gun, but Gwen can.

While his wife was snickering, Roger said, "This is one of Charleston's nicest and most expensive restaurants. People don't bring guns in here."

Blistov might be short, but he also is quite bright, and knew Roger was lying. He didn't care. He said, "Who's she?"

Gwen hated this guy on two counts already: his shoes, and his adversarial relationship with the man she loved. Now she had a third count, the denigrating manner in which he had referred to her. Roger knew his wife thought and acted judiciously (most of the time), and he was pretty sure she wouldn't shoot Blistov on just the first two counts, but when Blistov added count number three, Roger became a little apprehensive. He didn't actually look at his wife, but he sent extra feelers her way to sense her mood.

In the great State of South Carolina it is a felony to point a gun at another person if that person is not threatening your life. Gwen knew this, so she resisted the temptation to stand up, stick her piece in Blistov's face and say, "I'm Gwen, who are you, you little munchkin fuck?" What she did was elevate her snicker to an actual smile, stand up while hiding her gun behind her back, look Blistov in the eye, and say, "Roger, is this little munchkin fuck the Russian who stole your auntie's money?"
Chapter 2 – The Source of the Conflict

Blistov was Russian and had grown up in Saint Petersburg during the heyday of the good ole USSR. His first job was cleaning toilets in the Hermitage Museum. Have you any idea how many toilets are in that place? It has something like 1285 rooms, and one heck of a lot of them are bathrooms. While Jinny was cleaning all day, he also was learning about the history of the palace, and thereby was learning the history of his country. Even though his days were spent looking at shitholes, his mind was developing an appreciation for gold-leaf gild, oil paintings of tables laden with caviar, boudoirs with commodes, and really big kitchens. There were kitchens in that place bigger than most of the houses in the city.

Jinny spent five years working at the Hermitage before he was introduced to crime by one of the security staff he hung out with. The lessons of those five years have stuck with him ever since, and explain why Jinny ended up crossways with Roger in Charleston. We never lose the lessons of our youth, good and bad. Jinny learned about fancy things then, and ever since he has wanted those things and worked diligently to procure them. He worked at a life of crime, first in Russia, and then in the United States. Basically, crime is the same no matter what country you work in. You find a crack in a facet of society, and you wedge yourself into it. Some wedging requires stealth, and some wedging requires brains, and some wedging requires violence. Jinny was capable of all those, as the need might arise.

Blistov was successful at crime over a period of about twenty Russian winters. Then, he wasn't. He got caught messing with the money of a very powerful man, and the man decided it would be worse for Blistov to spend time in a Russian prison, and then suffer exportation, than just killing him. So he arranged for Blistov to spend three years away from the good life he had made for himself. Then, an hour after being released from prison, Blistov unceremoniously was driven to a military airport and stuck in the unheated belly of an Aeroflot cargo plane, without a coat, without a nickel, and without a Russian passport, bound for Pittsburgh, PA....the Iron City. Eleven cold hours later Blistov arrived, and began his new life.

Blistov hated Russian winters. Physically he was a tough guy, but he hated the cold. So when he discovered Pittsburgh was plagued by cold winters too, he said fuck this. It was bad enough to spend three years freezing in a Russian prison, and eleven hours freezing in the hold of a cargo plane, but he was damned if he was going to spend the rest of his life freezing in a cultural backwater like Pittsburgh.

Another thing Blistov had learned at the Hermitage was the historic link between King Charles the IV of France and Czar Brettany Prentikof. These two kings had developed a fondness for each other based on a mutual love of hunting dogs. Brettany had sent a few Borzois to Paris, and in return Charles had sent a veritable kennel of Normandy spaniels to St. Petes. Charles was a Huguenot, and his heirs crossed the Atlantic way back when, landing in a very weird place called South Carolina. Lots and lots of Huguenots arrived and settled in Charleston. And being that Blistov always would tend to a life of crime, he came into conflict with Roger, and by proxy, with Gwen.

Roger met him about a year after Blistov arrived in Charleston. Jinny had moved to Charleston based on the following logic. A French king named Charles had given a bunch of mutts to his friend the Czar, who Blistov knew about from having cleaned toilets in the Hermitage this czar had used three hundred years ago. Charles was a Huguenot, whose ancestors had immigrated to South Carolina (Charles Town). Charles and the Russian czar were buds; ergo Charles Town with its Huguenot population was a good place to live. So when Blistov said fuck this to spending another winter in Pittsburgh, to Charleston he came.

Blistov was a successful crook in Russia, where the boys have a tendency to play rough, and he also was a successful crook in Pittsburgh, where he considered the other crooks to be a bunch of pansies. Even though he only lived in Pittsburgh two years, he had made some money, and he arrived in Charleston flush. This gave him time to relax and get to know King Charles' town, now his town. He didn't have to get down to crime immediately. To his delight, he discovered that even though Charleston is in South Carolina, it's a place of culture. After renting a modest 4000 square foot cottage on the beach of Sullivan's Island, he began exploring. During the first full week after getting settled, he ate lunch and dinner at a different downtown restaurant each day. That's fourteen different places, fourteen meals, fourteen experiences. Blistov knew that food was a good indicator of culture. He thought the food in Moscow was terrible, because it was strictly indigenous. He thought the food in Saint Petersburg was far better because it had been influenced by western European tastes for a hundred years, and so was cosmopolitan. St. Petes didn't always have the raw ingredients to make art, but when they did, they made great art. He had eaten very well in his hometown. When the French nouveau cuisine movement came into vogue, he thought it was crap, because he liked the heavy sauces and the twenty hours stews that were the basis of traditional French cooking.

Anyway, he enjoyed what he ate in Charleston's restaurants, except of course what the menus lauded as "real southern cooking." Boiling a vegetable in water for three hours, throwing out the water that contained all the flavor, then adding a pound of butter and serving this mess on an inch thick clay plate was not his idea of good food. He also explored the shops of the historic district, and again was pleased by all the antiques he saw, some of which were as nice as those in the Hermitage. Not as old, but still classy.

Blistov enjoyed this time, getting to know his new home. When February came and he found himself walking on the sunny beach in front of his house, he decided he had died and gone to heaven. During this winter he realized his money was dwindling, and soon he would have to get back to work. This was ok because basically he liked his work. Doctors like doctoring, lawyers like lawyering, and criminals like crime. He also recognized he was getting on in years a bit, and decided to give up the rough stuff in favor of gentile swindling, which is how he ran into Roger, and where the conflict between them began.

Blistov decided to fake an antique and sell it to a shop on King Street. This is a time-honored tradition around the world; one third of the antiques in museums are fakes, and half of the antiques in shops are fakes. We won't even talk about what's offered on eBay. Blistov contacted some friends in Russia who contacted some friends in Amsterdam who contacted some friends in Boston who contacted some friends in the furniture-producing district of western North Carolina. Blistov spend a month up there, and when he returned to Charleston, he possessed a circa 1737 Heppleworth end table, and it was good. He had no trouble selling it to a shop on King St. for a $27,000 profit, which would pay the rent on his beach house for some time to come.

The conflict with Roger came into being when the antique shop sold the table to a local granddame for $37,000, and the granddame was Roger's auntie. The old lady had an English relative in the antique business, who, while visiting, told her it was a fake. The old lady took it back to the shop, which was one of the newer dealers on the block, and who said to her, "Madame, caveat emptor." With the expression of that very non-Charlestonian attitude, the lady went to her lawyer, who sadly concurred with the antiques dealer: "My dear, you are out of luck." But the old lady was stubborn and of great moral fiber, and didn't just roll over. She went to her nephew, Roger, who she knew was involved in some sort of detective thing when he and his wife were not traveling in Europe. She explained her dilemma and asked for help. She didn't like getting swindled. Roger thought, 'Auntie, caveat emptor, and by the way you are rich so don't sweat the small stuff.' Of course he didn't say this because he loved his auntie, and he did not particularly like that someone swindled her, either, so that evening he told Gwen he had a new case.

Now you can see how the conflict between Roger and Little Jinny came to be. Roger was good at many things: choosing great wine to drink, loving his wife in and out of bed, shooting handguns, writing the occasional piece of romance fiction, and detecting. He did the detecting mostly for amusement, but sometimes for high fees, and occasionally because he felt sorry for someone. Like his Auntie.

His auntie, who wouldn't tolerate a fake in her home, even a beautifully made one, gave the table to Roger, and he rather liked the way it looked at the end of his third floor hallway. It didn't take him long to backtrack the fabrication of the fake. His friends in the trade looked at it and told him it was made either in a workshop in south Philadelphia or was made in a small factory in Brevard, North Carolina. Roger didn't think much of the City of Brotherly Love ever since they demolished historic Connie Mack baseball stadium, which had the deepest center field in all of baseball, at 450 feet. No one could hit it out of Connie Mack to straightaway center, and Roger respected that.

So he headed for Brevard, found the furniture factory, made some discreet inquiries, and got the name of a craftsman who lived way out in the country. Using a persuasive combination of money and gun, he convinced the craftsman to tell him who he made the table for. Unfortunately all the craftsman really knew was that the guy was short and strong and scary, and had an accent. That was enough for Roger, who is very good at detecting.

One sunny spring day at nine in the morning, Roger climbed over the railing of the ground floor deck of Blistov's beach house, pulled aside the sliding patio door, entered Blistov's living room and found him sitting right there on the sofa, reading a Tolstoy short story. Roger pulled his gun, racked the slide, pointed it at Blistov, and said: "You swindled my auntie. Time to pay."

Blistov didn't even blink, but slowly lowered the book to the coffee table, remembering to dog-ear the page so he could find his place later. It was then that the conflict between the two men commenced, both being smart, cultured, tough-minded, and results-oriented. The conflict that day ended with Roger winning, sort of. He told Blistov he had two choices: give him $37,000 in cash right then and there, or go to jail. Blistov took the jail option, and went there for six months. He decided he could do six months in a pansy American jail standing on his head, and he did. When he got out he felt fine. He wanted something other than the southern-style prison food, but basically he was good to go.

And here he was, four months later, standing at a restaurant table, looking at Roger and someone he took to be Roger's wife. A real relationship begins.
Chapter 3 – Sitting Down with Jinny

Roger's extra sensory feelers tapped into his wife's mood and returned to base with the message that his wife was not going to shoot Blistov, then and there. In fact, Roger felt his wife was in a good mood despite holding the three counts against Blistov, and was toying with the guy, so he relaxed a bit.

Gwen continued looking at Blistov for a count of five, and Blistov looked back. He was amazed because now he knew that not only was this woman heeled, but that she had an elevated sense of humor and a presence of command, to boot. He liked her.

Blistov waited another few moments before he formed both of his hands into the symbol of a gun, raised them to his face, blew on his out-stretched index fingers, and simulated stuffing them into holsters, one on each side of his waist, cowboy style. Then he grinned.

So what they all now knew was that Roger was tough, and Gwen was tough, and Little Jinny was tough...and they all had senses of humor.

Jinny said, "If you let me join you, I'll buy the wine."

Roger looked at Gwen, who shrugged. Roger looked back at the Russian, looked down at the gun in his lap, looked up at the ceiling, looked at the wine menu, thought about the offer to buy the Bordeaux, and nodded assent. Gwen sat down, while the Russian looked behind him and grabbed a vacant chair from the next table without asking permission of the five people sitting there. Gwen was surprised he looked normal and not like a five year old sitting at the adult table, deciding maybe she'd not been wholly fair in her appraisal of his physical stature.

Now that the tension had abated somewhat, Gwen and Roger had to do something with their guns. Gwen's went back in her purse, but her purse stayed in her lap. Roger returned his beneath his suit coat, remembering there now was a round in the chamber.

Roger's attention shifted to the prospect of a Russian criminal choosing which Bordeaux they were to drink. Gwen's attention shifted to the prospect of drinking Bordeaux in close proximity to someone she hated on three bona fide accounts (his shoes, his relationship with her husband, and his manner of addressing her) and one half-way bona fide account (his height). Blistov picked up the wine menu, scanned the page Roger had been reading, turned in his chair towards the waiter station, and yelled across the room, "A bottle of the '89 Latour and a bottle of the '90 Latour. Decant both."

Roger was stunned, and at this point Gwen didn't quite know what to think about this whole deal. She had come expecting a quiet romantic dinner of langoustines and wine with her love, and now she was sitting with a guy who had cleaned toilets in the Hermitage for five years. Lucky for her she was the mentally flexible type.

They didn't talk, they didn't look at the other diners who were staring at them, they didn't look at the waiter who was preparing the wine at the station. They just looked at each other. Jinny smiled and looked, Roger eased his face and looked, Gwen kept hold of her purse with the gun in it and looked. The wine came in decanters and they looked at all $800 of it. Blistov tasted and approved, the waiter poured, and they sipped. They still didn't talk. They sipped some more.

Finally Roger smiled at his wife and said, "It was the '89 we had in London, but I like this '90 even better. A little more concentrated."

The waiter came with dinner menus, but Blistov gave him the evil eye and waved him away. They all sipped again. Blistov leaned back in his chair, looked at Gwen, then looked at Roger and said, "I have a proposition for you. I want to be your partner."
Chapter 4 – From Conflict to Partnership

Soon after college Roger had spent a few years in law enforcement, so he had experienced some odd things. Maybe not as odd as going into partnership with a Russian quasi-mobster, but still odd. He didn't like people telling him what to do, so he didn't last long as a law enforcement officer, but he did learn a few things, and it was an interesting job. At one time he worked as a ranger for the National Park Service at Yosemite National Park, doing rescue operations, handling drunks in the campgrounds, and going after druggies growing pot out in the woods.

President Kennedy came to Yosemite for a PR op one time, and took over the entire Ahwahnee Lodge for two days, with an entourage of a hundred people. There were plenty of Secret Service guys around, but the Park Service had to provide supplemental protection. Roger was assigned the crappiest detail, sitting in a hotel stairwell from midnight to eight am, two nights in a row. The Secret Service guys told him not to leave his post for any reason, not for one single minute, not even to piss. They gave him a wide-mouth plastic bottle, and said, "Use this."

The second night, around 1am, Roger heard the stairwell door open on the level below him and heard footsteps on the stairs coming up. He stood and waited. The first head to appear was that of a Secret Service agent he had seen around. The second head to appear was that of an attractive blond woman. The third head to appear was Kennedy's, and the fourth head he saw was that of another Secret Service agent. These four people paraded past him in rapid succession. Neither of the agents even looked at him, nor did the woman. Kennedy did look at him for a split second, during which he gave Roger a slight grin. That was it; an event gone down into the spiral of history.

That was the oddest thing that had happened in Roger's life until meeting Jinny Blistov in the restaurant. Now he had this guy sitting with him, a guy he had braced in the living room of the guy's house, a guy he had threatened with a gun, a guy he had sent to jail, and a guy who Roger knew was a very tough minded individual. Now this guy wanted to be his partner. Roger never had had a partner other than Gwen. He didn't really know what it meant to have a business partner, other than that you had to split the money two ways, and maybe the partner would try to tell him what to do. Ergo the lack of such a setup so far. Roger had a wife, and she was his great lover and his special friend, and that was all he really knew or cared about. He didn't do guy things very often.

Roger's lawyer is a woman whose first name's Collier, and she's a looker. If Roger didn't have Gwen, he might have asked Collier out to dinner. She had saved his ass once in court in another episode involving a gun, which Roger thought was a lot of houey about nothing. Roger wondered if Collier counted as a partner.

Another person who might be a partner was Roger's doctor. She also had done him a great favor by removing a bullet fragment from the back of his eye. It wasn't much as bullets go, just a small piece of a slug, but still, he owed her big-time. She too was a looker, so he didn't mind going to her for his twice-a-year eye checkup. When she asked him how his vision was, he always replied that when he was looking at her, his vision was just fine, and she didn't seem to mind this stupid joke a bit. He always asked her if she would give him his annual routine health checkup while he was there, and she always told him she was a surgeon, and couldn't do that. She didn't mind one dumb joke, but she never smiled at this second one. She didn't act offended either, so he kept trying it. Roger wondered if this constituted a partnership.

Anyway, Blistov was sitting at their table, and Roger had to deal with his partnership proposition, hoping he'd get out of there without further unpleasant incident and with the Russian getting stuck for the $800 wine tab. After all, Jinny had offered to pay. He sipped, and Gwen sipped while looking at Jinny, trying to send an invisible message to the guy, saying no way José on this partnership thingy. She kept her purse in her lap, not returning it to the floor as it had been before Blistov appeared.

Roger focused on the wine and waited for the proposition, thinking in good conscience he couldn't refuse it before he heard it. He put his hand on the back of Gwen's chair, symbolically requesting assistance in this matter, knowing she would be there for him. Blistov starting talking.
Chapter 5 – The Proposition

"Do you know what I did for the six months I was in jail?" Blistov said. "I thought about how nice winter is in Charleston, and how lousy it is in Saint Petersburg. Do you have any idea how cold it is there in February? Do you know that spring doesn't come until June? Do you know how boring winter is there, having to stay inside all day for months on end?" Everyone at the table realized these were rhetorical questions, and everyone used the designated pause to sip some wine. Blistov continued, "I also thought a lot about economics, about what is happening in Russia and the rest of the republics over there, and what is happening now in the United States. Everything is upside down. Lots of money has evaporated, and lots of money has appeared out of nowhere. Poor people now are rich, rich people are poor, big houses are falling apart, big new houses are being built in new places. Airplanes are full of people going here and there, everything is twirling around like crazy." Blistov looked at Roger and then looked at Gwen. The Junes looked back and said nothing.

"All the time I was in the jail I tried to figure out where all the money is. No matter how hard I tried, or how many hours I thought about this, I couldn't figure it out. One day I thought about this for fifteen hours straight, which hurt my head, and no luck. I know the money is out there, because I've seen it, in Russia, and in America. It's definitely out there, believe me." Blistov sipped, Gwen sipped, Roger sipped. The waiter came back with the menus, and Blistov again gave him the evil eye, the guy practically running away. The waiter wasn't too worried about the food service because he knew he was going to get a good tip just off the two very expensive bottles of Bordeaux. He wanted to go to the table to see the woman, who was beautiful, but getting near the scary guy made it just not worth it. He wasn't going over there until he was called. Blistov began talking again: "After I gave up trying to figure out where the money is, I tried figuring out where the money could go, if I gave it some help getting there. I tried figuring out if some of the money that is floating around out there could end up in the same place as me. And guess what, the answer came to me after thinking about it for six weeks. The answer was, Yes." Blistov smiled, first at Roger and then at Gwen. Gwen was surprised that a guy whose beard grew back around the sides of his neck, and who wore shoes like he did, could have a nice smile.

"Guess where I am now?" Blistov said. Roger looked at Gwen, Gwen looked at Roger, then they both looked back at the Russian. "I'm in Charleston, South Carolina, United States of America. That means the money has got to come here. Lots of money. Lots. So that's my proposition. You help me get the money here, and you get some of it. I don't know exactly where it is, but I do know something about the people who have this money. Some of them are Russians, and some of them are Americans."

Both Roger and Gwen realized they were talking with a Russian criminal about money, and who now sounded like he might be associated with Russian mobsters. They also knew they were flush with money themselves right now, flush enough to eat in nice restaurants and drink very good wine. They liked having money, and always were aware of the need to acquire more of it, so they looked at Blistov with open minds, if not open hearts. Blistov sensed their receptivity, even though he also sensed Gwen's only slightly veiled hostility. Hostility didn't bother Blistov. Blistov's nanny was hostile, so he had grown up sucking hostile tit. And while he was very surprised to learn that an American woman packed heat while eating dinner in a French restaurant, this didn't bother him. In fact, it gave him a good feeling about choosing a business partner who behaved this way. Also, he knew what the word fuck meant and that it was a curse word, but he didn't know what a munchkin fuck was, so this didn't really bother him, and his nanny had talked much ruder than this, anyway.

Roger looked at Gwen, got the go ahead vibe, and gestured for Blistov to continue. Unlike most people who get more loquacious when alcohol takes effect, Blistov got more succinct, which suited the Junes. "I see three cities here, and two commodities, and our partnership, and then a bunch of other people, some Russian, some American. If we put all those things together, we get money. Lots of it. The money right now is with two groups of people. It is with rich Americans who are scared of the stock market, and it is with rich Russians who got it from all the oil the European oil companies are pumping out of the Russian ground and the Russian seas. The Europeans get a little of the money, but Putin sees that most of it stays at home.

"There are Russians in Saint Petersburg who have some of this oil money, and they want to spend it. And, they don't like Russian winters any more that I do. I want to get some of these people to come to Charleston for the winter, and bring their money with them. When they come here with their money, we take some of it." Blistov again sat back in his chair, and again sipped some wine, and again smiled at Gwen and Roger. There actually was a perceptible twinkle in his eye, the eye of this short, squat criminal who wore the world's worst shoes, but who had a nice smile. Gwen realized it wasn't easy for a guy to shave the sides of his neck back behind his ears, so she cut him some slack on this point, figuring if Blistov became rich, he could hire someone to do this for him.

One of the qualities Gwen loved about her husband was his ability to get to the point, which he did now. He said, "What are the commodities involved in this little scenario?"

Blistov smiled and answered, "Antiques and French wine."

Roger thought about this and asked, "What is the third city?"

Blistov said, "Paris."

Gwen and Roger acted like Siamese twins. Slowly they sat back in their chairs, turned their heads towards each other, smiled, turned back to Blistov, picked up their wine glasses, and held them up in a gesture of a toast. Gwen went so far as to put her purse down on the floor, which Roger realized meant she no longer felt like dropping this guy right there in the restaurant, and might not again refer to him as a munchkin fuck. Gwen thought for a moment, stood up, found the waiter across the room, and motioned him over to the table. When he arrived (the waiter was thankful it was the babe who had called and not the short scary guy), Gwen said, "Bring the dinner menus, please."
Chapter 6 – Acceptance

By the time the food and wine was gone, Roger's and Gwen's heads were spinning,, and they wished it was from the wine rather than Little Jinny's proposal. Wine spinning is fun. A business proposal from a Russian criminal produced a different kind of spin. A spinning sense of interest and possibility didn't begin to capture the effect of the proposal. A swooping sense of wow, holy smokes, and lookout below was a little more like it. Then if you add to the mix of sensations the ideas of danger, are you kidding me, and you must be totally and absolutely crazy, you begin to get a feel for the June's reaction.

Gwen didn't know if it was good or bad that they were drinking wine while listening to Blistov explain his plan. She thought the wine might calm her down in the face of this insanity, but on the other hand she thought it might influence her to even consider this insanity. Roger was a bit sorry he was drinking this great wine while listening to Blistov, because he knew it was total insanity, and being exposed to such insanity reduced the pleasure he normally would have gotten from drinking great wine. Both of the Junes were dumbfounded. They were glad Blistov had spoken in a clear but soft voice during the meal and his explanation of his ideas for the partnership. Roger had made certain no one else could hear Blistov talking. The Junes were known in this restaurant, and already they were in dutch just for sitting down with someone dressed the way Blistov was. If anyone had heard even the slightest part of the conversation, the Junes would have been barred from the restaurant for life.

The waiter approached the table, staying well away from Blistov's chair, and spoke directly to Gwen, asking if anyone wanted coffee. The waiter managed to look at Roger, but didn't look at Blistov. Coffee was ordered, because it was needed.

Blistov had stopped talking near the end of the meal. He had been remarkably composed in issuing the proposal: logical and succinct, simple and clear, calm and reassuring. He had thought long and hard about this venture, and had worked out many issues down to some reasonable level of detail. After all, he had had six months in jail to do that. And he had had six months to think about Roger June. Describing his proposal had taken Blistov about twenty-five minutes, during which time he also managed to eat an entire chateaubriand and drink his share of the wine. Blistov could multitask. The Junes didn't say a word, and they finished eating and drinking at the same time Blistov did. Roger noted this phenomenon.

Gwen had sustained a double dose of dumbfoundedness, twice as much as her husband, because she not only processed the meaning of the business proposal; she also processed Blistov as a person. She had to figure out how a person of his stature and physical makeup could speak so eloquently, so concisely, so persuasively, and so endearingly. Here was a guy with questionable grooming habits, highly questionable sartorial skills and knowledge, and who is utterly oblivious to southern genteel social engagement. And yet, she had begun to like him. Never mind his shoes, his stature, his choice of clothing fabrics, or his accent. He had rudimentary manners, he managed to chew with his mouth closed most of the time, his eyes were clear and penetrating, he spoke with a bit of smile twisting around the words, and the content of his mind was stunning. Gwen liked smart people, and she would tolerate a lot to be around them. She wondered if this tolerance extended to Blistov's shoes. She decided it did not, but allowed that she, with her own brand of not inconsiderable persuasiveness, might be able to influence a change in that department. She had wound other men around her fingers, and thought she might try her skills on this very considerable Russian man.

The large pot of coffee came in a sterling silver pot, and was poured into the Mikasa china cups. The three diners sipped the brew with the same seriousness they had sipped the wine. They sat and thought. Or rather, the Junes sat and thought, while Jinny sat enjoying the effects of the wine on his psychology, and took in the crowd. He looked around the elegant room, the attire of the men and the bodies of the women, and decided he liked this place. He would be back, though it occurred to him he might have to make an adjustment in his approach to socialization in order to fit in, and decided that was no big problem. One had to adapt, and he was one adaptable character. From his examination of the restaurant and the patrons, two things became clear: he had to persuade the Junes to join him in this scheme so he could make lots of money, and he had to make some social adjustments so he could enjoy spending all the money they would make together.

With these points settled, Blistov's attention came back to the Junes, and he could sense them processing, processing, processing. This was good, and as it should be, so he left them to it. He motioned to the waiter to come over, who hesitated, but realized he could not just ignore this customer no matter how scary he was. He came to the table, and was surprised by how calmly, quietly, and courteously Blistov order a cognac and soda in a snifter. Blistov could adapt like no one's business. He learned every day, every minute. So while the Junes pondered, Blistov exalted inside on his incredibly good and unexpected fortune. And what was this fortunate thing? It was the presence of Gwen June. Previously Blistov didn't know of or care about Roger's wife. All those months in the joint, thinking through the scheme, figuring out how to use Roger, working out the roles and the details, the thought of a third partner never entered his mind. It was going to be him and Roger, and that was it. But now, discovering Gwen, and quickly coming to know something about her, namely that she was beautiful and went to dine at fancy restaurants heeled, well, this was unbelievably good fortune. Blistov did his own processing early in the engagement, and intuitively realized Gwen could be valuable to the operation. He didn't have time to work out all the details of course, but he could see in general terms how Gwen could perform and what she could produce. With this realization, Blistov did a cartwheel inside. His team was forming better than he had hoped.

So Blistov was drinking coffee and cognac, was relaxing and thinking, and the Junes were drinking coffee, and were worrying and thinking. It was easier for Blistov to contemplate a shady partnership than it was for the Junes to contemplate a shady partnership. Not that Roger was an angel, by any means. But he strayed in that direction not so much by deliberate intent as by an inclination to make life interesting. Gwen was worried less by the shadiness of the proposal than by the probabilities of success. She was figuring the odds of complete success and stacking them against the consequences of complete failure. You can see that Gwen is the brains of the duo.

The three potential partners sat contemplating the potential partnership and the potential outcomes. Each had a role in the operation, and they had to compute the inputs and outputs of these roles. The computational picture was as follows.
Chapter 7 – The Details

It is a testament to Jinny's elucidatory skills that he was able to describe the entire scheme in a busy restaurant without allowing anyone else to hear, and also be able to place a new player, Gwen, into the picture on the fly. Jinny's plan included the following details: (1) smuggle Russian antiques from Saint Petersburg to Charleston; (2) import fine French wine into Charleston; (3) induce nouveau riche Russians to spend the winter in Charleston; (4) sell them the antiques of their homeland, along with great and expensive French wines as status symbols; (5) take a cut of all real estate deals; and (6) educate them about American cosmopolitan cultural manners.

You can see why Roger and Gwen were dumbfounded. The scheme is serious, complex, lucrative, and dangerous. Jinny outlined their respective partnership roles like this: Jinny knows a lot about Russian antiques from his time working in the Hermitage, and he knows some of the players in the massive world of Russian crime. He knows Russian culture, and Russian ambitions. And he knows about Russian winters.

Roger knows a lot about antiques in general and about the American antiques market. Specifically he knows all about Charleston culture, including the players and the mores and the customs. Blistov knows Roger is a connoisseur of French wine, and he knows that Russians prize French wine as the epitome of western culture. Blistov figures that because Roger is well off, either he knows about real estate or can learn about real estate. Roger also is a bit of an aristocrat, and Blistov thinks Roger would fill the role of cultural attaché for the now wealthy but backwards and uncouth Russians.

Enter partner number three, the woman of many unexpected talents, Gwen June. Eureka, for Blistov. In a flash of very impressive intellectual effort, Blistov created a new role for Gwen that added depth to his proposal and solved some of the stickier details. Gwen would assume the duties of entertaining the Russians, educating them about cultural customs, scamming off the real estate cuts, finding the properties, and selling them the French wine at exorbitant prices using her feminine allure and savoir faire. And in an epiphany previously reserved for luminaries such as Newton and Einstein, Blistov saw Gwen procuring handguns for the Russian men, who basically required them because of their lifestyles, and for the Russian women, who may not actually need them but who would find them interesting as unusual toys. Gwen would get the women guns, and teach them how to use them. Blistov sat thinking about the Russian hoods in Saint Petersburg, about trying to persuade them of the multifarious merits of his scheme, about topping off his spiel with a promise of handguns for them, and handgun instruction for their women, taught by a beautiful American babe. Blistov's mouth watered at these thoughts.

Blistov had no doubt that he and his Russian associates could find, steal, or otherwise procure authentic antiques in Saint Petersburg, and find a way to smuggle them into South Carolina. The Russian crime system had matured under Putin's reign, and had developed sophisticated networks of buying and selling, transportation and dissemination. Blistov saw an opportunity in the international antiques trade that still was unexploited.

All this was not a simple matter, by any means. But it was doable. What Blistov needed was an American market for the goods. The genius of Blistov's scheme was that he was not going to rely on Americans to form the market; he was going to import the market, along with the goods. He would bring good, patriotic Russians who loved their culture, to Charleston. They were patriotic Russians who happened to hate Russian winters, and they were rich. One shipping container of antiques for every two wintering Russian families seemed about right. Blistov would make them feel right at home in their new houses on Sullivan's Island. They would sit on their decks and porches, look out at the Atlantic Ocean, feel the warm January sunshine on their feet, sip a fabulous Rhone Hermitage, and look at a nineteenth century painting of some Romanov family dog with a dead rabbit in its mouth. This was a sure thing.

Blistov would perform the Saint Petersburg duties, Roger would perform the Paris wine-buying and Charleston marketing duties, and Gwen would perform the Charleston entertainment and cultural adjustment duties. What a team.
Chapter 8 – Acceptance

Gwen watched Blistov sip his cognac and soda, and wanted one. She wanted something to soothe the throb of excitement she felt that was mixing with a sense of warning. At the same time she wanted the coffee to kick in and serve as an aid to her analysis. She wanted to be up and she wanted to be down. Roger felt similarly, though with some variations. He wasn't crazy about working with a bunch of foreigners, but he was entranced with thoughts of antiques and fine wine. He noticed he was unimpaired by the knowledge that the scheme existed, or at least had the potential to exist, in a rather robust shade of moral grayness. The exact shade of gray was yet to be determined. The fact that Roger loved his auntie and his wife didn't mean he was a puritan. For quite a number of years he had swayed back and forth between the fields of high society and low society. He liked being a gentleman detective, because of the intellectual challenges. He considered the fact that this line of work inherently involved people from other levels of society to be an occupational hazard. Gwen was ok with this, too. She lived at the periphery of his detecting endeavors, but always seemed to get involved without making an effort to do so. Roger and Gwen talked about a lot of different things, and his work was one of them. Gwen just seemed to end up around Roger when odd things happened to him. Hence her familiarity with handguns, and her skill and facility at operating them.

Blistov finished his drink and the Junes finished their coffees, and the party broke up. Blistov came through and paid not only the wine bill but the entire bill. He had enjoyed himself immensely, and his confidence in landing his partners in the deal was large. He didn't know Roger and Gwen from Adam and Eve, but he knew one thing about himself, which was that his intuition rarely was wrong. And his intuition had told him, before he entered the restaurant, that Roger was the man to make the project work. When he met Gwen; when he realized Gwen had a gun under the table and appeared to be quite willing to use it, his intuition bonged like the bells on the Kremlin. Bong, bong, bong!

Outside the restaurant they walked a short distance, and then simultaneously stopped and looked at each other. Blistov was all smiles. Roger was impassive. Gwen, it seemed to both Blistov and Roger, looked rather devilish. Roger was used to this look, and it didn't particularly surprise him. Blistov was surprised, and at the same time very pleased. He decided he would stack this American up against a St. Petes. hottie any day.

Blistov was a follower, not a leader. He had cooked up this complicated scheme and set it in motion, but now he assumed the role of worker bee. The Junes had not yet said yes, and here was Blistov turning over the reins of the operation to Roger. Blistov just stood there, quiet and not talking. He had done all his talking in the restaurant and now was letting things settle.

Roger looked at Gwen, and Gwen looked at Roger. She smiled at him. Contrary to his inclination to smile back at his wife whenever she smiled at him, he remained impassive and turned to Blistov. Many questions remained, and the answers to those questions would determine the shade of gray that would cloak the operation. Roger needed those answers to decide if he could live in the gray, and Gwen's smile told him she was leaving the decision up to him. She was a bit of a wild girl who, most of the time, let Roger curb her wildness. Roger studied Blistov's face, and Blistov had no problem with thus being studied. He stood passively and waited, the wine and cognac feeling good in him. His approach to the Junes felt good in him, the impending operation felt great inside him, and he was ready for action.

Roger stood there thinking quite competently and efficiently despite the wine. He thought first about his auntie, and her being swindled. She was wealthy, and so had been her husband, Roger's uncle. The uncle made his money buying land back in the 40s, and building golf courses on it. He had wanted Charleston to be the place where Bobby Jones, the famous golfer, came to live and retire. Knowing that his auntie's house was full of genuine American antiques, Roger thought his auntie would approve of this scheme.

Then Roger thought of his wife. She was a firecracker, and Roger loved that part of her. He wanted to keep her happy and content, and Roger thought this little escapade would fit that bill. Roger was able to calculate risk, and Gwen was very able to calculate risk, and Roger knew his wife would not view this as too risky. His own thoughts about risk now came into play.

Roger could deal with the real estate part of the scheme; there was nothing particularly dishonest there. Sell the Russians expensive property and take a bigger than normal commission. Same with the wine. Instead of selling the wine at the normal retail markup of 150 % of wholesale, he would sell it to them at the restaurant markup of 300%. He also would provide them with connoisseur service. No, the stumbling block was the antiques. What exactly did Blistov have in mind here? Remember, Blistov had had a piece of furniture forged, and had sold it. Roger understood that forging was a huge part of the antiques trade world-wide. If the public only knew that, they would faint away. Roger was a Divvie, a person who had a sixth sense about genuine and fake art and antiques. He had a great respect for authenticity, and he had a grudging respect for forgeries, too. He very much liked Blistov's circa 1737 Heppleworth end table knockoff.

So the antiques part of the scam was the crux of the decision to accept Blistov's proposal or turn it down. Roger stood there on the sidewalk and asked himself an important question: how far am I willing to go? How deep into forgery and theft am I willing to descend? This was the all-important question often posed by or to the characters in Robert B. Parker's novels. Roger was a big fan of Parker and his moral conundrums. With Parker, the question usually was whether a basically good person was willing to kill a bad person, or not. Hence the "How far am I willing to go" issue. Roger recognized that his decision was not quite so serious, but still, forging and stealing antiques, and selling them to Russian criminals, or at least to their wives and girlfriends, was nothing to sneeze at or take lightly.

Gwen could tell Roger was thinking hard, and she left him to it. She decided to spend her time wisely by gauging Blistov a bit more. Gwen had the devil in her, and that was one reason Roger loved her. By the end of Blistov's presentation, she was warming up to the Russian in general, with the exception of his shoes, which deserved a never ending loathing. So Gwen decided (or was it the wine deciding) to play a bit with Blistov, who was standing resolutely still and quiet, enjoying the salt laden Charleston night air. It was warm air, and moist, not like Saint Petersburg air. He liked it.

Gwen kind of sidled up to Blistov with a half-smile on her face, and asked him if he preferred the Petrova .45 caliber or the Brusshev 10mm. As she asked the question, she kind of stuck her hand, with its index finger extended, into Blistov's gut. She didn't stick it in his chest or his face, as she figured that would be a bit rude, but sticking it in his gut seemed well within the bounds of civility. It was just a hand, after all.

Blistov heard the question quite clearly, but the content was so unexpected that it took his neurons extra time to process the data and arrive at comprehension. This American broad is pretty cool, him smiling without conscious volition. He didn't answer right away, but his smile was a reaction, of sorts. Petrova or Brusshev, Petrova or Brusshev? Damn. Where is God's name did this women come to understand anything about Russian handguns? Blistov was blistered.

Blistov was smart, so he didn't stay bewildered very long. He said he liked the Brusshev a lot, and had owned one once a long time ago. He said he'd never seen a Petrova, much less fired one, as Petrovas were scarce in Russia, and therefore very expensive. Petrovas were the choice of ex-military guys with lots of money. Gwen told Blistov she had fired both of them when her father took her to a range outside Washington DC, and met an old friend of his there. This friend had a gym bag that must have weighed thirty pounds. When he unzipped it, Gwen watched him take out six different pieces, followed by ammo for each piece. Two of them were the Russian guns, and he had brought them for his old buddy and Gwen to fire. The Petrova was a beast, and just about jumped out of Gwen's hand at detonation. The Brusshev had decent balance and Gwen was able to put all eight rounds from the mag into the target. Her hand hurt only a little bit.

Blistov was amazed at the story, and liked her even more when she looked around the street, and then reached into her purse and pulled out her own gun. She liked her semi-compact Glock 40 cal. Its downsized grip fit her hand and it carried a bit of comforting weight without being too heavy for her to control. She handed it to Blistov, saying, "Here is my Austrian baby, wanna feel it?" Blistov looked over at Roger. Roger was standing the same way as he was five minutes ago, passive and inward-looking. Roger's eyes saw Blistov's eyes, and Roger's eyes saw his wife hand over her gun, but his mind still was wrestling with the moral question of forgery and theft.

When Blistov saw that Roger knew what was happening and didn't seem to mind, he reached out and took the gun from Gwen, and immediately did something that pleased Gwen no-end. He pointed the gun at the ground. This little maneuver told Gwen that Blistov knew something about handling guns safely, which instilled confidence in Gwen about this Russian guy she was playing games with. Blistov looked around the street before raising the gun and feeling its weight. It was too small for his meaty paw, but he saw how it suited Gwen. He smiled an innocent smile and said, "Feels pretty good." With that he handed it to Gwen, who put it back into her purse.

She turned and looked innocently at her husband, sighing when she saw he still was thinking. She was about as ready for action as Blistov was. In her mind the acceptance speech already had been issued by Roger, and she was thinking about how and when this rollercoaster was gonna get rolling.

Roger saw and understood the little gun play deal that had gone on between his wife and this crime guy, and had let it slipslide away. His wife did this stuff all the time in one way or another, her being a pistol, literally and figuratively. He had more important stuff to figure out than what wifey was up to. He had to answer the question, "How far am I willing to go?" He realized the question hinged on Blistov and his Saint Petersburg connections. If Blistov had good connections in the world of Russian antiques, as he claimed, then it was possible Blistov actually could procure and export (smuggle) real antiques. If that was case, Roger's quandary was lessened. His job would be to get the goods to Charleston, and either directly into the hands of the wintering Russian criminal population, or onto the public market where the Russians would be willing to pay exorbitant prices for them. Russian antiques are unusual in America, and just might find a special, and wealthy, clientele. On the other hand, if Blistov was all BS about his connections, and his intent was to smuggle forgeries out of Saint Petersburg and into Charleston, then Roger's job was very different. It would be to sell forgeries. Or, if Blistov's plan was to manufacture forgeries of Russian artifacts in Charleston and sell them to the Russians as genuine, that also presented Roger with issues. Did he want to sell forgeries to Russians of the kind Blistov was planning on bringing over for warm Februaries spent on Sullivan's Island second story porches? Did he want to sell forgeries to American collectors?

Roger thought about his auntie and his uncle. He thought about his wife. And he thought about Little Jinny Blistov and how far he could trust him. Then he thought about how much he liked really, really fine French burgundy. He thought about how much money was a good amount of money to have. And lastly he thought about his wife again, and what she liked to do, and he figured this caper was exactly the kind of thing she would like.

Voila, decision made. He turned to the pair standing a bit away, hissed a little whistle he knew his wife would recognize, and, when she turned and looked at him, smiled. Acceptance.
Chapter 9 – Planning the Caper

His wife knew he had accepted the deal, but Blistov didn't. Blistov had great intuition, but that did not extend to reading a stranger as well as the stranger's wife could. Roger decided to tell Blistov they were partners, but to hold something back on some of the acceptance. So he walked over to Blistov, nodded his head and said, "Let's get together soon and talk." With that he turned to his wife and started walking down Chalmers Street, staying on the sidewalk to avoid having to walk on the cobblestones that would loosen your teeth fillings if you drove on them in a car with a stiff suspension. He relaxed as he walked and took his wife's arm. He loved the feeling of wine, wife, Charleston, evening, and an adventure pending.

They got home, opened the front door to find the cat sitting in the foyer looking up at them and the dog sitting at the top of the stairs looking down at them. Roger picked up the cat, kissed it, and threw it out the door. Gwen smacked her hip while looking at the dog, the dog jetted down the stairs to her where it was kissed, and where it too was thrown out the door. Roger and Gwen looked at each other, smiled, and went up the stairs to bed. An hour later Gwen came down the stairs, opened the front door, and found what she expected: the cat and the dog sitting on the front porch, patiently awaiting re-entry into their home.

The Junes are early risers, which was just as well because at eight am the next morning, after finishing their coffees, they heard a squeal of brakes outside, followed by the slamming of a car door. The Junes lived in a very quiet neighborhood in the old section of Charleston. Their house fronted on a very narrow brick-paved street that suffers from the same thing many of old Charleston's streets suffers from, subsidence. A certain portion of the old district was built on fill, and the fill shifts around as the tidal ground-water flows into and out of it. The June's street was wavy, and they liked it that way. It gave the place character and kept some of the tourists away. In fact, it kept most of the locals away too, and traffic was almost non-existent, which is why both of the Junes noticed the sound of the car parking in front of their house. That, and the fact that the Junes not are only very private people, but also very suspicious people.

When the knock came on the door, Gwen went first to the window, not the door. On the street she saw a huge black Lincoln Escalade SUV, and she wasn't sure another car could get past it on the narrow street. She then saw Little Jinny Blistov standing on her porch, with a brown paper bag in his hands. She frowned, but not too seriously. Roger came to the top of the stairs and looked down at the front door. Gwen came into the foyer, said to her husband, "Your boy is here," and went to the kitchen. Roger descended the stairs and opened the door to a smiling Russian gangster. Blistov said, "Good morning," in what Roger thought was a very polite way, with an almost gentle intonation. Roger returned the salutation, and motioned the guy inside.

Standing in the large foyer and looking around, Blistov handed Roger the brown paper bag, inside of which he found two dozen Dunkin donuts. The bag was quite heavy. He looked at Blistov, smiled weakly, and said, "Let's find Gwen." He led the way to the kitchen where he said to his wife, "Mr. Blistov brought a gift." He handed the heavy bag to his wife who, after examining the contents, also smiled weakly at their guest. "Well," she said, "I guess this calls for coffee." The Junes liked croissants and jam for breakfast every once in a while, but it had been quite some time since they had eaten any Dunkin donuts. Especially ones with pralines on them. Regardless, Gwen opened the bag and placed all twenty-four donuts on a large serving platter she got out of the cupboard. She set the coffee pot to dripping, rather than the $2,000 Italian espresso machine to hissing. It sat on a counter looking like it had come out of the space shuttle.

The three conspirators sat down at the counter and looked at each other. The Junes waited for Blistov to speak, seeing as how he had initiated this business meeting. Jinny didn't wait for the coffee; he took a praline covered donut and started eating. The Junes, their sanctified Charleston politeness showing through, also picked up a treat, though neither one chose a donut with candy on top. Blistov said, "The sooner we get started, the sooner we make money and have some fun. I hope that's all right with you guys?" Gwen got up and tended to the coffee machine, thinking she would leave this matter to her husband.

Roger was proper, but easy-going, so he took this invasion of their privacy in stride. He asked, "What do you have in mind; and thanks for the donuts." Hearing this, Gwen turned, put her hand on her hip, and stared at her husband, her face expressionless, which in and of itself told Roger something. He smiled weakly at his wife and turned back to his guest. As mentioned, Blistov was a follower, not a leader, but he also was jacked up about this project, and he was not a shrinking violet. He figured if Roger didn't want to get started right away, Roger would say so, and that would be that. Blistov would wait until the boss was ready to act, but he had no qualms about a gentle push. And he had brought donuts, right?

Blistov said, "If you guys want to, I brought some papers and things, and maybe we can get started with the planning. I got some of this stuff figured out, but we still gotta do a lot more of that. Detail, lots of details. Whatcha think?"

Gwen brought the china coffee pot to the table, and then the china cups and saucers. No time like the present to start the culture lessons, she thought. Since going to bed last night, she had reviewed Blistov's proposal. She recognized the broad scope of the caper, and had figured out the broad role assignments. Not everything, of course, not any details, but she realized one of her duties would be to acculturate Charleston's new and wealthy Russian population. She figured she might as well start with Blistov himself and hope it rubbed off on the others. Hence the china.

Roger wasn't sure what Gwen wanted to do at this point, and Gwen wasn't sure what Roger wanted to do. So they sipped some good coffee and ate some bad pastry. Blistov did too. He waited for the boss to speak, and was quite happy with the food and drink. He was ready to follow. In the ensuing silence, Gwen was astounded to find she was eating a second donut. Roger was astounded to realize he wasn't thinking of anything other than the Boston crème donut, sitting on the antique serving platter. He should have been thinking about what to do with Blistov this morning, and he wasn't. Oh well. He got it together, and asked Blistov what he meant when he said he had brought papers and things. Blistov stuffed the remaining half of his third donut into his mouth, jumped up, and ran out of the kitchen.

Five minutes later the Junes heard the dog bark and the door open, and a rather loud bang in the foyer. They emerged from the kitchen to find Blistov with four large tripod easels, four pads of paper two foot by three foot, and a large coffee can. He smiled and said, "The best way to plan things is to write them on paper." With that somewhat cryptic statement, he hefted all four easels, the pads of paper, and the coffee can, and carried them into the June's living room. He installed one pad of paper on each easel, and set the coffee can on the coffee table. He looked around the room, and was impressed. Artwork, a piano, and a sofa the size of ones he remembered from the Hermitage that used to hold six of the royal Borzois. He turned back to the Junes and said, "Ready when you are, but can I use the terlet first?"

Gwen pointed the way. When Jinny left, the Junes looked at the four easels, then at each other. Gwen left for the kitchen, and Roger sat down to wait for the show to continue. Gwen returned with the coffee pot and cups and the serving platter. When she set the platter down on the table, she wondered why she had brought it in. She had eaten two donuts. Was she, unconsciously, wanting a third? This possibility blew her mind, so she too sat down and waited for the show to continue. Blistov returned. Gwen wasn't sure if she had heard the toilet flush or not. She wanted to ask her husband, but she didn't. She sat, somewhat disconcerted.

Roger didn't ask about the easels, he just gestured towards them while looking at his new partner. Blistov went to the coffee can, took two magic markers out of it, and walked over to the easel on the left, where he wrote Saint Petes at the top; then on the next easel pad he wrote Paris at the top; then on the far right easel he wrote Charleston at the top. On the fourth easel pad he wrote three words: antiques, wine, real estate. With that, he relinquished his leadership role, sat down, and picked up another donut. He said between mouthfuls, "I learned this from a guy I worked with in Saint Petes, when we were planning jobs. This guy was ex-military, and he told me this was how they planned ops. They used these big tripods and big sheets of paper, and the commander would write directions and diagrams on the paper, and the soldiers would understand the plan. It worked good for the soldiers, and it worked good later, for us, doing a job. So I thought we would do the same to plan our job. Watcha think?"

Roger looked at Gwen, and shrugged. Gwen thought it was new and interesting. She was ready to go. Jinny smiled, ate, drank some more coffee, and waited for the boss to take up the ops planning. He had facilitated. After a brief delay Roger got up, reached into the coffee can, took out some markers, and went to the easels.
Chapter 10 – The Plan, Part One

"Ok, Jinny, what do we have here?" Roger stood at the Saint Petes easel.

Jinny sat in a 19th century armchair with maple arms and embroidered upholstery. He took another sip of coffee and lined it out. First, he said he still was persona non grata in the homeland, and he wasn't sure how seriously the authorities were about cases like his. He thought these folks had moved on to bigger and better things than his little transgression, but even if they harbored some grudge, Jinny said he still could operate there. Their mission had four parts: (1) find Russian antiques they could get their hands on, (2) find cronies that would help in the purchase or theft of these items, (3) surreptitiously get these items into large shipping containers and onto ships bound for the States, and (4) make contact with newly rich Russians who hated Russian winters as much as he did, and convince them Charleston was the place for them to spend a few months each year. As he delineated the mission, Roger wrote it down in short bullet points on the easel pad, then sat down on the sofa next to Gwen, and the three of them looked at the easel. Roger frowned, Gwen looked perplexed, Jinny looked radiant.

"You can do this?" Gwen said. "And why would Russians want to come to Charleston for the winter? If they're rich, they can just go to the Caribbean, or to the beaches in Thailand."

Jinny was ready for this question. It was one he had worked on during the time he was eating small quantities of high-fat, no-taste foods in the South Carolina slammer.

"Not all newly rich Russians are wild and crazy party animals who want to drive around in limos, drink Dom, and do coke," he said. "Lots of them are, but those are not the ones we want. Many of these people need low profiles, and there are some who know about art and food and nice properties, they just haven't had the money until recently to have these things. Now they do. They're not looking for the fast lane, they are looking for the sure lane. They want class, quiet, music, and warm breezes off the water."

He paused and looked at the Junes.

"Some of these people have a love\hate feeling about America. They hate it because it represents the long-standing enemy of an old Russia they still love and respect. They love America because it represents the future, and they want to be part of the future, now that they have lots of money to spend.

"This type of Russian would like Charleston because it's small, discrete, it has old world ambience with great restaurants, and because it's warm in February. I'll tell them that property values hold strong, that southerners have a tradition of minding their own business, that we will furnish their new ocean front homes with antiques from the homeland, and they will drink the best French wine in the late afternoons while sitting on their second story verandas watching European soccer matches on TV."

Jinny beamed. "I will tell them a beautiful woman will visit them at luncheon hour and teach them to cook like Julia Child, and afterwards take them to the outdoor gun range on the national forest land nearby and teach their girlfriends or wives to shoot Italian and Swedish handguns. I'll tell them that if they try to mess with this beautiful woman, she likely will stick her Glock 40 cal. straight down the front of their pants and unload a few rounds at the targets that lay therein."

Jinny added this last rather dramatic item for Roger's benefit, him capable of judiciousness when the occasion called for it. He went on, telling the Junes he would tell the Russians about the link between Czar Brettany Prentikof, and the Huguenot king of France, and that Charleston today was full of still loyal Huguenots that in some way or other loved Russians. He thought this would mean something to the potential expatriates, and he was convinced that the type of Russian he would persuade to come to Charleston would like to have an object, or preferably many objects, from their homeland in their new houses.

Roger considered telling his partner there was not exactly a multitude of people running around Charleston identifying themselves strongly and fervently as Russian czar loving Huguenots, but in the scheme of things he decided to let this minor point pass. He and Gwen, looking at each other, didn't know what to say. They didn't know squat about newly rich Russians and what they like or don't like. Telepathically they agreed for the present to accept Jinny's judgment, and move on with the planning. They motioned for Jinny to continue.

He had started with item (4) on the easel pad, so now he backtracked to item (1), which was procuring the antiques, and he told them how he came up with his idea for the job. At one point during the two years he lived in Pittsburgh he got so sick of the place he got in a car and drove to Washington DC. He had seen a picture of the Museum of Industry that was part of the Smithsonian, and the architecture reminded him of a small secondary building that was a dot on the landscape of the Hermitage Museum. Seeing the photo of the Smithsonian building served as an excuse to get out of January Pittsburg. When he got to DC and to the building, he found it was considerably smaller than its cousin in Saint Petersburg, which was disappointing. It was about half the size of the Russian building, and remember, the Russian building was a minor structure in the hierarchy of the Hermitage. While he was inside he found a guard that was a Russian émigré. The guard told him all about the Smithsonian, including the fact that only a small percentage of the entire holdings of the museum was on display at any one time. The majority of stuff was stored in vast warehouses in Virginia and only saw the light of day once every twenty-five years.

Jinny found this interesting, because he knew the same was true of his old digs, the Hermitage. There too, most of the stuff was in storage. In fact, during his tenure as toilet cleaner and general flunky, he was sent a few times to various warehouses as part of a group of workmen whose task was to get something or return something.

Jinny related this story hoping it would pique the June's interest, and made it the crux of his plan. The source of the antiques would be the storage warehouses of the Hermitage itself.

Roger and Gwen quickly understood his idea. The really valuable stuff, the Fabergé eggs and so forth, were kept in the Hermitage itself, under serious security. But the lesser stuff, the stuff that wouldn't fit into the 1285 rooms of the palace, was kept in storage. This might not be the greatest stuff in the Russian realm, but even at a lesser level of quality, it still would be valuable on the world market. Roger preferred the greatness of Château Latour, but that doesn't mean he couldn't enjoy a bottle of Château Grand-Puy-Lacoste, at one tenth the price. And this stuff would have special allure to native Russians as pieces of their heritage. They'd love to have pieces from the homeland in their new winter houses on Sullivan's Island in sunny South Carolina, which occasionally would be filled with French Huguenot guests whose ancestors once loved a Russian czar.

From his years of working at the Hermitage, Jinny knew quite a bit about how the place worked. He may have been cleaning toilets for some of that time, but he was a very smart and observant toilet cleaner, and he had a gift for gab and a way with people. He liked to talk to people who liked to talk. He figured out that some of the Hermitage inventory hadn't seen the light of day for a hundred years, stuff like chairs and mirrors and side tables and kitchenware and bedroom linen and small paintings. These would be the targets, not the Fabergé eggs. This is what he told the Junes, and after Roger had a minute to think about it, Roger realized this all could be true. He knew how antique dealers operate, and he knew something about art museums. Art museums, both large and small, sometimes had stuff in their inventories that was not known to, or at least not remembered by, the museum keepers. Jinny's thinking about the target antiques could be accurate, and Roger made these points to Gwen.

Jinny smiled.

Gwen and Roger looked at each other. It seems they had been looking at each other, in perplexity, a lot since running into Little Jinny Blistov. Gwen shrugged. She was buying it. Roger trusted her intuition, so he got up and pointed to (2) on the easel and said to Jinny, "Keep rolling." (2) was finding people who could help with the theft from the warehouses.

In Jinny's mind, (2) was the easy part of the job because he knew the person who controlled these warehouses. In fact, they once had played house together, and he knew she was vulnerable to pressure of the kind Jinny could exert on her. They would need some other people to assist with the actual theft, but Jinny said, "I can work this out when we get to Saint Petersburg."

While Roger pondered this abstruse point, his wife pondered another abstruse point. She thought of a scene in the movie The Hunt for Red October, in which Russian sub commander is trying to defect and give the US a Russian nuclear sub. In the movie, someone recommends to the President's Chief of Staff that they go ahead and try to get the sub, the Chief of Staff wryly notes that the Russian government probably would object to the US taking possession of several billion dollars' worth of Russian state property. Gwen's active little mind drew a parallel here. Was it wise to get involved with the theft of Russian heritage property? She asked her partners.

Roger looked at Jinny, who looked back at Roger, and almost in unison they said, "No guts, no glory." That was weird, but the three of them were getting used to weird.

Roger stepped to the St. Petes easel and made checkmarks on (1), (2) and (4). He looked at Jinny, wordlessly, though obviously, indicating the remaining item (3), and saw the smile on Jinny's face turn to doubt. Roger sat down and waited. (3) consisted of how to get the goods out of mother Russia's arms, across the big wide ocean, and safely nestled in the bosom of step-mother Charleston.

Jinny took this opportunity to pour himself another cup of coffee and pick up another, his fifth, donut. At this, the ever devilish Gwen reached over and poked Jinny in the stomach, thinking she would jibe him about getting fat from eating so much crap. She was astounded to feel, not fat on this short, wide, stocky guy, but hard muscle right there in the mid-drift. She nodded an apology.

Jinny ate the donut in three bites and drained the hot coffee in three swallows. He turned to the Junes and said, "On this point I ain't got it figured out."

The June's dog and cat simultaneously walked into the living room as if they had been invited to the business meeting and were arriving late. Both animals sat. Blistov looked at them, and they looked at Blistov, neither giving an inch in their demeanor. The demeanors were neither affection nor distain, neither friendliness nor contempt. These were just three animals co-existing in time and place. The four-leggers' heads swiveled to Roger and Gwen. With that both Roger and Gwen got up, and Roger said, "Let's take a break." Gwen opened the front door for an animal exit.

During the break Roger and Gwen allowed point (3) to float in their minds. They gave Jinny a certain amount of credit, because on the previous points he had performed well. Neither was under any delusion this scam was going to be easy. Sizable rewards require sizable risk and sizable effort. And while the Junes were listening to Jinny explicate the St. Petes easel, they also were multi-tasking on the other easels: the Paris easel and the Charleston easel and the antiques, wine, and real estate easel. They pretty much could figure out the messages of these, and they were content with those ideas. Paris and French wine, Charleston and real estate, and Charleston as the nexus of everything. But the partnership faced a key challenge: how to get the Hermitage grade C antiques to Charleston.

Blistov sat back, closed his eyes, and let the coffee and fifth donut work their magic. The Junes recognized a mind at work, and left him alone. Roger went to check his email and Gwen went outside to play with the dog and the cat. When they came back in half an hour later, Jinny was in the exact same position as when they had left. He opened his eyes and said, "I got good at this while I was in prison. Not much else to do." With that he closed his eyes again, and Roger and Gwen left him to his thinking.
Chapter 11 – The Plan, Part Two

Blistov sat in the June's living room, alone. He kept looking around and telling himself he would like a living room like this, only with darker colors. He wasn't exactly in tune with sand yellows and light green grays and salmons. They don't use those colors in the Hermitage; they use dark burgundies and dark emeralds and dark blues. The Hermitage is a very heavy place.

The Russian was quite content in body, having enjoyed the five donuts and five cups of Brazilian coffee. He was a lot less content in his mind. With his eyes closed he visualized the great wooden warehouses bulging with Hermitage grade C junk. That's what the Hermitage know-it-alls called the stuff in the warehouses...junk. That's not what the folks at Sotheby's and Christies would call it, though. They would call it MONEY. And that's not what the nouveau riche Russians with winter houses on Sullivan's Island would call it. They would call it HOME. And that's not what the snooty wealthy Charlestonians would call it. They would call it I GOT SOMETHING YOU AIN'T GOT. They would say, "You got 18th century Boston......I got 17th century Saint Petersburg. You know where Saint Petersburg is, by the way?"

But Jinny had been in tight places before, like the unheated hold of the Aeroflot cargo plane in which he traveled from St. Petes to Pittsburgh. No stuffed chicken-breast with baby carrots had been served on that flight. So Jinny was discontent, but not scared. He knew he would produce the missing piece of the puzzle; he just had to let his mind roam; roam the culture of the Saint Petersburg criminal jungle.

The June's dog walked into the living room, and set its chin on Blistov's leg. He looked at the dog without touching it, but with visionary eyes. Blistov thought, 'If I can pull this off, I can have a borzoi in my living room, resting it's aristocratic snout full of aristocratic teeth on my leg, unlike this mutt of an American dog, with it short nose, and teeth that couldn't tear a squirrel apart.' He closed his eyes again and cast his mind back in time, back in space, to the grand Hermitage Palace. Who is there that can help? Who is there that wants what I want? Who is there that is like me?

Roger walked to the living room doorway and gazed at the scene. A Russian criminal was sitting on his sofa with his eyes closed and his mouth open, and his, Roger's, dog was resting it's head on the man's leg. Was Blistov sleeping? Is this guy a fraud? And why does my dog like him? Roger left.

Jinny had not even heard Roger at the living room doorway because he had solved the problem. He just had to work out the details, which he was doing now. Jinny had identified the crucial person, and it was a woman, which surprised Jinny. A woman to help him with his scheme. A woman to get him his Borzoi and his coveted Brusshev 10 mm semi-automatic handgun. A woman to get him warm, February, Atlantic breezes.

He smiled now, and almost broke out into laughter, picturing the woman in her Hermitage domain. He pictured her in late March, the middle of the Saint Petersburg winter, outside the Palace, driving around the grounds in a World War II era camouflage painted diesel military personnel carrier. The woman, whose name was Plouriva Roshenska, would drive around the grounds in this vehicle for one reason - it was like driving around in a mini blast furnace. The diesel engine ran hot as hell and there was no insulation in the cab. No one could drive this thing around during the summer, no way. But from November to June, that was the way Plouriva performed her job. And what was her job? She was the head grounds-keeper of the Hermitage.

Let's get the picture correct about the grounds of the Hermitage. Think Yellowstone National Park. It was about that big. You got a Palace with 1285 rooms in it, you need a big piece of property on which to build it, and that was Plouriva's domain. She had done the job for twenty years, and she was master of her domain. No one messed with Plouriva. She was like the Russian spy chief witch in From Russia With Love, only good looking.

Plouriva had the run of the grounds, and commanded a huge fleet of utility vehicles to accomplish her job. She even had a military half-track or two, though she rarely fired those up. But she had trucks, and more trucks. She drove her personnel carrier around all winter (all eight months of winter) because it was warm, and maybe because it intimidated a lot of people. Often she would park the beast next to her office wall with the engine running, because her office was located in one of the out-buildings with marginal central heating. In a few minutes, the diesel would radiate its heat straight through the brick walls and right into Plouriva's back. Plouriva liked her job and her position of authority, but she hated being cold.

So you see why Blistov thought of Plouriva as the answer to his prayers. Here was a woman with whom he had shared some memorable intimacies (until he was thrown into prison) and who just might find a sunny, sixty-degree February day on the beach appealing. She had access to the out-building warehouses where the junk was stored, and she had the run of the complex. Plouriva, my darling.

At this point Blistov opened his eyes and smiled. He even began to develop an appreciation for the short-nosed mutt that now was slumped across his feet on the Oriental carpet of the June's living room. He liked loyalty. He got up and wandered into the kitchen where he found Roger and Gwen doing dueling juliennes with carrots and celery and onions on his and her matching maple chopping blocks. Jinny had had chopping blocks when he grew up, too. One for the live chickens and one for the bigger animals. He sat down. They stopped their julienning and looked at him. He said, "I got it figured out. I just needed a little pressure. Thanks." He told them about Plouriva and said he would explore this over the next few days. To the Junes he looked confident without looking over-confident, and that was all they could ask. Certainly Blistov was going to have to validate to the Junes this entire Saint Petersburg scenario, but there was something about him that led them to believe this was the real deal. And both of them trusted their intuitions.

They threw their choppings into the pot on the stove, added some beef stock and some herbs, and set the burner to simmer. With that they led the way back to the living room and the easels. Roger took up his place and pointed to "Paris." He looked at Jinny and, using body language, asked for his thinking. Jinny said simply that Russians loved their country, their art, their missiles, their aristocrats (well, some of the Russians loved their aristocrats) and their history, but they didn't love their food. The only food the Russians thought was worse than their food was the food of neighboring Finland. It is sort of like the way other American southern states look down on Kentucky. What the Russians like and want is western food (except that of England), especially French food. The Russians think the Italians and Greeks are a little too demonstrative with their cooking and their loving, but that French food is just right. It is heavy and aristocratic (well, some of it, anyway) and delicious, and classy, and fresh, and complicated, and imaginative. In other words, all the things that Russian cooking is not. So that is what a lot of wealthy Russians want, and with it they want French wine. They want the whole cultural package. Jinny said he thinks a lot of these folks, these same folks who hate cold, long winters, and who now are very, very wealthy from stealing oil revenues along with Putin, are not spot-light seekers, but rather are heritage lovers. Jinny thinks these folks will pay through the nose for great French wine and someone to clue them in about its graces and sublimities. Especially if the assistant to the wine educator (Roger) happens to be a beautiful woman who they know carries a 40 cal. handgun somewhere on her person (even in that little black dress, they wonder?) and who can procure such items for them and their consorts. Ergo, the second point in the triangle is Paris, and that is where Roger will have to do the legwork to produce the goods. Roger looked at Jinny and Gwen, and says, "Can do."

Now it's Jinny's turn to wonder a bit about capabilities. Can Roger really buy or steal the wine (either way is ok with Jinny) and get it to Charleston at a cost that will allow for large profits? Well, the Junes displayed confidence in him; he will do likewise with them. Partners are partners.

Now to the last point in the triangle, written on the last easel: Charleston. What happens at the nexus of the operation, the place where people, antiques, and wine converge? Roger looked at Gwen.

Gwen gets up and goes to the easel, taking the marker from Roger. As has been demonstrated, Gwen has a very sharp mind. Even though she was not part of Jinny's original jailhouse generated concept, she was adopted into it right there in the restaurant. And from that minute onwards she had been analyzing the op from top to bottom. Most specifically she had been figuring out just how and where she fit in; how and where she could contribute; how and where she could earn her part of the profits, and she had formulated a plan within a plan.

Long before the first container of antiques arrives at the Charleston shipping terminal, long before the first temperature controlled shipping container full of Burgundy and Bordeaux and Rhone wine arrives, something else would arrive: a planeload of Russian gangsters and their babes. At this thought, she examined her chauvinism. Couldn't some of the principles be women? Couldn't some of the gangsters themselves be women? Couldn't some of the high-rollers and noveaux riches be women? She had no idea. She didn't know much about Russian culture, though of course she knew something about those fabulous Faberge eggs. She wondered if she could get her hands on one of those.

Anyway, Gwen was stimulated by the idea of meeting these folks at the airport and settling them into Charleston digs. She wondered if any of the guys would be handsome. After all, Omar Sharif was very handsome, and wasn't he Russian? She remembered seeing a famous newspaper photo of Putin on vacation up in some forest in Siberia, fly-fishing for salmon. The photo was published around the world. Putin was standing shirtless in the middle of a raging stream, with forty-degree water up to his goolies. There was a bunch of bodyguards hanging around on the shore, all dressed in military fatigues and armed to the teeth. Gwen remembered the photo and thought, that guy has some pecs.

Gwen hoped some of the guys would be studs, and some of the Russian babes would have bodies not reminiscent of rain barrels. Maybe Kournikova had become a courtesan now that she no longer played tennis. Ok, back to work considerations. Gwen's job was threefold: obtain options on beachfront properties and convince the Russian boys and girls to buy them at top-dollar prices; school the kids in firearms use; and most importantly, create a social milieu for these folks that would convince them Charleston was their winter home. The latter would center around epicurean and aristological social events, in preparation for which Roger would sell them French wines, also at top-dollar prices. In other words, Gwen and Roger would organize luncheon and dinner parties that would compete with the olden events of Newport, RI and Cumberland Island, GA. They would not be like those low-rent, glitterati shindigs of Beverly Hills. These would be low-key, proper, all-class events where the money was sensed, not flaunted.

Gwen wondered what it would be like to hang with this crowd. Would this be all work and no play, or was there imagination to be found? And just how much moola would she and Roger get out of this deal, anyway? Blistov hadn't put any numbers on the board for consideration. Gwen and Roger had realized it wasn't possible to calculate actual numbers; this whole enchilada was highly speculative. But somehow Blistov had convinced them, without any profit numbers on paper, and that was a testament to Blistov's inner and outer persona. The guy had something about him that instilled confidence and....excitement.

Another of Gwen's duties would be to arrange the décor of the new Sullivan's Island digs, utilizing the Hermitage antiques as the foci of attention. This would be a challenging trick, to match beach flavor with old Russian aristocrat flavor. Could this be done? If anyone could do it, she could.

So Gwen scribbled these thoughts and items down on the Charleston easel pad, and sat down on the sofa. The three partners looked at the four easels: Saint Petersburg, Paris, Charleston, and antiques, wine, and real estate. Blistov was all quiet smiles. Roger recognized the business and logistical challenges, while Gwen saw and hoped for some fun. All three saw dollar signs, and lots of hard work. Roger and Gwen asked themselves one last time why a Russian gangster was sitting on their $12,000 sofa. They looked at each other, thought some more, and resigned themselves to the venture. They reminded themselves of the famous statement by the fictional New York City detective, Nero Wolfe: "I like money, and require lots of it to live the way I want to." The Plan was done. Time to execute.
Chapter 12 – Travel Plans

Having reached this seminal point in the partnership it occurred to the Junes that this was the logical time for Blistov to take his leave for the day. They had accomplished a lot, and needed time to assimilate it all. But Blistov didn't seem inclined to leave. They didn't know where he was living, though driving up in that huge Lincoln SUV told them he wasn't skinned for money. They both had the same thought at the same time: he wasn't thinking of establishing residency in their home as part of this partnership arrangement, was he? Oh my God. They stared at him now with very strange looks, which he recognized as problematic. This made him sit up straight. He thought for a few seconds, clocked the message, and said, "Don't worry about me. I'm living on Sullivan's Island again. I can't afford the ocean side now, but my view on the marsh side is very nice. He got up, and they agreed to meet again in the morning to plan the next step.

Blistov called them at eight am sharp, which was weird as they had unlisted phone numbers. How did he get their number? They wondered if they could acquire people's unlisted phone numbers in Russia, the way Jinny did here. The Junes looked at each other and thought, who is this guy? Is this a good quality to have in a partner, or a bad quality? He invited them to breakfast at his place, and they accepted. Gwen wondered what he would serve: boiled potatoes or just more donuts.

When they arrived Roger noted that Jinny's new home was much more modest than the place where Roger had braced him a year ago. This place was only 3000 square feet with a view across the marsh and the Inland Waterway. It had very little furniture, just a few of the basics. What Gwen noticed was the smell of food. It was not the smell of boiled potatoes, and it was not the sweet sticky smell of fresh donuts. It was the smell of that Charleston staple, shrimp and grits, and for breakfast no less.

Gwen waltzed into the kitchen with Jinny behind, over to the stove, and looked into the pot. Yes, there is was, shrimp and grits. And it smelled good. She turned to Jinny and offered her hand in a high five. Jinny stood looking at her like, "What's this?" Gwen took his hand, raised it to shoulder height, and showed him how to slap palms. She explained what a high five was, and Jinny seemed to understand. He liked learning anything and everything; he had learned how to cook shrimp and grits, right? Gwen was to regret teaching him to high five, because for the next week he wanted to do it all the time, for every little thing. She then had to teach him how to low five, so he wouldn't be so noticeable out in public. Then she had to stop the nonsense all together, about which Jinny was a good sport. Jinny always seemed to be a good sport, and Gwen liked this about him. He had no bad pride.

The food was ok, and they began to talk travel. The first question was whether they would split up or stay together. Obviously Jinny's mission was in Saint Petersburg, and Roger's mission was in Paris, and Gwen's mission was in Charleston. But they were getting along pretty well, and Jinny said he never had been to Paris, and Roger and Gwen never had been to Russia. So they talked about going together and how that might work. Roger asked Jinny very directly about money. Who was going to bankroll this venture? Jinny said, "Let's all put money into a pot and that will be our expense account. An equal one-third into the pot to start." With that, Jinny went into the other room, and came back with an envelope. From it he took $100,000 in hundred dollar bills, and put it next to the plastic serving dish that held the shrimp and grits. Gwen had hated the plastic dish from the second she saw Jinny take it from the cupboard. Oh well, lots of work to do on Jinny, and she supposed lots of work to do on the other Russkies when they arrived. No problem.

Both Gwen and Roger liked the sight of the money. They had been wondering how this angle was going to work. Roger put the money back into the envelope and put the envelope into his sport coat pocket. He said he would open a new account in the amount of $300,000, and have three credit cards issued in three names, a gesture that tells loads about the affect Little Jinny Blistov was having on the Junes. They just had agreed to give Jinny access to $200,000 of their hard-earned money (well, inherited money, actually), and Roger was amazed at himself. This was quite out of character for him, and he attributed this laissez-faire attitude to his wife. The key here was the total trust Roger had in his wife's intuition. If she thought it was ok, that was good enough for him. Not that Gwen's intuition was infallible; Roger knew it was not. But it was damn good. And they could spare the two hundred Gs, anyway. With this matter taken care of, they decided to hit Paris together first, and then go on to St. Petes. An odd trio.

Over the next week Jinny worked his angle, and Roger worked his angle, and Gwen worked her angle. Jinny started by calling his contacts in Saint Petersburg in order to set up a secure communications system. This op was not the kind of thing one wrote about in emails, especially emails he knew would go through Russian servers. On an intermittent basis he had kept in touch with a few people, but now he had to reestablish relationships with old friends and acquaintances in a more serious way. He had to find Plouriva, number one. The last time he had spoken to her by phone was just before he went into the South Carolina slammer. He thought American jails were like Russian jails: when you went in, that was the last anyone heard of you till you came out...if you came out. He was surprised to learn that phone calls, and even visitors, were permitted. One of the cons told him that in the liberal state of Massachusetts, some prisoners even got conjugal visits. This was not the case in the great State of South Carolina, and it definitely is not the case in the great country of Russia. A conjugal visit in Russia means one thing and one thing only, and that will be left to the imagination. He had decided to contact Plouriva at that point because he had a soft spot for her, and he really didn't know what to expect from the American penal system. Her reply didn't exactly amount to a sentimental, "I'll be waiting for you, dear," but it was sympathetic, after a fashion. From it he knew she cared.

Jinny had to reestablish contact with this woman, get to Saint Petersburg, and convince her of the viability of his scheme. She then had to figure a way to get the goods to some Russian seaport from which container ships sailed for foreign ports. And not get caught. Jinny loved a challenge.

While the Russian was contemplating this scenario, Roger was contemplating his beloved French wine scenario. And he, too, had started calling his contacts in that rarified world, a particular Frenchmen coming to mind. He was in his late sixties, and Roger had known him for ten years. This guy was the former, and now retired, CEO of the French national railroad, a position that had resulted in great wealth finding its way into this man's possession. His hobby in retirement was organizing mind-blowing dinners composed of great wine and great food. He was both a wine connoisseur and a food gourmet. This man had had the temerity to enter into parenthood both early in life and late in life, having become a father for the third time at the age of fifty-five. He had produced two daughters early in life, and now a son late in life. He loved this young child more than anything except his older daughters. And it was through this young child that Roger had met the man.

Roger and Gwen were in Burgundy on holiday, walking through the region, tasting wines and eating Burgundian foods. At a restaurant one day the rich Frenchman was with his family enjoying a late lunch, and the Junes were at the next table, also enjoying lunch. And then something happened. The young boy, the son, had inhaled when he shouldn't have, and a piece of food got sucked into his windpipe instead of his food gullet. His gasping alerted everyone to the problem, and the rapid change in color of his face from pink to ashen dramatically emphasized the problem. The members of his family did not react with the Heimlich maneuver, but Roger did. He grabbed the boy, executed the squeeze successfully, and from that minute forward became a defacto VIP in the father's eyes. A very special person. The person who saved his son's life.

The wealthy Frenchman's hobby was serving great wine with great food at his great dinners, and he had connections in the wine world that were at the highest levels. And now, ten years later, Roger was going to ask a favor: introduce him to some wine makers in Burgundy and Bordeaux and the Rhone Valley.

Gwen's Charleston mission was somewhat simpler than those of her two partners because it didn't involve foreign countries and all that bureaucracy. She had to gear up her real estate contacts, and her social butterfly contacts, and her weapons contacts (her father). Piece of cake, for now. Her challenge would kick in when the Russkies arrived. So she kind of sat back and watched the boys perform, and searched the internet for interesting things to do in Paris and Saint Petersburg. She thought this was going to be fun, and volunteered to do the travel planning as soon as Roger and Jinny had some logistics figured out.

A week later the team met, and both Roger and Jinny had positive news to report. Roger's special friend had produced, in spades. Jinny said that Plouriva was willing to talk, and further said she had suggested a way for Jinny and his team to get into the country. With this, the three amigos were ready to travel.
Chapter 13 – More Travel Prep

Gwen had given up being surprised by Jinny or anything associated with this caper, so when Jinny made an appointment to come to the June's house, telling her he needed some sartorial advice, she said OK. She didn't even blink when he used the word sartorial, and she knew what it meant.

One of Jinny's characteristics that Gwen was getting to know and like was his straightforwardness. He simply did not mess around in his communication. He wasn't brusque; he was simple and direct. Which is not the same as being respectful. Remember the night Gwen met him, in the fancy French restaurant. Blistov treated the waiter as if he were a robot, and took the chair from the neighboring table without so much as a how-dee-do to the occupants of the table. Gwen figured she would have to correct this somehow and at some time, but that time was not now. Blistov's directness was a plus in Gwen's world.

Standing in Gwen's living room, with her sitting on the sofa, Jinny reached under his sweatshirt and pulled out a handgun. This gave Gwen pause. He turned it butt first towards Gwen and handed it to her. He said, "I took this offa guy a year ago. It's too big and fat under my shirt, and makes it bulge out too much. Can you get me something that makes me look good in my dressing?" Before thinking about an answer, Gwen did what Jinny had done that night on the street: she pointed the gun at the floor, removed the magazine, and then racked the slide, checking to see if the gun was loaded. A bullet popped out of the ejection port, landed in the open bay of the baby grand piano that sat at the end of the sofa, and made a loud harmonic ping ding as it bounced off the wires. Here again was a new one for Gwen. Never before had a bullet ejected from the gun of a houseguest made a ping ding noise in her family piano. Little Jinny Blistov carried surprises around with him like Linus carried dirt. She thought, Jinny, you got more to worry about with your dressing than whether your piece bulges too much.

Jinny stuck his stubby fingers into the bay of the piano between the wires and retrieved the bullet, and Gwen set the H&K 1911 down on the coffee table. Nice gun, she thought, but not worth the grand someone had paid for it. Not that Jinny had paid for it, she realized. She recognized the import of Jinny saying he had, "Taken it off a guy." Jinny at the same time noticed Gwen set the gun on top of a magazine called Connoisseur. He didn't know a connoisseur from a dinosaur, but he knew a French word when he saw it. It gave him great satisfaction, knowing it was true there were French people all over Charleston whose ancestors had loved a Russian czar.

They were ready to get down to the business of the day. Jinny thought the problem was in his choice of concealable weapon. Gwen knew the problem was in Jinny's choice of clothes, and by extension his choice of personal grooming accoutrement. Jinny had nothing on Gwen in the frankness department, so she decided this was the time and place to straighten him out. After all, she was going to be walking around Paris with this guy; he had to be right. She told Jinny to sit down, whereupon she asked him if he knew what a men's salon was. He said he didn't, but he detected the hint of another French word, and that made whatever she was going to talk about interesting. He sat back to learn. Gwen told him it was a place where guys go to get their hair cut, and that there is one in Charleston that did other things too.

"Like what?" he asked.

She said, "Like they fix your fingers and your toes, and if you want to give them a lot of money, they will let you try on clothes and jewelry and stuff, and if you want to give them more money, they will paint your teeth white."

Jinny had noticed that people on TV and in magazines had teeth that looked like they had been painted white. He thought this looked good on the women and ridiculous on the men, and there was a correlation here with southern accents. He thought southern accents on women were incredibly sexy, and that the same accent on men made them seem worse than simpletons. Jinny was pretty sure he didn't want his teeth painted any color, but he was up for the rest of the drill, being that Gwen had suggested it, so he told her, ok. He was good with learning.

Gwen made an appointment, and the next morning she told Roger she was taking Jinny to Pierre's. Roger did not even go to Pierre's, so he looked at her kind of funny, but he knew better than to question her about this, and off she went. The details of the event are unimportant. Suffice it to say that the two hour, $200 appointment stretched into a six hour, $4000 appointment that Jinny willingly paid for. This makeover was right up there with the one imposed on Audrey Hepburn in My Fair Lady. She went in a flower girl and came out a duchess. At least on the outside. Blistov went in a munchkin fuck with whiskers growing behind his ears, polyester jeans sticking to his short legs, and ugly sneakers on his ugly feet. He came out....better.

When they went into the salon, Gwen took Pierre aside and asked what he could do with the "gentleman." Pierre cast an eye on Blistov, and asked, "Exactly how much money does he have to spend and how many weeks is he available to work on?" Gwen laughed at the joke, sort of, and then told Pierre that Pierre had six hours and $2000 at his command, and that when she came back she expected to see a more interesting person over there, who currently was chatting it up with the receptionist in the waiting area. She emphasized her direction with a steely look that pretty much withered Pierre right where he stood.

Gwen introduced Jinny to Pierre by telling Jinny that Pierre's great-grandfather had been part of the Allied siege of Stalingrad in 1917, and that his grandfather had been part of the Allied siege of Moscow in 1944. This made Pierre practically a kissing cousin in Jinny's book, and he went willingly to the slaughter. Gwen came back in four hours. Pierre said the gentleman wasn't "done." Gwen did some shopping and came back an hour later. Pierre said the gentleman still wasn't "done." Gwen wondered if Jinny was being groomed or basted with pan juices, and gave Pierre another steely gaze, but this time he stood up under it better. Evidently he had something up his sleeve, which intrigued Gwen. She went and had a drink, and came back an hour later to find a transformation that wasn't quite as dramatic as Audrey Hepburn's, but it was something, just the same.

Jinny had been shaved twice with a straight razor, by two different barbers. His clothes had been taken out back and burned in a drum. A Polish hairdresser who spoke a little Russian had cut his hair and soothed his consternations when two manicurists had started on his hands and feet. The Pole told Jinny that sitting practically naked in the chair was normal in America. A gay clothier from the men's shop next store had measured him and gone away with more than one kind of design on his mind. Pierre pirouetted and conducted the makeover the way Bernstein had done the Philharmonic. Either Pierre had been scared shitless by Gwen's look, or he had seen this as one of the greatest challenges ever to his professional competency. In either case, Pierre had come through. Jinny was happy, and again was chatting it up with the receptionist. The receptionist was amazed at the transformation, and Gwen was amazed at the transformation. Jinny wasn't exactly Jinny anymore. He was, Charleston acceptable.

Gwen told Jinny to give Pierre $4000. Jinny looked at Gwen like she was kidding, but her stare told him she wasn't. He figured, "When in Rome." Pierre watched Jinny count out forty hundred dollar bills. He hadn't been paid in cash in a very long time, and this was his first two thousand dollar tip. He told Jinny and Gwen to come back anytime.

When they arrived back at the June's house Gwen asked Jinny to go into the living room. She went into the kitchen, then to the sunroom, and then called up the stairs. Roger answered from the upstairs study, and came down. She said, "I want to show you something," and led the way into the living room, standing with hands on hips. Roger saw and heard Jinny sitting on the sofa, gently stroking the muzzle of Roger's dog and talking to it in Russian. At first Roger watched the dog-petting and listened to the strange language. Then he became aware of Jinny's transformation. Jinny looked positively handsome. The hair was coiffed, the clothes were matched and creased, the $300 shoes were on display, and the man's persona exuded relaxation and self-confidence. Jinny looked happy, and the dog looked happy, as if it understood perfectly the soothing cadence of Russian words. Roger looked at Gwen the way he does whenever she does something remarkable, which is often. It is a subdued look, with just a hint of smile in the mouth and an expression of deep satisfaction radiating from around the eyes. Roger again looked at Jinny, and again looked back at Gwen, and said, "Well done, love." Gwen walked over to the pile of large paper bags with handles that Jinny had schlepped home and into the house. She dragged these over to the piano, lowered the top of the piano, and emptied the contents of the bags onto it: five pairs of Brooks Brothers slacks, four dress cotton shirts and four casual silk shirts, two more pairs of shoes, one dressy and one casual, one three-season wool suit, two sport coats, and an assortment of socks, underwear, and other miscellaneous items. Jinny watched this display with a satisfied sense of amusement and contentment. Remember, Jinny was without the bad sort of pride that leads people so often into counterproductive defensive resentment. Jinny liked his new clothes and his new look, and he knew he owed these to Gwen.

There was one small paper bag on the floor still unopened, and Gwen picked it up. She looked at Jinny and Roger and said, "Follow me." She led the boys through the house to the back door that led outside to the garden, stopping only to pick up her purse. The June's house was in the historic district, on a very old street, in a very old and quiet neighborhood. Houses here were close together, separated by brick walls, some of them stuccoed and some not. The garden also was old, meaning the plants were old and mature and enveloping, which gave a sense of privacy and enclosure. But the fact is that other houses were very close. Gwen went to the back wall behind the garage, dragged the rolling trash container into the garden, took hold of the paper bag, and turned it upside down. Out tumbled Jinny's old sneakers. Gwen had ordered Pierre to save these detested objects, though Pierre could not fathom why. Anyway, there they were, in the June's garden, on the ground, radiating ugliness and malaise. Jinny looked at them, and Roger looked at them, and then they looked, expectantly, at Gwen. Roger knew from experience that something was up. With Gwen, something always was up, usually something good. Jinny didn't have this experience, of course, but his intuition told him to keep watching. He was learning about Gwen.

Gwen looked at Jinny and said, "Do you know what a symbol is?" He thought for a moment and answered, "Yeah, I do, it is like the halos around the heads of the saints painted using pure gold gild that are on many of the hundreds of Renaissance religious painting in the Hermitage that I looked at continuously for five years as I passed from bathroom to bathroom to bathroom, cleaning. The halos are symbolic of the saint's virtue." Roger took a moment to calculate in rough numbers both the artistic value and the dollar value of hundreds of 16th and 17th and 18th century paintings that included pure gold paint. This calculation boggled his mind.

Gwen was more focused on the symbolism part of her demonstration, and was happy that Jinny knew what a symbolic gesture was. She said, "Jinny, here is a symbol of your old life, your new life, and our in-progress partnership project." She opened her purse, pulled her Glock, assumed the target shooter's stance of left foot slightly forward of the right, weight slightly forward, two hands on the gun....and at forty feet, fired two rounds through Jinny's left sneaker and then two rounds through the other sneaker. BLAM, blam....blam, blam.

Neither Roger nor Jinny moved. They listened to the sound of the firing echo off the brick walls, and wondered about the neighbors. Jinny really didn't care about the neighbors, but Roger was a tiny bit concerned. Jinny just processed the fact that Gwen would fire her gun in the middle of the day, in the middle of her back yard, in the middle of town. The result of this processing was the thought: cool chick. Jinny went over to the sneakers, picked them up, looked at the four holes, and smiled at Gwen. Gwen responded by pointing towards the trashcan. Jinny understood and dumped them. Gwen said, "That's the end of the old life. And Jinny, when the other Russians come and I have to do this kind of thing with them, I'm going to need your help and support. It has to be done to achieve our goals. Got it?"

Jinny replied, "Yes, boss. What has to be, has to be."

Roger was looking around the perimeter of the garden, trying to see if any of the neighbors had come to their windows. He saw no terrified faces, which was good. He decided that if the cops showed up at the door to investigate, he would leave that to Gwen. He would go to the study and, if summoned, fain ignorance: "Sorry, Officers, I was listening to Mahler's 5th, and had my headphones on, didn't hear a thing."
Chapter 14 - Launch to the Old World

Travel plans were complete and the excitement mounted. The team decided that all three would go first to Paris to work the wine angle, and then to Saint Petersburg to work the antiques and clients angle. This would give Jinny more time to make his contacts. His was by far the most difficult part of the plan, and he needed time to set things in motion. He had been gone from his homeland a long time. Both Roger and Gwen were excited about the Russian leg. What a strange place. How very different than Charleston, or even Paris. Gwen wondered about the mechanics of the toilets, and frankly, was a bit apprehensive. On the other hand, she also wondered about Russian men. Were any of them handsome? Were any of them couth? Were any of them genteel? One thing she didn't wonder about was handling them. That, she never worried about.

Boarding the plane at Charleston airport was very odd for Little Jinny. The last time he flew in the hold of the cargo plane. The only other planes he ever had flown in were Russian military planes, and those he knew something about. He remembered once being led to a military helicopter in the 1970s. As his troop approached the copter they noticed oil running down its side from the rotor shaft, and small holes in the metal of the fuselage. One of the troop, an old hand, looked at this and said, "Just back from Afghanistan." The guy didn't even blink, and got on. The others followed, including Jinny, though he had misgivings.

The first class section was a religious experience for Jinny. He didn't know there were planes like this. In his flight to Pittsburg two years earlier he had curled up to sleep around one of the landing gears. The hold had been pressurized, of course, but heated only to about forty-five degrees, so it had been a very cool flight. This was much better. After getting them seated the flight attendant brought forward the obligatory champagne. Jinny asked her if there was any vodka. Gwen, sitting next to Roger and across the aisle from Jinny, heard this, turned her head towards Jinny, and gave him The Stare. Jinny understood he had done something wrong, but didn't know exactly what it was. Gwen nodded towards the champagne and said, "Jinny, that is your drink from here on out." With his usual good grace, Jinny accepted the glass from the attendant, and sipped. It was good. He thought a moment and then asked Gwen, "What about when we get to Russia? Can I have some vodka then, or just champagne? The guys over there are gonna wanna drink vodka." Gwen decided she would cross that bridge when she got to it.

After the filet mignon, and with the lights going down, the attendant showed Jinny how to recline the seat into a bed, and handed him a blanket and pillow. An hour later Gwen looked at him and saw him under the blanket, staring at the ceiling. No movie watching for Jinny. Two hours later, same thing. Three hours later, ditto. Gwen asked him what he was doing.

He said, "Thinking."

"Thinking about what?"

He said, "About how to get the antiques into a shipping container bound for Charleston."

After four hours, still under the blanket with eyes wide open, she again asked him what he was thinking.

He said, "About how to get the antiques into a shipping container bound for Charleston."

This was ok with Gwen. When there was serious business on the table, she liked to see people hard at work. She went back to watching the Sean Connery movie. Long ago she had decided that Sean Connery was the only man she ever would have sex with who sported a beard. She hated beards, but on Connery, she fantasized about having that thing come in contact with her, all over.

Jinny did nothing the entire seven hour flight other than think. Both Roger and Gwen appreciated this, and both wondered if maybe a short stint in prison might not be good for most young people. Maybe instead of one semester's worth of the normal college curriculum. It seemed to serve as a pretty good training program in thinking, at least for Jinny.

Then came De Gaulle airport, the hotel shuttle, and the arrival at the Intercontinental Grand, across the boulevard from the old Opera House. This was an old style hotel, with the huge grand lobby, the nice rooms, the heated towel racks, and the bidets. Jinny hadn't seen one of those since his days in the Hermitage. Some Czar or other had ordered them installed, all six hundred of them, after a trip to Paris in the early 1700s. Jinny thought of asking what this place cost per day, but decided against it. If it was good enough for the Junes, it was good enough for him.

The main dining room at The Grand was too stuffy for Gwen, so they ate dinner in the second, less formal restaurant. She liked to look out the window, across the brightly lit street, to the imposing entrance steps of the opera house. She and Roger had seen the Bolshoi there three times, and each time it was a superlative experience. At dinner that evening she asked Jinny if he'd ever seen the Bolshoi?

He said, "No, but one time years ago one of the Bolshoi's prima ballerinas came to the Hermitage to look at the sixteen paintings of ballet scenes by Degas that the last Czar had acquired in France, before losing his head in Moscow in the 1917 revolution. The ballerina complained about the cleanliness of the toilet she used, and the museum guard told the chief housekeeper and the housekeeper blamed me, and made me apologize to the ballerina in person. She was the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, even given the fact that 75% of her body was below her waist and only 25% above her waist. Her legs were as beautiful as those on any Italian sculpture, but they could kick a hole in a cinder block wall. I told her from there on out I would keep all of the one hundred and twenty-two toilets under my care spotless and waiting again to be graced by her. My apology, and the fact that I was kneeling when I said it, seemed to satisfy her." Roger, being the connoisseur of female bodies that he was, spent a considerable portion of the remainder of the meal trying to envision the three to one body ratio of the Russian ballerina.
Chapter 15 – The Hunt for French Wine

The next morning after croissants and coffee the three were sitting in the vast hotel lobby at 10am, waiting for Monsieur Raconteur. Jacques Raconteur was the father of the young boy whose life Roger saved several years earlier. He was the now retired former CEO of France's national railroad system, and one of France's wealthiest citizens. In addition to being a full-time father to a fifteen year old boy (the light of his life), Jacques amused himself and his family and his friends by organizing some of the most glorious aristological events anywhere in the world. An aristological event is very different from an astrological event, aristology being the pursuit of great food and wine and dining, something Roger had learned about when reading the novels of America's greatest detective writer, Rex Stout. Raconteur owned a great wine cellar and specialized in very old wines. He paired these fine wines with the greatest cooking the chefs of France could produce, and he shared all of this aristological greatness with those he loved and respected. Twice now since the life-saving episode Roger and Gwen had been invited to these events, and they were memorable indeed. One had been in Paris and one in New York City.

Gwen asked Roger about the plan, and Jinny listened. Both had been told to have their bags packed and ready to go. Roger said Jacques was going to drive them to a villa in the Champagne district, which is quite close to Paris. There, Jacques was going to turn them over to one of his assistants and to a special and as yet unidentified friend. The assistant and friend will take Roger and Gwen and Jinny on a tour of the Burgundy and Bordeaux districts, and introduce them to wine producers who, hopefully, will sell them the types of wine Roger is looking for. The great wine search was to last five days or so, which sounded great to Gwen, and better to Little Jinny. Jinny asked if the guy or his assistant would introduce him to some French women. This question, asked out of genuine innocence, and stemming from Jinny's own brand of straightforwardness, earned him The Stare from Gwen. Jinny asked, "What, what, what's wrong with that? I am a man in France, for the first time."

Gwen answered, "You are a man in France on business, and besides, French women, unlike American women, are scared of Russian men."

"Scared of what, scared of what?" Blistov asked. This got him The Stare again, though a less violent version that the previous one.

Thankfully this exchange was interrupted by the arrival of Jacques, and the introductions. Then they were on their way, and soon were out of the city and into the vineyards of Champagne. In forty-five minutes they ascended a low hill via a cypress tree lined drive and stopped under the portico of a villa. They were whisked inside by assistants, and led back outside to a patio within a courtyard. Seated at a table on the patio were a man and a woman. The woman wore an aqua colored hat, accented with a gold band of ribbon, and a wide brim. She was older than the man. On the table was a wine bucket, a collection of glasses, and a bouquet of flowers. It was a beautiful house and a beautiful courtyard, and gracing the scene was the beautiful woman. Jacques first introduced his assistant as Stephan Villars, and then introduced the woman. He needn't have made the introduction to Roger and Gwen, because they recognized her. It was Catherine Deneuve. Yes, la femme grande de la France and the film world. Little Jinny Blistov didn't know the woman from Eve, but within moments this tough Russian hooligan was reduced to quivering jelly. In that, he was like every other man in this woman's presence. Gwen was shocked when Jinny took Deneuve's hand and simulated (as was proper) kissing the back of it. This Russian was full of surprises. But that was all he could do. He didn't know of the woman's fame, but he knew inherent greatness when he saw it.

Gwen sat first, before the men. Two bottles of 1954 Selosse vintage champagne appeared instantly, and were opened by Jacques. If these bottles appeared on the open marketplace they would go for $5,000 each. Jacque knew this, and Roger knew this. Gwen knew they were something special when she tasted the nectar. Deneuve and Jinny were on opposite ends of the wine spectrum. Deneuve was served wine of this caliber with great regularity. She knew it and appreciated it. For her, this was normal. Jinny never had tasted any liquid this good in his entire life. He refrained from draining the glass in one gulp, knowing instinctively that if he did he would suffer The Stare. Regular applications of this deterrent to bad behavior were having the desired effect, and Gwen was pleased.

Jacques then explained that Mademoiselle Deneuve was the god-mother of his son, and upon hearing that the man who had saved the boy's life was coming to France, she asked to be introduced. Further, when told that Jacque was organizing a short tour of some great wine estates in Burgundy and Bordeaux, she asked to go along. At this point Deneuve stood up and looked directly at Roger. Instinctively Roger also stood. Deneuve said, "Thank you for giving the child his life, his chance to live his life, his chance to contribute to this wonderful world." And she walked around the table, removed her wide-brimmed hat, placed her hands on his shoulders, and kissed Roger on both cheeks.

Twice, Gwen had been in Roger's presence when someone had pointed a gun at him. Have you ever had a loaded gun pointed at you? It's a stimulating experience. Neither time did Gwen notice the slightest quiver, tremor, or muscular vibration in Roger's body. He stood solid as a rock. But here, after the innocuous kiss of this woman, Gwen saw Roger's knees bow slightly outward, and saw the line of his jaw drop and soften the way it often did when they made love. Gwen was amazed at this, amazed. Then she thought of Sean Connery, which provided enlightenment. Wow, she thought, what a great experience for Roger. Jacque, knowing the woman as he did, was amused. Jinny was transfixed. He knew nothing, other than that something special just had happened. Unfortunately, not to him.

So the group drank and enjoyed the unbelievably great champagne in the beautiful courtyard of the villa set among a vineyard that, if put on the market, would fetch several tens of millions of dollars. Jacques explained that he could not accompany the group on their tour, but reiterated that his personal assistant, AND Mademoiselle Deneuve, would. Jacque said Stephan had short lists of wine producers in both districts he thought would be receptive to Roger's needs, and with this, the tour began.

A Mercedes the size of a battleship was under the portico, and their baggage was put into its trunk. The remains of the second bottle of Selosse found its way into the car as well, along with a chilled spare and a basket of matching food, Jacques not wanting his guests to go thirsty. They were off to Burgundy, a two hour drive away. Settled in the back, Deneuve immediately engaged with Little Jinny Blistov. She told him she had been to Russia three times, and she thought withstanding the siege of Moscow in 1944 and the defeat of the Germans on this front was one of the great achievements of the war. Jinny asked her why she, an actress, knew about Russian war history. She said her father had been killed in the war, so knowing something about it was natural for her. She asked Blistov if it was true that the defeat of the Germans was due to the indomitable spirit of the women of Moscow, and he answered, yes, that was the truth. Russian women, in their way, were just as great as French women. With this statement, Blistov and Deneuve became friends.

Roger and Jinny had received their due, and Gwen now received hers. Gwen told Catherine that hanging in the hallway of their house in Charleston was a framed photograph of her, Catherine. Catherine was more than a little surprised, and asked "why"? Gwen said it was from the front page of the arts section of the New York Times, and had illustrated the newspaper's review of her film Indochine. Deneuve asked if it was the photo of her in a yellow dress with dark green edging, standing in front of a group of rubber trees on the Vietnamese plantation, where most of the movie had been filmed. Gwen said yes, that was the photo; her in the yellow dress with dark green edging, wearing a hat. Gwen said it was a great photo, and Roger smiled his agreement.

"But why do you have it in your house in Charleston?" asked Deneuve.

"Because my father was killed very early in the war in Vietnam," answered Gwen, "and because Indochine was the first movie I ever saw about Vietnam. So the film means something to me."

They stared at each other, thinking of the similarities in the deaths of their fathers.

The battleship arrived in the small town of Leseur in the heart of Burgundy and the fireworks began. The hotel porter opened the door of the car, saw the woman inside, and fainted into the wet of the street gutter. The next porter, a much younger man, and not so easily influenced by the reputation of the now sixty-seven-year-old Deneuve, got the first porter up, and tended to the group. It was that way for the next four days, whether in Burgundy or Bordeaux, or anywhere else in France, for that matter. Where Deneuve went, older men fainted and acted like fools.

Little Jinny Blistov realized if he was going to be around this sort of thing very much, he would indeed have to earn a lot of money to be able to hire the barbers and clothiers and manicurists necessary to keep him looking presentable. That evening in his hotel room, laying on the bed and staring at the ceiling, his thoughts returned to his mission and his tasks and his partnership responsibilities. He thought long and hard that night. And he wondered what Deneuve looked like when she was twenty.
Chapter 16 – Procuring the Wine

Roger and Stephan met early the next morning to plan their visit to the wineries. Their goal was to get a few of these producers of world class wine to sell them relatively small quantities at lower than market value. Why would a producer do this? Because of Roger's relationship with Jacques, and Jacques' relationship with the producers. And for two more reasons: Jacque was a major player in the world of French aristology, and, most importantly, because he had deployed a secret weapon. What was that? It was The Deneuve.

When Roger first contacted Jacques with his request for introductions to select French wine producers, and told Jacques his goal was to buy great wine, Jacques of course said yes. But Jacque thought, not a great chance of success. The wines of these producers are in strong demand, world-wide, so they don't have to discount very often. Jacques figured a few of the wine-makers would sell Roger some wine, out of a favor to Jacques, but not all of those on the list. That assessment changed dramatically when Jacques mentioned to Deneuve that Roger was coming for a visit, and when she requested to meet Roger and accompany him on his wine country tour. Whatever the French equivalent of Eureka is, that's what Jacques thought. With Deneuve in tow, Roger's chances of success skyrocketed.

So that was the strategy Jacques instilled into his assistant Stephan, and that became the pattern for the next few days. Stephan had setup appointments at six estates in Burgundy and six estates in Bordeaux. The group would visit each estate, and make their request to purchase certain wines over the next three years. If any of the wine-makers agreed, it would be under a gentlemen's agreement, not a formal business contract. This was the advice from Jacques; this was how to do business behind the scenes. What is more, the Frenchmen would finance the deal by allowing Roger to pay for the wines after delivery. This was a daring strategy, and unusual, but not unheard of in the rarified world of French wine.

Roger had understood this strategy for some time now, but it was not until this discussion in the hotel in Leseur that he realized just how lucky he was, and how this might work out in its specifics. What an experience he and Gwen and Jinny were going to have over the next few days. He knew Gwen was going to like this, and making his wife feel good made him feel wonderful.

Deneuve's presence at breakfast caused a commotion in the hotel, which the hotel staff fixed by banishing everyone from the breakfast room except Roger, Gwen, Jinny, Stephan, and Deneuve, and Roger quickly came to understand this was going to be the way of things for the duration. Over coffee Catherine talked about the boy. She said she loved the boy because she loved Jacques. And she loved Jacques because he was her first husband's closest friend. When her first husband died only three years after they were married, Jacques helped her deal with the loss, and this friendship had lasted for forty years. When Jacques produced the boy late in life (and his only son), Catherine was enthralled. She became devoted to the boy in her role as godmother, stimulated no doubt by her own advancing years and associated sense of mortality. This little tour of the wine country, with the man who saved the boy's life, was a joy.

The Mercedes battleship arrived, and departed with them installed in its living room. They were off to Burgundy and its most famous estate: Domaine La Romani-Conti. Monsieur Verlaine himself greeted them upon arrival. He thought nothing of the giant Mercedes at his front door, that was commonplace, but he was not expecting Mademoiselle Catherine Deneuve to emerge, which took his breath away. His entire psychology was reoriented from the mundane greeting of some friends of a friend to welcoming the spirit of cultural France. Deneuve is The Deneuve. She is all France is supposed to be.

Let us talk for a minute about French women and Italian women and American women. On the French side we have Bridget Bardot and Marie France-Pisier and Deneuve. On the Italian side we have Sophia Loren and Orniella Vanoni. On the American side we have Grace Kelly and Greta Garbo (adopted American). Bardot symbolizes French sensuality. Pisier symbolizes the innocence of the French countryside. And Deneuve symbolizes classic Greek beauty and grace. Loren idealizes the wholesomeness of the beautiful Italian wife and mother, while the singing voice of Vanoni exhibits Italian verve, sensuality, and emotionalism. Garbo is Garbo; is the aristocratic. She is the woman all men want to kiss. Just kiss, no more. She is the vixen within the marble statue. Grace Kelly is the American counterpart to Deneuve, and the most beautiful of all women.

Monsieur Verlaine, as owner of one of the most famous and important wine estates in the world, is a very sophisticated fellow, and knows something about cultural icons. And here, at his doorstep, is The Deneuve. They have met before, of course, as Catherine loves wine, and she has drunk many bottles made at Domaine La Romani-Conti, loving every one.

Inside the estate house the switchboard lights up. Before she even enters the house, her presence is known by the staff and the family. Within minutes, wine-makers throughout the district know she's here, on a tour. The managers and owners and family members who are out in the vineyards digging in the dirt, fly to the houses and showers and clothes closets. Maybe, she will visit with them.

Now a word about Gwen. In the looks department she is no slouch. She's a head-turner, in her prime, all desirable woman. If she were not seated next to The Deneuve, Monsieur Verlaine would be acting towards her with the very greatest degree of solicitude. He would break out the very best wine for tasting, in her honor. But, the other woman is here, and it is her that garners all attention.

The phone call from Jacques several weeks earlier had alerted Verlaine to the visit, in general terms. Stephan now explains more specifically the purpose of their visit, and Verlaine listens politely. He has heard this request before, many times, and always he had said, with profuse apologies, no, it was not possible. His production is so small, and the demand (especially from wealthy Japanese) for his wines is so very high, and his production costs are astronomical. Probably, even with the request from his friend Jacques Raconteur, he would have said no to Roger and Stephan. But. But. There was a force in the room which would not be denied. The Deneuve was in the room. She did not speak of the request from Roger and Stephan, or ask outright. What she did was to sit quietly, sip the Grand Escheveux that Verlaine had poured for them, and enjoy the beauty and ambience of one of the great and most beautiful wine tasting rooms anywhere in the world.

Now, after the request by Stephan, and with Verlaine pondering, her demeanor changed. She looked directly at Verlaine and projected the female power of beauty and elegance onto him with massive, shocking force, palpable to Gwen and Jinny and Roger and Stephan, and probably discernible to all the other occupants of the house, the estate, and possibly the nearby town itself.

Verlaine could not move. His brain stopped functioning. His gaze was transfixed onto Catherine's face, onto her demanding eyes. His biology recognized her mouth and the cut of her cheekbones and the lines of her jaw, and the effect of her hair coursed through his bones. None of the others moved a muscle. It was like waiting for the verdict in a packed courtroom, the jury foreman standing with the piece of paper in his hand upon which are written the words, "We find the defendant guilty of murder in the first degree." The presence of The Deneuve was awe-inspiring. Gwen learned.

The moment ended and Catherine smiled, as she knew she had accomplished what she wanted to accomplish. She had done this sort of thing before. The spell was broken and their awareness of the tasting room in the great estate of Domaine La Romani-Conti returned. Verlaine smiled, and Stephan smiled, and Roger smiled, and Gwen looked astounded. Jinny started breathing again, just in the nick of time. Verlaine rose, touched a buzzer on the wall, and waited for a staff member to respond. He asked the staff member to take Mademoiselle Deneuve and Mademoiselle June and Monsieur Blistov to the dining room and serve them canapés. When they were gone he seated the two men and asked Stephan how much wine Roger wanted, and what price did he want to pay?

The deal took exactly four minutes to make, after which the three men joined the others for the remainder of the tasting and the snacks. Outside of the house, with the big car doors open and the others watching, Deneuve placed her hands on Verlaine's shoulders, smiled at him, kissed him on both cheeks, turned, and entered the mobile living room.

This exact scenario didn't happen at all of the other Burgundy and Bordeaux estates, but some version of it did.

Gwen always had loved the wines of Bouchard, and Roger had asked Jacques if this estate could be one of the producers they visited. Bouchard had hosted the annual Burgundy wine and food celebration the year before, so Jacques and the Bouchard clan were well acquainted. Every year in the late fall, after the madness of the harvest and initial wine making process was past, one Burgundy estate hosted the greatest of all aristological events. At this event a plethora of wines old and new were served with foods prepared by France's greatest chefs. The Bouchard event took place deep in the labyrinthine cellars that had existed since the early 17th century. The lucky invitees descended to the depths where they were greeted by the host family members, and handed a glass of champagne. The other Burgundy estates previously had sent their contributions: old bottles of burgundy, very old bottles of Burgundy, supremely great bottles, just great bottles, bottles of young wine, red burgundies and white burgundies. As the guests passed onwards into the caverns lit by hundreds of candles, the bottles and the culinary dishes made their appearances. The white wines dominated the first rooms, then the reds took over. There were small tables barely supporting the offerings, and there were larger tables fairly groaning under the weight of dozens of bottles set amidst ceramic dishes containing seafood, fresh vegetables, charcuteries and pâtés. The first tables contained the young wines. The older wines held sway at the far reaches and in the inner depths of the caves.

The Bouchards were stationed strategically throughout the caverns, directing the sommeliers, the waiters, and the guests. They talked about the wines and the food, about the recent harvest, about the politics of wine, and about family. Each Bouchard knew exactly which wines from which of their neighbors were being served in their area, they praised them, and offered suggestions for matching specific wines to specific foods. Of course the chefs and sommeliers had done this matching previously, with specific dishes being created to match each contributed wine. Sometimes a food dish comes first and a wine is matched to it. At this aristological event, the greatest anywhere, the wines come first, and the foods are created to match them.

Deneuve had not attended the Bouchard event the previous year, but she had attended many of the events at other estates in other years. It took The Deneuve to break people's attention away from the wines and the foods. When the President of France attended, he was treated like all others. When the Tour de France winner attended, he was treated like all others. When Coco Chanel attended, she was treated like all others. But when The Deneuve attends, things are different. Men holding glasses of fifty-year-old pinot noir that had come out of a bottle which on the open market would cost $5,000, set the glasses on shelves and forgot about them.

The fact that Deneuve now was at the Bouchard estate and tasting with friends was very special, and Madam Bouchard was the host. Her four children gathered too, along with three Brittany Spaniels, each named after one of the vineyards. In preparation for the stop at the Bouchard estate, Stephan had told Roger that Madam Bouchard fancied the New England watercolorists John Marin and Winslow Homer. Now, a Winslow Homer painting was very valuable and very expensive at auction. John Marin's paintings also were high dollar items, but much less so than a Homer. Upon learning of Madam Bouchard's fondness for Marin, Roger had asked Gwen to ask her brother the curator at the Met in New York City if there might be something associated with Marin that Roger could obtain. Her brother networked, and in a matter of hours turned up a collector with a letter written by Marin to his wife that included in the margins a tiny sketch of a dog and a tiny sketch of a child. The brother bought the letter for a thousand dollars, and packaged it overnight to the hotel in Leseur.

In the drawing room of the Bouchard home, Gwen removed the small package from her briefcase and gave it to Deneuve, who unwrapped it and handed it to the host. Either fortuitously, or as an effect of the wine that she, along with everyone else, had drunk, Madam Bouchard interpreted the sketch of the dog to be a Britanny Spaniel, and the sketch of the child to resemble her youngest daughter. The letter bore the signature, "John." Bouchard veritably squealed, left the room, and returned with a gorgeously framed 1913 semi-representational painting by Marin titled, Annette and Cleo on the Water. She set the painting on a chair facing the group, and explained that Annette was Marin's daughter and Cleo was the girl's dog. Next to the painting she placed the letter, unframed, but mounted on cardboard and protected by plastic. With this juxtaposition, Madam Bouchard beamed at Deneuve and Gwen and Roger. She really didn't beam very much at Jinny, who didn't mind because he was having the time of his life. He didn't know who John Marin was, but he had looked at enough early twentieth century paintings on the walls of the Hermitage to know greatness when he saw it. Great art, great wine, great women, great houses. Jinny was doing just fine. France was everything he had hoped it would be.

Madam Bouchard did pretty much the same thing Monsieur Verlaine had done earlier. She asked Roger and Stephan to go with her to her office, where the deal to supply the desired wines took much longer to negotiate than at La Romani-Conti. Here it took fourteen minutes. With this done, they returned to the others and to the tasting. Gwen drank more of the Bouchard wine than maybe she should have, it being so unbelievably delicious she couldn't restrain herself. She entered the Mercedes slightly sloshed, followed by an unaffected Deneuve and unaffected Blistov.

The Mercedes battleship got moving, and something happened in the back of the car. The seats facing the rear of the car were big enough for four adults, and the seats facing the front of the car also were big enough for four. Roger and Stephan and Blistov faced backwards, and Deneuve and Gwen were together and facing frontwards. The men were content, acting normally, but the women were something more than content and were not acting normally. Gwen had devolved into giggling. Catherine was composed, but something unusual was going on with her, too. A fire was smoldering, a cool blue fire speaking of controlled emotions. It was a constitutional disposition that was all female and all culture and all happy feelings. The two women sat with hips touching, shoulders touching, and eyes directed at each other. Roger checked to see if the chauffer surreptitiously had raised an invisible partition between the men and the women that separated their worlds, but he couldn't detect one. Stephan and Jinny felt the dividedness from the women, too. They looked at each other, looked at the women, looked out the windows. The women were in a world all of their own, with Gwen speaking French between giggles, and Deneuve speaking English between her cooler expositions. In no way could the three men comprehend any of the discourse, which made them really, really uneasy; so uneasy they couldn't even form a conversation among themselves. They stared at the two beautiful women, and then stared out at the countryside. Roger didn't even mind that the other two guys were staring at his wife about one third of the time.

This situation reached the penultimate climax when Gwen and Catherine took hold of each other's hands. The four hands clasped and writhed and squeezed in tempo with the words of their conversation (still unintelligible to the men).

The situation reached its ultimate climax when the women's words ceased abruptly, their eyes locked even more tightly than before, and they exchanged a kiss....brief, but meaningful.

Stephan, being French, smiled at the women. Blistov, being a Russian from high geographic latitudes, lost control of his jaw muscles which resulted in his mouth dropping open and staying that way for a full minute. Roger retained his composure outwardly, but inwardly he had to admit he wished it was him kissing Deneuve rather than his wife kissing Deneuve. With the end of the kiss, the two women returned to the here and now of the automobile coursing through the French countryside, and to the presence of the three men. They didn't speak to the men, but they stopped talking to each other, and took to gazing out the windows. This state of affairs lasted until they reached their hotel for the night.

The group visited the other Burgundy estates the next day, and Deneuve worked her magic at all of them, effortlessly. Roger and Stephan left each one with some sort of gentleman's agreement to supply modest quantities of great wine at great prices.
Chapter 17 – Deneuve in the Vineyard

The first of the Bordeaux estates they visited, Chateau Palmer, is one of the loveliest. Its vineyards sit on chalky, minerally stone and are raised on a series of low hills. The house and wine-making buildings sit between these hills, surrounded by gardens, and hidden from roads and neighbors, while the vineyards are separated by lines of columnar cypress trees along which run dirt pathways used by the vineyard workers. Over the span of the last five hundred years, storage caves have been carved into the hills below the building complex. The present owner of the estate measured the square footage of these caverns, and was astounded at the result: 90,000 square feet. A good portion of this area contains barrels of Palmer wine. Most of the barrels are filled with juice from the last vintage, but also there are barrels holding wine made from the last several vintages, aging away. Other cavern rooms hold hundreds of racks of Palmer wine in bottles, labeled with dates of every year going back to 1843.

One room in the far back of the labyrinth contains a small cot, an armchair, and a table, and this is the place to which the present owner of the property retires when the screams of the grandchildren get to be too much. He doesn't retire here very often, because he loves his children and their children, but he does so every once in a while. Here he usually he sips an older vintage of his wine, and thinks about the future. He wonders about the lives his grandchildren will lead, how they will deal with the threat of weapons of mass destruction, and the people intent on using them. He doesn't dwell on this subject very long, and usually turns his thoughts to which of the kids will come to manage the estate in his place. He hopes it will be Perette, his favorite girl, now eleven years old, and a holy terror around the house. She is eleven going on twenty-one: smart, gay, and without fear of expressing herself in front of people.

This man greeted the battleship Mercedes and its occupants. He did a fine job of pretending to be interested in Roger and Gwen, and even Little Jinny. He managed to not look at The Deneuve for about thirty seconds during introductions, and then nature took its course, with him devoting his attention to her. When he suggested going to the tasting room, Deneuve begged off, asking for a bottle of water and if she might visit the gardens. With water in hand she took Gwen's arm and led the way away from the house. Monsieur Palmer was chagrined, but he knew his duty now was to Stephan and Roger (instinctively he knew Jinny didn't count for much of anything). He hoped he would again get close to Deneuve before she left, and thought if he didn't he might retire to his private cavern room and open a really old bottle of wine, as psychological compensation.

The tasting and dealing went smoothly for Roger and Stephan, taking about an hour to reach an agreement. During this time another unusual event took place with The Deneuve. The woman generates events, situations, and occurrences seemingly every minute of every day. She and Gwen walked slowly through the gardens, talking or not talking. They were aware of several people following them, both adults and children, all trying to hide behind border hedges and ornamental shrubs and the odd piece of sculpture. The women paid them no mind other than to direct the occasional smile in their direction. They walked farther away from the house and edged into the vineyards themselves, hallowed ground for Bordeaux lovers, the actual place from which came the elixir.

The grounds were still and quiet, reflecting only the sound of the women's footsteps on the gravel pathways and the calls of a few nesting birds. Then, human voices reached them from ahead, and the two women could tell the voices were raised and unnatural. There were adult voices and childish voices. If only adult voices had been involved the women would have turned away, but the unnatural voices of children drew them forward. Coming around the side of a small hill the voices became louder and embodied, and came from a small group of men and boys at a corner of the vineyard. Gwen and Catherine immediately saw and understood the nature of the voices. Two young men were fighting, and several others, including two very young boys, were watching. The men were on the ground, rolling around, landing the odd and mostly ineffectual blow. One man had blood on his mouth, and the shirt of the other was torn.

Instinctively Gwen and Catherine moved towards the group, Gwen out of curiosity, Catherine out of concern. As the women neared, and the group saw them, the watchers stopped watching the fighters and looked at the women. The fighters kept fighting. The women approached closer. While still 100 feet away, The Deneuve issued a command: Arretez! Unmistakably, it was a command. There was no s'il vous plaît attached to it, and the sound was issued with remarkable affect. It was loud. It was firm. And it was powerful. But there was something more to it - there was unmistakable feminine authority. It was the kind of authority commanded by that woman in the Hemingway novel set in Spain. What was her name? This command issued in the French vineyard and heard by the French men and boys was startling. The watchers straightened, and their arms dropped to their sides. The fighters stopped fighting, and from their positions on the ground, looked in the direction of the sound. As they saw the women, and as the women came closer to them, and they saw the demeanor of Deneuve, they fell apart on the ground and stood up. The other men and the two young boys also looked at the women, and the women looked at them. No one moved, no one talked, the men hardly breathed.

Deneuve let them stand that way, and waited. She looked at the fighters, and then at the boys. Gwen stood looking at her, knowing another lesson was coming. Gwen was sure that the dog that had followed them from the house and now was on the other side of the hedge, still and quiet, was waiting for the lesson, too. Slowly Deneuve removed the enormous hat she was wearing, and handed it to Gwen. Then shook her head, her chestnut hair swirling for seconds and then failing perfectly into its haloed place. She walked forward ten steps and stood in front of the two fighters. They were sweaty, the dirt mixing with the sweat to form muddy patches on the men, and there was dirt mixed with blood on the mouth of the one man. They still breathed heavily, but they didn't move. No one moved. Deneuve looked into the eyes of one man, and then into the eyes of the other. She spoke, "You fight in front of boys. That is not all bad, but we must take care. Is the reason you fight worthwhile, or is it silly? These boys are learning now, are they not? Is this a good thing to teach them? Maybe it's a good thing to teach, because after talking and after law, some things still cannot be decided, then is the time for fighting, no? We must be careful of this thing, as most of the time it is not good." She moved closer to the two dirty men, very close to these strangers, and looked at them again, silently creating a covenant with them to act well in front of children.

The fighters didn't understand what was happening cognitively, but they understood intuitively, and they knew they had learned something important.

Catherine turned to the two boys, and motioned to them to come. She touched the one on the right cheek with her left hand, she touched the other on the left cheek with her right hand, and she smiled.

That was what happened at the Palmer estate. Not much, really, just another Deneuvian moment. Gwen understood, and the men understood, and the boys understood. Even Blistov would have understood if he had witnessed this instead of getting plastered on the great Palmer wines in the tasting room with Roger and Stephan.

Tasting and talking at the next estate, and then the next, occupied the remainder of that day and the following day, one success following another. Cheerfulness was omnipresent as they spent time with the French families in their homes and offices. Little Jinny felt comfortable, and as the novelty and strangeness of being around Deneuve and the French countryside lessened, Jinny developed an affinity for the kids they found at every estate. He liked the wine in the tasting rooms, but he gave that up in favor of hanging out with the kids, who found him pretty weird, but they liked him. Here was this dark and rather swarthy guy, built like a granite tombstone, that didn't speak any French, yet wanted to be with them. He had a hard face and really big arms and hands, but a warm smile, and his eyes danced with the kid's play. They kept asking him where he lived, and he keep asking them if they'd ever been to Russia. Neither understood the other, but they were communicating, nonetheless.

Jinny did have a problem with one little girl, about four years old. She hardly spoke French, much less Russian, but she ran around and around Jinny at the side of a great estate house, laughing and screaming. Then she came close to him, stood on one of his shoes, grasped her little arms around the stubby tree trunk that was one of his legs, and wouldn't let go. At first he was afraid he would hurt her, and stood perfectly still. But she continued to laugh, and then she took to stomping on his foot, which he understood meant GO, like when a coach driver snaps a whip near a horse. So he went, carefully, around the garden and around the house and around the other children watching and playing. The more he went, the happier the child became. She shrieked, she banged, she stomped her tiny feet on his. He went a little faster, then a little faster. He stopped to see if she wanted off. She did not. She banged some more, so he went some more. When he stopped again, she screamed, so on he went. The kid was having so much fun with this, having her own horse, moving the horse at her command, and Jinny was having so much fun, being a silly adult, formerly a Russian criminal and quasi-mobster. Finally he took her back to the front of the house and into the foyer of the interior, where she dismounted, looked up at his face, shrieked a smile, and ran off down the hallway. So much for French kids mingling with heavy Russian dudes.

The Mercedes hauled the group back to the hotel where they debriefed the next morning at breakfast. Stephan reported that all twelve estates had agreed to supply small quantities of wine at very favorable rates and financial conditions, over the next three vintages. Deneuve said, "Why would they not?" Roger explained that the quantities should be enough to supply three dozen people (in addition to the Junes) over the course of each year, assuming they were not a bunch of drunken sloshheads. He looked at Jinny to confirm that the Russians he was targeting were not a bunch of drunken sloshheads, and Jinny looked a bit uncomfortable. It took a few seconds for him to say, "Russians are like everyone else, no? Some are disciplined, some are not." Gwen now did the Deneuve thing with Jinny (she was a very quick learner), verbally saying that the wine supply obviously was limited, and non-verbally saying that if these Russian folks turned out to be a bunch of sloshhead trouble-makers, Little Jinny would pay a price. He smiled back with his usual air of confidence, so Gwen had to let it go.

Then it was time to say goodbye to The Deneuve. The tour was over and the mission was accomplished. The wine had been procured, the group had experienced the greatness of Burgundy and Bordeaux, Stephan had performed the task given him by his boss, Jinny had made friends with French kids, and Gwen had learned how to elevate the art of female persuasion. She had learned from the best. She had made a great friend in Deneuve, and Deneuve had made a great friend in Gwen. They had bonded, and the bond would be renewed in the future. Deneuve in Paris is magic. Deneuve in the French countryside is a wonder. Deneuve in Charleston would be a spectacle.

The big car pulled up in front of the hotel, and the commotion in the lobby and on the street commenced. With dozens watching, Catherine first kissed Stephan goodbye, then she kissed Roger goodbye (his knees perceptibly buckled, and several on-lookers snickered), then she kissed Jinny goodbye, whispering something in his ear. Lastly, and with the greatest affection imaginable, she kissed Gwen goodbye. The small crowd roared its approval. With a wave to them, she disappeared and was gone.
Chapter 18 – Onwards to Saint Petersburg

The four wine-hunters sat for a while in the hotel lobby and consolidated their gains, with Stephan and Roger working out details about which wines might be available on which dates. Then they talked about how to get the wine onto planes headed to Charleston, and how much that might cost. Roger handed Jinny a copy of Robert Parker Jr.'s classic book on the wines of Bordeaux and told him to memorize it. Jinny looked at the 800 pages of small print, and looked back at Roger. He said ok. He didn't ask about learning the basics of Burgundy. Gwen basked in the charisma of Deneuve, her new friendship, and the lessons in how to influence people. The team rested a bit after their very successful labors.

Roger asked for hotel stationary, and spent twenty minutes writing a thank you letter to Jacques Raconteur. He knew Stephan would provide his boss with the details. With the letter in his briefcase, Stephan headed back to Paris, having tales to tell about this trip through the wine country.

At lunch in the hotel dining room both Roger and Jinny looked at the wine list. Gwen swiped it out of Roger's hands and wacked him on the head with it. She said the vacation was over, and work was about to begin. She didn't have to explain their next mission, which was to navigate the waters of Saint Petersburg and its world of antiques. She looked at Blistov, who smiled, sort of, back at her. Gwen's mannerisms were formidable before. Now, with her newly found techniques "a la D" (that's a la Deneuve), they were more so. The wine list was gone, and with it any idea Roger and Blistov had of drinking at lunch. A new somberness settled on the three teammates.

Blistov had coasted during this phase of the operation. He had experienced France, its wine culture, and it's inimitable cultural force. His mind was blown. But, he was a realist and pragmatist, and he knew that now it was time for him to go to work. During the meal he laid out a basic plan to Roger and Gwen. He thought it would take two and half days to make the travel arrangements from Paris to St. Petes. This would consist of a way for him to enter the country with minimal attention from the authorities, either accompanied by Roger and Gwen, or with a way to rendezvous with them in St. Petes. Once they were there, he would begin the difficult task of procuring the Hermitage antiques, and getting them onto container ships bound for the US. He said that while he was doing the heavy lifting regarding the goods, they could spend their days in the Hermitage, looking at the grade A stuff. He mentioned the 1285 rooms bulging with some of the greatest artwork the world has produced, and in an odd way, included a description of the hundred or so bathrooms he so assiduously had cleaned all those years ago. Roger and Gwen thought, "Well, whatever."

After lunch Jinny disappeared, and Roger and Gwen were left to themselves for the first time during the trip. Gwen led the way out of the hotel and down the street to a café, where she ordered a bottle of white Bordeaux. They enjoyed the afternoon and evening together.

Jinny did not appear at dinner, nor did he appear the next morning at breakfast. They did not see him at lunchtime, and they did not see him at tea time. Roger began to wonder, but Gwen had faith and told him not to worry. At 6pm there was a knock at their hotel room door, and there was the Russian. Jinny bustled inside, a simmering perkiness animating his masonry-like frame. Roger sat at the writing desk in his underwear, Gwen wearing one of Roger's dress shirts and that's about all. No problem for Jinny; no problem for Gwen. Roger thought about saying something, but decided to go with the flow. Jinny flopped on the sofa and dumped a folio of papers onto the coffee table. There were maps, brochures, sketches, time-tables, and notes. He began to talk.

He had lots of good news, and a little bad news. Remember Plouriva Roshenska, master grounds keeper of the Hermitage complex, former sometime lover and admirer of Jinny, and the woman with a fleet of trucks at her command? On the second ring she had answered the cell number she had given Jinny a few months before, and she was happy to hear Jinny's voice. She was happy because she was bored with her job and bored with her house and basically bored with her life. Since talking with Jinny some months back, she had thought long and hard about his proposal. The more she thought about a big change of scene, the more she liked the idea. Twenty some years of doing the same thing; twenty some winters of driving around in a smoke-belching diesel halftrack monster left over from WWII, parked next to and hooked up to her office to provide enough heat to avoid freezing her ass off; twenty some years of working for a succession of patriotic though corrupt party officials; all this had dimmed her view of the good life. Jinny's proposal of living in the United States was a vision of a new life. It was strange, yes, with great unknowns, but enticingly different. At first she tried to think only of the good possibilities, and tried not to think about the very real risks and dangers of getting involved. She was able to do this for several weeks, but the realities kept creeping in, and so finally she faced them.

Both she and Jinny would be sent to a gulag if they got caught. And that was after they were tortured and executed. But she had no children to worry about, and she was damn tough minded. She ran a big operation at the Hermitage, keeping a staff of dozens on the straight and narrow, responsible for state treasures and resources, preserving Russian cultural landscapes. It was a demanding job, with authority and power. She loved the place, really, and liked some of her colleagues, and knew she was contributing to her society. She also was lonely....and cold. And so she thought long and hard about Blistov, and the United States, and some place called Charleston that had people called Huguenots in it, warm Februarys, Mays that were not still frigid, and beaches. Not that she knew what people actually did on beaches, but she was willing to find out. So now, several months after Jinny first contacted her and described his dangerous plan to her, she didn't mince words. She said, "Jinny, I'm in."

Hearing her say this you might have thought Jinny would be pleased. Not exactly, the reason being that when he heard her say this, he knew for certain there was no turning back. The game was on, and it was a very dangerous game indeed. But he was cool, and committed, and thought, 'OK'. He said this to Plouriva on the phone, and they began to talk details after Plouriva assured Jinny her phone was secure. That was very important. She had the knowledge and capabilities to make that happen. At least she thought she did, and sure hoped she did. If she was wrong....

That's what Jinny told Roger and Gwen. He said he now was certain of some important things. First, Plouriva was a committed team member, and they could trust her. Second, he could get into the country, to Saint Petersburg, and could operate there. Third, Plouriva still had access to the warehouses where the grade C stuff was kept.

That was Jinny's good news. The not-so-good news was that that was as far as his planning had gotten so far. He and Plouriva still had no idea how to get the antiques out of St Petes and onto a container ship. In other words, he still didn't know how to smuggle them out of Russia. Another thing he hadn't quite worked out was which wealthy Russians he was going to persuade to head to Charleston, with large quantities of funds in their pockets.

Blistov sat back on the sofa and stopped talking. He divided his time 75\25% looking at Roger in his underwear and Gwen in Roger's dress shirt. But his look was composed and collected, as it had been those months before when he first proposed the mission, sitting in the June's Charleston living room. Speaking of which, he missed Roger's dog. At that time, Roger basically had relied on Gwen's sense of trust, and Gwen basically had relied on her intuition to gauge her trust in Jinny. Now, sitting in the hotel room in Bordeaux, bound for Saint Petersburg, with this new and important information at hand, they again had to gauge their trust in this strange Russian man. And they had to do it sitting in their underwear. How weird was that?

Roger did the same thing he did before. He looked at his wife, and waited. He didn't wait empty-minded; his mind was spinning. But he knew the decision was going to be Gwen's. Gwen also did what she had done before. She looked straight at Jinny, cleared her mind of thoughts, and let her intuition run free. So here you had Jinny sitting perfectly still on the sofa (trying desperately to keep his gaze above Gwen's waist), you had Roger sitting perfectly still at the writing desk, looking at his wife (and not worrying too much where his gaze fell), and you had Gwen sitting perfectly still, absorbing Jinny's essence, not thinking, just intuiting. This state of affairs lasted for two long minutes. All three were dead calm. All three were entirely relaxed, and all three were eminently aware of the seriousness of the moment.

At the end of the two minutes Gwen stood up and moved over to the sofa in front of Jinny, utterly unabashed. She bent down so her face was at the level of his face and said, "We're gonna have a good time over there in your home town, Jinny, but if you fuck this up, it'll be the last thing you ever do." She raised her hand to his face and squeezed his cheek between the third knuckle of her index finger and her thumb, in the old fashioned gesture of affection. With that, she looked over at her husband and smiled a big glorious smile that said, "Onwards to St. Petes, dear one."
Chapter 19 – Going to The Place of 1285 Rooms

The next day they returned to Paris. Jinny spent the day on his cell phone making his arrangements, and the Junes spent half the day at a travel agent recommended by the hotel concierge, making their arrangements. Jinny's arrangements were quite weird while the June's arrangements were prosaic. Roger booked a direct flight from Paris to Saint Petersburg, and booked rooms at the Corinthia Hotel, Nevsky Prospekt 57. Not too much to it. He bought currency and guide books and maps. Gwen chose the Corinthia because its website said they had heated towel-racks in every bathroom. She said if she was going to get into serious trouble, she wanted her pre-gulag days to be comfortable ones.

Jinny, on the other hand, was having a hellacious time making his arrangements, and was spending a lot of time on the phone with Plouriva. He hoped she was right when she said her phone was secure. She told him his best bet for getting back into the country and avoiding immigration scrutiny was to stow-away in a shipping container leaving the port of Stockholm, bound for the port of Lomonosov. She said it would only take about three weeks. "Very funny," he replied. She giggled, as only hardass Russian women of stature and responsibility can giggle.

Plouriva got serious, and laid out some other options. Blistov could get on an Aeroflot flight for Saint Petersburg, armed with a fake Russian passport. She asked him if he could get a forged passport in France, or elsewhere. "No," he said. She pressed him, saying there was a good chance that the Russian customs computer database would neither show his true identity nor show his fake identity. He asked her on what did she base this opinion. She said she heard that, "was the situation." He said he wasn't going to risk his ass on that.

Plouriva then said the Kirov Ballet currently was performing a European tour. Jinny could find them, make friends with the female dancers, and insinuate himself into the travelling troupe. When it came time for them to return home, he could lineup with the other male dancers at Russian customs, and squeeze in with them. Never-mind the fact that Blistov was five-foot-four inches tall and built like a bowling ball, while the Kirov dancers all were six foot two and built like Adonis. Plouriva said the Russian customs guys would be ogling the female dancers, and never even would look at the guys. Blistov said he wasn't going to risk his ass on that one, either.

Plouriva was having fun with this stuff. She wished she was with him in Paris. So she threw out another albatross. She suggested that his American friend Roger get him a fake American passport, and that Jinny simply walk into Russia along with Roger and his wife. Claim they were a three-way couple, just sight-seeing before officially tying the three-way matrimonial knot in Amsterdam.

Jinny counted to ten before replying that he might consider a three-way with her and Gwen, but would not consider doing so with Roger and Gwen. He was quite self-contained in the face of Plouriva's inanity, which was a testament to his self-evolution. This sort of tolerant behavior likely would not have happened back in the days of his Hermitage employment, and his association with Russians ranging in stature and background from ex-military intelligence agents to potato vodka bootleggers.

Jinny, too, had enjoyed this banter with Plouriva. On the one hand he was under pressure from the Junes to produce, while on the other he was enjoying his new life of classy clothes, high French society, good personal grooming, and an exciting mission with the debonair Roger and the beautiful Gwen. His metabolism had accelerated and his world view had become cleaner. He was developing into a man of the world, a bon vivant, and this included his inter-personal communications. He was becoming fond of humor, so he didn't just stomp Plouriva's playful and goofy suggestions. He engaged with them.

Blistov sat in his hotel room, going over the matter in his mind, again and again, sometimes thinking of his talks with Plouriva, sometimes casting his vision outwards and upwards, seeking a creative solution on his own. His thoughts roamed and roamed, sometimes touching base with his past experience, sometimes looking into new and never before experienced scenarios, and sometimes linking with actions of friends and acquaintances from the past. In one of these trances he hit upon a scheme. It was a modification of one of Plouriva's goofy ideas. Why not see if Roger could get him a fake American passport and just walk into the Saint Petersburg airport customs area? Risky, sure. But the whole caper was risky. He was planning on stealing state property from the Hermitage. If Customs identified his passport forgery, he went down. So be it. "No guts, no glory." And he wanted another taste of the glory he had experienced in the presence of Deneuve. Risk, hell yes.

So that was the plan he took back to Roger and Gwen at dinner that evening. If Roger could get him a good forged American passport, he would board an Aeroflot flight to St. Petes and try to waltz right in.

Gwen listened to this with ambivalence. She liked Jinny's guts, but this was placing another burden on them. Where the hell was Roger going to get a high-quality forged American passport in Paris? Where the hell would he get one if they were back in Charleston, where they had resources? And, if Jinny got caught, the caper was over. She looked at Roger.

Roger asked, "What other options have you come up with?" Jinny thought about Plouriva's other suggestions: hide in a shipping container for three weeks, waltz in with a fake Russian passport and hope the computers were down, insinuate himself into the Kirov Ballet troupe and pretend he was a dancer, get a fake American passport and pretend he was part of a three-way couple on vacation. He decided to not relate these to Roger and Gwen. He just shrugged.

Roger didn't look as disconcerted as Gwen felt. He looked at Jinny for a while, then got up and walked to the window. He walked into the bedroom, came back into the sitting room, looked out the window. He looked at Jinny, looked at Gwen, then looked out the window again. Roger said to Gwen, "If he gets caught, we still can tour St. Petes and the Hermitage. We still have the wine deal. We can drink the wine over the next twenty years, or I can sell it to the locals. We can spend a week at Lake Como and a week in London before we head back to Charleston."

Gwen just had to ask the question, "Yes dear, that sounds fine, but where, in Paris, are you going to get a forged American passport that will fool a Russian customs inspector?"

"From Henky," he replied. Gwen's mind raced....oh, Harmond Flourcroft Richland IV....Henky. Gwen was amazed at the detritus that lodged in her mind. Henky lived in London, and was a shady antiquarian of the type made so wonderfully famous by the British writer Jonathan Gash. Only, Henky was the real deal. He knew a lot about a lot of old things. He knew watercolor paintings, he knew old wine, he knew Roman ceramics, and he knew manuscripts. Roger knew him from the wine business. Henky had been involved in the international fake Thomas Jefferson Bordeaux bottles scandal that had carved up a bunch of rich and famous people around the world. Henky had stayed out of jail, but his reputation had not. Roger knew him from wine, but now thought of him for manuscripts. Henky could forge just about anything, given the right monetary incentive. He could produce Sixteenth Century Italian invoices, Eighteenth Century wills, and Twentieth Century contracts. Henky loved to forge documents. Gwen didn't really know Henky, but if her husband thought well of him, let it rip. Gwen and Roger did really well letting each other take the floor. They traded off like a pair of skilled old vaudeville entertainers, whereby one would do his or her thing for a couple of minutes while the partner waited on the side, then with a flawless segue they would change positions.

Blistov didn't know Henky from Prince Harry, but he thought the name was cute.

Roger got on the phone and made a plane reservation for London. Gwen got on the phone to the concierge and asked him to get her a ticket to a Kirov performance. Blistov got on the phone to Plouriva to tell her the news. After they all got off the various phones they were using, Roger packed an overnight bag and headed to the airport. That left Gwen staring at Jinny, and Jinny staring at Gwen. Gwen thought back to the early relationship days in Charleston, when she had dragged Jinny to the men's spa and the tailor and the male grooming salon. She remembered how well that had turned out. She also remembered some vague thoughts about food, and how Jinny had moved from eating boiled potatoes to eating handmade Italian pasta. She now thought, 'Let's keep the ball rolling,' so she again called the concierge and asked him to get her two tickets to the Kirov. Jinny heard this, and smiled. Whatever Gwen wanted him to do in this department, man, that was ok.

That evening the odd couple headed to the Place Vendome for the performance. Gwen spent two thirds of the afternoon getting Jinny into shape, and the other one third getting herself into shape. The concierge had to contact two clothes outfitters and one groomer to come to the hotel and attend to Gwen's explicit and detailed directions. You will remember from the tour through Bordeaux with The Deneuve that Gwen spoke decent French. That helped, with Gwen telling the groomer Blistov had to be shaved twice, and why. Gwen watched Blistov react to one of the clothiers, a prissyboy. She was worried Blistov might bite this guy on the back of the neck and shake him like a Jack Russell terrier would a shake a duck it had caught, but Blistov was a paragon of complacency and tolerance.

The guest prima ballerina that night was Nina Ananiashvili. This woman was forty-one years old, yet looked, acted, and most importantly, danced, like she was twenty-one. She was incredible. Blistov never had seen legs like those on Ananiashvili. Every time the tutu fluttered upwards and her thighs were revealed, Blistov felt like he had while sitting in the back of the giant Mercedes, looking at Deneuve's jawline. Pure perfection, pure desire, pure aesthetics. Which Greek sculptor had created those legs, he wondered. Which Olympian god had taken the marble and enhanced and perfected the design, and then morphed it into human female flesh. Blistov was spellbound by the performance; his life again elevated to a new place. At the café after the performance, sipping a Pernod and water, he realized he was getting pretty deep into the hole of debt to Gwen. He realized he had better come through when their boots hit the streets of Saint Petersburg, assuming of course that he got past customs, and was not on his way to a deep and dark Russian cave.

Roger called the next day to say Henky was doing the passport. That was the good news. The bad news was how much it was going to cost....a lot. Henky was getting on in years, and was padding his retirement fund. Who could blame him? Roger asked Gwen for an accounting of the fund that had been created by the team way back in Charleston. Two thirds of the stake was from the Junes, and one third from Blistov. When Gwen gave him the current balance figure, Roger said, "I'm buying the Henky work, but when I get back to Paris, we have to talk money."

And that is what they did three days later, when Roger returned. First, he showed Blistov his new passport with his new name. He now was Jenley Hermantine. Blistov never had seen an American passport, so it looked good to him. It also looked good to Gwen. Henky had told Roger it was a work of art, but then Henky said that about all the stuff he produced. Most of the time it was true. Blistov didn't even blink at the risk inherent in the little bundle of paper. He took it, put it in his pocket, and looked expectantly at the Junes. The look asked, "When do we leave for Russia?"
Chapter 20 – Entering Romanov Country

Roger said, "Not so fast. We have another problem. We need visas." There are two ways to get a visa for Russia. The way for average people is to apply to the Russian Consulate in the United States. That way requires a level of Russian bureaucratic scrutiny the Junes thought they should avoid. The other way for VIPs to get a visa is to go to one of your Senators. This, of course, requires that you actually know one of your Senators. Guess what? Roger's auntie knows one of South Carolina's senators, because her husband sold the Senator the lot on which he built one of his several houses. The Uncle sold the lot cheap, and after that the Senator was a regular at the auntie's tea parties when the Senator was in town. So before leaving Charleston, Roger and Gwen had gone to the Senator's office in the old Customs House Building and asked the staffer if the good Senator would get them visas for Russia. That was no problem at all. The problem now was getting Jinny a visa to go along with his nice, new passport that appeared to show a lot of wear and tear, and that showed recent trips to Bali, Kuala Lumpur, and Hong Kong, among other locales. Roger had to come through again.

The three comrades piled into a taxi and headed to the US Embassy on the Rue de Garde Provençale. There, they asked the Marine guard-cum-greeter if they could see the Ambassador's staffer. They showed the Marine their passports and Russian visas, and the letter signed by the Senator that accompanied the visas. Three minutes later they were in the staffer's office, where they explained their predicament. Their story, told of course by the radiantly smiling Gwen, was that three days previously, in the Musée d'Orsay, they had run into their dear, dear friend Mr. Hermantine. She pointed to Jinny. They had convinced Mr. Hermantine to join them on their jaunt to Saint Petersburg, departing tomorrow. This was possible, of course, if the Ambassador would consider issuing Mr. Hermantine a visa as a favor to the Senator from the great State of South Carolina, who so very willingly had issued Mr. and Mrs. June their very special VIP visas (as a great favor to the widow of his very special friend famous for developing Charleston marsh-front real estate and golf courses). The Ambassador's staffer listened intently, while absorbing all that was absorbable of Gwen's newly Deneuvian-laced magnetic persona. Under this influence the staffer was malleable, like clay under the hands of a great sculptor. The three VIP American citizens were served coffee by the staffer's highly graded civil service flunky, while the visa was prepared.

As they left the Embassy offices, Mr. Hermantine, aka Little Jinny Blistov, stopped next to a fully armed Marine guard and, pointing to the Marine's sidearm, asked Gwen what type of handgun it was. In the act of pointing, Mr. Hermantine's hand got within two feet of the Marine's fully functional sidearm. This elicited from the six foot four and 240 pound combat trained soldier a stare that chilled both Roger and Gwen. Roger grabbed Jinny by the shirtfront and dragged him towards the door. Gwen said, "Sorry, he's our retarded nephew and does dumb things sometimes, sorry, really." As she followed the others out the door of the Embassy, she turned back to the Marine, fired him a smile and said, "Beretta, 45 caliber, three inch barrel ported for minimal recoil, laser sight, fifteen round composite material magazine. Bye, babe."

Back at the hotel, Roger and Gwen sensed they had done enough for the team for a while, and now it was time to stuff the ball into the hands of Mr. Hermantine. Mr. Jenley Hermantine, no less, as indicated on the passport. Gwen asked Roger where the forger had gotten a name like that to put on the passport, and Roger reminded Gwen that Henky's real name was Harmond Flourcroft Richland IV. "Oh, yeah, right," said Gwen. Roger made plane reservations for the day after tomorrow, and told Jinny, er, Jenley, that they would meet him at the airport. Gwen told Jenley that he better have his shit together when they arrived in Saint Petersburg in two days, and reminded him what would happen if he didn't. This time, instead of giving his cheek an affectionate squeeze, she slapped him in the center of his forehead with the heel of her hand. And with that, the Junes left Jenley for a forty-eight hour romp through Paris. "What a woman," he thought.

Jenley retired to his room and called Plouriva. The phones smoked. The first thing Plouriva said when Jenley told her they were arriving the day after tomorrow was, "Are you crazy? Is this what time in America has done to your mind? Made it like Russian snow in June: soft and mushy?" Jenley counted to ten, and asked Plouriva if she could meet them at the airport. He asked her where she was going to put him up for the next month. He asked her if she was ready to make things happen. He asked her if she had been talking to potential candidates for winter emigration to Charleston. He asked her if her phone still was secure. He asked her if she had found a way to get the goods into containers and onto ships.

Now it was Plouriva's turn to count to ten. Was this guy kidding? The last time they had talked he didn't even know if he was going to make it into the country. Now he's arriving the day after tomorrow, and talking about getting out of the country with a bunch of contraband state property. But Plouriva was kind of like Jenley. She was smart, strong, experienced, and gutsy. So she stayed calm and told him he would stay in an apartment owned by someone who owed her a favor, and that she had talked with a few mobster types about spending some time in the States. She said her phone was very secure, and that she was working on the container thing. This simple recitation calmed Jenley, and made him realize why he had brought Plouriva into this gig. She was a serious woman with serious skills. He could hardly wait to see her.

The last thing Plouriva said was she would not meet him at the airport, that would be stupid, she would see him at the apartment. She said, "Jinny, it's going to be great to see you again."

Jinny wasn't sure this was the time to tell her about his new name. He decided it would be better to do this sooner rather than later, so he said, "Plouriva, I gotta new name. It's Jenley. Jenley Hermantine."

Plouriva said, "Why?"

He said he would tell her later.

She said ok, although Jenley sounded like a girl's name.

Jenley thought things were looking up in St. Petes, and he was ready to go. He spent his last day in Paris walking the streets and looking at French women. He figured if the Russian customs boys smelled a rat and grabbed him, he wasn't going to be seeing any women of any nationality for quite some time. He contemplated looking for a whorehouse, but figured Gwen wouldn't approve of that sort of recreational activity, and Gwen rules. So he bit his tongue. The French babes strolling the rues were flogging hot.

Early the next morning the three teammates rendezvoused at the Aeroflot ticket counter, where Gwen looked Jenley over and gave him an encouraging kiss, which steadied his nerves. He would ask for another kiss after they landed and headed for customs inspection. That's when he really would need his nerves to obey his mind. And then he would ask for another kiss when they.... The airplane was quite different from the one that had taken him from Saint Petersburg to Pittsburgh some years before. This one had seats in it. And toilets. When the hostess asked Jenley if he wanted champagne or prosecco, he looked at Gwen. She said prosecco (for her, champagne was a non-sequitur on a Russian commercial airplane, even in first class). Jenley was tempted to gulp the Prosecco and ask for more, but knew better with Gwen sitting across the aisle from him. He drank the wine in two swallows rather than one, and waited an entire minute and a half before asking for more.

There wasn't much to talk about on the three hour flight to St. Petes. The plan was fairly simple. The three were friends travelling together, and Jenley was a retired American who happened to speak Russian fairly well after a career at the State Department. The Junes were retired professors of art history, making their first trip to Russia. They had wanted to visit Saint Petersburg for many years to see the treasures of the Hermitage and the architecture of the city, and planned on spending two weeks looking at all the art the city had to offer. After his retirement Jenley gave up his special passport and now had a common issue one. This was the surface strategy. Underneath the surface, the subterranean plan was pretty simple too. The Junes would act like tourists doing the art and museum thing, while Jenley would rekindle an old, short-term affair he had had with Plouriva, head grounds-keeper at the Hermitage. Jenley would hang out with her and her friends, some of whom would just happen to be quite recent acquaintances. The Junes and their American friend would get-together every few days for drinks or dinner. The team now was in Jenley's territory, and Roger and Gwen would have to rely on him.

Gwen allowed Jenley a second glass of Prosecco, and then cut him off. He understood. It was wait time. He knew this was going to fly, or it wasn't, and was resigned to either way. During the three hours he thought about a lot of things: Roger climbing over the balcony railing at his house, pointing a gun at him, and saying, "You swindled my auntie. Time to pay." Then meeting Gwen for the first time at the French restaurant, and finding out she was packing heat. And eating shrimp and grits for the first time. And meeting Deneuve and drinking wine with her. In a very short time, either he would be back with Plouriva, scheming to sack the grade C Hermitage treasures, or he would be in jail....for good.

Things went his way at the Saint Petersburg airport. He showed his passport, kept his mouth shut as much as possible, answered questions with "yes" or "no", demonstrated by his body language that he was with the Junes, and made it through. He was home. A taxi took them to the Corinthia Hotel, Nevsky Prospekt 57.

Jenley went into the hotel with the Junes, and while they checked in, he went to the bar. He was smart, and did not order vodka, though his whole being ached for several large glasses of it. He ordered a martini, and then a second one. The Junes came down from their room, joined him, and also ordered martinis. The caper was moving forward. There wasn't much of significance to discuss at this point. The Junes would be in the bar or dining room every evening. If Jenley had something of note to tell them, he would join them. In the meantime, they were tourists, looking at art and architecture. Jenley did start to tell them which of the many bathrooms at the Hermitage they should check out, but Gwen cut him off. That was it. They finished their drinks, made a show of saying friendly goodbyes, and split up. The Junes went back to their room, where Gwen immediately checked that the bathroom towel-warmers were working. They were, and she was content. Jenley got into a taxi and gave the driver the address of the apartment on loan to Plouriva. The three comrades were in Romanov country.
Chapter 21 – Tough Russian Men and Their Women

The first thing that happened to Jinny, as in Little Jinny Blistov, was that Jenley became extinct at the direct orders of Plouriva. She didn't give a shit what the American passport said, that Jinny, with a kind of perverse pride, showed her. She wasn't going to call him Jenley. She said it sounded like a nickname for a prissyass English chick named Jennifer. End of that story. After that was settled, Jinny and Plouriva hit it off great. It had been three years since they had seen each other, but that evaporated quickly. In fact, they set a new Russian record for rapidity of jumping into the sack after a long separation. As Elton John sings in one of his best songs, there was thunder, under the covers. After that, Jinny got his vodka.

Much to Jinny's surprise the next morning (Plouriva having stayed over), Plouriva told him he had an appointment at nine am. "With whom?" he asked (using the Russian version of "whom", which shocked and intrigued Plouriva).

"With some people with bucks who are interested in getting the hell out of here in the middle of the winter," she said. "Isn't that what you asked me to find? Well, I found."

"How many, and who are they," Jinny said.

"Two couples," she said, "and they don't know each other. But they're rich, and they don't want anyone else to know what they're doing. They want privacy."

"How do you know them? Why do you trust them?"

Jinny had gotten used to coffee in the morning, but Plouriva had served tea. So not only was there a caffeine deficit to contend with, but he had been thrown a serious fastball first thing in the morning. He'd had faith in Plouriva performing her tasks of finding people who would come to Charleston and spend a lot money, but he wasn't ready for this level of efficiency, and was a bit ambivalent. He was happy that things were off to a fast start, but this was really fast. He'd not even had a day at home to enjoy himself, and now he was back at work....dangerous work.

Jinny went back to the name thing and told Plouriva she had to call him Jenley, as that was his cover. He kind of liked his new moniker. Plouriva really had enjoyed their love-making interlude the night before, and so she told him she would compromise and call him Jenley most of the time, but not when they were in bed. There, she only would call him Little Jinny. He wondered if this was a double entendre, but decided not to worry about it. He had important things to worry about, like these gangsters that were due to show in half an hour. What the hell was he going to do with them? He took his fourth cup of tea out onto the small balcony overlooking the trash dumpsters in the alley, and put his brain into high gear.

He realized there wasn't much to figure out. Using his intuition, he had to feel these people out, and if they rang back as trustworthy, or at least somewhat trustworthy, he simply would lay out what the Charleston team had to offer. Part of his parsing of them would be to discover if they really had lots of money, and were they of the type that was likely to part with it. Jinny and the Junes (sounds like a 50s rock n roll band) had decided they needed about three groups per year to make their venture as profitable as they wanted it to be. A group could be a couple, or a family, or a small party of "associates". If they had three such parties that wanted to buy property, buy antiques to put in the properties, and liked to drink expensive wines and eat expensive foods, they could make some serious money. Hopefully, they would be the sort that would hire Gwen as trainer, cultural educator, and all-around entertainment director. With these fundamental criteria in mind, Jinny sat back and waited for them to arrive.

In Charleston, Jinny knew arrivals were announced by the melodious chiming of the front door bell, sometimes accompanied by the barking of the pet golden retriever. In this apartment, the arrival was sounded by a banging of a fist on a flimsy door. Plouriva answered and ushered the guests in. The two couples, who did not know each other, had arrived at the same time, so they entered the apartment together. Jinny was amazed at the social skill with which Plouriva handled the introductions. She got the six people seated in the small living room, made them as comfortable as possible in the somewhat uncomfortable chairs, brought out a large tray with tea and cups and biscuits (no maple walnut scones, Jinny noticed with dismay), and then a second tray with a bottle of vodka, a bunch of very small glasses, and some bread. Plouriva had decided she needed to be prepared for the guests to be morning people of a gentle nature, or for them to be of a more aggressive type. Hence the tea and vodka options. Jinny eyed the vodka, but immediately put this thought out of his mind, Gwen's social conditioning having taken hold.

Both women were good looking; both men were marginally good looking. From this, both Jinny and Plouriva deduced that the men were rich, and that was good. Constantine and Slevov Rodstra were from Saint Petersburg, while Henric and Helstof Gromstov were from Moscow. Neither couple offered any further information about their personal lives, nor did Jinny and Plouriva ask about their professions. Jinny wasn't the only one with designs on the vodka. He could see that Helstof was interested, but refrained from grabbing the bottle. He wondered if getting involved with a Russian woman who drank in the morning was a good idea, but he wasn't one to judge. He would leave that up to Roger and Gwen. All six partook of the tea.

Plouriva took the lead, and again Jinny was amazed at her social skills. He knew her as a powerhouse manager and administrator of world famous state property, but he knew most of her large workforce were maintenance men and women of different trades. He remembered her as fair to everyone if they did their job, but hell on wheels for slackers. Once she had locked a guy in a small granite storehouse for two days when she found him stealing supplies. Her territory was outside the buildings of the Hermitage, not inside where social functions of a high order were de rigueur, but somewhere along the way she had picked up a bit of diplomacy.

Plouriva introduced Jinny as Jenley Hermantine of the United States. She said he was visiting with two other Americans who were staying at the Corinthia Hotel. Plouriva reiterated what she had told the Russians some weeks before, which was that these Americans had an unusual business opportunity she thought they might find very interesting. With that, Plouriva turned the meeting over to Jenley. The fact that Jenley spoke perfect Russian with Saint Petersburg colloquialisms intrigued the Rodstras and the Gromstovs.

Jinny was calm, deciding that tea had some valuable properties after all. He would have to explore Chinese social traditions when he returned to Charleston. He bet Gwen knew something about that. Jinny was pleased to see that the four visitors also were calm, with the possible exception of Helstof, who kept glancing at the vodka bottle. He thought of offering her a drink, but decided that was her business or that of her husband. Jinny sensed these were serious people, cultured in the Russian fashion, mature, and not, at least on the surface, prone to excessive violence. So, with a glance at Plouriva, he took the plunge. This entire adventure was high risk, and he saw no sense in trying to mitigate that now. He knew it was time to produce for the team.

Jenley explained in a straightforward manner that he and his associates, the Junes, of Charleston, South Carolina, United States of America, were offering an unusual opportunity to a very select and limited group of people here in Saint Petersburg. The opportunity consists of spending time in one of America's most beautiful small cities during the winter months. Charleston, he explained, was in the southern part of the States, near Florida. In the winter, the temperatures rarely got below freezing at night, and the days were warm and sunny. He stopped talking, and poured everyone more tea. He ate one of the biscuits, at which point he filed away a mental note to have Plouriva buy something better to serve to these clients. He began again, controlling the salesman pitch, but painting a clear and enticing picture of houses on the beach, adorned with handsome Russian furniture, and many bottles of French wine. He laid it on, but not too thick, and he kept the spiel very short. He watched the faces of the two men and the two women, reading their sensibilities and their mood. The Rodstras remained impassive; the Gromstovs modulated into an upbeat friendliness.

It was Plouriva's turn to be amazed, thinking Jinny was doing great. She was buying, even more than before, into the virtues of Charleston. Remember, she had memories from long ago when Jinny was just a toilet cleaner inside the big house. Now here he was, Mr. Culture, talking about paintings and sea breezes and champagne. She felt warm, and she hoped the others were getting some of that, too.

Jinny decided to feel out the couple's sense of culture, history, and patriotism. The business plan was to target Russians who knew and loved their Russian culture, just not the winters, and who knew something about French culture. During planning sessions, the Junes had insisted that the target audience remain extremely small and select, with the aim of reducing the risk of getting involved with overtly criminal types who would start trouble in Charleston. A little trouble they didn't mind, recognizing that the type of people they were targeting were not going to be angels. The team wanted Russians who had feelings about Russian and French culture, but who lacked knowledge about these things. The objective was for Gwen and Roger to fill these holes, and get paid handsomely to do it.

So Jinny talked a little bit about The Hermitage, pretending he knew something from his days working in Russia for the U.S. Department of State. None of the four Russians believed this masquerade for a second, but that was ok: Jinny was lying, and criminals, politicians, and business people are used to that. It may, in fact, have increased his credibility with them. Plouriva was pleased that Jinny did not talk about the toilets in the Hermitage. Jinny then spoke a bit about the relationship of the French king and the Russian czar, mentioning the dogs, and when he did, Constantine and Helstof both showed an interest. Jinny filed this away for future use. He looked at Plouriva, and noted with satisfaction that she had noticed this point too. He went on, but only briefly, about the French Huguenot friends of the czar and the Huguenots in Charleston. He wasn't sure if this registered or not, but it was his segue into other aspects of French culture, most notably, wine. The Rodstras continued their impassiveness, while the Gromstovs showed animation. None of them asked questions, and Jinny appreciated their restraint. With an exaggeration that Plouriva did not detect, Jinny described Charleston as a hub of French culture. He thought Gwen could make it so, even if it were not actually so.

Jinny decided to stop his spiel at this point, and ended with a description of his house on the beach. He was referring to his first house, the one which Roger had entered, pointing a handgun at him, and said "You swindled my auntie. Time to pay." He described a living room filled with Russian furniture and artwork that led out onto a porch suspended on posts over the Atlantic Ocean beach. He said that even in February he sometimes kept the sliding glass door open during the day. He told them he drank his burgundy sitting on the living room sofa and looking out the door to the water.

The Rodstras just looked at each other in their restrained way, while the Gromstovs immediately began to talk to each other in their more animated way. Both of the women appeared to dominate their respective communications. Jinny and Plouriva left them to themselves, taking the tea tray, leaving the vodka tray, and went into the kitchen. Plouriva prepared more snack foods and loaded these onto the tray. She kissed Jinny once and pinched his cheek, just like Gwen had done back in Charleston. Strange habit, he thought, but he liked it. Jinny was tired, and just sat in a kitchen chair. He wished he'd had a day to rest after traveling, but at the same time he was happy to move forward into the mission.

In ten minutes they returned to the living room with the tray of snacks and sat down. They noticed that not only were the Rodstras now talking with each other, but the Gromstovs and the Rodstras were talking with each other. This was good. Helstof took hold of the vodka bottle and poured herself a drink, but, showing restraint, left the glass on the table. Plouriva noted this, and had an epiphany. She got up, went back into the kitchen, opened the closet, and grabbed a bottle. She returned to the living room with another tray on which sat the bottle and six more glasses, and set these on the table next to the food tray. Jinny was shocked at what he saw: a bottle of wine from Provence. It wasn't burgundy, it wasn't bordeaux, it wasn't rhône. But it was FRENCH. He looked at her with undying admiration. Where had she gotten this? Her timing was perfect. Jinny didn't miss a beat, and asked if anyone would like a glass of wine? It must have been five o'clock somewhere, because all four of the Russians nodded their heads, yes.

With the taste of wine in their mouths, the Russians began to ask questions. Slevov asked about food in Charleston? Henric asked if they played football (soccer)? Helstof asked what kinds of dogs they had there, did they have borzois, and Constantine asked if there were many polizie? Jinny fielded the questions, one by one. He didn't know the answers to some, but for those he just made them up. He figured what the hell, get these people to Charleston, ply them with alcohol, and they would be happy sitting outside in the sun in February.

Jinny knew he had to get some idea of these peoples financial status. Were they actually wealthy; were they very wealthy; were they very, very wealthy? But before he had a chance to plow into this touchy territory, Constantine said, "Who are these partners of yours, the Americans?" His tone had changed, and it had changed distinctly, charged with suspicion and even a hint of menace. He looked at Jinny with a degree of penetration had not been in his demeanor before. Both Jinny and Plouriva sensed that this was a watershed question for both couples. Jinny took a bite of potato cracker and cheese, a sip of wine, and sat back in his chair. He spoke slowly and deliberately.

"The Junes don't really work. When they do things for money, they do odd jobs."

"What things?" said Henric.

"Well, they know stuff about property in Charleston. They know how to own land and houses and pieces of beaches. Mr. June knows a lot about French wine, and a lot about old furniture and art and stuff like that. He knows about the stuff inside houses on the beach and inside houses in the old European section of the town. He knows all the people that live in Charleston, especially all the Huguenots that are descendants of the French people that liked the Czar." Jinny took a sip of wine. "Mrs. June knows a lot about food. Really good French food. And she knows about clothes. Really nice clothes like they wear in Paris and Rome. She knows about haircuts and what looks nice. She looks nice all the time." Jinny looked first at the two Russian men and then looked at the two Russian women and said, "She looks really, really nice." Jinny took another taste of wine before he said, "She also knows a lot about guns, including Russian guns." When he said this he didn't look at anyone, but gazed down at the table. Plouriva was riveted. She had no idea Jinny was capable of this kind of theater. He was perfectly understated. He said this devoid of drama, which of course added to its weight. After a few moments he looked up to see how this statement had been received.

Constantine asked, "What do you mean she knows a lot about guns?" Henric seconded the question, with a look rather than with words. Jinny said she carries one in her purse most of the time, a compact Austrian Glock 40 caliber. And he said she knows about Petrova .45 calibers and Brusshev 10mms. She prefers the Brusshev. Constantine looked at Henric, and Henric looked back at Constantine. They didn't say anything, but they looked back at Jinny.

The reaction of the two women to Jinny's description of the Junes was perhaps even more interesting than that of the men. And the women's reactions were different. Mrs. Rodstra, Slevov, appeared to be interested in Mrs. June, while Mrs. Gromstov was interesting in Mr. June. Slevov, the more animated of the two, began asking questions about Charleston houses and furniture. How much did a house on the beach cost? How big was such a house? What type of people lived in houses on the beach? What did they do with their time? Was Mrs. June a broker? Helstof asked if the houses were big enough to hold borzois. Jinny noted the plural on the dogs.

Do you know how big a borzoi is? This was the dog the Russians bred over a thousand years to hunt wolves in Siberia. If a person is six feet tall, and a friendly borzoi rears up to put its front legs on your shoulders, you are looking this dog straight in the eyes. Jinny figured each dog would need its own 1000 square feet of living space. Well, that was ok, because the owner of the dogs would be paying for that space. Jinny told Helstof she might have to walk the dogs on a lease if she took them on the beach, and Helstof looked at him like he was crazy, but didn't ask any more questions. Jinny wondered if he could make some money by harnessing two borzois to a paraglider, and running them down the beach for several miles with a tourist riding fifty feet up in the air over the water. He dropped the thought quickly and went back to answering questions.

Slevov asked more questions about Gwen. What kind of clothes did she wear, what kind of house did she live in, how is French food different from Russian food, what time of day did people in Charleston start drinking, were there a lot of parties in Charleston, how tall was Gwen, was she fat, etc. Jinny answered slowly, completely, and patiently. Henric also was interested in Gwen because of what Jinny had said about Gwen owning a gun....carrying a gun. Why did she carry a gun, and how did Jinny know this? Jinny debated telling the whole story of how he had walked into a nice French restaurant in Charleston one evening to brace Roger, how he had met Gwen, and how much to his surprise he came to discover that both she and Roger had guns loaded, cocked, and ready below the table by the time he had approached them. He also debated describing the afternoon when Roger had climbed over the deck railing of his beachfront house, had entered the living room pointing a gun at Jinny, and had said, "You swindled my auntie. Time to pay." He decided against a complete recitation of these events and simply said he didn't know why the Junes carried guns around, but he definitely knew they did. All the Russians, exhibiting the repressed nature of their ethnic group, nodded and seemed to accept Jinny's explanation. The fact that Gwen even knew about Petrovas and Brusshevs spoke volumes.

The bottle of wine from Provence was long gone. Plouriva debated getting another one, but realized her stock of French wine was small, and she would need it for other prospective clients. So she poured vodka, and the glasses clinked and the questioning went on. After another hour, all six Russians were at least half crocked. Helstof was totally crocked. The Rodstras were slightly less constrained than at the start of the session, while the Gromstovs were in party mode. Jinny was enjoying a return to his roots. Plouriva was happy to be happy with her lover, and happy that her lover also appeared to be happy. The clients had enjoyed the wine and the vodka, and appeared satisfied with Jinny's description of the American team's "opportunity". After one more tray of snack foods had been devoured, and one more mostly accurate story by Jinny about Charleston culture, the four Russians left. Both Constantine and Henric looked pointedly at Plourvia and told her they would be in touch. She understood this to mean she shouldn't blab anything about this meeting.

When they were gone, Jinny and Plouriva looked at each other. Two hours of intense socializing with strangers, combined with the question and answer format, and then the booze on top, had taken it out of them, but they were happy. They smiled at each other, and Plouriva told Jinny he was great. Jinny told Plouriva she was great. Simultaneously they turned and headed for the bedroom. They had earned some horizontal time together.
Chapter 22 – Off and Running

After some affection time, and then a long alcohol and stress induced nap, Jinny awoke with a hangover. He didn't mind because he thought he might have scored the team's first clients. Plouriva thought so too. Jinny took a shower, brewed some tea using six bags, and told Plouriva he had to meet the Junes that evening at the Corinthia to tell them about this first client contact. The Junes had not expected to see Jinny on the evening of the first day in Saint Petersburg. They knew he had two very difficult tasks: come up with the Russians who would want to spend winters in Charleston, and steal a bunch of artwork from Russia's greatest museum. They had figured it would take Jinny several days to set this in motion. So they were surprised when the room phone rang and Jinny said, "I'm here." They told him to come up.

Jinny and Plouriva entered the hotel room and flopped down on the beds. Both had slightly formed smiles on their faces, which the Junes took to mean something good. Plouriva asked the Junes what they had done. "Slept and drunk some bad coffee," was the reply. The Junes had not yet ventured out. Gwen asked what she and Jinny had done, and they looked at each other with unveiled affection. Gwen got the message. Plouriva was a very expressive person, and blurted out the success they had had with the Rodstras and the Gromstovs. Jinny let her have her rein. Plouriva described the two couples, how they had drunk a bottle of French wine together, how Jinny masterfully described Charleston and what the Russians could do there and why they should go there for the winter. The memories of this description excited Plouriva; she veritably bubbled, a description not often applied to Russian women. Jinny sat quietly with a look of satisfaction on his face.

The Junes were amazed and pleased. They figured Plouriva had a hand in this, but they had learned earlier that Jinny possessed a formidable array of knowledge, skills, and abilities. If they sensed he did not, they would not have entered into this project with him. Roger began questioning them about the prospective clients. Were they smart? Were they cultured? Are they connected to the Russian mob? What do they look like? How did they dress? And, of course, how much money did they appear to have, and how willing were they to part with it? Roger looked first at Jinny and then at Plouriva, and asked, "Can we trust them?"

Gwen looked at her husband and said "Give them a break. They can't know all that from just one meeting."

Roger said, "Yes, dear," and then again asked Jinny, "Can we trust them?" Jinny didn't answer right away. He laid back on the bed with his feet on the floor. He still had a hangover, but he was ok with that, because he had earned it in the line of duty. Roger looked at Plouriva, and silently asked the same question.

Plouriva took hold of Jinny hand. He nodded to her, and she said, "Yes, I think we can trust them. My connections recommended them. I was told a little about them, and a little about what they're looking for. Gromstov was in oil. Before he was in oil he was KGB when Putin was the boss there. When Putin went on to bigger things, Gromstov found himself installed at LUKOIL. LUKOIL is BIG, and that means large sums of money were available for the taking.

"Rodstra was involved with computers. Big computers, the kind that crunch numbers that simulate the detonation of nuclear weapons. Very few of these computers come from IBM or Dell or Intel. These come from China by way of Bulgaria. They don't have colorful little brand name stickers on them. They kind of look like they've been assembled in someone's garage out of spare automobile parts. But inside, they have the horsepower, and the Chinese don't give these away. They sell them for very large sums of money, and Rodstra got his share of that. Gromstov and Rodstra didn't know each other, and were not aware that it was Gromstov's oil money that bought Rodstra's computers."

If things went the way Jinny and Plouriva hoped they would, maybe Gromstov and Rodstra would discover this strange connection one day while talking and sipping a Chateau Palmer together, sitting on the fourth floor deck of one of their houses overlooking the Sullivan's Island beach. Even more strange would be the possibility of them watching a container ship pass by the island as it entered Charleston harbor, carrying antiques pilfered by the team from the Hermitage that were destined to end up in the Russian's homes away from home.

That was all Plouriva had to say about the backgrounds of the two Russian couples. A determination about trustworthiness would have to come from more time spent with them, and the all-important final intuition scans by Roger, Gwen, Jinny, and Plouriva. This entire operation was high risk, and they would have to live with that, but so far, so good. Roger and Gwen looked at each other, and smiled. Then they smiled at Plouriva and Jinny, and the smiles said, "good job." Gwen's vivaciousness appeared, and she said, "Drinks are on us, let's have dinner."

Roger had to nix this idea because he knew an issue would come up. The issue was Plouriva, and her being seen in public with the three "Americans." Was it ok to associate, or not? They talked it over, and decided it was not ok. From here on out, Plouriva would have to stay away from the Junes and from the hotel. Jinny could meet with Plouriva at the apartment. The team had no reason to think they would come under any suspicion, but why take unnecessary risks. They would continue with the process of Jinny and Plouriva dealing with the Russians and the antiques, and Jinny would meet with the Junes in public when the need arose. The confidence of the team was up after this initial success, and Roger and Gwen embraced Plouriva before she left the hotel room alone.

Over dinner in the hotel dining room, the three remaining teammates did not talk shop. They talked art. That, supposedly, was what they were doing in Saint Petersburg. They talked about the Hermitage. Jinny told them about the museum itself, and how it was arranged. Or at least how it was when he worked there years ago. He said nothing ever changed at the Hermitage, and that was part of its character and identity. He said he was sure there were wastebaskets somewhere that hadn't been emptied in a hundred years. Jinny gave them information about treasures great and small, and how to move methodically from room to room to get a feel for the types of artifacts and objects that had come to reside in this immense palace. The objective for the Junes was to understand the quality of material in the main building, and by doing so to comprehend, with Jinny's help, the quality and types of material in the warehouses. The Junes had taken a day of rest to acclimatize themselves to the city. Tomorrow, they told Jinny, they would make their first visit to the museum.
Chapter 23 – Hunting More Russians, Hunting the Antiques

Jinny took the next day off. He thought that scoring four Russkies on his first day back in town was pretty damn productive. They hadn't sealed the deal, but his intuition told him the prospects were good. He spent the day relaxing, walking the streets he knew so well, and thinking things over. Plouriva went back to work at her office, but her heart wasn't in it. She kept thinking of warm ocean breezes, cold champagne, and fresh shrimp on the barbecue. Jinny had tried to describe a barbecue to her, but she couldn't seem to differentiate it from cooking over a campfire, though it sounded like fun. That evening at the apartment Jinny and Plouriva talked at great length about both objectives: wealthy people sick of cold winters, and stealing property from the Russian government.

Jinny listed people he had known and worked with years ago. These were not super criminals, by any means, but they weren't street scamps either. Jinny had achieved a certain level of modest affluence before he made the mistake of chiseling the wrong guy. He rattled off their names to Plouriva one by one, but she didn't recognize them because until now, she hadn't been a criminal. She had spent her career working at the Hermitage, moving up the ladder until she was boss of the grounds. Jinny knew this, but he had to start looking for these guys, and one way was to try Plouriva's contacts. Jinny would make phone calls on Plouriva's supposedly secure phone line, shake some trees and see what fell out. He decided he was like a detective, most of whom go around asking lots of questions, hoping an answer from someone would lead to gold. Plouriva also would work her contacts, hoping to turn up another nugget like she had with the Gromstovs and Rodstras. She told Jinny she had another prospect or two.

Then they changed subjects and talked about stuff in the warehouses. Jinny asked if much had changed in the years since he worked at the museum, and Plouriva laughed. She said no, things don't change much at the big house. The same stuff was inside that had been there for the last two hundred years, and the same stuff was in the warehouses that had been there forever. The Hermitage had stuff distributed throughout its miles of hallways and hundreds of rooms, and rarely felt the need to change or move stuff around. Plouriva told Jinny the same toilet cleaning brushes he had used years ago probably were in the same closets today, which produced in him a very nostalgic feeling.

That night the two conspirators began to draw sketches of the warehouses and their contents. Plouriva had brought engineering site drawings of the entire complex that included all the buildings, walkways, roads, gardens, and landscaped areas. When Jinny looked at these, he was amazed at the size and scope of the museum complex. He knew the place was huge, but seeing everything condensed onto these sheets of drawings made him realize the magnitude of this environment. No wonder they couldn't heat and cool everything, and sometimes Plouriva had to use the engine of her World War II halftrack to heat her office.

They focused on the dozens of warehouses located well away from the main complex. Plouriva described them, and this triggered Jinny's memories. He began to see the outsides of them and the insides of a few of them. With the structures visualized, Jinny thought about the contents inside. He had been in a few of these, but not all. Plouriva had been in most, but didn't know much about antiques and artwork. Jinny knew a bit from his time working in the main museum, but he didn't really know what type of stuff Roger would want to flog in Charleston. So the challenge was to figure out what was in the buildings, and get a description to Roger, who would make suggestions for the theft of the objects. After that, of course, they actually had to steal the objects, steal them and get them across town and onto a container ship headed to Charleston.

It was late at night by this time, they were tired, and now the brutal reality of their challenge hit them hard. Jinny got up from the bed where they had been working and walked over to the chair at the front window. He closed his eyes and let his mind wander. He tried to do what Kierkegaard had said to do under these circumstances, which was to think without verbalizing inside one's head. Sometimes Jinny was able to think this way, and he tried to now.

The amorphous drifting of thought, the visualization of images unattached to cognitions, the unleashing of ideas from the anchors of words. Physically, he drifted outside onto the small balcony overlooking the dumpsters, oblivious to these surroundings and to the feel of the night air on his skin. He thought without internal talk, as the drive to succeed flowed through his body. His visions of burgundy wine and The Deneuve and the Atlantic Ocean and pans of sautéing foods wisped through his consciousness almost as physical sensations. He was in a special place.

Then a vision assumed center stage, and he knew instinctively to grab it and hold it in place. The vision was an image of one of the engineering drawings Plouriva had shown him earlier. In the drawing, he now noticed that all the wooden warehouses had been built on stilts three feet above ground, and realized this meant there was space under the floors. And he remembered the movie he had watched a year ago, The Great Escape, starring Steve McQueen. In that movie, set in a German prison camp during WWII, British prisoners had planned a mass escape, and a part of their method was to dig tunnels under the barrack buildings. In his mind's eye, Jinny could see these scenes from the movie. He could see the wooden barracks, and he watched as the prisoners hid under the ground-level floors while digging and hiding supplies. He saw Steve McQueen leading the operation, directing the guys, creating and mounting the great escape.

From this vision came his idea for the theft of Russian antiques and artwork. Get into the warehouses that held the goods Roger wanted. Cut through the wood flooring and pass the objects to the spaces below. Hide the objects there until the one big evacuation, when all of them would be pulled out of the crawl spaces, loaded onto trucks, and transported out of the complex. If McQueen could do that with a hundred prisoners, Jinny could do it with a hundred pieces of art. They could do this because Plouriva knew the grounds, and knew the security systems.

Jinny's brain stopped its seething and he returned to normal consciousness. He found himself on the balcony, and didn't remember going out onto it. He returned inside to the bedroom, where Plouriva slept, and the clock said 4am. He went to the mirror, looked at himself, put his hands to the sides of his head and pressed inwards, letting the pressure of his hands drive out the remnants of his stress. It worked. He relaxed, opened his eyes, and smiled at himself. He felt tired, but he felt good. America, and the Junes, and Plouriva were good for his thinking. He knew this caper could be had.
Chapter 24 – The Dangerous Plan

Blistov went to bed at 4am. His sleep was deep and satisfying because his subconscious understood what his conscious mind had achieved – the kernel of the plan for the theft. When he awoke at 11am he found a note from Plouriva saying she was going to work and would meet him at the apartment at 3pm. So he spent the intervening hours outside, walking the streets, shopping for food, and most of all looking for some decent coffee. He knew he couldn't pull off the mission without decent coffee. Back at the apartment, he relaxed.

When Plouriva arrived, Jinny was primed and ready for more serious work. He asked her if she'd had a hard day. She said no, she'd done zero work because her mind was on Jinny and the job. Jinny was pleased to hear this, and he asked her what she needed now. She said sex. Jinny was very pleased to hear this, and they took care of that item pronto. A half hour later, Jinny gave Plouriva a shoulder massage, led her to the shower, and told her that coffee would be ready when she finished. Plouriva looked at him, wondered what was going on. She had fond memories of Jinny from their previous life together, but caring behaviors of this kind were not among them. She wondered what was in the water they drank in Charleston.

Jinny seated her at the kitchen table and poured some freshly brewed coffee. It smelled great, and they both savored the rich, motivating beverage. Plouriva asked him where he got it, and he answered with a smile rather than with words. She accepted this communication for what it was worth. After the first cup and before the second and third cups, Jinny got out the plans and drawings of the Hermitage grounds and warehouse buildings, and spread them on the table and on the counters. They covered all the horizontal surfaces in the small kitchen, and half the floor. Then he told her his basic plan for stealing the objects. He didn't know what objects they were going to steal; they still had to figure that out, but he knew there was stuff in these warehouses that would meet Roger's criteria. There was no doubt about that. So he didn't care exactly what items eventually they would go after. The real challenge had been HOW to steal them, and this was the challenge he had met late the night before when he went into his creative thinking mode.

He picked up a large drawing sheet that showed an architect's rendering of one of the warehouse buildings, and put it square on the kitchen table. The drawing was made of vellum, and was dated 1891. It showed both a sectional drawing of the structure and an elevation drawing. He pointed to them and said to Plouriva, "There's no basement. There's no perimeter foundation. The building was built on piling footers, and the floor is three feet above ground level. There's space under the flooring." With that he smiled at Plouriva, as if those statements were enough for her to understand his idea. And, they were. She understood at once. She said, "So we get the stuff into the crawl space below the flooring, and then get it out and away later." Jinny nodded and sat back in his chair. Plouriva nodded and sat back in her chair. She looked again at the drawing, picked up several more drawings from the counters and floor, set them on top of the first drawing, looked at them, and then looked again at Jinny. She smiled and smiled and smiled.

It was a testament to her judgment that she didn't leap into a harrowing discussion of details: what objects, how to cut through the floor, how long they could keep the stuff in the crawlspace before someone discovered it, how and when to get the stuff out of the crawlspaces, how to get it out of the Hermitage complex, and how to get it to the Saint Petersburg port. All those questions about the smaller challenges leaped into her mind, but she didn't voice them. She realized the magnitude of Jinny's accomplishment, and she wanted to give him his due. So instead of addressing all those annoying details that would have to be worked out, she asked, "How'd you think of this?"

He didn't try to explain the mental processes that occurred the night before at 3am because he wasn't sure exactly what had happened, just that it had. And he wasn't sure he could explain if he did understand. He skipped all that, but did explain about the kickass American actor Steve McQueen, and the kickass movie The Great Escape, and the German prisoner of war camp during WWII, with the British and American POWs. He described the scene with McQueen driving the German BMW motorcycle all over the fields and jumping it over fences, and how absolutely cool that was. Plouriva recognized Jinny's male boyishness here, and didn't interfere with it. He had earned it. He described how the barracks were built above ground, and how the prisoners decided they would use this architectural feature to execute their plan, which hinged on the idea of a hundred prisoners going out at the same time – their great escape. He saw the same thing with the Hermitage operation. Get all the objects into the crawlspaces of the various warehouses, and then get them out of the complex all together, all at one time – their great theft.

Plouriva sat back in her chair and closed her eyes. She tried to imagine the movie with the prison camp and the barracks and the nasty German guards and the brave American and British soldiers. She thought Russian soldiers during WWII were very brave also, but as she was about to participate in a major theft of Russian state property, and obviously would not be living and working at the Hermitage after the theft, she figured she better start thinking about how great all the Americans on the planet were, since it was among them that she and Jinny would be living from then on out. Providing, of course, they didn't get caught. She chose not to think about where she and Jinny would be living if they did get caught. She knew it would not be where the February ocean breezes blew with a gentle warmth. With her eyes still closed she thought about Jinny and his idea. Yes, it was doable. Yes, they could succeed. Yes, it was dangerous and the risk was great. And yes, the risk was worth it. She bonded with his idea.

Plouriva opened her eyes, smiled at Jinny, got up and stepped behind his chair and put her hands on his shoulders. She massaged his shoulders, and then his neck, and then his forehead. It was her symbolic gesture acknowledging his mental achievement. She sat down, picking up first one drawing, and then another. She studied a site plan that showed the entire Hermitage complex, and then studied a map of the city. Jinny said and did nothing. He understood, intuitively, that Plouriva now was taking over the planning operation. He was like a great physicist that had pondered on the nature of atomic particles, and somehow had grasped a basic attribute of their nature that explained their behavior under certain conditions. And the physicist had jotted down some mathematical formula that represented this attribute and this behavior, and handed the piece of paper to another physicist whose job it was to conduct real-world experiments that would prove the hypothesis. Jinny sat motionless and wordless, like he had months before on the June's sofa in Charleston, after he had explained to them the details of his proposal.

It was 6pm. Plouriva got up, removed the drawings from the table and threw them on the floor, went to the refrigerator, got cold cuts and cheeses, removed the drawings from the counters and threw them on the floor, and proceeded to make four large sandwiches. Two of these she set on the table before Jinny, along with a bottle of vodka and a glass. The other two sandwiches she took into the bedroom. She returned to the kitchen, gathered up all the drawing and maps from the floor, and took them into the bedroom. She appeared in the doorway, saluted Jinny, and disappeared back into the bedroom, closing the door.

The door opened at 8pm and Plouriva asked Jinny to make her another coffee, which he did. The door opened the next time at 10pm, and Plouriva appeared in the living room. She was pleased to find Jinny sitting on sofa, watching the Saint Petersburg nightly news, totally crocked from the vodka. She sat down beside him, poured herself a stiff one, and knocked it back. Her only words to him the rest of the night were, "Babe, we can do it."
Chapter 25 – All the Details

The next afternoon Jinny met the Junes at their hotel and told them they were going out for an early dinner. He took them to a not-so-nice restaurant. In fact, it really shouldn't have billed itself as a restaurant. It was a dive. But it was the type of place that served food at fair prices, and so was popular with the locals. It had been serving the same food in the same place for twenty-some years, which is why Jinny knew about it. Jinny didn't know if Roger would like it, but he was willing to bet that Gwen would like it, because she was a little bit less stuck up than Roger, in Jinny's humble opinion. They went late in the afternoon because Jinny knew there would be few other people eating at that time of day, and they could talk.

Basically the place served potatoes some twenty-five different ways. It served them in tomato sauce, in beef sauce, in cream sauce, in garlic sauce, and in a hot Hungarian goulash type sauce. They served potatoes boiled, deep fried, sautéed, and roasted. However you wanted your potatoes, you could get them your way at this place. They even served raw potatoes, cut into different shapes: discs, julienne, cubes, and little round things the size of olives. These were warmed slightly in a microwave, but not cooked. Then they were doused in a blend of salt, pepper, and vinegar. They were not served with vodka, as you might expect, but rather with a heavy Czech beer. There were quite a few Russians who liked this combination, but Jinny wasn't one of them. He thought it was a dish for peasants, and he had his history correct. He did not suggest this dish to Roger, and he definitely did not suggest it to Gwen, remembering her reaction to the boiled potatoes he had served her the very first time she and Roger came to his second house on the marsh side of Sullivan's Island.

He told them the best dish was the one in which they sautéed the julienne cut potatoes in corn oil with tomatoes, red pepper sauce, and garlic. Gwen asked him if the people of the great republic of Russia ever had heard of olive oil. He said they had heard of it, but they had no olive trees growing on the steppes of Siberia, so it wasn't seen much in Saint Petersburg. On the other hand, they were able to grow some corn, though the fully-grown plants might be considered seriously anemic by anyone from Iowa. He said the stalks rarely got more than four feet tall. Still, they produced enough ears of corn to satisfy most demands for potatoes sautéed in corn oil.

Gwen thought, if this antiques and wine gig didn't work out (and they didn't get caught), maybe she could make a killing importing Greek olive oil into northern Russia.

Jinny finished his food and his glass of beer in about ninety seconds, taking the risk of censure and abuse from Gwen. While Roger and Gwen ate at a more sedate pace, he told them the details of the plan as he had learned them from Plouriva earlier that day while nursing his hangover. Jinny told them how the warehouses were constructed in 1891, with the floors above ground. Then he asked if they knew the movie The Great Escape? Gwen knew the movie because she knew every movie Steve McQueen ever made. She thought he was major stud material, especially in Bullet and in The Thomas Crown Affair. She really liked that movie, and had thought of herself in the role played by Faye Dunaway. Once, after she'd had a couple of glasses of wine, she actually thought she could have done it better than Dunaway. We all have our fantasies, don't we? Roger knew The Great Escape too, and he liked William Holden, though not for romantic reasons.

Jinny described how they would steal the Hermitage grade C goods the same way the Allied prisoners had planned their escape....through the floors and out of the compound in one big swipe-aroo. He stopped talking and looked for their reaction. Roger, with a tone like dry ice, asked if the end result was going to be the same as in the movie, referring to the fact that in the movie most of the prisoners were killed or captured, including Steve McQueen. Gwen also looked at Jinny with a not exactly neutral expression. Jinny brushed this off, and said of course the end result would not be the same, don't worry. The Junes were not really worried, because they knew they were not going to be part of the on-site heist team. They would be sitting in their room at the Corinthia, waiting for word of success. If no word came, that would mean failure, and they would be on the next flight out of the country. Safe and sound. Anyway, they got the idea of the warehouse setup and method of theft.

Plouriva had taken Jinny's idea of using the space under the warehouses ala "the great escape", and refined it. She figured once Roger told them the types of objects they should go after, it would be relatively easy to get them through the floors and into the crawlspaces. The problem was what to do with them then. It was here that Plouriva earned her worth. In the same way Plouriva was proud of Jinny's mental achievement, he now was proud of her mental achievement.

Plouriva told Jinny that in several of the huge workrooms in the main museum building were very large wooden crates. She had seen them come into the complex two weeks before, loaded onto six large flatbed trailers. These crates held artifacts from the University of Vladivostok Art Museum that were part of a new, temporary exhibition at the Hermitage called Treasures of the Russian East. She wasn't sure what kinds of stuff this was, just that the crates were big, and that they had come the 6000 miles from Vladivostok by train and then by flatbed truck. She had been told months ago by the big boss of the big house that they were to be stored for the year-long term of the exhibition somewhere out in her territory, meaning out in the maintenance yards of the complex. He hadn't asked her to store them, he had told her to do it. When she told him she didn't have any space, he told her to make some space.

The people who worked inside the museum buildings were very hoity-toity, and thought the people who worked outside the buildings were a bunch of yahoos. And the people who worked outside the buildings thought the people who worked inside the buildings were a bunch of pansie-ass art snobs. So it goes everywhere. The crates were due to be emptied of art objects and moved out of the main building in about a week. They would be loaded back on the flatbed trucks and hauled to wherever Plouriva wanted them stored. At this point Jinny looked at Roger and Gwen to see if they grasped the basics of the plan. They did, sort of. Obviously the goods from the warehouses would be transferred to the crates. The Junes waited for the details.

The details were relatively simple. Most plans should be relatively simple, because complex plans have a way of getting fucked up. Just look at the Vietnam and Iraq and Afghan war efforts. Plouriva would arrange first for the flatbed trucks to leave the museum late in the day. Then she would arrange for the lead truck to break down near the warehouses, requiring them to stay there until a repair could be arranged the next day. That night was their window of opportunity. The goods would be lowered through the warehouse floors, and carried to the crates. Each item would be wrapped in moving company type quilts to protect it, and hopefully they would arrive in Charleston in good condition. No plan is perfect, Jinny continued, saying the next day the truck would be repaired, and the crates would be on their way out of the Hermitage compound.

Gwen waited a long, respectful minute before asking, "On their way to where?"

Jinny got up from the table, went to the counter, ordered himself another plate of corn oil and garlic sautéed potatoes, and another Czech beer, and brought them back to the table. He proceeded to demolish these in another minute and a half, saying to hell with everything Gwen had taught him about manners and propriety at table. He finished chewing, and wiped his mouth, before he answered. He said they would be taken to a safe place. Roger and Gwen could see the writing on this wall immediately. Roger let Gwen do the talking. She said, "You haven't figured out how to get the stuff out of the country yet, have you Jinny?"

Jinny didn't answer right away, so Gwen went into her motherly role, saying that Little Jinny and Plouriva had done very well so far, and she was proud of them, and they deserved some ice cream. But before she would give them the ice cream they had to finish their job and get the stuff onto a ship or plane or train or something, and get it the fuck to Charleston. She said this quietly and with a smile on her face, but with fire in her eye.

Jinny got the message. More figuring to do, not yet done, back to the apartment and back to work with Plouriva.
Chapter 26 – The Last Step in Russia

Plouriva got a call from Constantine Rodstra saying they wanted to meet again, and this time they wanted to meet the Junes. Plouriva said ok, and set it up for the next day. Constantine gave her an address, and the four couples met at 4pm. The address turned out to be the Rodstra's main residence on the outskirts of the city. To say it was nice was to say that Russian caviar was just ok with French champagne. This place was big. The Junes were impressed, and so was Jinny. The Gromstovs were there too, but they seemed less impressed, which was a good sign to the team.

The fact that two Russian quasi-crime-based couples were meeting with a third Russian couple one half of which was in the country illegally, and an American couple, didn't seem to faze any of the six Russians, so the Junes relaxed and went with the flow. They had accustomed themselves to living in a bubble of risk. Slevov Rodstra brought out a tray on which sat three bottles of wine and eight glasses. The first bottle was a Hungarian Riesling from a vineyard only a three hour drive from Vienna, just across the Austrian\Hungarian border. This vineyard was next to a Hungarian national park which had as one of its missions the perpetuation of a breed of dog called the Komondor. This shepherd-type dog is a national symbol of Hungary. The second bottle of wine was a cabernet franc from the Loire Valley in France. While cabernet franc is a common component of French Bordeaux blends, it's only in the Loire that this grape can be made satisfactorily into a stand-alone wine. The third wine was, lo-and-behold, a California Central Coast zinfandel. When Roger saw the Hungarian wine, he was intrigued because he loved German Rieslings, and hoped this might be just as good. When he saw the French wine he was intrigued, because very few Americans know just how good Loire Valley cab franc can be. When he saw the zinfandel, he was astonished. How in God's name did a bottle of that get to Saint Petersburg?

Constantine opened all three bottles and decanted the two reds. He poured the white wine into eight glasses, and offered a toast – to warm February breezes. Roger tasted, and found the slightly sweet and slightly chilled wine to be delicious. It took only a few minutes for that bottle to disappear, and for Constantine to pour the French wine. Gwen liked this better, and made a note to get some Loire cab franc when she returned to Charleston. Jinny and Plouriva didn't have a lot of reference points to compare these wines to, but they drank them both with great pleasure and in great earnest. Whether it was the wine, or just good luck, the eight people seemed to hit it off.

It was interesting how the personalities of the Gromstovs and Rodstras changed in this new environment. Previously the Rodstras had remained closed and restrained, while the Gromstovs had been open and demonstrative. Here, in their home, the Rodstras quickly became loquacious and welcoming, while the Gromstovs seemed to hold back. Jinny and Plouriva acted as if they'd been happily married for years. Roger focused on the wine with Henric, while Gwen lit up in conversation with Slevov. Both the Rodstras and the Gromstovs spoke some English, and Roger wondered where that had come from. English was everywhere in western Europe, but not so wide-spread in eastern Europe, and certainly not in Russia, and he made a note to explore that later. Slevov brought out some goat cheese, and crackers apparently made out of highly compressed sawdust. However, the cheese went well with the cab franc, so Gwen was mollified.

At the end of the second bottle of wine and the beginning of the third, Constantine got down to business. His wife and the Gromstovs obviously had elected him as spokesperson, and he asked pointed and intelligent questions. What exactly were the June's offering in this Charleston package? What were these houses on the water, and who owned them? What were the people like who lived nearby? What was life like in Charleston during the daytime, and at nighttime? Henric said he and Helstof had looked at Charleston websites. What, exactly, was shrimp and grits, and did one eat this in the morning or in the evening? How big were houses on The Battery, and how much did they cost? Where did the French Huguenots live who liked the old Russian czar, and did they like Russians now? Were there a lot of polizie in Charleston? Henric asked if it was easy to transfer money to and from Charleston banks, and if the government monitored these transactions? He wanted to know if there were any nice boats in Charleston, and he wanted to make sure the rivers did not freeze up in the winter, like the one in Saint Petersburg did. He didn't think they would if it was supposed to be warm in February. It would be nice to drive a boat around and maybe drink a little vodka, and fish.

Roger looked first at Constantine, and then at Henric, and then at Jinny and finally at Gwen. He didn't know where to start to answer all these questions, and he sensed there were lots more in the minds of Slevov and Helstof. He began to answer, but Gwen sensed he needed help. Jinny watched Roger while he sipped the cab franc. Plouriva ate some cheese and sawdust crackers, and wished there was some vodka on the table. Roger talked about the housing market in Charleston, and how it was a great time to buy real estate if someone had the money, because the market was way down. He thought about saying how a house on The Battery recently had sold for $7M, when just three years ago it was listed at $12M, but he didn't know how to convert dollars to rubles. He asked Jinny. Jinny said, just say it in dollars, which he did. Henric immediately understood the amount. Roger said the houses on Sullivan's Island were only about $2M now when they had been $4M only three years ago. Henric asked if there were any $7M houses on Sullivan's Island? When he asked this question, Roger, Gwen, and Jinny all looked at each other, and smiled inwardly. Plouriva was left out of this loop because she didn't know how much $7M was.

Roger didn't know if there was anyone in Charleston, much less a bona fide Huguenot, that knew or cared about Czar Brettany Prentikof. He squirmed a little in the late eighteenth century chair he was sitting in, which was the signal for Gwen to take over. Jinny was watching all this because he thought something was coming. He knew Gwen would insert herself into the conversation and assert her personality, and he wondered if this was going to be a good thing or a bad thing for the team and their mission. He was apprehensive because he knew that not all men in Russia were as progressively tolerant of assertive women as he was. It was possible that either Constantine or Henric, or both, would find Gwen to be offensively pushy, and not at all attractive, except in the sexual sense. In that sense, all three billion heterosexual males on the planet would find Gwen to be attractive.

Gwen did not take over the conversation immediately, letting Roger squirm a little. She stood up, took hold of Slevov's arm, and asked her if she would show her the kitchen. Slevov led her away, wondering what was up. Jinny wondered too, because it meant Roger would have to continue to answer questions from the two Russian gentlemen, but Jinny knew Gwen had something cooking, so he relaxed.

In the kitchen, Gwen made friends with Slevov. Gwen could get friendly with a pit bull if she wanted to. It's a cardinal mistake to think women only use their femininity to influence men. Certainly that's what they do most of the time, but there are instances and circumstances in which a woman wants or needs something from another woman, and brings feminine persuasive charms to bear on this need or want. Gwen sensed Slevov was a woman of power, and she sensed Slevov could help make their mission a success. She figured if she could get cozy with Slevov, then Slevov might influence her husband to help them, and that's what happened in the Rodstra kitchen. Gwen turned the juice onto Slevov the way Deneuve had turned the juice onto Gwen. Things happened in the back seat of the big Mercedes as it rolled through the landscape of Bordeaux, Deneuve co-opting Gwen into friendship, and Gwen now did the same thing with Slevov. She leaned against a counter top and engaged Slevov, using Deneuvian tactics.

Deneuve had influenced the men and the boys in the Bordeaux vineyard in some strange way, and Gwen had watched and learned from that. Now, she put that lesson to use. When the two women re-entered the large living room, they were friends. They had bonded, and now what Gwen wanted, Slevov wanted.

By this time the three bottles of Austrian, French, and American wine were long gone. Gwen and Slevov assessed how things were going. Helstof and Roger were talking about guns. What's up with that, Gwen wondered? Jinny, Constantine, and Henric were talking about sports, Jinny telling them how in America there were really violent sports to watch on TV, like cage fighting, in which the fighters actually try to seriously hurt each other. Constantine and Henric knew there was similar, sanctioned fighting in Russia, but they were surprised that in the States it was shown on TV. This interested them. Helstof asked Roger if a lot of women owned guns in the US, and he said no, just those who needed them. Evidently someone in the crowd (Jinny) had told the other Russians that guns were part of the "Charleston package." Gwen wasn't sure it was such a good idea to bring a focus on this part of the package, but what could she do. And it wasn't as if she objected to it, on principle. The two women sat down and listened to the conversation. Soccer, boating in Charleston harbor, eating shrimp and grits, the temperature in February (neither Roger nor Jinny could convert Fahrenheit to Celsius in their heads, so they just made it up and hoped it was close, Jinny saying you could walk around your house naked in February if you wanted, which seemed to impress the others, especially Plouriva, who looked at Jinny with barely concealed desire), banking and funds transfer procedures, real estate laws, and American aristocracy, all were topics. The Russians never had heard of any food (shrimp and grits) native to any country that commonly was eaten at any time of the day, breakfast, lunch, or dinner, which intrigued them. Jinny's explanation of grits was pathetic. Where he'd gotten these ideas, Gwen couldn't fathom. She used this topic as the excuse to insert herself and Slevov into the conversation.

She was pleased to see the course the conversation had taken during the hour she and Slevov had spent in the kitchen. On the downside, she knew Jinny and Plouriva had not solved the last step required to make their Russian venture a success. The last step was....getting the goods out of the country. Gwen's Deneuvian relationship with Slevov, coupled with her own nature, led her to a bold move. Gwen whispered into Slevov's ear, who got up and went into the kitchen. She returned with a bottle of vodka and eight small glasses, and the look on Gwen's face stopped the conversation. The others watched as Gwen nodded to Slevov, who filled the glasses. Gwen set the eight glasses together, touching, like a herd of elephants protecting against a predator. Gwen took a glass and knocked back the drink in one swallow. She didn't offer a hint of a grimace. Slevov was next. Then Gwen handed a glass to Plouriva. Then she handed a glass to Helstof, Constantine, Henric, and to Jinny. With the last glass, she got up, stood next to Roger, kissed him on the mouth, and handed him his drink. Roger knew something really good was coming. He drank the vodka, put his glass down on the table, and waited. Jinny hardly could contain himself; in fact he couldn't contain himself, and grinned, almost like a fool.

With the gesture of the toast complete, Gwen got on with her plan, hatched back in the kitchen at the end of the hour she had spent bonding with Slevov. By the end of that hour she knew she could trust her, and by extension Gwen figured she could trust her husband, Constantine. She couldn't extend this trust to the Gromstovs, but, she was a risk-taker, so she closed her eyes for a moment, transported herself back to the Mercedes flowing through the countryside of France, touching shoulders with Catherine Deneuve, letting affinity flow from Deneuve into herself. She called on this, and opened her eyes. She looked at Constantine, and then at Henric. She looked back at Constantine, and then again at Henric, entering the two men. Roger watched. Jinny watched. Plouriva watched. Helstof understood what was happening intuitively, but could not follow it rationally. Jinny understood completely, because he had seen this happen back in France. He was a bit of an old hand at this stuff now, and continued grinning. He loved this woman.

Gwen began talking about the Charleston package. She exposed their strategy to the Russians. She told them the truth, how they wanted to sell the Russians expensive houses, French wine, and antiques to put in their new vacation houses. She told them she could make their time spent in Charleston during the winter months interesting, with fancy dinners, meeting interesting Americans, walking their borzoi dogs on the beach, helping them with business matters, and taking them to the nearby outdoor gun range on Forest Service land, to shoot at targets with Russian, American, and Austrian handguns.

She told Constantine and Henric they had all those amenities lined up nice and neat, with one exception. The two Russian heavy-weights didn't ask, "And what is that?" They just waited, entranced by the Deneuvian vibes. Gwen said, "We need help with the Russian antiques, with the works of art. We have them, here, in Saint Petersburg. We need to get them to Charleston."

Gwen's team had not anticipated this move, going to the Rodstras and Gromstovs with the truth. Constantine and Henric and Helstof and Slevov all looked at each other, trying to understand the implications. The Americans seemed to be saying they had, or were going to procure, Russian heritage objects, and take them to the States, and then sell them to visiting Russians. Was that right? Was that what the Americans were saying was part of the Charleston package?

Constantine coolly filled his and Henric's glasses with more vodka. They both knocked this back and returned their gaze to the Americans. They looked at each other, then at their wives, and at Plouriva and Jinny. Henric thought he had been pretty clever with his manipulations of LUKOIL proceeds. Constantine thought he had been deviously successful in his dealings with the Chinese computer companies. Both of them now examined the Americans and their proposed procurement of Russian antiquities, and they needed to stretch their legs and their minds over this, so they got up and went into the next room. The others sat back and relaxed.

In ten minutes the men came back and sat down. Henric spoke. "We are Russians, and we love our country, except in winter, when we hate our country. We understand the Charleston package, and we like what we hear. Do you?" he asked, looking at Slevov and Helstof. They nodded affirmatively. Henric continued, "It seems you want to steal some Russian furniture and stuff, and we have no problem with that, under one condition: the stuff has to come to us, in Charleston. We are Russians, and we like Russian things, and it would be nice to have Russian things in our American houses in America. But, you can't steal the Russian stuff and sell it to other people. That is the deal."

Now it was Roger, Gwen, Jinny, and Plouriva's turn to get up and go into the next room for ten minutes of conference. In the living room, Roger had mentioned his plan included the provision of selling the Russian objects on the Charleston antiques market. The four teammates were coming to understand who they were dealing with now, these Rodstras and the Gromstovs. They all looked at Plouriva and smiled, tacitly acknowledging what a good job she had done in picking these as the first Russians to approach with the Charleston package. The team had gotten very lucky, finding people with serious money, ready for new pastures, and with the unusual combination of being cultured and shady.

The two Americans and the two Russians returned to the others, and Roger said, fine, it was a deal, all the goods would go to Russians in America. But he mentioned that so far there only were the two Rodstras and the two Gromstovs, letting that statement float in the air. Constantine waved this concern away as inconsequential, and Henric sniffed it away. The four teammates took this to mean there were more Russians of the same persuasion that could be brought into the fold. Could these other Russians be trusted? The risk-taking continued.

Henric asked what the teammates needed. He was in business mode, confident and aggressive. Plouriva said they needed a way to get five or six large rooms full of small "furniture" out of Saint Petersburg, to a port, and onto a container ship. Constantine and Henric lapsed into speaking Russian, so the Junes sat back and relaxed. Jinny reached for the vodka bottle, but Gwen stopped him with a subtle look. She didn't want him losing any control at this point in the negotiations, not that he was contributing much. Slevov and Helstof got up and went into the kitchen, and soon the smell of sautéing onions and garlic wafted into the meeting room. The two Russian men had it figured out in about fifteen minutes, and Roger wondered if all Russian business was conducted like this. The reality was no, not all business was this easy, except maybe when you had sumo-style guys like Constantine and Henric involved. Constantine, again speaking English, laid out the new plan.

His primary business was computers. Big computers. Big computers come in big boxes. They come all the way from China in big boxes, and over the last five years Russia had bought a lot of these machines. Constantine had seen these arrive in Moscow on numerous occasions, because he insisted on personally welcoming this very valuable equipment into the country. Most of these supercomputers stayed in or around Moscow, but some were shipped to other Russian cities or to remote and secret installations. He had seen the empty crates after the equipment had been removed, and he said he could have some of these crates brought to Saint Petersburg. The computing units themselves were only the size of large cars, but the amount of ancillary equipment needed to serve the computers was enormous: mass storage units, power provision units, cabling units, security units, etc. The fans required to keep these beasts from overheating were similar to those used in stadium air-conditioning systems. So there were plenty of really big wooden crates lying around.

This seemed to solve part of the problem of getting the stuff out of the warehouses and out of the Hermitage compound, but what about getting it out of the country and to Charleston. Henric had the juice to ship oil equipment where and when he wanted, because the important Russian military-industrial complex operations were not subject to the petty requirements of law. Security, yes, but not law. Henric said things could happen with these crates. Jinny had told Plouriva that Charleston was one of America's largest and busiest shipping container ports, and Plouriva had told the Russians. Henric said the crates could be on a ship heading somewhere westward, with just two weeks' notice. The ship may make twenty port calls in fifteen countries, but eventually it, and the crates, would end up in Charleston.

The conversation stopped. These two Russian men just had conspired to steal Russian heritage materials and smuggle them out of the country, and they acted as if they had agreed to sell and buy a used car. To Jinny, this was not exactly surprising, not that he ever had been involved in something of this magnitude, but certainly he knew how business in general was conducted. He was enjoying all of this, seeing how the plan he had conceived was taking form. Plouriva was relieved to see that her part (stealing the stuff from the warehouses) was not the end of the road, and that the next step had been figured out. Roger and Gwen were shocked, but they were adept at covering this up. They sat placidly, listening, amazed. Like so much that had happened in the formation and execution of this caper, this last Russian step fell like manna from the sky, but they were not people to question good fortune. They believe people make their own luck.

As the conversation lapsed, Slevov and Helstof returned. They carried heavy trays of dishes, and led the way to the large and ornately decorated dining room. They set these on the table, and Slevov then brought out from the pantry refrigerator two bottles of champagne. Roger noted with utter astonishment that the bottles were Selosse. In America these would have to be bought through a special broker, or at auction, not at a retail store, and he was amazed to see them here. Gwen wondered how Slevov and Helstof knew the deal was done, and that they needed to supply a symbolic congratulatory toast. They had been in the kitchen, preparing food. Gwen wondered about Russian mystical communication. When the dishes were uncovered, Roger and Gwen saw a main dish composed of onions, garlic, potatoes (of course), beef, and tomato paste. The garlic smelled great, but Gwen knew that it had been sautéed in corn oil. What a waste of good garlic. Gwen saw she would have plenty to do in the acculturation department with her new friend Slevov. In any case the food was decent and the champagne was great. Selosse always is great. The six Russians and the two Americans ate and drank together, comrades now in an international conspiracy scheme that would lead, hopefully, to good times for some and good money for others.
Chapter 27 - The Hermitage Caper

Nothing much happened the next day. Roger nursed a mild hangover, Plouriva was back at work at the Hermitage office, Jinny was out doing God knows what, and Gwen went to see what a Russian mall was like. She hoped they had a store that sold reproduction Faberge eggs. She had a lot of faith in Roger's ability to provide for them, but she was under no illusion about ever owning one of the fifty-seven surviving genuine Faberge eggs.

The day after the day when nothing much happened, a great deal happened. Jinny was called to a conference with Henric and Constantine, at which they informed him they had accepted the Charleston package. They were ready to move on it and they asked Jinny when the June\Blistov partnership could start producing the goods. Jinny took a while to answer as his internal organs all had shifted position when his heart practically jumped out of his throat. This happened because his adrenal glands did a Niagara Falls dump into his bloodstream that excited his brain neurals that zapped his endocrines that infused chemical electricity into his heart muscle. He managed to maintain a respectable outward form despite the inwardly twirling gymnastics. Looking pensively at the two Russian heavy-weights, Jinny told them the Charleston side of things was in the bag. They could start looking at property and eating shrimp and grits pretty much immediately. He told them he and the Junes still were working on the "furniture" end of things, and had to get that straightened out before they headed back to the States.

Henric and Constantine didn't say anything. Those two guys really operate on the same wavelength. It seemed as if they understood each other without talking; as if they always had exactly the same perspective on things going on around them, and Jinny wondered if they were like, non-identical twins or something. They just sat there and looked at Jinny, waiting for more data to flow to them so they could take action on it. So Jinny gave it to them straight, that Plouriva was handling the furniture thing, and she had to coordinate that with the crate and the container ship thing.

Henric and Constantine got up like they were joined at the hip, and moved to the dining room table. Two hardline telephones appeared and each guy grabbed one. When they had a connection to someone somewhere, two cell phones appeared. They each dialed on the cells, and after a few minutes they were connected to the same people with whom they had hardline connections. They said GO at the same time, and sat back in their chairs, keeping the cells to their ears. After a minute Jinny could hear voices coming from the cells, and the hardline phones were disconnected. Jinny learned later this little procedure resulted in a secure phone connection anywhere in the world; a connection that eliminated all of the many Russian security bureau monitoring systems.

Henric asked the person on the other end of his connection about shipping schedules from Russian ports. Constantine spoke about the availability of flatbed trucks. The conversations took on a life of their own, each perpetuated, fomented, and controlled by the two Russian magnates. Jinny sat back, listened, and learned. At one point Henric motioned to Jinny to get cigars from the cabinet. Then he was asked to get coffee from the kitchen. Henric and Constantine settled in with their phones, smoking and drinking coffee, in their element. Jinny relaxed and believed this caper really had a chance of success. With a weirdness that unsettled Jinny, the two guys ended their forty-five minute calls at the same time. What's going on here? Constantine grabbed some paper and a pen and began jotting down notes. Henric watched his cigar smoke drift upwards toward the twelve foot ceiling.

Constantine asked Henric for a calendar. Together they talked dates and ship itineraries and tides and custom inspections and port operations and road conditions and the habits of local and not-so-local police. Henric asked Constantine what he knew about the Hermitage? Constantine said it had lots of old and beautiful stuff in it. Lots of really old shotguns, and he wished he had a few like that. Henric could see Constantine didn't know much about this, so he looked at Jinny. Jinny reacted very coolly, said Plouriva had this covered....100% percent down and certain.

Both Henric and Constantine were retired chief executives, had managed people for many years, and knew they had to rely on others to make things happen. Long ago they had developed highly refined senses of intuition about their staffs and subordinates. They looked at each other, looked at Jinny, and nodded affirmatively. Jinny thought, "Bloody hell right, we are good." With that, arrangements were made to meet with Plouriva tomorrow at the museum.

Later that day Jinny went to the Corinthia and had coffee with Roger and Gwen. He told them of recent events, and answered their questions. It appeared to them that the caper, at this point, was out of their hands, that the two big Russians had entered the fray with barely a raised eyebrow, and their attitude was: risk, what risk? Let's get this done so we can get on to more important things, like learning about this mysterious but enticing food called shrimp and grits. Winter was coming. Jinny thought the prospect of shooting large handguns with Gwen, and maybe a few other Charleston babes, and yes, maybe with their wives, might have something to do with their enthusiasm, but he didn't mention this to Roger.

The next day the Junes spent time inside the Hermitage looking at a monumental collection of rare and beautiful heritage artifacts. They did not make any connection with Henric, Constantine, or Plouriva, who met together in Plouriva's office. Jinny was absent, too, given his immigration status. Roger and Gwen walked from one room stuffed with Eighteenth-Century French antique masterpieces to the next room stuffed with Chinese porcelain masterpieces to the next room stuffed with Flemish painted masterpieces. Roger began to understand the grading of this material: the grade A stuff, which boggled his mind, to the grade B stuff, which made him drool, to the grade C stuff, which....Oh yeah, the grade C stuff. This was the material he wasn't seeing because it didn't rate compared to the grade A and grade B stuff that was on display. He began to question Plouriva's rating of the material. He began to suspect that the grade C stuff was not stored just in warehouses "out back", with minimal security, as Plouriva had told them. This was based on the quality of the A and B stuff. One notch below that still would be world-class objects d'art. Roger now was thinking their target material was more like grade D stuff. Even then, you're talking five figure worths. What would be their profit, selling this stuff to the Russkies? Roger wondered just how much the Russkies would pay for stuff they had helped steal. Later in the day, outside the museum, Roger mentioned this to Gwen, who replied it depended on exactly how rich these guys were. If they were super rich, then money didn't matter to them. What mattered was convenience. If the team could supply things that really turned the Russians on, then money would not be an issue. Gwen said, "I have these guys' temperature, I own Slevov, and Helstof is cool too. When I get this group back to Charleston, the good times are gonna roll."

In Plouriva's office the boys didn't actually talk about stealing the goods from the warehouses. They just kind of shot the shit with Plouriva, using this as an opportunity to size her up, again. Plouriva was solid as a battleship. She knew what was going on and she played this hand deftly. She talked about the history of the Hermitage, the surrounding grounds, and the stuff inside the museum. After a while she took them on a walk. In an hours stroll they saw maybe twenty percent of the property. They didn't go anywhere near the warehouses, but Plouriva talked about them, giving the boys the lay of the land.

Plouriva had two important logistical points still to figure out. One involved the big shipping crates, and the other was how the hell SHE was going to get out of the country alive. Plouriva's original plan was to use the shipping crates now sitting in the workrooms of the museum basement; the ones in which the artifacts from the University of Vladivostok Art Museum had arrived. She could see the flaw in this. The crates had to be ones that could roll through the streets of Saint Petersburg without exciting the interest of any security types. Now she could see the brilliance of Constantine's method - use crates that he had used once already and that had passed security muster. Plouriva's challenge was to get the trucks into the Hermitage compound, empty, and get them out loaded with the Vladivostok crates filled with artifacts. She had no doubt that Constantine, somehow, somewhere in the city, could have the goods transferred from the Vladivostok crates to the computer crates. Then, onwards to the port and the container ship.

As far as her escaping the country, she knew Roger and Gwen were going to leave Russia the night before the theft. The theft itself was all on Plouriva, that being the price she had to pay to be a full partner in the caper. The deal Jinny had made with her, that the Junes had agreed to, was if Plouriva succeeded at getting the stuff out of the Hermitage compound, and if she had a way to get the stuff out of the country and on its way to the States, that would invest her as a full partner in all future financial returns. In other words, her part would be done, and she could coast the rest of the way.

The important logistical point Plouriva had not yet figured out was how to get herself out of the country after the theft. She knew she had to manage the actual stealing of the goods. She had to be, so to speak, the on-site manager. Once the stuff was out of the compound, the remainder of the transportation basically was on auto-pilot. The trucks would take the Vladivostok crates to someplace where the goods would be transferred to the computer crates, which then would be trucked to a shipping terminal where they would be loaded into containers, and the containers would be trucked to the port where they would be loaded onto a ship which, eventually, would arrive in Charleston. Just as Constantine and Henric were sizing up Plouriva, she was sizing up them. Could they manage the goods once they were out of the compound? Would they do so, honestly? Or would they hijack the goods and turn her in to the security apparat?

The stroll around the grounds was a very interesting experience for Plouriva; perhaps less so for the guys. For the guys, this caper was kind of elementary. They were used to stealing the country's oil, and procuring and appropriating the country's supercomputers that were used in making really big and badass bombs. Plouriva, though, had to determine if her neck was safe with these dudes, so her scoping of them was at fever pitch.

The pitch of her fever lessened later in the afternoon after Henric and Constantine left. They had been friendly to her and were absolutely calm and assured. This alone was not enough for Plouriva to put her neck in their hands, but it was enough to reduce her inner tension. The three agreed to meet the next day with Jinny, which they did, at a local beer bar. They stood at an isolated chest-high table, like the rest of the patrons, sipping Czech beer. Henric and Constantine told Plouriva they could pull off the heist. They said they had arranged the basics of the logistics, and that it had been relatively easy. It came down to having exactly the right kind of trucks, carrying the right kind of crates, driven by exactly the right guys, traveling down the right roads, at the right time of day, to exactly the right terminal. There the crates would be loaded into exactly the right containers, which would be put on the right trucks, and sent to the right port, in time to flow onto exactly the right ship. Henric and Constantine didn't mention this to Plouriva, but they had people who made arrangements like this on a fairly regular basis, and did it really well. Hence their opinion that these logistics were relatively easy. And hence their assured demeanor. Neither did they mention that they were footing the bill for this part of the heist. Plouriva knew this was costing some bucks, but her intuition was, "If they ain't bringing the subject to the table, neither am I." Plouriva, and later Jinny, and later Roger and Gwen, all understood these guys were seriously rich, and they were serious about the Charleston package. They wanted to make this thing a success, and they were investing in it.

Compared to many previous machinations involving oil, computers, and other valuable and dangerous commodities and services, for Henric and Constantine, this little op was, well, little. In any case, Roger, Gwen, Jinny, and Plouriva accepted what appeared to be the inevitable: the planning was complete, and execution was at hand.
Chapter 28: Details

Over the next week the Junes played tourist in Saint Petersburg. There were no further meetings with the Gromstovs or Rodstras, either socially or for business. While Jinny ate lunch and dinner in a different restaurant every day, trying to absorb vast quantities of his last bona fide native foods, Plouriva sweated the details of the theft. Henric and Constantine told her by secure phone call that all she had to do was tell them the date, and they would have the right flatbed trucks driven by the right drivers, in the city and standing by for her detailed instructions. That was the end of Henric and Constantine's responsibility, for the interim. It was Plouriva's responsibility to get the trucks into the Hermitage compound, get them to the warehouses, and get them out of the compound. Once she accomplished that, Henric and Constantine once again would take command and responsibility for the duration of the op, which meant until the container ship arrived in Charleston. She thought, fair enough. So did Little Jinny Blistov, who continued to drift from restaurant to restaurant, dreaming of walking his Borzoi on the Sullivan's Island beach and eating shrimp and grits morning, noon, and night. So we come to Plouriva's plan, the nexus and plexus of the operation on Russian soil. We come to the really dangerous part. We come to visions of gulags and low-caloric intake for life.

Some people like a peaceful quiet in which they can sit and function creatively. Hegel walked the quiet pathway along the Heidelberg River, alone, every day for forty years, thinking great thoughts. One of the turns in this pathway was where he had the very great but very misunderstood thought "freedom is necessity." Others do their best thinking and feeling while walking country roads or teeming city streets. Karl Marx sat in the British Museum library, day after day, surrounded by others, writing away at Das Kapital.

Plouriva liked aggressive stimulation when she needed to figure things out. For her, a lot of noise goosed her brain into high performance mode. So she got the keys and hopped into her World War II era camouflage painted diesel military personnel carrier, and rumbled around the complex grounds. She rumbled around the museum buildings thinking, and she rumbled around the warehouse buildings, and she rumbled around the residential area cottages, and she rumbled around the lake with the swans swimming placidly. The elegant swans were used to her and her machine from hell, and paid no notice.

In the end Plouriva fell back onto simplicity for the execution of her plan. She would tell the hoity toity people inside the museum she was ready to move their empty artifact crates to her warehouse area. She would tell them she knew of trucks doing a job at another construction site in the city that could move the crates, and these trucks were available on such and such a date, next week. The grounds division would do the hoitys a favor and get the crates out of their basement rooms. Plouriva would arrange an incident that would interrupt the off-loading of the empty crates at the storage location, so that the trucks had a reason for spending the night in the compound. A few of the crates would be off-loaded before the theft happened, but most would remain on the trucks. Then, in the night, Constantine's eight trusted drivers would grab the goods, load them into the crates, get the few crates back on the trucks, and drive them out of the compound. Plouriva very much hoped the result would be different from the result in The Great Escape movie. She hoped her fate was different from the fate of that American stud actor Steve McQueen. She sat thinking this through, feeling the massive vibrations emanating from the huge diesel engine throbbing in the front of her personal carrier, wondering what it would be like to make it with Steve McQueen.

She didn't think about this too long as she had two dicey plan details still not settled. How to bribe the guards at the compound service entrance\exit to let the trucks out without wondering what was going on, and how to get her and Jinny out of the country and onwards to Charleston. The throbbing of the carrier engine may or may not eventually have led her to the solutions, but in any case, she decided to dump these matters on to her real-life lover, Little Jinny Blistov. He had been scarce these last few days, eating his way through the town's restaurants, and it was time he did a bit more work to earn his share of the proceeds.

Jinny was the soul of equanimity. When Plouriva met him for his second lunch of the day, and laid on him the two tasks of bribing the guards at the service entrance and getting the two of them out of Russia and onto the beach at Sullivan's Island, he smiled at her and said, ok. Jinny was more like Plouriva than Hegel when it came to stimulating the mental processes. He liked sounds and commotion, so he hopped the underground metro, settled into a hard plastic seat, and watched the tunnels and the stations fly by. Four hours later he hopped off the metro and returned to the daylight of Russia's most beautiful city. While the ride had not generated anything as profound as the Hegelian axiom about freedom, it had solved both problems. Voila! Ask and you shall receive. He knew the schedule was tight, that Plouriva needed to move into action, and that for his and her well-being, the solutions had to be damn good. On the other hand, Jinny recognized nothing was foolproof, and he knew very well the validity of the old Russian saying, "If anything can go wrong, it will go wrong." This led him to wonder about the life and times of the Russian Orthodox monk Murphievski, who originally recorded this saying early in the 14th century.

So he got right back to Plouriva, suggesting they meet for dinner, his fifth meal of the day. He was riding the storm of great, good, decent, and downright bad Russian cuisine, and he wanted to keep the ride going for as long as possible. Potatoes fifty different ways was all good to him. At the restaurant (if such a dive could be so construed), Plouriva let him eat his first plastic bowl of salted cod covered with vinegar, paprika, and cabbage broth, and let him drink his first beer, before giving him the look. He saw the look, and understood its meaning, but he still tried to get up from the table to get another bowl full of this manna. He didn't make it, though, as Plouriva grabbed him by the front of the pants and jerked him back into his seat. This type of gesture he fully understood.

Four hours of riding the subway had produced ideas. He told Plouriva the answer to problem number two, how to get him and her out of the country the day after the night of the theft, was relatively easy. He told her that anyone who could get eight giant crates full of heritage artifacts out of the country and to the City of Charleston, USA, could get two little bodies out of the country and to the City of Charleston, USA. He said as soon as he was done with his second bowl of salted cod he would contact Constantine and Henric and ask them to get him and her out of the country. Recitation of this idea resulted in an icy stare, but no comment, from his rather hot-blooded lover. Taking this to mean acceptance (Jinny being sanguine by nature), he moved onto his idea for solving problem number one, namely how to bribe the compound guards. Jinny's giant mental labors executed during the four hour subway ride had resulted in an even less complex and suitable solution to this problem his iffy solution to problem number two. He said, "I will find out who is scheduled for guard duty the night you want to do the deed, and I will make them an offer they can't refuse."

Jinny didn't think Plouriva capable of rendering a stare icier than the one she gave him for his first idea, but he was wrong. This stare could solve the entire world crisis currently being attributed to global warming if some great Russian scientists could but harness its inherent energy. This stare froze Jinny's balls into rocks.

He took this opportunity to get up and go for his second bowl of cod. Service was slow, it seemed to Plouriva, because it took Jinny quite a long time to get his sorry ass back to the table. It was a good thing that Jinny was sanguine by nature because it took all of his sanguinity to deal with the audible hiss that emanated from Plouriva's mouth as he sat down. "THAT'S your idea of a good solution? THAT'S what you came up with to save our asses and make this thing work? You're going to take THAT to the Junes for their approval?"

Jinny knew it was best if he didn't answer immediately. He knew it was best to allow Plouriva to fully vent her internal steam system hiss before he replied. He also knew that if he attempted to take a forkful of this wonderful fish with vinegar and paprika dish, it was likely his lover would, in one powerful swipe reminiscent of a grizzly going after a salmon, send his fork flying across the room where it would embed itself in the wall. So he sat looking at her, sanguinely, not eating cod or drinking beer, waiting for the steaming hiss to dissipate. Which it did.

He said, "This will work." He said he now knew who the two Russian big boys were, how they operate, and what their capabilities are. In a flash of brilliance he told Plouriva it was her brains that found these two dudes who could do almost anything; it was her skill that had brought them into the fold; that they were going to be successful at getting the goods to Charleston due to her planning acumen. Then he said he knew the guys who serve as entrance guards, and he had worked with this type of employee for years, during his toilet cleaning career. If you offered these guys enough money, they would send their mothers on a Siberian vacation. The Hermitage was like any other Russian government agency. It was corrupt. This didn't mean that all Russians were bad persons, just that all Russians behaved liked Russians. It is the way it is. Jinny thought of pointing out to Plouriva that he and she were conspiring to steal Russian heritage artifacts and smuggle them out of the country, but instinct took control and he held his tongue.

The steam pressure inside Plouriva dissipated somewhat, going downwards from 8000 pounds per square inch to 7500 pounds per square inch. This reduction was enough for Jinny to pick up his fork and tackle the still warm mass of salty fish and vinegar in his bowl. He thought it was delicious.

The end result was that Plouriva agreed to both of Jinny's ideas. She just made him understand that if either of these got screwed up, it was gonna be his nuts that got salted and served up in a plastic bowl.
Chapter 29: The Last Details

Jinny's reading of human nature was right again, and right on both accounts. The day after Plouriva threatened to castrate him, he went to see Henric. He figured the guy who imported supercomputers from China was the guy who could get him and his girl out of the country. He could see Henric was occupied with other things and didn't really want to be dealing with Jinny, so Jinny was succinct in his request. Please smuggle him and Plouriva out of the country the day after the night of the theft. He was quite specific though, it had to be the very next day after the night of the theft. Henric didn't say a word, he just picked up the landline phone and the cell phone, did the security system switchy thing, and talked to someone about the need. This took twenty seconds. He hung up, did not look at Jinny, went back to work. Jinny cooled his heels. Half an hour later, the cell phone rang. Henric said GO, listened, put the phone down, and nodded at Jinny. Jinny thought: cool dude, very cool dude.

It wasn't quite that easy bribing the service entrance guards. Still, he got the job done. He started with Plouriva. She made inquiries with her peer department head in charge of site security, and found out the names of the two guys scheduled for night shift on the day of the theft. She was subtle in making this inquiry, not wanting to arouse suspicion. She told the other department head that a guy on the security staff had come to her and asked if she had any opening on the grounds crew. She said the guy told her he was bored with sitting in a little cabin at the back entrance to the compound, pulling the night shift. Plouriva played this hand as if she was giving the other department head a courtesy notice that one of his staff was trying to leave his department. They shot the shit for a while, and in the end Plouriva came away with the names of the guys scheduled for duty that night.

Plouriva gave these names to Jinny, who in turn gave them to one of his old buddies in a government "information" department, who gave them to his assistant, who looked up the addresses and phone numbers and other personal information, who gave the information back to his boss, who, in exchange for a handful of rubles, gave them to Jinny.

Jinny now had to figure an angle by which to approach these two guys. He tried to figure an angle, and came up dry. So he did what all good detectives do when they come up dry, they go back to basics, which means they watch a person and hope that leads to the angle. So Jinny went to one of the addresses and hung out. After five hours of being deprived of eating in a restaurant, he was rewarded with the appearance of night watchman number one. At least he assumed it was the right guy because the guy went into the apartment. Jinny watched for another hour, with half his mind on the problem and the other half on the food he wasn't eating, when the great czar in the sky beamed beneficently down on him. Guy number one came out of his apartment, walked down the street, and hopped onto the metro, with Jinny right behind. He hopped off the metro in a section of the city Jinny knew to accommodate gay cultural aficionados. Well, well. Jinny was intrigued in some as yet unknown way. The guy entered a restaurant which was connected to another building that did not have any sign on the outside. Jinny didn't know what was what but he had a feeling something was in the wind. He called Plouriva and told her to come to the place. Which she did.

When she arrived, Jinny told her what was up. She didn't hiss at him, but she did give him a stare, which asked, "Well?" Jinny told her to go into the restaurant and into the attached building and see if one of the guard guys was there. Plouriva saw this was a gay joint, which was neither here nor there to her. So she went in, and three minutes later came out. She said not only was the guy the right guy, but guess what, the OTHER right guy also was in there, meaning the second guy who was scheduled to be on duty the night of the theft. So the two guys who in a sense were their targets, were in a gay joint together, right here, right now.

What to do? What to do?

Jinny's mind clicked. It just clicked. We saw this happen a few times back in Charleston, and it happened again here, right on cue. Jinny told Plouriva to scram, he had a plan. So she did. When she was gone, Jinny acted. Remember when Jinny had gone into the French restaurant in Charleston, and walked up to Roger and Gwen's table. He stood looking at them, knowing they had gats, and still accosted them? He did the same thing now.

He entered the restaurant and looked around, noticing plates of food on the tables, which came close to distracting him from his objective. He saw what looked like deep fried fish on one of the plates, surrounded by deep fried something else, which was topped with some kind of sauce. He filed this observation away for future reference. Gay restaurant no matter; food matter. He looked for the entrance to the connected building, and saw only the door to the kitchen. After a second he made for the door, entered, made visual contact with the cooks, ignored them, made visual contact with a door in the right wall, opened and walked through the door into the other building, and stopped. He was in a bar filled with ten or twelve people, some sitting at the bar and others at small tables. He absorbed this scene in three seconds, his mind clicking like an android computer. Like Schwarzenegger in The Terminator. He found the two guys sitting together at a table, and he made for this table just like he made for Roger and Gwen's table in Charleston. He was monomanic, mission controlled, univision objectivated. He stood over them, a gothic stare at one and then at the other, penetrating their consciousness with his. He laid the fear on them. Everyone else in the room stopped what they were doing and watched. There was no talking. Jinny waited and waited. The two guys waited too. The other customers and the bartender waited. If Putin had been in the room, he would have waited.

Jinny pulled out a chair and sat down, facing the two guys. He decided he didn't care about the other people in the room, he was in full-blown risk-taking mode. Evidently all the food he had consumed over the past week had not softened him and affected his sense of duty to the mission. He was on point, the tip of the spear. He knew these guys were the last piece in the puzzle that his beloved Plouriva was putting together. If he got these guys into the game in the way Plouriva needed, their chance of success was boosted. If these guys did not get in the game, success was questionable. Risk, risk, the whole game from Charleston to France to here was one big risk. So be it, Jinny was down.

He said, "Do you guys know the American movie The Godfather? The two guys didn't know what was going on, but they did appreciate the sheer force of persona Jinny was deploying in their direction. They understood the guy in their faces asking them a strange question was nobody to fuck with. They were getting this, "Don't fuck with me" vibe very loud and clear, as were the other people in the room. With this huge psychic vibration rattling their minds, it was hard to concentrate on the question, so they didn't answer. Jinny realized their dilemma, and sympathetically asked the question again, "Do you guys know the American movie The Godfather?" This time the question penetrated their consciousness and both of them shook their heads, Yes. Jinny asked a second question, "Do you remember the scene where Marlon Brando talked about making someone an offer they couldn't refuse?" The two guys thought a second and looked at each other, and them both nodded again, Yes, which pleased Jinny because now he knew he was communicating with the guys in an efficient and effective manner. So he said, very simply and quietly, "You guys are coming with me right now, no fucking around, because I am going to make you an offer you absolutely do not want to refuse. Understand?"

The force of Jinny's personality, as well as his message, was received loud and clear not only by the two guys, but by everyone in the room who remembered that scene from The Godfather, which was everyone, since pretty much everyone in the civilized world has seen this, one of the greatest movies ever made. The two guys had not the slightest inclination to fuck around with Jinny. Jinny stood up, and the two guys stood up. Jinny turned and walked towards the door, and the two guys turned and walked towards the door. Everyone else in the room turned and watched the three guys go through the door, mouths pretty much open.

Jinny led the way through the restaurant, glancing again at the deep fried fish on one of the tables, and he led the way down the street to a little park with a few benches, where he sat down, and motioned to the two guys to sit with him. Which they did. He asked who was who? One guy said Peter, and the other guy said Pater, the names matching those Plouriva had given him. Jinny ratcheted down his heavy-as-a-motherfucker persona and modulated into a nicer person. His goal was to be friends with these guys by the end of the conversation.

Jinny said that he knew who they were and what they did for a living. He told them he knew they worked at the Hermitage as guards at one of the back service entrances. He told them he knew this because he knew other people who also worked at the Hermitage, in high positions. He came across as omniscient about Hermitage operations, having decided that the direct approach was the way to go in this situation. He didn't know if this was the right way to go, but he had faith in his intuition, and so he took the risk. He told the two guys exactly what he wanted of them, which was to let some trucks leave the compound through their gate, in the middle of an upcoming night. He told them if they didn't do this, they would be dead the next day. He emphasized this point by telling them their addresses, and that he knew they were partners, on a personal level. Jinny followed this rather serious point by telling them that if they did this correctly, he had a proposition for them. They didn't say anything, which Jinny took to mean they were listening with open minds.

Jinny laid out his proposition, which he had conceived about three hours beforehand, and had not run by his partners, Plouriva or the Junes. Jinny thought some elements in an operation like this had to be done on the fly, come what may. He thought he would go along with his partners if they laid this type of thing on him.

He told the guys if they did this thing, he would arrange to take them out of the country and get them to America and find them good jobs. He would find them jobs in South Carolina, where it was warm in February. And he told them there were lots of gay people in South Carolina, which he really didn't know about, but claimed it as fact anyway. There would have to be a least a few, he figured. Jinny didn't know these guys from Adam, but figured anything had to be better than sitting in a little shack all night staring at animals creeping around. And he hoped they hated Russian winters as much as he did. Beyond these few rudimentary thoughts, he really was winging it. If they didn't find this proposition interesting, he knew he was screwed.

They asked questions. Where was South Carolina? How would they get there? How would they do this when they didn't have much money? What jobs would they get in South Carolina? How warm in February was warm? Where would they live? Could they take their four cats with them? Were there a lot of people in South Carolina that speak Russian? What state was South Carolina in? What was it south of New York City? Miami?

Jinny sat back and patiently answered. He was honest about some things, and not so honest about others. If he didn't know the answer to a question, he made up an answer. He spoke reassuringly, quietly, almost fatherly. But he kept an edge on things so they knew he still was boss in this matter, and serious. He was like a benevolent dictator.

After half an hour of this the three of them sat quietly, all the questions having been asked and answered. Jinny told them to go home and think about it. They had three hours. They were to meet him back at the restaurant then. If they didn't show up on time he would know they were refusing his proposition, and he would implement his godfatherly mandate. When he said this he looked at them with a neutral stare behind which he planted a vibration of hellish death. He hoped this would work. He got up, put a hand on each of the guy's shoulders, did a little squeeze, and walked off.

He was very tempted to go back into the restaurant and order two plates of the deep fried fish, but he controlled himself and headed back to Plouriva's apartment. There he related his recent coup. Well, he hoped it was a coup. She, on the other hand, thought of it as an expression of deep and abiding idiocy on Jinny's part. "You did WHAT?" she asked. "You're going to bring a couple of gay guys with us to Charleston? You're smuggling gay guys out of Russia, guys we don't even know, guys we don't know we can trust, security guys that may turn us in just for a couple of days off the night shift?" Jinny was calm, calm as ever. He replied first, he didn't know that they were coming. He didn't know if they would accept his proposition, even though he knew he had scared them nearly to death (and everyone else in the bar). He told her he was pretty certain they would accept the offer, and everything would be ok.

Plouriva didn't bother to answer. She wondered at Jinny, who until the day before, did not know how THEY were going to get out of the country (they still didn't actually know, they just were putting themselves in the hands of Henric), and now he had committed to getting two more people out and finding them jobs in Charleston, no less.

Jinny spent the next hour taking a nap, while Plouriva spent the hour speculating what life in Charleston with Little Jinny Blistov was going to be like.

The two of them went to the bar at the appointed hour. Jinny again scoped out what was on the tables as he passed through the restaurant and then through the kitchen. This time he stopped in the kitchen and looked into the pots simmering on the range. Everything smelled great to him. He smiled at the cooks, and gave a thumbs up. From their point of view this was encouraging, compared to the way Jinny had looked the first time they saw him, with his game face on.

In the bar they sat down at a table. Plouriva looked around at the clientele, noticing a table with two guys, and the next table with two guys, and the next table with three women, and the next table with three guys, and....They were the only mixed gender table. Jinny, without verbalizing it, expressed to her, 'What did you expect?' The bartender came over to take their order but Jinny waved him away. Jinny was thinking if the two guys did not show, meaning they were calling his bluff, he would order vodka to drown his sorrows at failing to fulfill his task. He also figured if the guys did show up, meaning they had accepted his proposition, he would order something more festive for the four of them to drink, something like....he looked around at the bar, assessing potential....well....vodka.

Exactly three hours from the time Jinny issued his ultimatum, the guys entered the bar. When he saw them, Jinny breathed a sigh of relief. He didn't show this, of course, still playing the heavy that everyone thought he was, but inside he was relieved. The guys stood looking at Jinny because they saw Plouriva, and they knew who she was. They knew her as Hermitage management. They knew her as grounds boss. They were really surprised....and now again scared. Jinny waved them over, with a smile. With some hesitation they sat down. Jinny waved at the bartender and ordered a bottle of vodka. He shook hands. Everyone in the bar relaxed, a little.

Jinny introduced Plouriva, who managed a smile. They each downed a shot, and things were ok. After another shot and some small talk, Jinny led the party into the restaurant and commandeered a table. He didn't wait for a waiter, he got up and went into the kitchen, where, after conferring with the cooks, he ordered enough food for ten people. Basically he ordered everything on the menu, all four items. The cooks were happy to see this, because three hours ago they had learned what had gone down in the bar. They had been told in detail about, "The offer that couldn't be refused." They had seen The Godfather.

The conversation at dinner was not about business. It was limited to the subject of other great movies. Jinny made arrangements for the guys to meet with Plouriva the next day, when she would explain to them the details of the job, and how they fit in. He left plenty of money on the table.
Chapter 30: It's a Go

Things were spinning fast and there was no stopping them. That was ok with Jinny, who realized it was his responsibility to keep all the plates rotating on the poles and not let any of them drop. In order to do this he cut back from eating five meals a day at different restaurants to four. Plouriva now had to organize the final logistics of the heist. Jinny had to tell the Junes where things stood, and then get with Henric and Constantine. So Jinny called a team meeting for the next evening, to be held at his small borrowed apartment.

The Junes had been enjoying the culture of Saint Petersburg. They visited the Hermitage every morning when it opened at 9am. This way they avoided most of the crowds which turned up daily at about 10:30. After that incredible daily experience they took a walk in a park, and then had lunch at some nice restaurant. The afternoon was spent walking along the river, or just walking the streets. Henric and Constantine did what they do. Some days they worked on little projects, like the Hermitage caper, and some days they did nothing. They were enjoying their retirements. Neither the Junes nor the Russian quasi-gangsters hassled Little Jinny, or tried to pressure him. They didn't know he was eating five meals a day at restaurants, but figured he was gainfully employed working on their project.

That evening everyone showed up at Jinny's place on time. The Junes were there, and Henric and Helstof Gromstov, and the Rodstras, Plouriva, and two gay guys. This made for a tight squeeze in the apartment, but nothing like what the prison cells would be like if something went wrong. It had been almost two weeks since everyone had been together, and over that period Jinny had eaten sixty meals in forty different restaurants. Despite playing the restaurant field, he had not gained an inch on his waist, having good genes in that department. If anyone had asked, he would have admitted to this gastronomic indulgence, but no one did, and he didn't bring it up.

Nor did anyone immediately bring up the observation that their numbers had increased by two since the last team meeting. Plouriva was tempted to do so, but she bit her lip. Jinny brought ten small glasses and two bottles of vodka from the kitchen, and poured a shot for everyone. He noticed no one drank, and knew the reason. There were two strangers in the room. For Jinny, Henric, and Constantine, this was not a problem. For them, what was necessary on a job was necessary. These three guys were risk-takers from way back. Plouriva knew the scoop, and was trusting of her man. On the other hand, the two Russian wives and the Junes were more than a little curious as to who these two guys were.

Jinny looked at Plouriva, wanting her to introduce the guys and provide an explanation. They were, after all, now working for her. Plouriva frosted Jinny with a stare that would have made a Siberian wolverine shiver, and he got the message. "The good news," he said, "is the job is on." He looked at Henric and asked, "Can you have the trucks here three nights from now?"

Henric took out his cell phone, made the secure connection, spoke to someone for less than a minute, hung up, and said, "Yes."

Jinny then looked at Plouriva and asked, "Can you do this three nights from now?"

Plouriva closed her eyes and thought. She opened her eyes and looked at the two gay guys, both of whom nodded. She closed her eyes again and thought some more. When she opened them, she looked at each person in the room, and answered, "Yes."

Jinny then looked at Constantine and asked, "Can you get four of us out of the country, the morning after three nights from now?"

Finally, Jinny was forced to explain the presence of the two strangers in the apartment, and the fact that they knew about the caper. He was forced to do this when Constantine asked, "Four?"

So Jinny, in a laidback manner, sort of matter-of-factly, explained that Peter and Pater are on the Hermitage security staff, and are going to be on guard three nights from now at one of the service road entrances, and they will let the trucks loaded down with grade C Hermitage artifacts leave the compound without asking any questions or sounding any alarm. And because the next day all hell is going to break loose at the Hermitage, and someone will pretty quickly figure out what has gone down, and will ask pertinent questions about the guard detail, and well, to make the plan work, he had to agree to get Peter and Pater out of the country to protect them from sure death, and on top of that had promised them jobs in Charleston, and so yes, there were four of them that Constantine now had to deal with.

When he finished this explanation he looked at Roger, and then at Gwen, and then at the two Russian wives, and then at Plouriva. Then he smiled. No one said anything. Roger looked at Gwen. Constantine looked at Henric. Slevov looked at Helstof. Peter looked at Pater. Plouriva looked at the ceiling.

Jinny waited patiently, with the same supremely confident look on his face he had way back in time when he sat on the couch in the June's house in Charleston, waiting for them to decide if they were in on the caper, or not. Now they were in Russia, not America or France. And the plan all along was for Roger to handle matters in France and Gwen to handle matters in Charleston and Jinny to handle matters in Russia. But underneath all of that was the fact that Roger was the boss of the operation. At least as much of a boss as Gwen would permit. Roger had not done much bossing here in Saint Petersburg, because Jinny and Plouriva had done well at their respective tasks. But now, clearly it was time for an executive decision. And Roger was the executive.

Roger stood up and went to the little balcony that looked out over the alleyway filled with trashcans. Three stories down he saw a Russian bin diver retrieving a treasure from the bottom of a dumpster. After a minute he turned around and looked at Gwen. They communicated telepathically, with not a single movement of any part of their bodies. Roger looked at Peter and Pater. Then he turned and again looked out on the alley. He stood there for two minutes, at the end of which he walked to the small table on which sat the ten small glasses of vodka. He picked up one of the glasses and knocked back the shot. When he finished he said to everyone, "Onwards to Charleston."
Chapter 31: Gone in the Night

The fundamental idea was that all of the conspiracy and planning, all the talking and risk-taking, and all of the strange friendships and relationships would result in some great action; this action being, of course, the theft; the heist of a lot of grade C artifacts from the Hermitage Museum in Saint Petersburg, Russia. This was not a Tom Cruise (Mission Impossible), Sean Connery (James Bond) type of action. Maybe it was a tribute to the brainpower employed by the team in its planning. Maybe it was luck. Maybe it was due to soft security by the Hermitage staff. Or maybe it was due to a legacy of bad karma drifting down through the years from the rampages of Lenin and Stalin. Who knows? The fact is, the heist went off without a hitch.

The team did have to make one very important change to the plan at this point. After much discussion, mostly between Roger and Plouriva, they realized it simply wouldn't work having Roger describe to Plouriva beforehand the types of artifacts he wanted from the warehouses. He would have to be part of the heist team and choose the goods that were taken.

Gwen didn't like this conclusion at all. She had planned on sitting comfortably in the Corinthia, playing with Roger and the towels that came off the heated towel rack she loved so much. Now her husband was walking into the line of fire. And it might turn out to be a withering fire. But she kept her mouth shut when it became clear Roger wanted to do this, and that it was necessary. Roger used their telepathy to tell her it was all right.

On D-Day morning Roger went alone to the Hermitage, as usual. Just before lunchtime he left, and met Plouriva outside. She walked him to her office where he spent the remainder of the day, in full view of the grounds staff. Maybe they thought he was the boss' new squeeze, and if that was the case, the staff knew enough not to stick their noses into it.

Early that morning Plouriva got a call from Constantine (on a secure line) saying eight large flatbed trucks were waiting at a construction site two miles from the museum. With this confirmed, Plouriva went into the main museum building and found her counterpart, the head hoity-toity guy that ran internal operations. She told him that today was the day to move the crates from Vladivostok out of the basement work areas, to the warehouse areas, where she would store them for the duration of the exhibit. He looked at her like she was crazy, and said, "Are you crazy? Why didn't you give me some notice?"

She said, "Look, today is the day the construction guys I know off-loaded their trucks at their site. Today is the day the trucks are available. And so today is the day I can get the crates out of your way and out of your building. What's the problem? You want the crates to stay, fine by me."

The hoity guy was exasperated, and looked it, but from past experience he knew enough to not fuck around with Plouriva. The last time he did that, his parking spaces didn't get plowed for two weeks from under a late May storm that dumped two feet of snow on the city. So he bit his lip, called down to the basement level and told the guys down there that today all the crates would be going. This stirred up a hive of activity that Plouriva was pleased to witness. The sixteen huge crates were cleared and lined up ready for loading.

Plouriva went back to her office and smiled at Roger, who was looking at a Russian fashion magazine. He couldn't figure out why Plouriva, of all people, would have a magazine like this in her office, but he enjoyed looking at the Russian models. He was pleased to see the Russian fashion world had not succumbed to the disease the western fashion world has succumbed to, which is a population of emaciated, juvenile, stick-figure models. These Russian babes had substance to them. Plouriva called Constantine and spoke one word: "Go." At 2pm eight flatbeds entered the Hermitage compound through one of the service gates and rumbled up to the rear of the building that had 1285 rooms, including one heck of a lot of bathrooms.

While the hoitys loaded the crates onto the trucks, Plouriva called the two gay guys and told them to stop by her office when they came on duty that evening at 6pm, because she had the forms they had asked for to apply for jobs in her division. This was the signal that the job was on for that night, as planned. She thought she heard choking at the other end of the phone line, but that could have been her imagination.

She, on the other hand, was Cool Hand Luke. She was amazed she was not nervous, not even a little. Excited, maybe, but she had no premonition of disaster. When the head hoity called her and told her the crates were loaded, she jumped in her jeep and zoomed the quarter mile over to the museum. She parked, waved to the hoity, gave him the figure behind her back, and jumped on the running board of the lead truck. She gave the "convoy ho" signal, and the giant diesel engines chugged the trucks into motion. A massive cloud of smoke drifted towards the snow white walls of one of the great museums on the planet. The hoity guy said good riddance to the crates, and the same to the head grounds yahoo.

The convoy meandered away from the museum area and disappeared into the surrounding pine forest. Most of the hoitys didn't know what went on out in "the woods", and didn't want to. Warehouses without end, dumpsites, a quarry, maintenance sheds, vehicle garages, water plants, sewage plants, and god knows what else filled these surrounding lands. This was Plouriva's territory.

Plouriva's plan was to simulate a breakdown in the lead truck when it got to the warehouse district, when she did by opening the hood of the lead truck. She used an old military forklift to off-load two crates and make it look like they were heading for storage. The eight drivers and eight truck passengers hung around the area looking bored, in case any security patrols happened by, while two guys pretended to work on the lead truck engine. Plouriva had made sure that none of her staff would be working in this area. All was quiet.

Plouriva hoofed it back a mile to her office complex and found Roger still looking at the fashion models. She wondered how long he could do this. It was 6pm, and most of the staff had left for the day. She called the security office and told them of the truck breakdown. They had nothing to say. With that, she turned to Roger and said the Russian version of, "Game on."

Roger put down the magazine, looked at her, and said, "Now what." She turned off her computer, took a last look around the space that had been her office for twenty years, and with only a twinge of sentiment, flipped off the lights. They walked outside, hopped into another jeep, and disappeared into the forest.

Plouriva drove to the warehouse complex and parked near the line of trucks. They got out, and Roger looked around. He counted thirty-one large, one-story, wood buildings within sight. He asked, "Is this all?" Plouriva got the American joke, and told him there were four other warehouse complexes similar to this. He said, "Wow." He looked at her, and she looked at him, and it dawned on them both that from this point forward the job would be shear improvisation. The sixteen guys lounging around showed no emotion; they had been part of heists before, and calmly waited for Plouriva's orders. All of them had paper bags of food, and all of them carried handguns under their shirts or on the floors of the trucks.

From her jeep Plouriva grabbed a large pair of bolt-cutters and two flashlights. The warehouses were locked with large, heavy padlocks. Plouriva was solid as a rock as she led the way to the first building, cut the lock, and entered. The lights worked, surprisingly, as this may have been the first time in ten years that anyone had turned them on. Roger entered and looked around.

The first thing he saw was a small painting of a Russian factory. The smokestack was billowing and the workers were filing in one doorway and out another. This was Russian realism from the 1950s. The painting was hanging by wires from one of the horizontal ceiling beams. Roger scanned the packed interior, with aisles running in perpendicular directions, and he looked at Plouriva for guidance. Plouriva had no guidance to provide, and shrugged her shoulders. With that as a statement of reality, Roger realized the same thing Jinny had realized a couple of days earlier, when he faced the task of dealing with the Hermitage perimeter security system. Jinny knew it was time for high performance, and he did what he did with Peter and Pater in the restaurant. Plouriva had faced this when dealing with her counterpart, the hoity dude that ran the museum interior operation, and she had intimidated the guy. Roger now knew it was up to him to pick the objects they would steal; the objects that ultimately would wind up in Charleston, where they would sell them for large sums of money to rich, expatriate, crooked Russians.

Roger asked Plouriva how much time they had before they had to roll the trucks out of the compound. She looked at her watch....7:30pm. Constantine had told her the trucks had to be out of the compound by 1am, because the artifacts had to be reloaded from the museum crates into the giant computer crates before dawn. So Plouriva told Roger all the trucks had to roll together, as a convoy, and the engines had to rumble by 12:30am. Roger had five hours to fill the crates with Hermitage grade C treasures. It was time to perform.

Earlier, he and Plouriva realized they would not have to do The Great Escape routine of cutting holes in the floors and taking the stuff out that way. It was going to be easier, just haul the items out the doors. The difficulty was plowing through thirty-one buildings in five hours to find the best stuff. But doing that was his job. He spouted orders to Plouriva, and commensurately she spouted orders to the sixteen guys from the trucks. Roger needed one man to stay at his side at all times. This was the marker, whose job was to mark the items Roger identified to be taken and get Roger into the buildings with the lights on. He wanted a second man to be the Little Boss (Plouriva being the big boss), whose job was to direct the others in wrapping and loading the items. And he told Plouriva her job was to range around the entire operation, acting as trouble shooter. No one asked any questions, they just moved into motion. Plouriva picked a guy named Hameed to be Roger's sidekick. Roger thought about asking Plouriva how the guy got a name like that here in Saint Petersburg, but decided that was something that could wait for a less eventful time. Hameed it was, and a good thing, as Hameed could speak a little English. Roger was tempted again to ask how a guy named Hameed, who was a crook in Saint Petersburg, had learned to speak English, but again he decided that could wait for a more appropriate time.

As he told Hameed to mark the items he chose and tell Little Boss to load them into the crates. Roger realized he had no way to mark the items. Shit. Hameed was cool though, and looked around. He saw that some of the objects were covered in white sheets. Mostly these were fabric furniture. Hameed whipped one of these sheets off a sofa and tore it into three foot long strips. When he had twenty of these in hand, he looked at Roger and gave a thumbs-up. Roger smiled a sigh of relief. Go Hameed. With that, Roger closed his eyes, settled his breathing, and switched on his Divvy Sense.

What is Roger's Divvy Sense? It's the thing described in stories by the English author Jonathan Gash that relate the life and times, loves and crimes of the inimitable, slightly crooked but lovable antiques dealer, Lovejoy. Lovejoy had the real deal when it came to the Divvy Sense. Lovejoy had the thing at the highest level. If Lovejoy came within a hundred yards of a genuine, bona fide, valuable work of art or antique, some special organ in his body that only a very few people in the world possess would start bonging and binging and giving off vibrations that told Lovejoy something good was close by. This might happen at an auction, or in someone's house, or maybe in a store, or even out in a field, because the Divvy Sense worked on archeological objects just as well as paintings or silver or furniture. Long ago Lovejoy had given up going to the Victoria and Albert Museum in London because this special organ would be so stimulated the vibrations just about drove Lovejoy up the wall.

Roger's Divvy Sense was nothing compared to Lovejoy's, but it was a formidable and valuable attribute to possess if one loved beautiful things. And now was the time to turn this baby on and let it do its special thing. It took some time for Roger to clear his thoughts and feelings, and let the Divvy Sense settle over him. He stood still, with eyes closed and breathing shallow, for three minutes. Both Hameed and Plouriva realized something strange was going on, so they kept quiet. They kept looking at each other with raised eyebrows and twitching facial expressions, but they didn't speak or move. Roger got it tuned in, and opened his eyes. He was in Divvy mode, and he remained like that for the next five hours.

He moved down one row and up another. He ripped sheets off of chairs and sofas and tables and desks. His eyes flew from lamp to dresser to chandelier to china set. It took about twenty minutes for him to calibrate the Divvy Sense, which let him differentiate between just average valuable and beautiful stuff to really valuable and beautiful stuff. It had helped this calibration effort that he and Gwen had spent so many hours in the Hermitage looking at the grade A and grade B stuff. Like Lovejoy when he went to the Victoria and Albert Museum, Roger had had to keep his Divvy Sense carefully boxed up and inactive when in the Hermitage, lest it cause some sort of cardiac infarction that he really wanted to avoid.

After twenty minutes he began to sense the great grade C stuff from the average grade C stuff. In the first building, which took him twenty minutes to cover, he motioned to Hameed to mark six items with a strip of white cloth. This was Roger's initiation into high level, serious, illegal divvying. The sub-conscious knowledge that if he got caught doing this he never again would make love to Gwen, or drink a glass of great French burgundy, or sit on his porch and play with his dog, or eat a plate of langoustines, added to his bloodstream a very large dose of adrenaline, or whatever chemicals were involved in creating the Divvy Sense in the first place. In two words, Roger was on a grand high.

He and Hameed moved on to the next warehouse, while Little Boss cracked the whip on the truck guys and got them wrapping and loading the items into the crates. Plouriva, the big boss, jumped in her jeep and made a quick run back to her office complex. There was no one around. She then zoomed back to the warehouses and kept going down the dirt road towards the perimeter fence and the guard checkpoint. Two hundred yards from the checkpoint she stopped the jeep, turned off the engine, and walked. The guard house and gate came into view. From her pocket she took a small pair of binoculars, and looked at the house. There, to her relief, she saw Peter standing outside, and Pater sitting inside. She walked forward, and when Peter saw her, he waved. She came up to him, her senses alert and questing for his demeanor, which told her everything was ok. Peter was cool and positive. Without speaking to him, she went into the small building and did the same with Pater. He, too, was OK. Plouriva had to hand it to Jinny, who sensed something safe in the two gay guys, and who trusted them. Way to go Jinny. One more reason to love the guy.

Plouriva changed from commander mode to friend mode, and put a hand on both their shoulders. She told them everything was going according to plan; everything was cooking; the mission was happening. She told them the trucks would show up here about 12:30am, but they should be ready before that. They nodded and waited for any orders, but Plouriva just smiled again and left.

By the time she got back to the warehouses, Roger and Hameed were on their fourth one, and three crates were full of objects, small and large, all wrapped in thick blankets. The truck guys were working slowly but steadily and carefully. They were pros, and Plouriva was thankful that Henric was able to supply such highly skilled crooks for the job. She could see these same guys inside a vault somewhere, with alarms going off, calmly loading currency and stock certificates into sacks. Plouriva guessed all of them knew how to handle their guns. She wondered how much these guys cost for a job like this, and realized it was a lot. Henric and Constantine, to some significant extent, were subsidizing this operation with their own funds. It made Plouriva realize just how wealthy the two bigwigs really were. And she realized Henric and Constantine were not in this for the money. They were in this because they inherently were crooks who enjoyed their work, and because they were committed to moving to Charleston and living the good life there. Plouriva really hoped Gwen was going to come through in that department.

Plouriva caught up with Roger and Hameed, and watched them work. It looked like they had been doing this sort of thing together for years. Roger was in a zone, scanning, feeling, sensing, assessing. When he motioned, Hameed jumped, and a white flag appeared attached to the object. Little Boss was right behind, ordering his crew to pick this up this way, pick that up that way, carry this piece to that crate and that piece to this crate. Little Boss watched that each and every item was carefully handled and carefully wrapped. Plouriva wondered if any of these guys might show up one day in Charleston, bidding on some of the items they now were loading onto trucks.

After an hour, the mostly silent movements of the men were interrupted when the gun one of the guys was carrying inside his belt slipped out as he was lifting a large painting, dropped to the floor, and went off. BLAM, the sound echoed inside the building. THUD, the bullet sounded as it entered a heavy wood post not far from the head of another guy. No one moved. The guy who owned the gun stood straining under the weight of his load. The guy who almost took the round in the head looked at the gun first and then at the gun owner. Roger, Hameed, Plouriva, and everyone else held their breath.

Then Little Boss spoke up, walking towards the gun owner, saying, "You dumb fuck, how many times do I have to tell you not to carry your piece with a round in the chamber?"

And then the guy who almost took the round in the head walked towards the guy, saying, "You dumb fuck, can't you keep your fucking gun in your pants where it's supposed to be?" The two guys reached the gun owner at the same time, who still was holding the large oil painting of a Romanov borzoi that must have weighed a hundred pounds. The two guys looked at each other, and came to an understanding. They each reached up to the gun owner's head, grabbed an ear, and began to twist....hard. The gun owner began to squeal, and then the other truck guys began to laugh, and then Plouriva and Hameed smiled. One of the other guys yelled that if the gun owner dropped the painting, they were going to tie him up and leave him for the polizei to find the next day. The two ear twisters kept twisting, and the gun owner kept squealing, but he didn't drop the painting of the borzoi.

Plouriva had to intercede into the guy's fun, and told them to stop. When the gun owner was allowed to set the painting down, first Little Boss, and then the other ear twister smacked the gun owner on the sides of his head. And then Little Boss picked up the gun and told him he could have it back later, after he bought them all a round of drinks when the job was done. No one seemed to care about the sound of the shot. Roger remained in Divvy mode, Plouriva went outside to reconnoiter, and the guys went back to work. The humiliated gun owner picked up the patiently waiting borzoi, and carried it out to a truck.

The dropped gun was the only real excitement during this phase of the operation. Roger was the man now, everything revolving around him. Some of the truck guys could care less about what they were loading, but a few of them were curious about just how Roger was doing this thing. Hameed was the most curious, and he had the ring side seat. Plouriva watched carefully but didn't understand what was happening. Plouriva was sorry Jinny wasn't here to see this performance because she thought he would understand more about it than she did. Roger was in a zone, but he was not a zombie. He talked to himself, saying things like "unbelievable," and "holy shit," and "oh yes," and "that is really nice, really nice." Plouriva wondered what he said when he and Gwen were doing it.

After an hour Hameed understood what was happening. He saw these items were old, and were art things, and he understood they were going to be sold somewhere for lots of money. He asked Roger why take this one, why take that one, what was good about this thing and that thing? Sometimes Roger answered, and sometimes he didn't. He said things like, "Because this thing is small and won't take up much room in the crates." "Because it's a nice piece of silver, nineteenth century." "My auntie will like it so much." "Henric likes velvet." "The ship motif pattern will fit in with Charleston motifs." And, "Some idiot refinished this table, but it's still worth a fortune."

Hameed asked, "Why not that chandelier?"

"Won't survive the trip in one piece."

"Why not that chair?"

"Because it's a fake."

"Why not that vase?"

"I don't like cloisonné."

It went on like that for five hours, with Hameed learning a lot, and Roger not seeming to mind. He was in the zone; he was having fun. Roger was divvying antiques, and this was wonderful. Wait till he told Gwen about this deal.

The truck guys kept busy, and Plouriva patrolled the grounds, and thermoses of hot coffee were passed around, and Roger and Hameed kept the items flowing. At building number twenty-two Plouriva stepped up and told Roger they had filled fourteen out of sixteen crates, and that he had forty minutes to fill the remaining two. Roger was surprised. Time had passed almost unnoticed. He said, "Ok," and realized this last forty minutes would have to be prime selection. He shifted into high gear and Hameed shifted with him. They raced to building number twenty-three, cut the lock, and Roger ran down one aisle and up another. Hameed was at his heels, sensing the urgency, and following in the groove. Little Boss kept up, and so the loaders had to keep up. Sweat flowed. Roger no longer spoke to Hameed, he merely gestured at an object, and it was tagged and disappeared from the building. Plouriva grabbed one of the truckers and went back to the first building, where she made sure the lights were out and the doors shut with the cut lock hanging from the hasp. Then building two, then three, then onwards till she had checked all the buildings they had opened.

Roger now chose only small objects of the best quality. He was amazed when one building yielded not a single piece. Hameed said, "Must have been shit from Stalin's house."

Plouriva marched with Roger and Hameed, watching them, watching the loaders at the last crate, and watching her watch. Then came the signal from the last truck carrying the last two crates: FULL, DONE. Plouriva ran up to Roger, grabbed him by the shoulders, and said, "Roger, we're done, time to go." He turned back to the aisles as if he wanted to get one more artifact, but she grabbed him by the hand and pulled him towards the door. She, Hameed, Little Boss, and Roger left. She pulled the door closed and set the lock in the hasp. They ran towards the trucks, with Plouriva doing the universal "mount em up" signal, arm pointing to the sky and drawing circles. The men policed the area, picking up their tools, their food containers, and their coffee cups. Everything and everybody was loaded into the trucks. Eight big diesel engines roared to life, with Plouriva in the lead truck, like General Patton crossing North Africa.

In ten minutes the trucks reached the guard house and the perimeter fence. It was 12:45am. Peter and Pater had heard them coming, and were ready to roll. They couldn't believe this really was happening. They were scared shitless. The gate was open, and they piled into the second truck. When all eight trucks were through the fence, a guy in the last truck, at Plouriva's order, jumped out and closed the gate. The convoy rumbled down the road. Everyone and everything was gone in the night.
Chapter 32: Out of the Country

Plouriva's nerves were about shot. She slumped down in the truck seat and closed her eyes. Her only thought was, "If we get caught and sent to prison for life (the best sentence to be hoped for), it's not on my head. I did my part. I got the stuff out of the compound." Roger still was stoked. A divvy can't have the Divvy Sense bonging away inside him continuously for five hours without it doing something to the old nervous system. The bonging had stopped and the adrenaline rush was subsiding, but his nerves were raw. Hameed seemed calm and steady, and a slight smile embraced his face. He thought this whole thing was amazing, and was sad it was coming to an end. He thought about a strange place named Charleston, South Carolina, United States of America.

Now for the next steps in the caper, masterminded by Henric and Constantine. Roger wondered if these would be executed simultaneously or sequentially. They had to get to where the objects would be removed from the museum crates and loaded into the computer crates, and the museum crates hidden. Then the computer crates would be loaded onto the trucks and head for some port location. Roger would be taken to the airport, where he would meet Gwen, and they would board a plane for the forty minute flight to Helsinki. Plouriva would be reunited with Little Jinny Blistov, her lover, who just would have finished his last and final meal of good old Russian grub. Peter and Pater would be grouped with Plouriva and Jinny, the four of them to be smuggled out of their homeland by Henric and Constantine, and sent on some unknown route in some unknown method of conveyance that ultimately, at some unknown time in the future, would end up in Charleston, America's most beautiful town, and their new home.

All these thoughts purred through all those heads, each person spinning the various permutations of known and unknown factors and variables in different ways that suited each individual temperament. This went on for forty minutes, when the driver of the lead truck turned off the road and drove through a metal fence and into the compound of a military base. Ahead of them was a large hanger surrounded by a lot of Quonset huts. The massive doors of the hanger were open, and the convoy entered through them. All eight trucks fit inside.

The heist crew tumbled out of the cabs and stretched, the drivers killed the sound of the monster engines. Roger looked around and saw, over in the corner of the hanger, three men sitting at a table: Constantine, Henric, and Jinny. They got up and came towards the crew. Jinny went up to Plouriva and gave her a kiss. Who knew the depths of sentimentality existing in that short squat body. Constantine asked Little Boss how things went.

Little Boss said, "As usual, good."

Henric asked Roger how things went, and Roger said, "So far, so good." Roger was a little nervous, being as how he was inside a Russian military base that for all intents and purposes looked active. In the far distance he saw a couple of large, camouflage painted planes. But Henric wasn't nervous at all, so Roger took that as a cue.

Little Boss finished talking with Constantine and went over to Peter and Pater. He said something, and they headed back to the trucks and the crews. At the far side of the hanger Roger saw a long row of large steel containers. He recognized these as the type that go on the super-container ships. Constantine motioned the group back to the table in the corner of the hanger. He spoke matter-of-factly, asking Plouriva and Roger how they were doing. Plouriva said she was sorry all the fun was over, and Roger said he always had wanted to enlist in the Russian air force. Jinny got both jokes and smiled at his best friends. The two Russian big boys acted like this was a day at the office. In the distance Little Boss rang up the crews and they began the intensive work of shifting the goods from the museum crates to the containers. Apparently Henric and Constantine had eliminated the computer crates from the equation.

With a glance at Henric and Constantine, Jinny described the next steps. A car was waiting near the hanger with a driver who would take Roger to the Saint Petersburg airport. Jinny looked at Roger and told him Gwen was there, waiting for him. Their flight to Helsinki left at 7:05am. During the forty minute drive from the Hermitage compound to the military base, Roger had decompressed out of his Divvy Sense and back into his normal sense, a transformation left him beat. He had performed in his super-excited Divvy Sense mode for five hours, and now he was shot.

Jinny looked at Plouriva and told her they would be leaving Saint Petersburg with the containers, along with Peter and Pater. He waited a moment before he said, "Plouriva, we're going to be IN one of the containers."

Constantine and Henric waited patiently for Plouriva's reaction. Roger, whose ears had perked up with Jinny's statement, also looked at her.

Plouriva was dead tired, but not dead. Her brain was working, and just about every neuron in it ignited when Jinny said they would be traveling container class. She didn't overreact, but calmly organized her thoughts and chose her words carefully. Her brain divided her thinking into two compartments, one of which analyzed the logistics of the news, while the other analyzed a variety of options all of which would result in agonizing discomfort to her man, Little Jinny Blistov. The compartment focusing on the travel logistics won the battle for control of her speech, and she asked Jinny how long they would be in the container? He said the trip to the container port terminal was only about an hour, but then it would take another hour or two to process the containers into the terminal and drop them off at their waiting location. She sensed something unsaid in Jinny's statement, and sent a telepathic communication to Jinny. It demanded the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.

This unspoken communication was received loud and clear by Jinny, who had come to love this thing that Plouriva and he were able to do. He thought it made them special as a couple. The fact that the unspoken communication also was loud and clear to Constantine, Henric, and Roger didn't diminish his appreciation one bit. Nor was his appreciation diminished by the fact that now he had to tell Plouriva the remaining travel logistics. Even in the face of potential annihilation, Jinny remained cool, for the simple reason that he was in love. He loved Plouriva, and he would love her even if they shared a stone cell in Siberia, which still was a distinct possibility. So he told Plouriva that the four of them would be in the container for the duration. That was how they would be smuggled out of the country. He punctuated this statement with a wry smile and by raising his hands off the table in a gesture of, "That's the deal."

The other compartment of Plouriva's mind, the one plotting Jinny's torture, desperately tried to assume command of Plouriva's speech function, but the first compartment maintained control, and she said to Jinny, "What exactly do you mean by the 'duration'?" He quickly explained, with a loving look on his face, that they would have to stay in the container until they reached their new home. "And how long is that, exactly, Jinny?" He wanted to answer, but there was something about Plouriva's body language that had frozen him. It may have been the body language resembling a tightly coiled spring. Constantine, Henric, and Roger were enjoying the drama of this little play, but with this new development in Plouriva's demeanor, Constantine thought it wise to intervene. So he spoke up, saying the container only would stay at the Saint Petersburg terminal for forty-eight hours. It would be loaded onto a ship then, and be on its way. He said this matter-of-factly, similar to the way experienced military commanders issue orders to troops; orders that will take them into battle. Constantine said the ship was heading straight to the States, with no stops in other countries. Plouriva didn't respond immediately, because the second compartment in her brain had shifted its focus from how to inflict pain on Jinny to how to inflict pain on Constantine. Again it was warring with the first compartment for control of her speech function. Constantine said the cross-ocean trip was about four days.

Compartment one of her mind assumed control, enabling her to ask, "Is Charleston the first stop?" The coiled spring body language remained in effect, and now was directed at Constantine, who sensed it pretty damn strongly. He tried to keep his eyes locked on those of Plouriva, but he couldn't, and his formidable countenance faltered.

He looked down at the table and said, "Well no, not exactly, the first stop is the terminal in Savannah, Georgia." He quickly looked up and said that stop would only last twenty-four hours, and THEN they would be on their way to Charleston.

Neither Jinny nor Constantine nor Henric nor Roger dared to do the math. But Plouriva did the math: two days at the Petersburg terminal plus four days crossing the ocean plus one day in Savannah plus one day at the Charleston terminal. Let's see, how does that add up? She would have to spend eight days locked in a shipping container with three other guys, one of whom at some strange point in her life she had been in love with, but whom now she hated and despised and whom she very actively was plotting to torture in ways that would make even the American CIA tremble. And with two strangers, gay to boot. Wonderful. After she strangled Jinny long about day three, she THEN would face either two guys having sex, or the breakup of THEIR love relationship and the murder of the weaker of the two by the stronger of the two. And THEN she would be alone in a shipping container on the high seas with a strange gay murderer and two bodies. Wonderful.

Plouriva considered a full meltdown right then and there, but when she looked at Jinny and saw a loving composure on his face, she decided to forego the meltdown and just go with the flow. What's another eight days of being uncomfortable, at the end of which she would be in a strange but supposedly beautiful place, with the man she (formerly) loved. How much more uncomfortable could this container be than suffering temperatures of minus ten degrees in mid-April, here in St. Petes? The coiled spring of her body language released its tension, a change much appreciated by the others at the table. They felt the tiger had decided not to eat them that day.

Plouriva sat back and asked questions. Is there enough air for four people for eight days? What kind of toilet was in the container? What would they do for light? What type of firearm would she and Jinny be given (implying that Peter and Pater would not be given firearms)? Does the container have satellite TV communications capability, including BBC News? Has anyone told the two dudes about this? No? Well, who exactly was going to do that? What are the ground rules during the eight days for sex? Meaning sex with others and sex with self?

Now that the tension on the spring had been relieved, Jinny and Constantine took turns answering her questions. The team was back in sync and they were moving on. Peter and Pater would have to lump the discomfort issue. Of course, they could choose to stay behind in Saint Petersburg if they wanted to. Henric spoke up and said maybe that wasn't so, because if they stayed behind and got caught, they certainly would crack under pressure and name names, and then where would the team be? The others saw this point, especially Constantine, who said yeah, right, they're going whether they like it or not. He got up and crossed the space of the hanger to where Peter and Pater were helping with the loading. Jinny and Roger figured that was a done deal.

While the loading was going on they discussed the distant future, meaning Charleston. What a change of perspective. For how long had the team been locked into dealing with all things Russian? For them to realize this phase of the op was over was incredible. They didn't want to jinx anything by displaying hubris, given that four of them would remain on Russian soil for another full day, but the temptation to start thinking of Charleston was inescapable. What was the Charleston plan? What would the team do on the day the container opened and out popped Plouriva, Jinny, Peter, and Pater (assuming there were no bodies to be unloaded)? Roger and Jinny looked at Constantine and Henric, thinking, 'When are these guys going to show up in Charleston, with Helstof, Slevov, and god knows who else?'

Quickly it became apparent that thinking that far ahead was of no practical benefit, so everyone stood down from future think and came back to the present. Constantine came back to the table with Peter and Pater. They looked at Jinny and Plouriva, and Jinny and Plouriva looked at them, and the four of them began circling around each other psychologically, like new dogs in the neighborhood meeting the old dogs of the neighborhood for the first time. Constantine saw this, and cut through it immediately by issuing orders. "Roger, your car is outside the hanger on that side. The driver is waiting, and so is your wife. Go. Henric, please go and oversee the loading. It is going well, but the trucks have to leave here by 4am. Make that happen, thank you. You four, come with me. I will show you your container, and you will see it's quite nice. It contains a case of vodka, and that will help you get through the not so nice parts of the trip. Come."

With these commands everyone stood up and shook hands. No one spoke because everyone knew they had performed well. They now knew they were a team, and could look forward to the Charleston portion of the game. Roger nodded goodbye. Plouriva took Jinny's arm with one hand and saluted with the other. Peter and Pater bowed, a mannerism the others could not place and filed away to be explored further in Charleston. Constantine took a cigar out of his breast pocket, lit it, and waved with a smoky hand. Henric took Constantine by the arm and walked him away, pouring words into his ear. As Jinny and Plouriva walked towards their condo of the immediate future, Jinny just smiled and smiled and smiled. He was on his way to his beloved Charleston.

Gwen sat under the raw fluorescent lights of the Saint Petersburg airport. She had found a corridor that was less busy than the main terminal areas. The benches were hard and the backs were poorly designed. While looking for food she noticed there was a vodka seller's booth every 100 yards or so, and she was tempted. Ultimately she decided that worry was better than a hangover on a plane. And that was what she was doing....worrying. She and Roger had been separated for thirty hours, but they were some of the worst hours of her life. She knew what Roger was doing, and that he loved his Divvy Sense, and she knew he was having fun using his Divvy Sense. But my god, how she feared something going wrong. It's one thing to conceive a plan, commit to a plan, fool around with a plan. It's very different executing a plan. Gwen was tough minded, but waiting there in the Saint Petersburg airport, knowing what was happening just a few miles away; this was hard to take.

Which is why she issued a very loud squeal that drew the attention of more than one Russian road warrior when she saw Roger walking down the terminal corridor towards her. She saw he was walking tall and relaxed, and with his inherent poise of southern dignity intact. This told her more than any set of words could that things were OK. She started running towards him, but caught herself, and slowed to a fast walk. Her eyes though, remained on his face, hawk like, until her arms surrounded him. She buried her face in his shoulder, just for a minute, before raising it to be kissed. Roger didn't disappoint her. He kissed her the way she wanted to be kissed.

Things were different a few hours later when they checked into the Helsinki Intercontinental Grand Hotel. Things there were a bit boisterous. Once again there was thunder, under the covers.
Chapter 33: Old Home for Some, New Home for Others

Roger and Gwen's fun fun was followed by a nap and then a nice dinner in the hotel dining room, and he told her all about his Divvy Sense ordeal, as he put it. Regardless of his choice of words, Gwen understood this was an epic experience for Roger. It was clear to her that Roger had not until then really known the full extent of his strange power to know the inherent cultural value of old objects. He'd always had the sense, but never before had it been challenged to perform at such a high level, and he was shocked at what he had accomplished. He thought this because he had absolute confidence in his choice of things taken from the warehouses, and knew he had scored some very fine stuff. He tried to explain to Gwen exactly what those five hours of scanning and feeling and sensing and choosing had been like, but after trying several analogies that didn't really work, he said it was like being in bed with her. It was like those special times when they didn't think about the sex, they didn't think about other things, they didn't really think about each other; they just came together and acted and felt and loved each other. He said that for five intense hours he was in love with all those objects in the warehouses that were so old and which had such histories and associations with Russian culture and people. Gwen understood and was happy for him, and a bit envious, and very glad he had not gotten caught.

The next day they boarded a flight that made a stop in Stockholm, and then headed for Atlanta. Roger slept most of the way, and Gwen spent a lot of time thinking about Little Jinny, Plouriva, and these two guys named Peter and Pater. She wasn't sure she was feeling sorry for them exactly, but she was feeling concerned, and thought the whole idea of sticking them into a frigging shipping container together for eight days was weirder than shit. At dinner the night before when Roger explained this part of the action to her, she wanted to know whose idea it was. Roger said he didn't know whether it was Constantine's idea or Henric's idea, but that one of those guys made the arrangement. He told her Constantine said that when the morning shift of security guards went out to the perimeter guard gate and did not find Peter and Pater there waiting to be relieved, all hell was going to break loose. It would not take the security division long to go looking for Plouriva and the museum crates, and then they would find the cut locks on the warehouses, and then the alarm would go out all over town. Constantine told the team in the hanger this was the only sure way to get four people out of the country pronto. It was not comfortable, but it was certain.

Gwen still thought it was weird, but realized she didn't know much about Russian security matters, and started thinking about how to make it up to Jinny and Plouriva when they finally showed up in Charleston in about a week. She asked Roger what he thought would happen to the four of them crammed together for all those days, being that Jinny and Plouriva were heterosexual partners and Peter and Pater were homosexual partners? Roger decided he was too tired to field this question right then on the plane, and went back to sleep.

During the long flight to Atlanta Gwen realized it soon would be time for her to again perform for the team. She had not done squat in Russia. That was Jinny at the start and then Plouriva in the middle and then Roger at the end. At dinner Roger had given Constantine and Henric their due – without them, the job would not have happened in the successful way it had. They had been major players, and it had been interesting to watch them operate. Gwen realized she had not contributed to the mission since her actions in the south of France had led to the fine wine partnerships. The wine would flow in Charleston in large measure due to her and The Deneuve. And the actions of The Deneuve had been in large measure due to the friendship that had blossomed with Gwen. Gwen thought about Catherine for a long time, and knew she had to see her again soon. She did not want that friendship to die.

Gwen thought about what things would be like when they arrived home. She knew she would have a week with Roger to adapt, after being gone some forty days. Then, Little Jinny, his girlfriend, and two strange guys would show up on their doorstep. What was that going to be like? Gwen figured it pretty much would be like what it was before they left for Europe. Jinny was a force to be reckoned with; Gwen was sure he would dominate the Russian crew and they would follow his lead. This conclusion pleased Gwen, because she knew she owned Jinny. Of course things would be more complex with the other three Russians around, but Gwen figured she would have four people at her command. What to do with them, what to do? How would this Russian enclave fit into Charleston culture, and what were Gwen's responsibilities to the team? What exactly was going to happen over the next few weeks and months? If it was anything like their forty days in Europe, she and Roger were going to sustain a change in their life-style.

So forty days after leaving their beloved Charleston, she and Roger returned home. When their house sitter opened the door, the dog barreled into Roger at knee level, practically knocking him over. Lots of slobber and lots of yelps. Whenever either of them sat down anywhere in the house, the cat materialized out of nowhere and jumped on their laps. When this dissipated, Roger and Gwen let feelings of warmth and satisfaction roll over them like breezes off the ocean. They were home, and they were happy. The next few days they spent luxuriating in their own beds and their own chairs and their own kitchen and their own foods. The dog got walked twice a day and the garden got some attention and the refrigerator got stocked up and a couple bottles of champagne were drunk and appreciated. On day four, at breakfast, Gwen said, "Hey, Mr. June, what's the plan?" He looked at her like he didn't follow her. He answered that his plan for lunch was a salad and peach iced tea at the Mills House Hotel bar. He was able to keep a straight face as he returned to reading the newspaper. Gwen allowed him his little joke for a few minutes, but then again asked, "Yo, what's the plan?" This time Roger knew his wife was expecting a serious answer, so he said, "You mean about the fact that the Russians are coming, the Russians are coming?" Gwen blinked her eyes at him, which was a signal to keep talking.

Roger put the paper down on the table and with exaggerated courtesy said, "My dear, I am at your service. Whatever plan you come up with, I will support it."

So it was going to be like that, was it. Well, she couldn't blame the guy. He was the one who actively had stolen the property of the Russian Republic. He was the one who spent five hours in the middle of the night prowling through warehouses, ever hoping a squad of paramilitary security forces didn't swoop down on them and transport them to one of the many medieval dungeons that graced subterranean Saint Petersburg. And he was the one who had led the team from its inception, through its organization, to its parade through the countryside of Burgundy and Bordeaux. Upon setting foot in Russia, he had handed the reins to Jinny, but still had taken great risks during the heist. So now he was informing his wife that it was her turn to lead. Gwen thought, "So be it."

The phone rang. Roger picked up his paper and returned to reading about the Yankees. Gwen answered, listened, and said to Roger, "It's Constantine." She listened some more, said, "Ok, thanks," and hung up. She looked at Roger and said, "The ship arrives tomorrow in Savannah, and we gotta get the Russians off there." So the game began anew. After a nice lunch at the Mills House, Gwen took Roger into the living room, set up the easels with flip chart paper, and began planning. Roger sat on the sofa with the dog draped over one foot, the cat next to him. At the top of one flipchart page she wrote G, and on another she wrote R, and on the third she wrote J,P,P,P. Roger followed her so far; loving his wife's logical mind.

On Roger's sheet she wrote the following list of duties: import wine, store wine, organize wine, rent warehouse, inventory antiques, organize antiques. On her list she wrote: search for houses for sale, contact currency traders for rates, compile Charleston cultural events calendar, buy guns, learn about Russian cuisine. She then moved to the third easel on which was written J,P,P,P. She looked at the chart, then looked at Roger. He smiled at her and shrugged. She looked at the blank page on the chart, kept looking at it, then went and sat on the sofa next to her husband. She leaned forward and asked the dog, "What the hell are we going to do with four Russians in Charleston, for god's sake?"
Chapter 34: The Russians Arrive

Early the next morning the Junes hopped in the Jag and motored south to Savannah. Savannah is a really nice town, and the Junes go down once a year for the annual spring music festival, which is first rate, but the town is no Charleston. It's really hard to get good coffee in Savannah, and you don't want to try the shrimp and grits there. They drove down Bay Street through town, and made the turn at the small sign that said Old Fort James Jackson. This small fortification sits right on the Savannah River and was built about 1810 to protect the town against British or French warships. It's much smaller than Fort Sumter in Charleston harbor, but it's a reminder of Savannah's rich history. Constantine had told Gwen during the phone call that they should go to the fort at such and such a time because the container ship with the special container on its deck would come by then, and they would be contacted. He provided no specifics.

The Junes, being the adaptable couple they are, followed directions. Roger had checked with the Georgia Ports Authority about the arrival time of container ships that day, and sure enough one was due to dock thirty minutes after the time Constantine told them to be at the fort. So there they sat at the appointed time, on the quay outside the 1810 brick walls. They kept watch down river, and soon, in the distance, they saw the superstructure of a ship. They were amazed twice, first by how fast the ship came up the river towards them, accompanied by a tug on either side, and second by how huge the ship was as it got closer. And it got huger and huger and huger. They went inside the fort and climbed to the second level where they stood on top of the casemates and looked over the parapet; wondering just how close the ship was going to come to shore. It looked damn close because it was damn close. It was about 100 feet from shore, and it looked the size of a mountain. As the mountain approached the Junes were startled to see human figures on the bow, looking over the railing on their side. And they were more startled indeed when they recognized Jinny, Plouriva, Peter, and Pater among the figures. The Russians saw them at the same time because they knew Roger and Gwen would be on top of the fort, and they started waving like crazy. And so the Junes waved back, astonished as they were.

As the ship drew even with the fort, the Russians and the Junes were only 100 feet apart. Little Jinny yelled to Gwen, "Long live America, how's the dog?" Plouriva turned to Pater and nodded. Pater leaned back from the railing of the ship, and suddenly threw a large object at the fort. It was a plastic container, and it flew over the June's heads and landed in the middle of the Parade Ground. The ship sailed past and the Russians disappeared. Roger and Gwen went down to the Parade Ground, retrieved the container, and took it outside to the quay, where they sat down again. Inside the screw cap were several papers, which Roger took out and handed to his wife. She read them, looked at Roger, read them again, and handed them to him to read. Her face was a mask of amusement.

On the first page Roger read the following: "Food on ship not bad, but we want crab cakes, she-crab soup, and grits with crab gravy." Roger looked at Gwen. "Constantine, Helstof, Henric, Slevov arriving Charleston tomorrow 4am flight from London." Roger looked at Gwen. "Peter wants Brusschev 10mm." Roger again looked at Gwen. "Pater wants to know can he catch a marlin from Sullivan's Island beach?" "Plouriva wants shopping on King Street."

On the second page Roger read the following: "Important container arriving your place Charleston tomorrow. Where do you want it?" Roger looked at Gwen. "Pick us up today at Savannah Ports Authority terminal one hour after docking, employee entrance." "How long drive Savannah to Charleston?" "What is good to eat in Savannah?" "Is there gay restaurant in Savannah?" "Where we put other eight containers?"

Roger was afraid to look at the third page. Gwen didn't say anything because she was easier going than Roger. She always tried to go with the flow, except when someone acted in a threatening manner towards her or her husband or some friend. In that circumstance she was hard ass going. She just looked at Roger for a moment and then went on starring across the Savannah River at the industrial site on the other side. Roger read this on the third page: "Ship captain wants house on Sullivan's, has four kids, wife, and girlfriend. No money. Can we help? Ship cook wants house on Sullivan's, has one girlfriend, one boyfriend, two cats, no money. Can we help? We have Rodstra and Gromstov money. Did you bring guns? Also have cook's two cats, Russian blues, smart, boy and girl, ok?"

That was it. That was all that was written on the papers that had been thrown to them while standing on the parapet of Old Fort James Jackson, from four Russians illegally entering the United States on board a container ship coming up the Savannah River in broad daylight. That was enough, though, to set Roger's teeth on edge and his brain spinning. 'What the hell?' he thought, and then said to Gwen, "Cooks, crabs, cats, money, no money, guns, containers, kids, gangsters arriving." It was good that Roger had Gwen along to calm him down. She took his arm and led him back to the Jag. She looked at her watch and calculated they had about an hour and a half until they were due to pick the crew up at the employee entrance of the container terminal. That was enough time for lunch at a nice restaurant, where they could have a glass of wine and talk things over. They went to the Pink House, and entered the basement door of the pub, rather than the upper floor of the formal dining room. They liked the pub area with its big fireplace. Gwen led Roger to a table, sat him down, threw her pocketbook on a chair, and went over to the bar. She came back with two large glasses of chilled German Riesling, which she loved. One of these she handed to Roger, and motioned to him bottoms up. He drank a large gulp. She sipped and enjoyed the semi-sweet richness of the white wine. When the waiter came over with menus she waved them away and ordered a small porterhouse steak with baked potato for herself and grilled salmon with a salad for Roger.

With this done, she gave Roger his lead. A few more gulps of wine and he recovered his senses. He said, "Are they crazy?" Gwen realized she had misread her husband's disposition, and saw that more attitude adjustment was necessary. She got up and went to the bar, from which she returned with a plate of crackers and salty ham, a classic pairing with Riesling. She loaded up a cracker with ham and offered it to Roger, who took it and stuffed the whole thing into his mouth. He tried to add a gulp of wine, but Gwen stopped this oddity, and made him wait until he finished chewing his food. She wouldn't countenance vulgarity at the table. Roger drank some wine, and followed that with more cracker and ham. Then more wine. Then more ham. Five minutes later Roger appeared better. Gwen told him his salmon was coming shortly. She got up and returned with a glass of American pinot noir for Roger (another classic pairing with salmon) and a French merlot for her (American merlot being the joke that it is). She continued administering first aid to her husband, telling him the salmon at the Pink House was fabulous and she was thinking already of ordering a second steak for herself, and maybe he could have a glass of port after his meal even though neither of them ever had drunk port at lunch before. Roger nodded assent at all this, but didn't speak.

Their food came, and their food went, and the second glasses of wine went, and Gwen kept making small talk, hoping Roger would feel better. When the next words out of Roger's mouth were, "What the hell?" and, "Are those people crazy?" which was followed by, "I'm driving back to Charleston, screw em." Gwen got back to work by calling the waiter over and ordering a large glass of port. Gwen had always despaired at Roger's swearing, which was one of the few things he did devoid of imagination. She looked at her watch and saw they had thirty minutes before they were due at the terminal. Which meant she had fifteen minutes to placate her partner, devise a game-plan to deal with the Russians, pay the check, and get out to the car. No problem. While Roger drank his port she figured things out. Then she reached into Roger's front pants pocket and groped for the car keys, which elicited something resembling a giggle from Roger. The wines were working, she noticed with satisfaction. The waiter was tipped, the valet had the car at the restaurant door, and they were off, with Gwen driving.

In ten minutes she drove through the security checkpoint and headed towards the ports authority terminal. In another minute she pulled up to what she hoped was the employee entrance. She left Roger in the car listening to The WHO, and went inside. She asked a guy about people coming off the ship, and he pointed to a door that said CUSTOMS over it. She went through and was in a room that had signs on the walls indicating this was the jurisdiction of "The United States Department of Homeland Security." Gwen sure hoped Jinny knew what he was doing. There was one DHS staffer in the room, sitting behind a long table, next to a scanning machine, a woman reading Guns and Ammo magazine. She looked at Gwen, and went back to reading. Gwen was glad for the two glasses of wine she'd had at the Pink House, and was cognizant of the calming effect they were having on her nerves. She found a plastic chair and sat down. Ten minutes later she heard a loud clomping noise from outside the room. It was an echoing type sound made by people walking down a long, elevated, metal gangway: clomp, squeal, squeak, clomp. Those sounds stopped, new footstep sounds started, and the door in the far wall of the room banged open. In came a man in uniform: dark blue with white trim, fatigue style pants stuffed into the tops of high black boots, baseball cap, heavy black belt loaded with ammo clips, handcuffs, a telescoping aluminum baton, and a holster filled with a Beretta nine millimeter handgun. The man carried an M16 assault rifle slung over his shoulder and a small duffle bag in one hand. He smelled bad, a combination of oil, sewage, and sweat. On the front of the baseball cap Gwen read the letters USCG. On the front of his shirt, in the pocket area, she read CGSTT. If she had been behind the man she could have read on his back in large white letters Coast Guard Special Tactical Team. Gwen assimilated all this, then assimilated the fact that the man in the uniform of the United States Coast Guard Special Tactical Team was Little Jinny Blistov. Again she assimilated the fact that he smelled really bad.

Following behind Jinny, also in full combat uniform, carrying Berettas and M16s and smelling bad, were Plouriva, Peter, Pater. The only one of them who spoke was Plouriva, who said in loud and remarkably accent free English, "Fucking shit detail fucking sucks." She didn't address this to anyone in particular, not to the DHS staffer or to Gwen or to the other three Russians. She addressed it to the world at large and seemed really, really pissed off. The four commandos totally ignored Gwen and simply walked out the door into the parking lot. When they were gone the DHS woman looked at Gwen and said, "The Coasties hate inspecting container ships because they have to go into the bilges in the bottom of the ships where no one has cleaned anything for twenty years. The Coasties are wimps." And she went back to her magazine. Gwen followed them out the door and saw the four uniforms walking away from her across the huge parking lot and around the side of the terminal building.

Gwen got in the Jag and looked at Roger. She turned down the stereo even though she really liked the song The WHO were playing and asked Roger if he had noticed the four Coast Guard guys who just came out of the building. He said, "Three guys, one girl, and yes, I saw they are our Russian friends. How'd they do that?" Gwen was pleased to see that two glasses of wine, one glass of port, and twenty minutes of The WHO had restored Roger to his usual states of awareness and reasonableness. She didn't answer, but fired up the Jag engine and headed in the same direction as the illegal aliens. She found them just around the side of the terminal building, leaning against the walls in the shade.

She pulled up near them and looked around. There were a couple of cars in the vast parking lot, and lots of activity in the distance near the dock, where she could see the container ship at mooring. The giant praying mantis type cranes already were at work unloading the first of the containers. But there was no one near this side of the terminal, so she and Roger got out of the car. Jinny unslung the M16 from around his shoulder and leaned it against the wall of the terminal building. He dropped a medium sized duffle bag on the ground, removed his CG cap, walked over to Roger, and extended his hand along with a big Blistov smile. Roger shook his hand, after which Jinn turned to Gwen and put his arms around her in a very un-toughguy-like hug. Gwen was not exactly surprised, and found it interesting that she did not find the hug repulsive. She found the smell repulsive, but not the hug. This was progress considering her initial impressions of Jinny way back in the fancy French restaurant in Charleston some eight months earlier. At that point she was ready to shoot Jinny on four counts: 1. he was munchkin short, 2. he was wearing the world's ugliest sneakers, 3. his beard extended around to the back of his neck below his ears, and 4. he was threatening her husband. Gwen didn't need all four reasons to shoot Jinny, but they added up to a load of animosity against him. Now she found herself thinking of Jinny in positive, even chummy terms.

She and Roger then turned their attention to the others, with some welcoming smiles. All six team members looked at each other until Gwen said, "Ok, we'll get the story later. Right now we gotta get outta here." Gwen executed the plan she had developed in the fifteen minutes she had before she and Roger left the Pink House. Of course, the plan needed some revision in light of the fact that she didn't know the Russians would be showing up disguised as members of the United States Coast Guard Special Tactical Team, each armed with M16 assault rifles and Berretta nine mil semi-auto handguns. Roger watched his wife with great interest, knowing she was going to perform some kind of semi-miracle. Jinny also watched with the same level of interest, and the same level of absolute confidence in Gwen. The other three Russians didn't know Gwen as well, and their nerves were twitching and oscillating just a bit.

Gwen closed her eyes and let her mind wander. It flew through scenario after scenario, scene after scene, all at light speed, her rationality cleaving problem atoms into their component parts. When this function was complete, she closed down her rational mind and opened her intuitive mind. This new function took hold of the cleaved atomic pieces and recompiled them into new combinations, this part with that, that part with this, here a part there a part, all of this happening intuitively rather than rationally. The nuclear-powered light bulb went on, and she opened her eyes. She figured her eyes had been closed for about ten minutes, and maybe the four Russians thought that a bit weird. In reality her eyes had been closed for about twenty seconds, and both Roger and Jinny knew something great was happening. The other three did think Gwen was a bit weird, but they didn't say anything.

Gwen said, "Wait here." She turned and walked around the terminal building to the far side and went back into the DHS office. When she was in there the first time, she didn't say anything to the staffer on duty, and the staffer didn't ask her what she was doing there. Now Gwen walked up to the woman and said, "Where's the shuttle?"

The woman asked, "What shuttle?"

Gwen said, "The shuttle to the Coast Guard base. I was told that when I meet the team coming off the ship, there would be a shuttle to take us to the base for debriefing."

The woman asked, "Who are you?"

Gwen, looking the woman straight in the eye, and bringing to bear on her a Deneuvian imperiousness, said simply, "I'm the debriefer."

The look intimidated the bag-checking DHS woman, who said, "I can call the base and ask." Gwen nodded, went and sat down on a chair, and stared at the woman from there. The woman picked up the phone, called, spoke for a minute, put the phone down, and said, "They'll send over the shuttle now."

Gwen stood up, said, "Thanks," and walked out.

Outside and back with the group, Gwen asked Jinny, "How exactly were you supposed to get out of here after you got off the ship?" Jinny said the ship's captain told them he would get them off the ship disguised as a Coast Guard inspection team, but after that they would have to figure out how to get out of the Dept. of Homeland Security terminal complex themselves. "And how," Gwen asked, "were you planning to get out of the terminal complex?"

Jinny smiled a little embarrassed smile and said, "Ah, um, you. That's why we contacted you and Roger ahead of time at the fort."

"What do you mean ahead of time? One hour ahead of time, that's your idea of having a plan for illegal entry into the United States?"

Jinny didn't answer, he just stood looking at Gwen impassively, a hint of sheepishness oozing out from somewhere.

Gwen quickly realized that grilling Jinny on this point would be counterproductive, and let it slide.

She told the team the plan. The problem was getting out of the terminal compound. This was not a problem for civilians, but four heavily armed Coast Guard commandos can't exactly walk out past the DHS checkpoint and continue down a public street past the local Starbucks. The Coast Guard was sending a shuttle to pick them up. She would get on the shuttle with the four in uniform and go to the Coast Guard base. "Roger," she said, "you go back into the city and find a rental car place. Rent a big car. Come to the base and look for us. Call me on my cell if you don't see us right away." To Jinny and the others she said, "When we get inside the base, we'll go into the main office building. We'll look like we know what we're doing, and we'll find a place to ditch the guns. Then we'll go into the commissary, look around for a while, and buy some stuff. Then we'll just walk out the main gate. Roger will find us." With the end of these instructions she looked at each person in turn, waiting for questions. There were none, so she nodded to Roger to take off.

The shuttle came in twenty minutes and they got on. The driver seemed unconcerned either about the guns or about a civilian without guns. In fifteen minutes they entered the Coast Guard base, and got out of the bus. Gwen looked around, saw a large building with a sign over the doorway that said Section Commander, and headed for it. On the walk over she looked at the four Russians, and saw they were calm. She just said, "Keep quiet and do what I say." Inside she assessed the layout: large hallway, radio dispatch office on the right, stairway straight ahead at the end of the hallway, conference room first door on the left, break room with vending machines second door on the left, restroom signs past the radio room. She turned left and went into the conference room, motioning the others to follow. She closed the conference room door and said, "Put the 16s in the corner. If anyone opens the door I don't want this to seem like too weird of a conference. We'll wait here for a few minutes." Which they did. Everyone was calm, even Peter and Pater. After eight minutes Gwen told Jinny to go down to the restrooms and see what they were like. "Look for a janitor's closet, or some empty room. We need to lose the guns." This he did, returning to say that beyond the restroom, which was small, was another conference room with cabinets along one wall. The cabinets were empty. Gwen waited another five minutes, during which all she said was, "Y'all really need a bath," and then, "Let's go." They picked up their M16s and the duffle bag and walked out into the hallway. Jinny led the way to the second conference room door. He looked at Gwen, who checked the hallway, and nodded them in. They closed the door, stripped off their gun and accessory belts, and stuffed them into the cabinets along with the rifles. Jinny made to leave the conference room immediately, but Gwen held them in. They waited a full five minutes during which time Peter and Pater began to sweat. But they smiled at each other, which was a good sign. Gwen didn't say it this time but she thought, "Y'all really need a bath, bad." She nodded at the dufflebag Jinny was holding and motioned to the cabinets. He shook his head and said, "Money." She didn't question this, but led the way outside into the hallway and then out of the building. She marched them straight down the sidewalk to the perimeter fence and out the main gate, past the sentry. They turned down the public street and kept marching. After a few blocks Gwen took out her cell phone and called Roger. "We're ready for pickup, dear. Where are you?" He replied he had the car, and was about fifteen minutes from the base. "Ok," she said. "Be ready for one thing, hon, these guys really stink."

Twelve minutes later they made the rendezvous, and the six team members were together in the van. Now that the immediate danger was past, the big question for Gwen became who would get to drive the nice comfortable Jag with the stereo and The WHO CDs on the two hour drive home, and who would get to drive the van with the four stinking Coast Guard "commandos" on the two hour drive? One thing Gwen knew for sure was that none of the Russians were getting into the Jag. They never would get the smell out of it. Gwen knew Roger was asking himself the same question. It had not taken long for him to comprehend the enormity of the problem. The ship captain had told the Russians that to make a real impression of them being an inspection team, they had to get off the ship smelling like twenty year old bilge water. So he had taken them down into the bowels of the container ship and made them slosh around in the hideous gunk for a while.

It took Roger only a minute to conclude that he was driving the van to Charleston. After all, his wife just had succeeded in smuggling four Russians into the country, and he realized she deserved a little consideration for the next two hours. He told her he would drive the van, and when she gave him one of her great big perfectly sexy Deneuvian smiles that portended good things at home, he knew he'd made the right decision.

On the long drive home, Gwen, Roger, and Jinny thought long and hard about the next challenge. They knew first, that four more Russians were arriving at 4am the next morning, and they had to figure out what to do with them? And they knew second, that nine giant shipping containers also were arriving sometime soon. Gwen knew Jinny had money with him, and figured it was the money mentioned on the note that flew from the deck of the ship onto the Parade Ground of Old Fort James Jackson. What Gwen didn't know was that the dufflebag contained a little over six million dollars in American hundred dollar bills. Thinking back on the notes, Gwen also remembered something about cats. She called Roger and asked him about the cats. Roger said, "Hold on," and asked Jinny, "Gwen wants to know where the cats are." Jinny said they still were in the container. The container that had started out as the Russian's home for eight days, before they found out the ship was crewed by Russians, and the captain was cool, and they were able to get out of the container after only three days. All of the human stuff had been taken out of the container and thrown overboard, but the cats were put back in the container just before they arrived in Savannah. They had put lots of fresh fish in there to for them to eat, it was ok.

Roger relayed this to Gwen, and with that, the first four Russians landed in Charleston.
Chapter 35: Russians and Their Antiques in Charleston

The two cars pulled into the June's driveway about 7pm. Roger and the four Russkies bailed out of the van, practically sick from fermenting in container ship bilge smells for two hours. Gwen came up to them and said, "How's it going guys?" but smiles were in short supply. Gwen took the four commandos into the backyard and told them to strip. They were only too glad to oblige. While they were doing this she got out the garden hose, and handed it to Jinny. She also handed Jinny a large plastic garbage bag and pointed to the growing pile of dark blue Coast Guard uniforms. Roger took hold of the dufflebag, and went into the house to calm the dog.

In a few minutes three Russian men and one Russian woman entered the Junes house in their underwear. Gwen took Plouriva into the master bath and put her into the shower. Roger took the three guys into a guest room, and pointed to the bathroom. He said there were towels in the closet. At this point Jinny looked at Peter\Pater, and Peter\Pater looked at Jinny and then at Roger. After a minute of this, Peter\Pater went into the bathroom together. Jinny and Roger got out of there. Roger went to the refrigerator and took out eggs, cheese, and cold cuts, and from the freezer took out two packages of homefries. Jinny got with the program, cracking and beating two dozen eggs in a large bowl. Roger dumped the homefries into a giant skillet on top of olive oil. Then he got out the sourdough bread and arranged that with the cheeses and cold cuts on a huge platter. Gwen came into the kitchen to see Jinny standing at the counter in his underwear, beating the eggs. She looked at Roger, who went back to his potatoes. She took the sandwich platter into the dining room, came back to the kitchen and got six bottles of Samuel Adams out of the fridge and six tall beer glasses from the cabinet. Jinny had learned Gwen's rule that drinking beer out of the bottle is a crudity worthy of capital punishment. He thought that was crazy, but at the same time he was into learning manners.

Roger handed the spatula to Jinny and went back to the guestroom with three sets of his clothes, which he dumped on the bed. He got out of there again before the guys came out of the bath. Plouriva came into the kitchen, Jinny handed her the spatula and headed for the guestroom. He asked Roger if the guys, "were done?" Roger said, "Yeah," hoping Jinny would barge in maybe a little too early. Ha Ha. Soon Peter and Pater came into the kitchen dressed in Roger's clothes. Gwen motioned them into the dining room and told them to pour the beers. She emphasized the word pour, hoping they would understand she meant into glasses and not directly into their mouths. The eggs and the potatoes were ready and were carried into the dining room at the same time Jinny appeared, clean and dressed. The six members of the team sat down together, filling six of the twelve chairs that surrounded the 1794 Loudin solid walnut dining table. Gwen was relieved to see the beer in the glasses. Everybody looked hungry. Roger stood up, raised his glass, and said, "Antiques, French wine, great food, ocean front property, and warm weather." He sat down and they fell to.

All twenty-four eggs and two packages of potatoes and several sandwiches disappeared. So did twelve beers. When this was done the dog was admitted into the house, where it carefully inspected the three newcomers. The cat stayed under the bed. When Gwen made to get up, Jinny quickly sat her back down and motioned to Peter and Pater to follow him into the kitchen, loaded with dishes from the table. Sounds of dishwashing commenced, which pleased Gwen and Roger no end. They led Plouriva into the living room, and fifteen minutes later the Russian men joined them.

Roger took the lead. "Did you clean your fingerprints off the guns and accessory belts you left at the Coast Guard station?"

Gwen looked at him like, "What are we, amateurs?"

He interpreted this as a Yes and said, "Ok." He said, "We need to dump the uniforms pronto, and take the rental back." Jinny raised his hand. Done. Gwen then said Jinny and Plouriva could have the south room and the guys could have the third floor room. Done. Roger looked at Jinny and asked, "Why the hell are Constantine and Henric and the wives coming tomorrow. Don't we have enough to do without them showing up?" Jinny just shrugged his shoulders, but got up and went into the hallway and came back with the dufflebag, which he opened and from which he dumped the contents on the floor. They all looked, and they all decided the sight of money spoke louder than words. Roger asked, "How much?" and again Jinny shrugged his shoulders. Gwen got up and thumbed through the stacks.

She said, "All hundreds, used." She fanned one stack slowly, trying to gauge the number of bills. She did the arithmetic quickly, and then counted the number of stacks. More arithmetic, at which point the look on her face changed to a smile. She said, "Somewhere over five million." They would learn the next day the count was over six million.

Roger said, "Ok, so what's up with them coming and what's up with the money?"

Jinny simply answered that Slevov and Helstof were excited about the deal, and they didn't want to wait around, so they were coming. Jinny joked that the money was, "Just pocket money," and it may not have been so much a joke as reality. With this staring them in the face, all six little brains started operating in fantasy mode. If five mil is pocket money, then what amount was serious money for Henric and Constantine and their wives? Roger cut off the fantasizing pretty quickly and got back to the two immediate problems: the 4am arrival of the next wave of Russians, to be followed shortly by the arrival of the nine containers. Gwen reminded everyone about the cats. The division of labor was obvious to Roger. Gwen was the social organizer and he was the stolen goods organizer. So he suggested to his wife that she take Plouriva, Peter, and Pater into the dining room and deal with Henric and Constantine, and he and Jinny would figure out what to do with the containers (and the cats). Roger asked, with a certain rather pointed tone to his voice, exactly how the cats had come into the picture and who they belonged to.

For the first time Pater spoke up, and said, "The cats belong to the ship's cook."

Roger waited for the follow up, thinking he probably wasn't going to like it very much. He gestured, "And?"

Peter said, "It was part of the deal. We could get out of the container after three days rather than eight days if we take the cats and keep them until the cook gets off the ship the next time it comes to Charleston. That's when the cook quits being a cook and starts being a rich Charlestonian living on Sullivan's Island."

Pater said, "I volunteered to keep the cats for him. Russian blues are incredible cats, very smart, and they were the cats of the czars, like Czar Brettany Prentikof, and so they should be very happy in Charleston."

Roger stared at Pater for a moment trying to follow this logic, but gave up and looked at Gwen, who looked down at the dog sleeping at her feet. So Roger looked at Jinny, and said, "Fill in the missing pieces, here."

When Jinny looked up at the ceiling and didn't answer right away, Roger had second thoughts about his question, so he said, "Ok, forget that, we'll talk about it later. Right now we gotta deal with the arrival of the people and the containers." So Gwen took her staff into the dining room and Roger and Jinny got to work on the container issue. Roger figured this was a three beer problem, and got two more beers from the fridge. This brought up the question in Roger's mind about whether they make beer in Russia. Jinny said no, they steal as much beer as they need from the Czech Republic, which makes great beer. Roger didn't pursue that topic any further.

Jinny and Roger figured out they needed a much bigger warehouse than the one Roger had rented before they left on the trip overseas. Jinny told Roger that instead of receiving the container paperwork digitally via email, Henric and Constantine would have it with them, so they would get the paperwork the next day that authorized the goods in the containers as having been approved for export by Russian customs and property management divisions. Roger said, "What about the ninth container, the one you and the others, theoretically, would have arrived in at the Charleston Ports Authority terminal?"

Jinny added, "And the cats." Jinny said he really didn't know about the ninth container, he didn't really know what Henric and Constantine's plan was.

Roger took a long pull on his beer, and said, "Are you telling me you didn't know how you were going to be smuggled past the Department of Homeland Security, into the United States of America?"

Jinny said, "No, I just figured Henric and Constantine would make it happen somehow, and they did, didn't they?"

Roger thought this through, which didn't take long given the lack of normal logic. He gave up, and said, "So what do we do about the ninth container?" Jinny shrugged. Roger decided the only option was to treat the ninth container like the other eight containers. He hoped the paperwork he would get tomorrow from Henric and Constantine would include it. This paperwork said these were goods legitimately being exported to the United States. DHS could inspect the eight containers if they wanted, and all would be ok. But, if they inspected the ninth container they would find two Russian blue cats. What then? They would have to deal with that on the fly. Roger had made arrangements with a trucking company to pick up nine containers and take them to the warehouse. They would stick with that plan. The Russians would arrive early tomorrow, and the containers would arrive early the next day after the short trip from Savannah.

Plouriva, Peter, and Pater went to bed. Gwen met the Russians at the airport at 4am in a big car, and took them to the Charleston Place Hotel, where she installed them in suites. She got the paperwork and gave it to Roger, who took it to the ports terminal the next day and presented it to DHS. They opened one of the eight containers on the manifest paperwork, scanned the remaining eight containers for radioactivity, and processed them onto the trucks and out of the terminal. The cats kept quiet. Roger and Jinny found a larger warehouse in the same complex as the original warehouse, and shifted their lease to it. The laborers showed up on schedule, and the goods were moved from the containers into the warehouse. Pater opened the ninth container, and two Russian blue cats, one boy and one girl, jumped into his arms. They stunk of fish, but Pater was happy.

So the result of all this was that four Russian people and two Russian cats were living in the June's home, and four other Russian quasi-gangsters (well, two Russian quasi-gangsters, and their wives) were living at the Charleston Place Hotel. The incriminating evidence had been destroyed and the smelly van had been returned to the rental company and eight giant containers of Class C artifacts stolen from the Hermitage Museum in Saint Petersburg now resided in a warehouse in Charleston. And six million dollars in cash was stashed under Constantine's bed at the hotel.

What's next?
Chapter 36: Gwen's Transformation Begins

Gwen decided to take things slowly in her transformation of these Russians into cultured Charlestonians. She was not expecting miracles, but she was pretty sure she could show them a good time and expand their cultural horizons. It's what they were paying her for.

Roger performed, and Jinny performed, and Plouriva of course performed. The secret police were after her ass, believe it. All these performances were under pressure. And we can't forget Constantine and Henric. The shit they pulled off in Russia was incredible. Peter and Pater are a different story. They've done very little at a high level. What can be said on their behalf is that they haven't cracked under the pressure, and that's pretty good. We can expect, however, that Gwen is going to make them earn their keep.

Gwen gathered the troops together early the next morning and assigned tasks. Roger and Jinny were to work on the antiques and the wine. They were to conduct a complete inventory of the warehouse collection and produce a list indicating the dollar value of each object on the open market. This was no easy task, as they had hundreds of small objects to assess. Roger suggested hiring a temp assistant from one of Charleston's antique firms, and at first Gwen approved, but on second thought cancelled that; word of the horde surely would get out. He and Jinny would have to do this job alone, and twelve hour days were expected. Roger also would arrange for the first delivery of wine from France. This meant getting in contact with his new friends and suppliers in Burgundy and Bordeaux, and figuring out who would provide what wines and when. This was another big job. Roger's and Jinny's workday just was extended to fourteen hours. Gwen gave them Sunday off.

Plouriva was to be Gwen's personal assistant, Gwen enrolling her in a crash course in Charleston Culture 101. Gwen wasn't sure if this would be work or fun, but it was her job. She would make it as enjoyable as possible for both of them. If she could bond with Plouriva one tenth of the degree to which she had bonded with The Deneuve, that would be great. The first thing was to get Plouriva a complete wardrobe. No, the first thing was to get Plouriva a nickname. Gwen simply couldn't go around introducing her as Plouriva. That couldn't happen. She didn't bother conferring with Peter and Pater on this issue, so she looked at Roger and then at Jinny. Roger already was miles away thinking of Montrachets and Gevrey Chambertines, and how much fun it was going to be ordering great French wines, and then having to taste test them before selling them to the Russians at exorbitant prices. So Gwen looked at Jinny.

A long time ago Gwen would have looked at Jinny with a certain quotient of skepticism. Didn't she at one time think he was quite hideous? But over time he had surprised her again and again, and she had grown fond of him. Of course, this had to do somewhat with his new and discriminating personal grooming and dresswear, but it had to do more with his commitment to the mission, his performance under fire, and his latent sense of humor, which was finding outlets. She said, "Jin Jin darling, Plouriva must have a new name. She's going to be a transition figure between Saint Petersburg culture and Charleston culture, and that has to start with her image, just like it did with yours. And her image starts with her name. Any ideas?"

Plouriva was not sure about this thing that had come out of left field, but she understood her future was here in Charleston, she had to get with the program here, and she would have to make sacrifices. She hadn't expected one of them to be her name, but there it was.

Jinny smiled at Plouriva, half his mind being on the comfort and activities inherent in the king-sized bed in the June's south guestroom, and the other half on his first challenge of the day. He closed his eyes and let his mind roam first across the fields of Russian history and then across the marshlands of Charleston history. When he opened them he looked at Plouriva and said, "Guignard. How about Guignard?"

Plouriva rolled this around her mind for a few seconds and asked, "What does this name mean. It sounds nice, but why this name?" Gwen looked forward to the explanation. Jinny said, "Well first, it's the name of a street in Charleston. I saw it when I got my first shave from Pierre at the salon; it's two blocks down from his shop. And it seemed at the time a very nice French name for a street here. Second, Monsieur Guignard was the French patron who commissioned Fragonard to paint one of the wall murals in a staircase in the west wing of the Hermitage. Guignard had met a Russian woman in Lyon, and chased her back to Saint Petersburg in the late 1700s, and promised her he would commission a painting if she would marry him. Fragonard was the woman's favorite painter. So Guignard spent a fortune getting Fragonard to Russia where he painted the mural, and then the Russian woman went off and married a Finn, of all things. Russian women are known to act this way from time to time."

Roger thought to comment that women the world over are known to act this way from time to time, but instead he went back to visions of magnums of Domaine Claude Dugat.

Jinny said, "I always loved that mural in the staircase, and I looked many times at the small card near the painting that told the story of the patron Guignard." He added, "You don't pronounce the second 'g' or the 'd'."

Plouriva said, "Guinarr, Guinarr....I like it." Gwen said, "Guinarr, Guinarr....I like it too. So be it." Peter and Pater started saying the name again and again, using different inflections and accenting first one syllable and then the other. They were having fun, but their opinion in the matter carried no weight. So one of the days tasks was down, ninety-nine more to go.

The second task Gwen gave Jinny was to come up with a list of food items she thought the Rodstras and Gromstovs would like. Then she dismissed Roger and Jinny and told them to get going on the antiques. Her gaze moved over to Peter and Pater, who stopped sounding out different variations on 'Guignard'. Either they had gotten tired of this or they realized Gwen didn't care about their opinion on the matter. Under Gwen's gaze they assumed diminutive postures. 'What the hell am I going to do with these two guys,' Gwen thought. After a minute her thinking expanded and went back to the reason they were sitting in her dining room right now. Oh yeah, Jinny had promised them the Junes would find them jobs in Charleston if they cooperated on the caper. They were in the same serious boat that Jinny and Guignard were in, namely, they now were wanted by the Russian authorities for the theft of valuable state property, and they had forsaken their homelands for a new life here in the States. Gwen realized, that is some serious shit, and her sense of sympathy for them expanded. Ok, she would take care of them, at least for a while. Jinny was acclimatized, but basically she had three kids on her hands. So be it, part of the deal.

She picked up the phone and called one of her best friends, Gale. Gale was a pistol and fashionista of the highest order. She once told Gwen she got divorced just so she could have her husband's giant walk-in closet, being that her own double giant walk-in closet was bulging at the seams. Gwen thought probably she was joking, but wasn't really sure. Gwen hinted at the situation and asked Gale if she would take a couple of her friends shopping. Gale squealed yes. Gwen didn't tell her these were two Russian gays straight off the boat. When Gale arrived at the house and was introduced, she realized the daunting task ahead of her, but she took it as a challenge, which is what Gwen had hoped. It didn't hurt any that Gwen immediately gave Gale her VISA card and said, "No limit." She also told Gale to get Pierre involved with dressing them. Gale knew and loved Pierre.

Before she turned them loose on a King Street shopping spree, Gwen decided she had to get a handle on a long term plan for Peter and Pater. She poured coffee for Gale and Guignard, and said, "What do you guys like to do? What kind of job would you like to have?"

Peter and Pater sat in front of Gwen dressed in her husband's clothes. Six months earlier, if someone had suggested that two Russian gay guys now wanted by Russian security authorities would be sitting in her dining room dressed in Roger's clothes, she would have laughed. But Gwen is the adaptable type, so here she is, trying to find jobs for these characters.

Peter and Pater also were the adaptable type. A couple of weeks ago they were working a shitty, boring job on the night shift. Then they'd had the crap scared out of them by Little Jinny Blistov in a restaurant. Then, given three hours, they had decided to commit a dangerous crime against their homeland, placed themselves in the hands of strangers (who the boys rightly perceived to be serious heavyweight dudes), had climbed into a shipping container with Jinny and Guignard after being told they would be locked in it for eight days, and now sat in the beautiful home of two Americans in Charleston, South Carolina, answering a question about what they wanted to do for the rest of their lives. That is adaptation.

The guys looked at each other very kindly, and Pater answered. He said, "Madame June, we only had to spend three days in the container instead of eight, but that gave us time to ask ourselves questions and think of our future. Jinny and Guignard helped us, too. Jinny told us all about Charleston; about its food and people; about the old buildings; and about all the Huguenots that live here."

Gale, who had grown up in Charleston, looked at Gwen and said, "What's a Huguenot?" Gwen motioned to her to clam up.

Pater said, "Jinny told us there is great culture in Charleston, and lots of French things like good wine and good food and good perfume, and movies with men dressed in nice clothes. (Jinny actually had said, 'Women dressed in nice clothes', but somehow this had gotten transformed in Pater's mind. No matter). So we started to think about what we could do in Charleston. And we decided maybe we can do ballet."

Gwen looked at Gale because this was not something she had expected. She had expected them to say, maybe they could get jobs as waiters or bartenders or doing something in a hotel. She had not expected to hear the word ballet come out of their mouths. But she was intrigued, and motioned for Pater to continue. "You maybe have heard of Bolshoi Ballet?" Gwen nodded yes. "Well, we were dancers there until six years ago. We were in the corps. That is where we met." And Pater again looked kindly at Peter. "I danced for four years with Bolshoi, and Peter danced six years. Then Peter got hurt and couldn't dance anymore, and so I quit too." Peter now looked kindly at Pater. "And since then we haven't had such good jobs, but we are together and that is a lot. And that is why we agreed to do what Jinny asked us to do. And now we are here in United States." The fact that Jinny told them he would have them killed might have had something to do with their decision, but there's no need for the boys to dwell on that, is there? "So we think maybe we can help young Huguenots learn ballet here in Charleston since this is a place of high culture. Huguenots like Russian czars and we are Russians so maybe they will like us, and we are pretty good with ballet."

With this simple explanation Pater stopped talking and sat back in his chair that matched the solid walnut dining room table. Gwen didn't know what to say. She looked at Gale, who really didn't know what to say, which is saying something since Gale is a very gregarious and loquacious person, rarely at a loss for words. What Gwen thought was, 'Man, these Russians are just full of surprises. Ballet, what do you know.'

This was very interesting for Gwen, who was quite partial to traditional ballet, and had had an interesting experience a couple of years ago at the Spoleto Festival. She and Roger had attended a performance of the Georgia National Ballet, starring the great Nina Ananiashvili. We are not talking here about the Peachtree state, but the Georgia Republic, next to Russia. No peaches are grown there. Part of the festival that year were performances of two plays starring Baryshnikov. Baryshnikov at that time was still trying to become as great of a stage actor as he had been a dancer. The night they went to the ballet Gwen found herself sitting next to Baryshnikov, who had come to see Ananiashvili dance. Gwen was amazed by two things: he was incredibly handsome (she had a hard time the entire evening focusing on the dancing) and he was incredibly short. She wondered how he had managed pick up Gelsey Kirkland and all those other ballerinas over all those years and throw them around the stage the way he did, like pieces of confetti at a wedding. She decided he must be very strong, which made concentrating on the performance all the more difficult.

She now looked at Peter and Pater with new eyes. Gwen is not a bashful woman. She told them to stand up, and when they did, she (and Gale and Guignard) gave them a complete physical inspection. They noticed a nice breadth of shoulders, long legs, and slim waists. Gwen would at some point in the near future have to get a look at them without them wearing her husband's pants. Oh, wait a minute, Gwen is not the bashful type. She said, "Take off your pants." Peter looked at Pater, and they looked at Gale, whom they had met only a day earlier, then shrugged together and removed their pants. Gwen, Gale, and Guignard saw legs with really impressive musculature. Long legs, dancer's legs. They also saw a long scar on Pater's right knee. Ouch. Gwen motioned for the pants to come up.

Gwen didn't know how the heck these guys could earn a living teaching ballet in Charleston, but she found the whole idea intriguing. She might take an in interest in this entrepreneurial endeavor, but later of course. In the meantime, she would use Peter and Pater as gophers. Right now the thing was to get them dressed and groomed. So she shooed Gale and the boys out the door.

Which of twenty tasks would she and Guignard tackle next? A big question was how many Russian people and Russian cats did she want living in her house? The two Russian blues had been locked in Peter and Pater's room. It had taken the June's dog and cat about ten seconds to detect these intruders, and they objected to two unknown feline visitors co-inhabiting their house. Gwen either could keep the Russian blues segregated, or she could let them out and let nature take its course. In order to make this decision, she had to make the harder decision, which was to keep the four Russian people in her house, or kick them out. This in turn reminded her of an issue she had been avoiding: who, exactly, was financing the operation from this point forward. The $300,000 joint account had paid the expenses in France and in Russia. But what about now? If Gwen decided she wanted the Russkies out, how would they pay rent and living expenses? She asked Guignard. Guignard realized she had to be straight with Gwen at this point, so she said simply, "Jinny is out of money. I knew I was leaving Russia forever, and I was able to cash out my holdings to some extent. I have about $175,000. Henric got my Russian money changed to dollars. Peter and Pater, we didn't give them much time to make their decision, and besides, they did not have much savings or much goods. They have only about $6,000, and it is in Russian currency. That's it."

Gwen thought for a few moments. Principle in her tactical decision-making was the comforting knowledge of the bag under Constantine's bed: $6M. She was aware of the axiom, never use your own money in setting up a business, so she decided to let the container ship Russians stay in her house, with the intention of getting the $6M into play immediately. That would change the equation. She figured she could get some of that cash into Jinny's and Guignard's hands fairly soon. Then she would kick them out. Her strategy was to defer her and Roger's profits to later, and of course take the lions share. That was only fair, right? With this decision made she told Guignard to go up to the boys room and open the door. The Russkie cats would have to deal with the Americano cat and the Americano dog.

Ok, she was accomplishing a lot this morning. Another big question of the day was how to deal with the Rodstras and Gromstovs. She knew she had to get together with them immediately and play host. They were the cash cows, after all, and had taken risks and contributed to the success of the mission in a major way. They had an odd standing: part team members, part clients. Gwen knew exactly how to answer this big question. The answer lay in the hour or so she had spent alone with Slevov in the kitchen of Jinny's slum loaner Saint Petersburg apartment. Let's provide a redux of that scene:

Gwen sensed Slevov was a woman of power, and she sensed Slevov could help make their mission a success. Gwen has incredible intuition. She figured if she could get cozy with Slevov, then Slevov might influence her husband to help them. And that's what happened in the Rodstra kitchen. Gwen turned the juice onto Slevov the way Deneuve had turned the juice onto Gwen. Things happened in the back seat of the big Mercedes as it rolled through the landscape of Bordeaux. Deneuve had co-opted Gwen into friendship. Gwen now did the same thing with Slevov. She leaned against a counter top, and engaged Slevov, using Deneuvian tactics.

Deneuve influenced the men and the boys in the Bordeaux vineyard in some strange way. Gwen watched that, and learned from that. Now, she put that lesson to use. When the two women re-entered the large living room, they were friends. They had bonded, and now what Gwen wanted, Slevov wanted.

So Slevov was the key to the Junes relationship with Constantine, Henric, Helstof, and by proxy, with continuation of mission funding, and this budding and special friendship was the link to the $6M stashed in the dufflebag under the hotel bed. And who knows to what other fine things the friendship may lead.

Gwen recapped her morning accomplishments: booted Roger and Jinny out of the house and got them working on the antiques and the wine; sent the boys out for grooming and clothing; determined the monetary status of the Russians in her house and decided to let them stay; comingled the animals (no hissing or barking so far); and now was ready to deploy her secret weapon (Slevov) in pursuit of some of the available $6M in cash. Not bad.

It was noon, so Gwen figured the Russkies were up and around. She picked up the phone and called the hotel, asking for Ms. Slevov Rodstra. When Slevov answered, Gwen could tell the bond between them still existed. After some small talk she asked Slevov what they wanted to do. Slevov said they were jetlagged, and were hanging around the suite, but they could meet late afternoon for coffee or drinks. She said she really was looking forward to seeing Gwen again. Gwen said, "How about drinks in the Thoroughbred Bar at the hotel around 6pm?

Slevov said, "See you there, dearie."

Gwen thought about this meeting. Should it be a reunion of the whole team, or should this be something simple? Her intuition told her she should get with Slevov as soon as possible, hook up with her on an emotional level, and relate to Constantine, Henric, and Helstof through her. So Gwen decided only she and Guignard would go to the hotel bar.
Chapter 37: Money to Play With

Gwen and Guignard relaxed for the rest of the afternoon, and they found an outfit in Gwen's wardrobe for Guignard that evening. It was nothing fancy, but it gave Guignard a taste of things to come. They stopped to look into the north guest bedroom, and found the two Russian blue cats asleep on the bed with the June cat. The June dog seemed amenable to the two newcomers too; no cold war in this household, thank you. Then Gwen took Guignard into her bedroom and motioned her to a chair, while she collapsed on the bed. Gwen relaxed her body, but her mind maintained the warp speed she had generated early that morning. One characteristic all the team members had been forced to adopt early in the mission was that of being risk-takers. A second characteristic was that of trusting each other. Look at what the Junes had done with the Rodstras and Gromstovs. They had trusted them, and thank god the trust had been well placed. Gwen knew she had to continue this pattern of trusting the Russians. She explained to Guignard her tactics for dealing with the Rodstras and the Gromstovs and any other Russians that came to Charleston to buy the team's package. She told Guignard that Slevov was key in setting up a model that would satisfy all of these folks.

Not only was Gwen telling Guignard about her tactics, she was forming the tactics as she spoke. Guignard was her sounding board.

The overarching strategy was to entice wealthy Russians who were sick of cold winters to spend them in Charleston, which was a low key place, off the radar of the jet-setting nouveau riches, and off the radar of those who tracked and observed such people. The goal was to appeal to a group of people who had an affinity for French culture and ocean breezes. The basic commodities were waterfront property, Russian furnishings to make them feel at home, French wine, and western cultural amenities. What the team needed now was to develop tactics that would achieve the strategic goals. For the first time since signing up for this caper, Gwen had to get specific, concrete, and real. The Rodstras and Gromstovs were the test cases. What, exactly, was she going to do to appeal to them?

Gwen asked Guignard to get a legal pad, pen and cell phone. Lying on the bed with eyes closed, Gwen began to dictate. "Call Gale and ask her to clear her schedule for the next two days. Call Pierre and tell him to clear his afternoons for the next two days. Call Roger and tell him to get a case of aged Bordeaux out of the cellar. Call Jinny and tell him to....cancel that, Jinny is to do nothing except what Roger tells him to do. When Peter gets home, tell him to make notes about what it takes to start a ballet school. When Pater gets home, tell him to do a web-search for American ballet schools, and to print out all the information about them. Order cell phones for everyone. Tell Roger to tell Jinny to go buy two more cars. Tell Roger to call the lawyer and tell him to form an LLC in Roger's name. Get on the Charleston real estate website and search for waterfront properties. Call Gale and ask her to get the list of foods that Jinny thinks the Rodstras and Gromstovs might like, and start buying the ingredients. Tell Roger to tell Jinny to start thinking about how to combine Russian dishes with French dishes. No wait, what the hell would Jinny know about that? Go to Barnes and Noble and buy a Russian cuisine cookbook. Do you guys have cookbooks? Call Gale and tell her you, Slevov, and her are going to start cooking French food three times a day. Gale knows French food. Make that two meals a day, the French know nothing about breakfast. We'll serve the Russians English breakfasts. Search the web for someone selling Petrova .45 cals and Brusshev 10mms. Call McCrady's and rent the private dining room for Saturday night. Tell them we will be in tomorrow to discuss the menu, and that the food will match wines we will provide. Call Roger and tell him to get some champagne out of the cellar, and a couple of whites. Tell Roger to tell Jinny to clean the Beretta, the Glock, and the Sig Sauer. And tell him to go to Wal-Mart and buy a lot of targets. Go to the Gaillard Theater website and see what performances are coming up in the next few weeks. Same for the Memminger. Same for the American Ballet Theater and the City Ballet in New York. Send an email to The Deneuve and tell her I love her."

Guignard wondered what the hell was going on. Her hand was cramping up with all the writing. Was everyday going to be like this, crazy, morning till night, spending money on everything, getting ordered around? In Saint Petersburg she had been the one doing all the ordering. Was this deal going to be a good thing? What about all this French food, what if she didn't like it? What was Wal-Mart? What was The Deneuve?

Gwen, sensing Guignard's reservations, stopped talking and looked up. "Got all that, babe?" She followed this with a smile at Guignard, which seemed to make things alright.

Guignard asked, "Is everyday going to be like this?"

Gwen felt rested from her time on the horizontal. She sat up, motioned Guignard over to the bed, and said, "We're going to have a blast over the next month or so. This is going to be cultural bootcamp for you and the rest of them. French food, clothes, music, looking at houses, restaurants, southern food, shooting guns, walking on the beach, drinking good wine, and reading Russian poetry (huh, where did that last item come from?). We're going to be one big happy American-Russian family. And this is why it's going to work, ok. Slevov and I are special friends. We have a special understanding." Guignard looked puzzled. Gwen said, "Before we came to Saint Petersburg, Roger, Jinny and I spent three weeks in France, meeting people in the wine industry and making deals. One of the people we met was a famous French actress by the name of Catherine Deneuve. Even though she's sixty-seven years old, she's one of the world's most beautiful women. But she is more than that. She's special. She embodies French culture, and she represents France in many important ways. Catherine and I and Roger shared a connection, and because of that, Catherine came with us on our tour of the wine country. We spent two weeks together, and at the end of that time, Catherine and I had forged a bond. This happened because Catherine shared something special with me. It's a special way for a woman to act that has an influence over people around her. I watched how Catherine behaved around people, and she told me things from her experience. I learned something very important from her. Something amazing."

Guignard thought Gwen would tell her what this amazing thing was, but she didn't. Gwen stopped talking and looked off into space for a moment. When she turned back she said, "Guignard do you remember the time at Jinny's apartment when Slevov and I went into the kitchen? We spent time in there while you talked in the living room. Well, Slevov and I did some special talking then, and we became friends, and what Catherine does with a lot of people, almost everyone she meets, I was able to do with Slevov. And now I think Slevov is going to help us with her husband and with the Gromstovs, and with any other Russians who come to Charleston for our package. She's our inside weapon. You and Jinny are going to be very important in everything we do, and Slevov is going to help us too. Do you understand?"

Guignard didn't have a clue what Gwen was saying, but she believed it all, and decided she hardly could wait for the dance to begin. She thought if every day was going to be like this one, she had a rockin' good time to look forward to. What a change from her life on the grounds of the Hermitage. She and Jinny, together in Charleston, USA. What a world.
Chapter 38: Drinks at the Bar

As Gwen and Guignard entered the Charleston Place Hotel, Gwen recalled a passage from a short story Roger once had written as a birthday present to her. The story was about some Junes that lived 150 years ago. The passage went like this:

"Roger and Elspeth weren't married when they decided they wanted to have fun together, though they ended up hitched for twenty-six years. So before they got married, they had to find places where they could have the types of fun they wanted. When the owner of the Charleston Hotel objected to them firing their shotguns at pigeons while standing in the hotel garden, they had to give up that fun. Sometimes they raced their horses down Broad Street past the hotel, him on his gelding quarterhorse and her on her Arabian mare, but that ended when the City of Charleston decided Broad Street deserved more than hardpacked dirt as its surface, and installed cobblestones taken from the holds of ships. The stone was loaded into the ships in England as ballast, and unloaded in the ports of Charleston and Savannah and Wilmington. Anyway, the horses couldn't run on the cobblestones, so that eliminated that fun.

It should be pretty obvious what was left for Roger and Elspeth to do. They would ride to the hotel on their horses, look wistfully at the flying pigeons as they crossed through the garden, and enter the hotel bar. There they would start with the wine, and after a couple of glasses, they would graduate to gin. Roger sometimes wished he had trained Elspeth to like port, as he thought it was a more civilized drink than gin, but he knew what Elspy liked, and he wasn't about to mess with a formula that worked so well.

After a gin or two, and after much conversation with the other bar tenants, and after lots of laughing and maybe a dance step or two, and after giving Henry the hotel owner a lot of shit for not letting them shoot out in the garden, well, Elspeth would look at Roger, and Roger would look at Elspeth, and that was that. Up the stairs they would go."

Gwen loved the entire short story, and read it every year on her birthday. She wasn't going to have such good fun today at the hotel, but she thought she would do what she could to get the ball rolling with the two very wealthy Russian couples. When they entered the Thoroughbred Bar, Constantine, Henric, Helstof, and Slevov were waiting. Gwen ran directly to Slevov, gave her the European double kiss, and looked into her eyes. She took hold of Constantine's hand in both of hers, looked him in the eyes, and said, "Welcome to Charleston." She put her hand on Henric's shoulder and squeezed it while looking him in the eyes, and said, "Welcome to Charleston," and then put an arm around Helstof's waist while giving her the kiss on each cheek, saying, "Helstof, my dear, we are going to have good times together here."

After this typical southern welcome they all sat down, and Gwen was pleased to see they had not yet ordered anything other than water. Slevov said they were feeling better, that the jetlag was wearing off, but they thought they would stay in at the hotel that night and take it easy. Gwen replied, "Here in Charleston we know there are times for ease and there are times for action, and we have that down to a science. Tonight we'll take it easy and have a drink or two together, and tomorrow the games will begin."

She went to the bar, opened her purse, and took out two $100 bills, which she flipped to the bartender. She smiled at him and said, "I want two bottles of 2004 Larmandier-Bernier champagne, one regular, one rose. I want you to bring them to the table in wine buckets, and I want you to mix champagne cocktails at the table, the white wine first, and the rose to follow. I want you bring us a very large platter of your miniature breaded, seasoned, and sautéed crabcakes. Nothing else, no sauces or dips, just the crab."

No one ever had asked him (told him, really) to mix champagne cocktails at the table, and no one had asked him (told him, really) for a large platter of crabcakes without any sauces either, because they weren't on the bar menu. He knew crabcakes were on the dinner menu, and he guessed this woman knew that. Still, this request (demand, really) was a new one on him. And he knew very clearly he would fulfill this request because, well, just because.

The bartender ignored his other customers, went into the kitchen, and told the chef of the request. The chef told him to get out, miniature crabcakes weren't on the fucking bar menu. The bartender, expecting this, asked the chef to come out to the bar, which he did, and the bartender took him to Gwen's table. Gwen saw the problem, got up, put her hand on the chef's arm, and led him away from the table. She did a Deneuvian on him, and he went back into the kitchen, where he told the sous chef to stop what she was doing and make forty miniature seasoned crabcakes, sauté them perfectly, and tell him when she was done because he was going to serve them, personally, to the lady in the bar.

Five minutes later, they were sipping the Larmandier cocktails, and relaxing. Fifteen minutes after that the chef appeared with the platter of hot, mildly seasoned crab, sautéed in butter, shallots, salt, and pepper. The bartender mixed the second round of cocktails at the table from the bottle of delicious rose champagne. Gwen put two cakes on a napkin and handed them to Constantine. She did the same with Henric. Then she took a cake in each hand and fed one to Slevov and one to Helstof, and motioned to all that the cake should be followed with a swallow of the champagne. Henric uttered a Russian word Guignard translated as ambrosia, and Gwen thought that was a very good word. The forty cakes and the second bottle of bubbly were gone in no time, and Gwen noticed there was not much talking. This simple food and wine experience was a winner. When the table was cleared, Gwen sensed she didn't have to perform anymore. It was a low key situation, and her friends were happy with a simple pleasure. She left the conversation up to Guignard.

An hour later the party broke up. Gwen thanked the bartender with another bill, and led the way into the kitchen. The five Russians followed. The troupe found the chef and the sous chef and thanked them, following Gwen's lead. Helstof gave the chef the double cheek kiss, which was a new and pleasant experience for him, while Slevov gave the sous chef a hug, which was a pleasant experience for her. The party broke up at the hotel staircase, and soon Gwen and Guignard were home.

Gale and the boys were in the kitchen eating sandwiches. Gwen made the boys stand up, and she gave them a once-over. New haircuts, new clothes, even a hint of cologne. Gwen gave Gale a big thumbs-up, and then asked about the damages. Gale shrugged and said, "About $2,700." Gwen asked her if she was up for a couple of days of fun and games starting tomorrow, and Gale said, absolutely. They kissed goodnight and Gale left.

Gwen noticed the two Russian blue cats sitting motionless on the counter at the far side of the kitchen, near the pantry. Umm, pets on the kitchen counter, I don't think so. She looked at Pater and asked him if he let pets sit on his kitchen counters, and he replied, "Yes, it keeps the rats away." Gwen walked over, picked up first one cat and then the other, set them on the floor, and walked back to sit down at the counter. When she looked up, the cats were back on the counter, sitting motionless in the exact spots from which Gwen had removed them, starring at her. Gwen looked at Guignard, who shrugged. Peter and Pater looked at their sandwiches. Gwen was too tired to fight this fight right now.

Roger and Jinny entered the kitchen through the pantry. They looked beat, so Gwen got up and gave them both a hug and a smile. Guignard gave Jinny two hugs and two smiles. Jinny looked at Peter and Pater, and asked the name of the cologne. They said, "Ocean Breeze." Roger looked over at the two cats staring at him, because he too never had seen cats sitting on his kitchen counters. He didn't bother asking Gwen about this because he too was too tired to fight such a fight. It had been a long day for him and Jinny at the warehouse. Gwen didn't ask Roger how things had gone. She knew all of them were tired. Peter looked at Gwen with a question mark, and she vibed him an answer. He went to the fridge and took out six cold Pilsner Urquell beers and set them on the table. Pater got six tall beer glasses out of the cabinet and set them on the counter. Jinny wondered how Peter and Gwen were communicating like this already, and he wondered how Pater had learned the strict house rule about never, ever, drinking beer out of the bottle. But then he remembered about his first meetings with Gwen, and he also knew she had learned magical things from The Deneuve, and he figured this was all part of that stuff.

Everybody relaxed and sipped the cold beer. Jinny went over and scratched both cats on the top of the head, and asked Gwen if she wanted him to get rid of them. She said no, that two more Russians were welcome in her house. She asked where her dog and cat were, and someone said, out back. When Roger was finished with his beer he asked Gwen, "How are the others?" meaning the Gromstovs and Rodstras.

Gwen said, "Remember that Larmandier rose we drank a few months ago at the picnic? We drank a couple of bottles of that stuff, and ate forty miniature crabcakes that Bridgett at the hotel made for us, and after that, they were fine." Roger replied that anybody who wasn't fine after drinking Larmandier rose champagne deserved to be not fine. That was the extent of the discussion about the days events. Everyone sensed things would heat up tomorrow, and the demands would continue over the next few weeks. The team meeting, such as it was, broke up and everyone headed to bed. Gwen told Guignard they would start with her list in the morning.
Chapter 39 - Gwen in Motion

When Gwen and Roger came down in the morning they found the dining room table set and groaning with food. There were two kinds of fried potatoes, pan-fried sheepshead fillets, eggs scrambled with onions and tomatoes, orange juice, melonballs, and a gallon of coffee. Breakfast was a favorite of Gwen's, and because it was a favorite of Gwen's it also was a favorite of Rogers's. So the spread was well-received. They went to the kitchen where they found Jinny sitting at the counter, issuing orders to Peter and Pater. Evidently Jinny was the chef and Peter and Pater were the sous chefs. This arrangement seemed to fit everyone. Gwen asked where Guignard was, and Jinny said, "She's in the study on the computer buying cars, cookbooks, cell phones, ocean-front properties, and Russian handguns." Gwen went into the study and told Guignard to come and eat. Gwen wondered how Jinny could eat so much and look like a block of concrete rather than a fat block of concrete. She said, "Jinny, how can you eat six eggs, two fish, two potatoes, and not get fat."

He said, "It's genes. My family on my father's side were borzoi trainers. Borzois are the royal Russian dogs, and they were bred over many generations for the czars. These original dogs were wolf-hounds, and would run through the forests near the Dachaus, in winter, finding and chasing and running down wolves that were all over Russia. When two or three of the dogs caught the wolf, they would hold it down on the ground until the Czar and his entourage caught up. The dogs had to be taught this, and my family, going way back, were the trainers. And the trainers had to run with the dogs to get them to track and catch the wolves. My grandfather was not as short as me, and he could run for hours through the forests on the logging roads, with the dogs.

I got short from my mother, who was 4 foot 11 inches, but could tear the heads off fish with her bare hands. Her family were fishermen who would row small boats out of the Saint Petersburg harbor into the North Sea. They could row out there for days, eating raw fish and drinking rainwater. When there were no fish and they got bored, they would strip naked, tie the boat's line around their waists, jump overboard, and have swimming races while towing the boats behind. All of them were short, but very strong, no fat anywhere." Jinny related this story with a sense of pride. Roger noted certain cultural differences between his recent ancestors and Jinny's.

Gwen asked Roger for a report, and he said he had to have another assistant who knew about antiques. Their hoard was small in size but large in numbers, and he had to examine and evaluate each one. This was a three person effort. Gwen asked, "You know someone who will not blab this around town which immediately thereafter would find it way around the country, and possibly back to the Hermitage?"

Roger said, "No, all antiques people are naturally blabby, and most are dishonest."

Gwen absorbed this, and said, "What about Salvador down in Savannah? He owes us. We can pay him well, and tell him if he blabs, we'll tell the police about the set of Audubon folios he sold to that English guy a few years ago." Roger said he would think about it.

Roger then said that during lunch the previous day (he looked at Jinny but did not mention that Jinny had taken an hours nap on one of the 19th century sofas that until recently had resided on Russian soil) he made a list of wines he thought would be available from their new French friends right away. IF he could get an assistant to help with the artifacts inventory, he could finalize the list, send it to the winemakers via email, and see what they had to say. Gwen asked if Roger could start training Peter and Pater about French wine with this first list and first order, and Roger said yes, IF he could find an assistant to help with the inventory. Gwen nodded to Peter and Pater that this was a done deal, and they smiled with anticipation.

There was a ring of the door chime and Gale came in. She gave Roger a kiss, and sat down next to Pater. She surveyed the six large plates and the seven platters, and said, "Jesus, what have y'all been eating. It smells like a Philadelphia diner in here." Peter made a motion to prepare her a plate of food from the kitchen, at which point she said, "Peter my dear, no food for Galey before noon, except on mornings when I haven't been to bed the night before. That's the fashionista's rule number three."

Peter asked, "What is the fashionista's rule number two?"

She replied, "Never tell anyone how much you spent on your earrings."

Naturally, Pater had to ask, "Ms. Gale, what would be the fashionista's rule number one?"

Gale looked at Gwen for help on this one. Gwen said, "We're all one big happy family, go ahead and tell them."

Gale paused, deliberated, considered, and reflected. She shrugged and said, "All great women of fashion, and all women of great fashion, French, Italian, Japanese, or even English, know that no matter what style of clothes the person is wearing, formal or casual, light or dark, wool or silk, it ALWAYS looks better and fits better and hangs better and feels better, sans lingerie. Tu comprends?"

Gwen and Roger found this amusing, and decided not to come to the psychological aid of the four Russians with a direct explanation. They decided to let the Russians work it out between themselves, they who didn't know sans or lingerie or tu or comprends. They thought this would be a good lesson in acculturation.

Gwen began issuing orders. Roger and Jinny, back to the warehouse, with Roger calling Salvator and telling him to get his ass up here pronto. "Jinny, you're to figure out if the Gromstovs and Rodstras each want a house on the beach, or if they want a house together. Where's the list I asked you for of foods you think they would like?"

Jinny said, "It's in our room," left the table, and returned with it.

"Gale, take the boys to the Mercedes dealership and buy two cars. You've still got my card, right? Guignard, forget telling Roger to tell Jinny to buy the cars, he needs to stay with Roger at the warehouse. Gale, after the cars, call up 'Legare, Manigault, and Legare' and tell them Roger wants to form an LLC, and to start with the paperwork. Guignard, forget telling Roger to form the LLC, he needs to stay at the warehouse. Gale, you and Slevov need to start cooking French here asap, buy everything you need. How about dinner tonight? Jinny, clean the guns before you leave this morning, I may need them soon. Guignard, let Gale stop at McCradys and reserve the private dining room; got that Gale? Don't forget the cookbook at Barnes and Noble, and don't forget to score some Bolshoi tickets in New York. Jinny, you hunt online for the Brusshev and the Petrova. No, Gale you hunt for the Russian guns. No, I'll call Dad and have him look online for them. Guignard, call my Dad and tell him to do that. The 45. cal and the 10mm."

At the end of this barrage the team members looked first at Gwen and then at each other. Okay....so that's the kind of day it's going to be. Roger wondered how much money this was going to cost, but decided to focus on his jobs and leave the planning to Gwen. The rest decided to get the hell out of the line of fire while Gwen was catching her breath. They each had three days' worth of work that Gwen expected them to complete by dinnertime, and were thankful for the large breakfasts they'd eaten. Roger and Jinny bailed out the back door, while Gale and the boys headed out the front door. Gwen thought, thank god, now we can get to work.

Gwen and Guignard cleared the table and dumped the dishes into the sink. They figured Gale and Slevov would do the cleanup when they started preparing dinner. Gwen noticed the two cats on the kitchen counter, across the room near the pantry. The Russian blues were sitting in the same places they had occupied the evening before, and Gwen wondered if they had moved at all. They looked regal, she had to give them that. She said to them, "What are your names?" The cat on the left looked at the cat on the right, and the cat on the right looked at the cat on the left; then they both looked back at Gwen and uttered, in unison, a melodious, "Caooh." Neither Gwen nor Guignard ever had heard this sound before, but it was beautiful. Gwen said, "Make a note, we gotta name the cats. Roger will have fun with that." Guignard reminded Gwen that the cats belonged to the ship's cook, and he was expecting them back the next time his ship came to Savannah or Charleston, at which time he planned on jumping and joining the Russian community in Charleston. Gwen looked at Guignard rather coolly and asked, "Is this the ship's cook that has no money?"

Guignard slowly answered, "Yeeeessss." Gwen nodded that this topic of conversation was closed.

Gwen led the way into the downstairs study, and they sat facing each other in leather chairs. She said, "We have to be with them every day." By "them" Guignard knew she meant the Rodstras and Gromstovs. "We have to learn, and learn fast, what each of them wants here in Charleston, because almost certainly they each want something different. Some things will be common to all, but it will be meeting each individual's special needs that will make this work. The good news is that understanding Slevov will be easy because she and I have a special understanding. I know something about her, and she knows something about me. We have to do the same thing with the other three. So we have to spend lots of time with them, trying different things until we hit the key for each of them. Capice?"

Guignard figured out capice, and said, "Da" just to make a joke. This was the first joke Gwen had heard Guignard make, and it was a good sign. Guignard then provided another surprise. She said, "I know something about Helstof." Gwen looked at her with interest. Guinard said, "She reads French romance novels. You know, man woman stuff."

Gwen decided there was no end to surprises coming from these Russians, whether they are cats, gangsters, or gay ballet dancers.

Gwen thought about this. One of her friends was an amateur writer. He was an historical architect but he wrote romance fiction for fun. Once, at his house during a cocktail party, after he'd had a few gin and tonics, she got him to show her some of his work. Gwen always had been curious about this because Roger dabbled in the same genre. This guy took her into his study and pulled a manuscript out of a drawer. The cover said Adventures in Southern Romance, Charleston Style, by Richard Adams. She thumbed through it and found it was a collection of fifty short pieces he called romantic fantasies. They had titles like "On the Beach" and "Walking the Park" and "Drinking Port on the Couch in the Hotel Bar". Adams told her he once had tried to get the manuscript published, but editors told him there was no market for this type of product. Gwen had asked him if she could read the manuscript, but he had acted shy. He said he would send her one piece by email, which he had done the next day. This is what he sent:

Fantasy #28 – "The Golden Slippers"

My wife and I have different senses of humor. Mine is forthright, hers is devious. Mine is a proper, dry, English sort of wit; hers is southern Mediterranean joyousness. My sense of humor is intellectual; hers is Chaplinesque, and we love these differences.

It was Sunday afternoon and I was trying to decide who to vote for come November, while my wife was watching Cary Grant and Leslie Caron in the larky film Mother Goose. I'm the serious one, she's the light-hearted one. I was sitting in the sitting room scanning one political blog after another, looking for that one crucial philosophical point that would tip me towards one candidate and away from another. My wife was living in the living room, within sight of the sitting room, laughing at the way Leslie Caron was driving Cary Grant nuts.

Leslie wasn't quite effective enough at driving poor Cary up the proverbial palm tree, because my wife decided she wanted the fun of distracting me from my serious political labors, which is easily done.

My wife's name is Jude. It's an unusual name, and underscores the prophetic sense her parents had in naming her that in 1952, sixteen years before the boys from Liverpool made that name world-famous. Her parents were saying "Hey Jude" long before darling Paul sang that phrase with the wonderfully mournful tone and inflection that to this day moves me intensely.

Anyway, let's get back to the dear's intent to steal me away from politics. She's done this before, she'll do it again, there's nothing I can do about it. While we were rooms apart, we were in sight of each other, through the open French doors. She sat on a cream colored chair outlined in royal blue, watching the TV, dressed in her Sunday around-the-house jeans, and a black cashmere sweater. Letmetellyou, she looks good in jeans....sitting, walking, talking, anyway, anyhow. And I'm a sucker for cashmere, especially black, and especially when I get to experience the insides of the cashmere sweater, if you know what I mean. My serious intent was doomed.

She commenced her mission with a soft humming. She hummed, and hummed again, and I looked up from reading Charles Krauthammers's blog, which I was reading after reading the opposite point of view on William Pfaff's blog. I saw her sitting in the chair, watching the TV and humming. I went back to reading. She asked through the French doors if I thought Leslie Caron was sexy. I said yes, much sexier opposite Maurice Chevalier in Gigi than in Father Goose because her French accent was stronger. I went back to politicking.

A few minutes later Jude asked me if I wanted to watch Leslie and Cary, cause they were flirting with each, and I said no, I have political work to do, important work. She let me read a little, then asked if for just a minute would I interrupt my IMPORTANT work to adjust the clasp of her necklace, which was bothering her. Of course. I got up, went into the living room, stood behind her, moved her blond hair aside so I could fiddle with the clasp. She said thank you, that feels better. I hesitated for a minute then, deterred by something subconscious, instinctual, then went back to the sitting room, back to Charles and his neo-con perspective.

I had lost my train of thought, my concentration. Jude didn't wait for me to reconstitute that frame of mind, she said, "Dear, sorry to bother you, would you come here for a second?" I again went into her room, her space, and looked at her, expectantly. She said, "I have a cramp in my foot." My gaze traveled from her face framed in blond hair, down to her shoulders framed in black cashmere, down to those hips framed in those blue blue jeans, and finally came to rest on her feet, framed in those golden slippers.

I knelt down on the floor in front of her cream colored chair outlined in dark blue that was set in front of the table with the gold candle holders on it. I didn't touch her, I just let my mind transform itself from politics and Iran and subprime mortgages and immigration policy, to her feet in the golden slippers, a transformation which took about two point five seconds. I was hers, and that was her intent. She knew the effect the golden slippers had on me, and she wanted to affect that effect. What she wants, she generally gets.

She lifted a foot off the chair, and I took it in my hands. With that touch I looked up to her face, and lost everything in my consciousness except her. I looked down at her foot and absorbed that special sensuality the world knows beautiful women possess there. I, too, became sensual. That's what happens. I held the slipper in my left hand and gently caressed the top of her foot. Then I felt the slipper itself, made of yellow silk, and then I took hold of her ankle with my right hand and carefully removed the slipper from her foot with my left hand.

I held her foot in my left hand and gently caressed its top. I looked up at her face and saw what I always saw there, the face of grace. Lowering my head, I kissed the instep of her foot. I held her foot in one hand and moved the other hand to her ankle, pushing up the leg of her jeans to reveal the back of her calf. I touch her there with a gentle massage. When I heard the slight sound of a breath suddenly taken in and let out, I drew my hand down her leg again to her slipperless foot, and kissed her there again. I kissed her just on the inside of her foot, near the perfect arch, and again, the intake of her breath, different than normal breathing. The sign.

I placed her foot on my shoulder and again pushed up the leg of her jeans. Again I touched her calf, higher up this time, almost to the back of her knee, leaning my head forward and placing the side of my face against her leg. And I kissed her there. Her breathing changed ever so subtlety. I had an idea where she was, but for very sure, I knew I was in heaven.

I leaned back and looked up at her face, seeing the halo of blond hair around it, and her smiling at me. With that wonderful gesture I noticed another one coupled to it. I noticed her knees, in those jeans, moving in opposite directions just ever so slightly. Slightly, yes, but it was a gesture that meant worlds to me.

Gwen loved this piece of Richard's, and remembered the affect it had on her when she first read it....especially the last part, finding that to be a real turn-on. She remembered wishing Jude was a real person and wishing they could be friends. Jude was her kind of girl. And the title of the piece - "The Golden Slippers" - how sexy was that.

Gwen recognized this was not a bodice-ripping style of romance writing; it was an intellectual style of romance writing. She thought of Helstof, who was forging a new life here in Charleston, or at least a part-time life. Helstof liked romance fiction, and Richard Adams happened to be single and good looking. Voila. Potential connection. Potential fun for Helstof, which led Gwen to add another item onto the growing list of events she was managing. The first event had been the champagne at the Thoroughbred Bar. The second event would be a French dinner tonight at the June's house: all eight Russians, the Junes, and Gale, who was doing the cooking. The third event would be dinner Saturday night in the private dining room at McCrady's Restaurant, with the restaurant doing the cooking and Roger supplying the wines. So the forth event would be a cocktail party, tomorrow evening, with Richard Adams as an invitee. Gotta get on that right away. Gwen asked Guignard to go to the rolodex and get Richard's number and dial him up. But where to have the party? Not here at home, no. Somewhere really fun. Got it, the private deck on the top floor of the Aquarium, with its spectacular view of the harbor and the bridge. Guignard called the Aquarium and nodded yes, while Gwen called Richard, who said yes to the invitation. So that event was settled.

Gwen called Gale and told her to call Slevov and see if she wanted to come to the house early, and help Gale cook. If she did, would Gale please pick her up on the way. Now Gwen had to figure out something special for Constantine and Henric, the two big boys who play dangerous games on an international field. What could she offer them?

She closed her eyes and went back to the beginning. Why had Henric and Constantine gotten involved in this affair? What did they expect to get out of it? With all their money, power, and connections, what was it about Roger, herself, and Little Jinny Blistov that had captured their attention? The facts came back to her slowly, one by one. These two couples were not the jet-setting type. They wanted anonymity, not exposure. They wanted a place, not for the entire year, but for the three or four months during the winter. A low key place, with a warm sun, in America. They were fascinated with American culture. But, they were patriots (sort of), and they also loved their Russian culture. They wanted a home away from home. And they were equally fascinated by the food, wine, and historical aspects of French culture. Gwen recited this list to Guignard, still with her eyes closed. Then came the memory of the strange connection to French Huguenots in Charleston, and something about a Czar who loved a French king. Oh yeah, the historic link between Charles the IV of France and Czar Brettany Prentikof, and the fondness that had developed between them based on a mutual love of large hunting dogs. Brettany had sent a borzois to Paris, and in return Charles had sent Normandy spaniels to St Petes. And Charles was a Huguenot that had been kicked out of France and ended up in Ireland, and his descendants eventually crossed the Atlantic and landed in South Carolina.

This came back to Gwen now, the strange connections and intersections, but something was missing from the equation, something important, the catalyst that caused these factors to gel into the reality of today, the reality of eight Russians, $6M, a warehouse full of Russian state property, and a ton of French wine on the way. All of this in little old Charleston by the sea. What was the missing factor?

Slevov Rodstra, the woman upon whom Gwen had practiced Deneuvian tactics; Slevov, the lynchpin of the entire operation, Slevov the cornerstone upon which the new lives would be built. That's why the wealthy Russians had decided on Charleston rather than a dozen other fabulous places around the world. Slevov wanted Charleston, and the others had followed. And Slevov wanted Charleston because that's where Gwen lived. Slevov wanted to know what Gwen had learned from The Deneuve.

Gwen opened her eyes. The connections and intersections had crystallized with the memory of her interaction with Slevov in Saint Petersburg. This strange world of eight Russians and two aristocratic Charlestonians, and artifacts from The Hermitage and wine from the estates of Burgundy and Bordeaux, this world orbited around her and Slevov. How wonderful. How interesting. Now she knew she could deliver.
Chapter 40: Gwen as the Sun, Slevov as the Moon

The rest of the day went as planned. Gale and the boys accomplished their errands and came home loaded with foods, accompanied by Slevov. Gale said a Mercedes S550 and an S600 would be delivered the next day. Gwen asked, "What colors?"

"One black, one white, what other colors are there for Mercedes?"

Guignard spent time on the phone and on the computer. Gwen went back into the study and opened the middle drawer of the cadenza to see if Jinny had cleaned the guns, and the faint smell of gun oil wafting from the drawer told her he had. She picked up the Glock, removed the magazine, and racked the slide. Out flew a round that landed on the carpet. So, Jinny had left the gun in the ready to fire condition. She would wail on him for that. She picked up the round, loaded it into the magazine, and slapped the mag back into the gun. She checked the Sig Sauer and the Beretta, removed the rounds from the chambers, and put them back in the drawer.

The smell of another kind of oil came from the kitchen. Gwen and Guignard entered to find Peter and Pater prepping for a dinner of eleven with Gale and Slevov at the stove. Gwen looked to the far side of the room near the pantry and found not only the two Russian blues sitting on the counter watching the goings on, but next to them was the June's mutt cat, which had adopted the regal posture and demeanor of the other two cats. Gwen wondered if its voice had changed as well, and she gave up on the idea of making the cats sit on the floor, like normal cats. She recognized reality when confronted by it.

Soon Roger and Jinny showed up, saying Salvator would be here from Savannah the next morning. The first shipment of wines was being put together in France, and should arrive in ten days. Roger and Jinny smelled like dust from digging through old things all day, and went to clean up. Gwen asked Guignard for the printout of beachfront properties she had found on the multiple listings website, and saw there were about forty houses located from Kiawah in the south to Awendaw in the north. Gwen shuffled through these quickly to get an idea of what was available, and started planning the hunt.

The evening went well. The food was fine and the conversation flowed reasonably well. Constantine and Henric were in good humor and seemed to enjoy themselves, saying they were over the jetlag and feeling good. Gwen laid out the schedule for the next few days. There would be the cocktail party tomorrow evening on the Aquarium deck, and dinner at McCradys the following night. She told them they would have cars available to them soon. Roger talked for a while about what he was finding in the warehouse, and about the wines that were on their way to Charleston. Gwen told Helstof she would meet an American writer the next day at the cocktail party, which seemed to intrigue her, and asked Slevov if they could have lunch together tomorrow. Gwen asked Roger if he could spare Jinny for a few hours tomorrow since Salvator would be at the warehouse to help. Gwen then asked Constantine and Henric if they would like to go to the gun range tomorrow for a little target practice. Their eyes lit up, so Gwen told Jinny to take them there for an hour or so after lunch. Pointedly, she told Jinny to work in the warehouse until then.

That night in bed Gwen told Roger the next day was going to be very important. She said, "I'm not really taking Slevov to lunch, I'm taking her to the beach, and we're going to walk and talk about the mission. She's the key to what happens next with these people, with everything. I have to understand her, so I can understand them. Tomorrow I'll know for sure how this thing is going to turn out." Roger didn't say anything, he just kissed her goodnight.

The next morning at 10am the car dealer delivered two new Mercedes. Guignard called Roger to ask him to tell Jinny to come home after lunch, get the black one, and pickup Constantine and Henric for their outing at the target range. Roger took this opportunity to ask who, exactly had paid for the cars. Guignard said, "Ummm...." Roger understood "Ummm...." and didn't push it. He hadn't forgotten the dufflebag with the $6M plus in it, and figured Gwen had this worked out....somehow. Gwen told Gale, who was having a great time with all of these shenanigans going on, to call Jinny and ask him whether the Gromstovs and Rodstras wanted one house to share, or one house each. When Gale got that answer, she was to get the multiple listing printouts, the boys, Guignard, and Helstof into the white Mercedes, and take them to lunch somewhere. Have fun.

At 11:30am Gwen said goodbye to the three cats and the dog. The dog had not taken to sitting on the kitchen counter, but he had taken to sitting, with a somewhat regal posture, on the floor just below the counter upon which the three cats sat. He never used to hang out in the kitchen, but now he did. Just sitting there, watching, evaluating, judging. Gwen swung by the hotel and picked up Slevov who was dressed all in white, and looked good. Slevov asked where they were going for lunch, and Gwen said they weren't going to lunch right away, they were going for a walk on the beach.

Slevov said, "Oh." During the fifteen minute ride out to the beach at Sullivan's Island Slevov asked, "Please tell me about this man who is coming to the cocktails this evening." The way she said this was either very conspiratorial or very knowing, one or the other. Gwen looked at her and smiled. She realized Slevov knew something was up, and this just confirmed in Gwen's mind her sense that Slevov possessed exceptional intuition.

Gwen said, "Is it true that Helstof reads French books?"

Slevov said, "Yes, it's true, because her mother was French, and she learned to read and speak French as a child, and she can read it now even though she's never lived in France. She likes stories of men and women together, having fun, stories set in Paris and on the Riviera. Russian writers all try to be like Pushkin and Dostoevsky, very serious, so she reads these French books."

Gwen said, "The man coming for cocktails tonight is a writer. It's time you met some Charleston people, and I think he will be interesting."

Slevov looked across the marshland at the rapidly approaching Sullivan's Island, with its prominent though not exactly beautiful Lighthouse, and asked, "Is this man attractive?"

"Yes, a little bit," said Gwen, staring straight ahead at the road.

"And is he married?" asked Slevov, and the answer was, No.

Slevov said, "And he writes these romance things, and Helstof likes these romance things, and so maybe Helstof will like this man?"

Gwen turned to look at her partner, said, "Maybe."

As they parked the car and walked down the path to the beach Slevov said, "Tonight Helstof meets a writer, and today Constantine and Henric are shooting guns, and now we are not going to lunch, we are going to walk on the beach. This is very interesting day so far, I like it."

Gwen never could go to the beach without thinking about a story Roger had given her on another birthday. She had memorized it, and after telling Slevov about the piece, she recited a section from it:

I'm a bit hazy at the beach, and she's a bit crazy at the beach, and together we're a bit lazy at the beach, and that's the way we like it, she and I. We like to stop thinking sometimes, or start thinking differently sometimes. She says she's creative there, that it's a special place cause things happen inside her, things like intuitive songs and celestial bells and windy thoughts outside relative time. What's so great is the way we talk there. She talks with her eyes a lot, and it's her intuition speaking, so I listen, cause it's the best of all her ways of telling me things. Things like: she loves me, and she loves the day, and she loves the night, and she loves when it's cold, and she loves when it's hot; and she loves moving along the water, and she loves looking over the water, and she loves looking at that great place where sand meets sea. And she loves looking at me.

Slevov stopped walking and said, "Roger wrote that to you?"

Gwen said, "Yes, as a birthday present. It's very nice to get a birthday present like that, to have someone write fun things like that to me." They came out of the path through the dunes and onto the beach where Slevov stopped again and looked out to the gray distance line of the horizon. If she had magic vision that would let her see for miles and miles, maybe she would have seen, far over the horizon, the harbor of Gustavia, on St. Barths. That was one of Gwen favorite places, because, of course, it was French, and in the Caribbean.

Slevov turned left and saw big beach houses and she turned right and saw big beach houses, and she said to Gwen, "This is what I thought Sullivan's Island would be like."

Gwen led the way south, heading towards Fort Moultrie, and beyond that across the harbor, to Charleston. She let them get into a comfortable walking rhythm before she spoke again.

"You know what happened between us in the apartment in Saint Petersburg. In one hour we became friends. We did this because we shared our intuitions, and we saw we have similar spirits. I felt something about you, and you felt something about me."

Slevov nodded.

"Now we are here together, which is a new place for you and an old place for me." Slevov nodded again. "You know what your husband did for us - he took risks and he helped us. And he is here with you. So, both of you feel something about Charleston, and both want to be here with me and Roger and the others." Slevov put her arm through Gwen's arm, and they continued walking. "Constantine and Henric and Guignard and Jinny all took big risks to get us where we are today, all here together in Charleston. You four took the risks in Saint Petersburg, and now it's our responsibility to produce things here." Gwen looked at Slevov, and again got a look of assent, so she continued. "The four of you are wealthy in Russia. Here in Charleston, Roger and I are not wealthy, but we have money and nice things. Jinny and Guignard and Peter and Pater have nothing except hope and energy and skills and a willingness to work. We're a strange family right now, and you and I are the leaders of the family. You know that don't you? We must bring our intuitions together again, so we understand each other completely, so we can lead our family to good things and a good future."

Gwen stopped walking and, using her arm linked in Slevov's arm, turned Slevov to face her. She looked into Slevov's eyes and waited for understanding. Slevov looked at Gwen for a minute and then shifted her gaze to a point far out over the water. It rested there and everything was calm. The breeze died down, the sanderlings stopped running from the waves, and the shouts of children down the beach quieted. Gwen felt peaceful.

It wasn't long before Slevov embraced Gwen in a hug, and said to her, "We are friends now, and I understand, and we will make a good family with these people. I am with you."

Gwen knew Slevov would say this. There never was any doubt. They knew each other, and they knew they could trust each other. They walked towards the children playing in the waves.

Gwen got a business look to her face, and said, "We all know you and Henric and Helstof and Constantine have money. We told you in Saint Petersburg we can produce a cultural package for you here in Charleston, and you agreed to that. Now it's time for us to produce these things and time for all of us to understand these things. But, there's something more, there's one thing more." Slevov looked at Gwen with curiosity. What?

"Before we came to Saint Petersburg, Roger and Jinny and I spent two weeks in Paris and the French wine country of Burgundy and Bordeaux. At the beginning we met a woman there....a very special woman. Do you know the actress Catherine Deneuve?" Slevov shook her head, No. Her look of curiosity intensified. "Catherine has been an icon of French culture for forty years. When we get home I will show you photos of her by Richard Avedon. Yves Saint Laurent owes half of everything he has to her. She made film directors great. She's in her sixties, and she drives men wild. I've seen that myself.

"When we were in Paris we met her. I met her. Roger saved the life of her godchild some time ago, and she wanted to thank us. We became friends very quickly, and she decided to come with us during our tour of the wine country. We spent two weeks together, two of the most incredible and valuable weeks of my life. I love Catherine Deneuve, and she loves me.

"I saw amazing things during those two weeks. Everywhere we went, Catherine was the center of attention. If the President of France had been in one room and Catherine in the next, the world would have gathered in her room.

"All the time we were together she was touching me. We walked through the vineyards and she touched me. We sat in restaurant dining rooms and she touched me. We sat in the car for many hours together driving through the countryside, and she was touching me. She talked, and I listened. I talked, and she listened. Roger and Jinny talked, and neither of us listened."

A young boy of six ran up to the two women and offered them a shell. Gwen took the shell, and Slevov touched the boy on the cheek. He took off running back to the water.

"One day we were walking through an estate vineyard while Roger negotiated on the wines, and Jinny ate oysters and drank champagne in the kitchen. Something amazing happened when we came on two men fighting in front of children. Catherine did something. She taught the men something about themselves, and about taking care of the children around them. She hardly said a word. It came from inside her and from how she looked at the men, and from her being and her presence. They understood what they were doing was wrong, and how wrong it was, and that they should act better around children. And the children understood that what the men were doing was wrong. So the adults were affected by her presence, and the children were affected by her, too.

"I watched this. It was mesmerizing because it was effortless on Catherine's part. It was something special, but it wasn't mysterious. It was understandable, and it was learnable. The men learned something important and I learned something important and the children learned something important. When we left them and went back to the house to find Roger and Jinny, I felt different. I felt better. Stronger.

"I want to learn to do things like that with you. Roger and I do things like that together because we love each other and care for each other. I learned something special from Catherine, and I want more of that in my life. You and I can learn these things together, and practice these things together, and we can help this strange family."

Slevov looked at Gwen for a minute, and then tracked a flight of pelicans riding the wavetops. When she turned back to Gwen she gave her a big smile and a double kiss on the cheeks, and said, "I want that."

There was no more serious talk there on the beach. Gwen showed Slevov some houses, she showed her Fort Moultrie when they got that far, and pointed across the harbor to the church steeples in Charleston. They turned around and walked back to the car.
Chapter 41 - Helstof and The Writer

On the way home Gwen buzzed Guignard and asked her to contact the entire family to remind them their presence was required at 6pm for cocktails on the private deck at the Aquarium. Remember to call Richard Adams, the guest of honor. Everyone was to knock off early so as to have a little down time before the party.

Gwen dropped Slevov at the hotel and arrived home to find the place in an uproar. The dog had tried to get up on the kitchen counter with the cats, and all hell broke loose. Cookbooks and china and plants all went crashing, and fur went flying. Gale and Guignard were trying to stop the dog from barking and the one cat from hissing at the other two cats. The other two cats, you know which ones, now were perched on top of the refrigerator, the high ground in the kitchen. They were silent and retained their regal posture. Gwen kicked the Americano cat and the Americano dog out the back door, and eyed the two Russian interlopers. They eyed her back, cool as a Siberian breeze. If Gwen was going to settle things with the blues, she would have done it instinctively and immediately, the way she had with her own pets. She didn't. She stood looking at them. When she didn't act immediately, Guignard and the cats recognized victory. Gwen looked at Guignard and found her smiling. When she looked at the cats, she thought she detected a hint of a smile on their faces, but about this she was unsure, lacking experience interpreting the body language of Russian cats. She helped clean up the mess and then headed to the tub for a relaxing soak. She wanted to luxuriate in the knowledge of what she had achieved earlier with Slevov.

A while later she heard Roger and Jinny downstairs, and then Gale and the boys. Roger walked into the bathroom and sat down on the edge of the tub. "You looked relaxed," he said. "Have a good day?"

She nodded yes, and took his hand. "Everything will be ok now," she said. "The mission will go forward, and will be a success. Things are fine." Roger didn't ask for details. When Gwen spoke to him like this, he just took it in and knew it was true. He felt relieved. He said, "That's wonderful," leaning down and kissing his wife.

At 6pm the white Mercedes and the black Mercedes parked near the Aquarium and five people emerged from each. They entered the building and were met by the administrative hostess, who took them up the elevator to the top level and to the private room and outside deck. She told them she was at their disposal for a private tour of the exhibits, just give her a buzz. They told her they were expecting a few more people, and turned to the bar loaded with bottles, ice buckets and hors d'oeuvres. Soon Gale arrived with Richard Adams. Adams knew Roger, of course, and then was introduced to the eight Russians. After this, Roger acted as bartender. Constantine asked Jinny for a cocktail recommendation. Without hesitation Jinny said, "Sidecar, great drink." Both Roger and Gwen looked at Jinny with surprise; this guy never was short on surprises. Where had he learned about this cocktail that was so popular from the late 40s through the early 60s? Cognac, Cointreau, and fresh lemon juice were a winning combination, and Roger and Gwen indulged in them occasionally, but they couldn't remember the last time they heard anyone order one in a Charleston bar. Jinny was ahead of his time in what surely was to become the cultural renaissance of the Sidecar. Roger mixed one for Constantine and one for Jinny and one for his wife, all straight up. Slevov asked for a champagne cocktail, and Guignard seconded that. Peter and Pater thirded and fourthed it, while Henric asked for a Bombay gin and tonic. This left Richard and Helstof with nothing in their hands. Richard asked if there was a glass of white burgundy to be had, and Roger answered there was, by his order to the Aquarium administrative hostess earlier that afternoon. He poured some into a white wine glass and handed it to Richard. Roger then looked at Helstof, expectantly. Helstof looked back at him, then at her husband, and then at the glass in Richard's hand, which now was developing that very sexy condensation on the outside that happens in humid climates. Helstof said, "That glass of wine looks so nice, I'll have one of those please."

Gwen led the group outside to the deck and the spectacular view. Dominating the other side of the harbor is the aircraft carrier museum, while to the right are the steeples of downtown Charleston. To the left is the new bridge, its lights coming on, and in the distance, just a speck, but distinguishable by its tall flagpole, is Fort Sumter. Soon a tug would bring a container ship under the bridge and past the aircraft carrier, on its way past the fort, to the open ocean. Perhaps one of the containers that had held artifacts from the Hermitage was on its way back across the Atlantic.

After taking the air and viewing the view, Gwen led the group inside and had them sit in the comfortable leather chairs. The admin hostess returned with platters of hot munchies. Earlier that afternoon Gwen thought about how to introduce Richard. She had decided on the direct approach. First, though, she asked Constantine and Henric about the target shooting. She wanted to direct the group's attention to them for a few minutes. Constantine sat up and said all the gun ranges in Saint Petersburg were indoors, and he really liked the range Jinny had taken them to on US Forest Service property up in Awendaw. He liked shooting outdoors. Henric said they would have to buy more ammo because they'd used up everything Jinny had brought. Gwen looked at Jinny and said, "Ya'll shot 1000 rounds, EACH?"

Jinny smiled a big smile (which Roger also detected on the faces of Constantine and Henric) and said, "Yeah, we did get those guns hot."

Constantine raised the shirttail of his Yves Saint Laurent silk shirt and pulled one of the June's Berettas out of his waistband. He said, "This is so light compared to the Brusshev, how do the Italians do it?" He had the gun pointed at the floor, and Gwen saw the safety was on, but still she felt a little nervous, being that she didn't know how good Constantine was with guns, and the fact they were in the South Carolina Aquarium. She was relieved that the admin hostess was not in the room. She took hold of the gun and talked to Constantine for a minute about composite materials vs. steel materials, which seemed to satisfy him. Gwen didn't return the gun to him, but stuck it in her purse, which Constantine didn't seem to mind. Having a gun stuck down your pants at a cocktail party is less comfortable than he had imagined. Henric mentioned the difference between the double-action Sig Sauer and the single-action Glock, saying he liked the Glock better, fewer moving parts.

Gale rescued the group from gun talk by asking Richard if he'd published any new books. Gwen blew a kiss to Gale, and took over the conversation. "I asked Richard to be our guest tonight because I wanted to introduce him to Helstof." The directness had begun. "I know Helstof likes French novels (Gwen using that term loosely, as she was talking about romance writing), and Richard writes those kinds of books. This is part of the cultural package. Richard writes about history, and beautiful places, and cultured people, and art and romance. He writes short pieces about men and women enjoying each other, and enjoying food and wine and gardens and beaches, and walking the streets of the world's great cities. He even wrote a piece about a man and a woman in Moscow." Gwen said this knowing Henric and Helstof originally were from Moscow.

Richard perked his up ears at this, knowing as he did that he never had written anything about Russia or Russians. He looked at Gwen. Gwen went to her purse and took out a folded piece of paper and brought it back to the circle of chairs. She said, "I brought a piece of Richard's writing to share with all of you, but especially with Helstof. This scene takes place outdoors, at a restaurant in Moscow." She read the following:

"Isn't this an incredible place?" the woman said.

I said it was. Little did she know it was going to get more incredible, and that happened right after the salad course. Our hands were touching on the ornamental iron railing, and the wine worked its magic on our chemistries. I saw a hint of light above us, hidden just behind the eve of the restaurant's roof. Three minutes later she saw it too. The moon. Inexorably in crept across the sky, ranging towards the church spires lined up along the boulevard. It bathed every nook and cranny in the landscape with a cool white light, and it was full, by god, a big white disc against the blue-black of the sky, looking like an Asian girl's face set against the coif of her shining black hair. An ivory moon reflected the sun's rays towards the city, and us on the patio of the restaurant.

The white linen table cloth glowed as though it was lit from below. The wine glasses turned silver, and the wine in them transmuted from dark burgundy to bright scarlet.

Then everything escalated, and grace grew greater. The light dimmed from its searing brightness, not from a passing cloud, but because of the eclipse....the unexpected full eclipse of the moon. As the dark wash crossed the face of the moon our feelings escalated. It lasted for seven minutes of no talking, just looking, and then it was over.

The event was over but our feelings were not. They were blasting and wanted out. I looked at the woman, stood up, slid around the table, and putting my arm around her relentlessly sensuous shoulder, I bent down and kissed her.

Gwen folded the paper and put in back into her purse. She looked around the group, saving Richard and Helstof for last. To say Richard was surprised would be to put it mildly. The recitation had been abstracted from a piece of his, set not in Moscow, but rather at a restaurant in St. Barths, in the Caribbean. Gwen had changed the venue for some purpose, and that intrigued Richard no end. He wondered what it was, but played along beautifully.

Henric clapped. "Moscow is the most beautiful city in the world," he said, "and has a long history of inspiring writers to greatness. Maybe you will write a novel about our country sometime, eh, Richard?" Peter and Pater wondered if Richard could write a story for a new ballet. They were developing grand visions of original productions in Charleston. Jinny asked Guignard what an eclipse was, and she shushed him. Helstof picked up her glass of white burgundy and offered Richard a toast: "To culture and romance in Charleston, with good food, good wine, good dance (looking at the boys), and good writing. Thank you, Richard. Thank you, Gwen."
Chapter 42 - Satisfying the Russian Men

The next morning was house hunting time. At 10am Gale took the black Mercedes and picked up the Gromstovs. Gwen, with Guignard driving the white Mercedes, picked up the Rodstras. The black car headed for Kiawah Island and the white car headed for Sullivan's Island. Early that morning, before Gwen kicked him and Roger out of the house, Jinny told her he thought the Russians wanted separate houses. They were friends, but not close enough to want to share vacation places. That's what Gwen hoped to hear, because of course she would get two commissions rather than one. Both cars had the multiple property listing printouts for their respective island.

Gwen had cut an unusual deal with a friend of hers who was a licensed real estate agent and broker. Three factors contributed to the deal. The first was that the market was in the depths of depression, and the Charleston upscale end of it was as bad as anyone with a long memory could remember. The second was, cash was king. And guess who had a dufflebag of cash? The third was Gwen's friend was in poor health and not very active in the biz. Gwen had turned the tables on the usual sharing of commission fees. Her friend would act as official agent and broker, with the deals happening under her license. For this she would get 1% of the price. Gwen would do all the legwork, paperwork, and deal-making, and for this Gwen would get the remainder of the commission, whatever percentage she could wrangle from the buyers. They would go after properties for which her friend had the listing, which in this glutted market, were quite a few. So Gwen had stood the usual arrangement on its head, getting the lion's share of the commission rather than just a finder's fee. Part of the deal was Gwen's statement to her friend that more buyers of the same type may be on their way.

The two Russian couples were excited. They'd had a good time the day before, and now they were approaching a peak in the adventure, property ownership in the Unites States. Gale and Gwen noticed that both Constantine and Henric had climbed into the cars carrying small tote bags with Charleston Place Hotel machine embroidered on the side, and they wondered what was in the bags. Probably it wasn't donuts. If Jinny had been carrying the bags, they might've thought donuts, but not with these two guys. Gale and Gwen got the impression that Constantine and Henric were not going to play a lot of games with the house hunting effort.

Gwen's friend had four listings on Sullivan's and eight listings on Kiawah. Constantine sat in the front seat next to Guignard, while Slevov was next to Gwen in the back. As Constantine got his first view of Sullivan's Island, Slevov looked through the file folder with the property descriptions in it. Guignard kept Constantine occupied with questions about his shooting party the day before. After ten minutes of studying the papers, Slevov handed one set to Gwen and put the rest back in the folder. She smiled a smile that Gwen understood without the need of words. Slevov had found their home away from home. Simple. Gwen gave the address to Guignard, and a few minutes later they pulled up in back. They were at the back of the house, because the front of the house was beach. They got out of the car and stood looking at the four stories, built on stilt pilings. The stucco was a shade of azure, the standing seam metal roof was beige, the porches and railings running around the house on two stories were natural wood, and the landscaping was lush.

Slevov said to her husband, "This is the place you wanted, isn't it dear?" He smiled at her, took her by the hand, and led the way inside after Gwen unlocked the doors. The inside was empty of furniture. Constantine climbed a spiral staircase to the top floor and went out on the oceanside deck. He stood looking out at the horizon, feeling the sun on his face and arms, smelling a new smell. It was the smell of home. Slevov spent time in the kitchen and the dining room. She didn't say anything, just hugged Gwen.

Guignard appeared and asked if they wanted to see the wine cellar. Gwen looked at the file folder and, sure enough, there was a description of the two story, 10,000 bottle capacity, environmentally controlled wine cellar. One story was devoted entirely to storage, the other had storage, but also had a circular built-in table that ran 180 degrees around the house, facing outwards through curvilinear glass to the ocean. They sat at the table and, in unison, thought, 'Yeah, I could spend some time here, sipping a good burgundy.' Constantine took them back up to the top story deck, where he turned to Gwen and said, "You told me I can sit out here in February, is that right?" Gwen nodded. "Then this is what I want. This is the place." He turned to Slevov. She nodded.

One down, one to go.

When the black Mercedes stopped at the gate of one of the Kiawah developments, Helstof wondered what was going on. Gale showed her real estate pass, and was waved through, explaining what a gated community was. Instead of heading directly to one of the eight properties in the file folder, Gale took the turn to The Sanctuary Hotel. Her intuition told her it was the type of place that would play on the Gromstov's sensibilities. The valet took the car keys, and they entered the lobby. The lobby went from one side of the structure all the way through to the other, where it faced out to the ocean. Gale led them out onto the oceanfront patio. A bar waiter appeared out of nowhere, and Gale ordered four sweet teas. With drinks in hand they walked around to the pool area, through the seashore garden, and onto the beach. Henric breathed deeply and looked out beyond the waves. Maybe he was trying to see the harbor of St. Barths. They returned to the lobby where they finished their drinks and then climbed the wide curving staircase to the restaurant level. Gale asked them to wait for a moment, and disappeared into the kitchen. She knew the maître d'. A minute later she reappeared and motioned to them to follow her. In the kitchen, George, the maître d', introduced them to Connie, the sous chef. Connie led them to a prep table where she offered them samples of antipastos that were on the menu that night. She pulled the cork on a bottle of Prosecco and poured five glasses. Delicious. George asked if they would be staying for dinner, and Gale said, "Next time." Henric asked where they got their fish from, and Connie pointed out the window. "Right out there," she said. Helstof looked at her empty wine glass.

Soon they were back in the car, sitting outside property number one. Then they looked at property number two, and then number three, and then number four. Henric and Helstof decided to purchase property number seven, so Gale had to work a lot harder than Gwen. However the result was the same....success. This property had its own private deepwater dock on the backside of the island, and that's what Henric wanted. He wanted his own sailboat. On the way back into town Gale stopped at the Charleston Marina and introduced Henric to the owner of Charleston Yachts. Henric said he'd be back soon.

Richard and Jinny knocked off early at the warehouse and came home to prepare the wines for dinner that evening. Two days earlier Roger had sent the McCrady's sommelier a list of the wines they would provide for the dinner, with instructions for him and the chef to match the food courses to these wines. Most people think wine should be chosen to match the food, but that's the minor leagues of connoisseurship. Matching food to wine is the real deal. After assembling all the wines on the kitchen counters, Roger opened the reds and double–decanted them. He carefully and slowly poured them into a decanter, then slowly poured them back into the bottles and recorked them. Four or five hours later they would be ready to drink at the restaurant. The two Russian blues watched this procedure with great interest, as did Jinny, watching from a stool and thinking he would have to remember this one. The blues watched from atop the fridge. Roger wondered if they now were being fed up there. Roger wondered where his own dog and cat were. The sommelier arrived to pick up the boxes of wine, with final instructions from Roger. The two Mercedes returned to Charleston.

After a rest and showers and dressing sessions, the Junes, Guignard, Jinny, Peter, and Pater assembled in the kitchen, everyone looking prim and proper. They were going to have a drink before heading over to the restaurant, but this was interrupted by the unexpected arrival of the Gromstovs and Rodstras, who also were dressed to the teeth. Constantine had a word with Gwen, who led everyone into the living room. Constantine moved the coffee table to the center of the room, and nodded at Henric, who opened two tote bags and dumped the contents on the table. Everyone looked at the cash. Henric said, "We don't have enough money." The others didn't know exactly how to take this. It could mean, "We don't have enough money, period," or it could mean, "We don't have enough money on the table." Everyone very much hoped he meant the latter. Henric said, "That is $6,300,000, all the cash we could get on a few days' notice in American money. We have more where that came from, but it's still in Russia." Everyone breathed a sigh of relief. Thank god, more where that came from.

Constantine said, "Your package so far is good. We like it. If you will help us to figure out how much more money we need, we can order it tomorrow. We have talked, and we know what we want in first part of package to make us all happy. We want two houses, one sailboat, French wines (lots), furniture for houses, some of it Russian from Hermitage, six hand guns, two of which are Russian, two Austrian, and two Italian, the Mercedes, Mr. Adams for writers workshop of romance literature, and other stuff for living here. How much?"

Gwen and Roger realized this was an important moment. This was when the rich Russians were going to commit to the entire package. Full commitment. Gwen told Peter and Pater to take drink orders. Roger told Jinny to call the restaurant, Gale, and Richard, and tell them dinner had been set back one hour. Gwen went to the study and came back with a yellow legal pad and a calculator, which she handed to Roger, and they went into calculation mode.

Gwen began pacing the floor, rattling off items. Roger wrote each item on the legal pad and filled in numbers: Sullivan's house $2.9M, Kiawah house $3.2M, boat $1.1M, guns $5,000, wine unknown, Richard $10,000, furniture for Sullivan's $140,000, furniture for Kiawah $150,000, Hermitage stuff for Sullivan's unknown, Hermitage stuff for Kiawah unknown, miscellaneous stuff for Gromstovs and Rodstras $100,000 each, two Mercedes $180,000.

Gwen listed these items out loud. When she opened her eyes she went and sat next to Roger. Silently they added more items to the list and filled in the blanks: wine $100,000, Hermitage stuff $200,000, Peter and Pater school $200,000, Jinny and Guinard $400,000, Roger and Gwen $400,000. Gwen got up and went and sat close to Slevov, taking hold of her arm. Gwen nodded to Roger, who took the calculator and started tapping. Tap tap tap. Tap tap tap. Tap tap tap.

Roger stopped tapping and wrote on the legal pad. He got up and handed the pad to Gwen, who looked at the bottom line: $9,185,000. She took a deep breath and handed the pad to Slevov. Slevov glanced at it without comment or change in body language, and handed it to her husband. He glanced at it without comment or change in body language, and handed it to Helstof, who handed it to Henric. Henric glanced at it, looked at Constantine, and nodded. Constantine picked up his gin and tonic and said, "Ok."
Chapter 43 - The Boys and Ballet

The group piled into cars and headed to McCrady's. There were the eight Russians, the Junes, Gale, Richard Adams, and Selgey Landkirk and her husband, Bartholomew. The first order of business in the private dining room was introducing Selgey and Bart to everyone else. Gwen wondered who was going to do this, as she didn't know Selgey or Bart. She figured it was Gale who would do this because Gale knew everyone who lived in Charleston, or visited on a recurring basis. But Gale didn't know them either. Gwen looked at Richard, who looked back, unaware of this glitch in the proceedings. She looked at Jinny, who just smiled. Gwen looked at Peter, who pointed towards Pater, who got the message. He stepped forward and gave an, "Ah hem," to get everyone's attention. In an elegant manner heretofore undemonstrated to his friends, Pater said, "Allow me to introduce Selgey and Bartholomew Landkirk." He then named the Junes, the Rodstras, the Gromstovs, Jinny, Guignard, Gale and her husband, and Richard. It was not exactly a normal introduction, because Pater now had to explain who these strangers were. Everyone was waiting on that. The men present were really interested to know who this tall, beautiful, and graceful woman was, and the women present were dying to know who this tall, elegant, and studifyingly handsome guy was.

Pater was given a bit of a reprieve when the sommelier entered the room, followed by a waiter. He conferred with Roger and proceeded to serve the aperitif, which, of course, was champagne. Roger had sent two bottles of 1989 Pol Roger. Guignard took this opportunity to whisper into Gwen's ear that Selgey and Bartholomew were great ballet dancers from New York City, who now lived in Charleston. Gwen said, "How do you know that?" and Guignard answered that Pater had called and told her. Gwen stared at Selgey while waiting for her glass of champagne. Then she gripped Guignard's arm and whispered, "Not THAT Selgey Landkirk. Oh my god." Guignard did not know if this was THAT Selgey or another Selgey, but from the ferocity of Gwen's grip on her arm, she deduced that if this was THAT Selgey, then this woman was a VIP of some considerable standing. Gwen moved over to Pater, who was waiting for his glass, and said, "Pater, my dear, where did you meet these people?"

He said, "By email, yesterday." Gwen didn't want a simplistic answer, she wanted a complete answer with a certain amount of reality attached to it. Pater understood this from the commanding look on Gwen's face, and said, "I sent an email yesterday to a friend in Moscow who we worked with when we were dancing. I told her we were in the States, in South Carolina, and she said that is where Selgey and Bart live. So I got their email address and sent them a message and they answered last night, and they came to the hotel for breakfast this morning, and, well, here they are." In Pater's mind, and possibly in Peter's mind, inviting them to dinner without consulting the dinner's hosts, was fine. Just fine. Pater said, "Ballet is culture, you know, and that is our mission, right, so I figured inviting them was ok. Is it ok, Ms. Gwen?"

Gwen gave him a kiss and told him to drink up, dear boy, drink up, and gave the sommelier a look that said, 'Leave us alone,' which he understood. Everyone had a glass of bubbly. She motioned everyone to sit down, and said, "Pater, please continue."

He said, "I hope you will welcome Selgey and Bart to our group. Selgey was principle ballerina with the New York City Ballet, and Bart was principle dancer with the London Ballet. Peter and I had the privilege of dancing with them as members of the Corps when they visited Moscow. I remember that very well. It was Coppelia, and it was fun." He looked at Peter, who nodded a vigorous agreement. "And it was so good to learn yesterday they now live in Charleston, and so nice of them to agree to join us this evening." Pater raised his glass in a toast. Gwen was the only one who recognized the two dancers and knew who they were. More in the way of an explanation came later in the evening.

After the bubbly came the first course, accompanied by a sauvignon blanc from Bordeaux. It was baby langoustines in garlic butter sauce. The head waiter, at Gwen's direction, had managed to seat Helstof and Richard next to each other. Imagine that. The French lobsters gave way to the second course, a local favorite, she-crab soup. The sommelier and chef paired this with a dry sherry. Constantine asked for seconds on the soup, and when he did this, Jinny followed suit. Roger could see Jinny was going to cost a fortune in food this evening. Roger's wine list switched to reds, and prescribed a Pegau Chateauneuf du Pape, which McCrady's chef brilliantly matched it with a duck confit.

The succession of champagne, white Bordeaux, sherry, and a Rhone red began to work its magic. Gale began to laugh a lot, Jinny kept getting up and walking around the table, patting people on the shoulder, asking them if they liked the food, Roger asked Selgey how long she'd lived in Charleston, and did she like it. She said, "I've been here three years, and Bart's been here two years. It's such a relief for both of us after living in big cities for so long. The first time a stranger here said hello to me on the street, I really could not believe humans still acted that way. I didn't know how to respond to the man." Bart nodded assent. She said "There's a calmness about living in the south, about living in Charleston, and that's what we need now, what we want. After traveling around the world for so many years, we want simplicity, some quiet, a new place to feel at home. And now we have two new friends here who know about dancing." She said this, looking at Peter and Pater.

Precipitated, perhaps, by the effect of the four wines, Selgey abruptly got up, went to the other side of the table and grasped Pater under the arms, pulling him erect. She drew him to the corner of the dining room, faced him arm in arm, and engaged him in an impromptu waltz around the table. She floated. That was it, she floated.

The waltz was interrupted by the arrival of the fourth course, roasted chicken accompanied by a famous French potato dish served in a terrine. First was butter, then was garlic, then was duck fat, then was shredded potato, then more garlic and more butter. Roger had sent a twenty year old burgundy to the restaurant, and these dishes were what the chef had paired with it. Greater than fabulous. During this course, Gwen noticed Richard slip a piece of paper into Helstof's hands, below the table. Guignard asked Bart how he was able to pick ballerinas up so easily and throw them around the stage the way he did. He said, "On stage I have strength I don't have off the stage. Everything is magnified. The women are more beautiful, the music has the power of a strong wind, the audience does not number 2000 but 20,000, and space is unlimited. When things are like that, it's easy to lift my partner and take her where she wants to go. It's easy to follow the music."

Roger hoped Jinny would not try to throw any of the women present around the dining room, noticing Jinny was showing signs of getting really happy. Gwen noticed it too, got up, and took Jinny over into the corner. She put both hands on his shoulders and looked him in the eye with great fondness. He returned the sentiment. She noticed that everyone else was watching them, including Roger, so she drew Jinny close to her and asked him in a quiet voice if he remembered the night they had met, in the dining room of the French restaurant down the street. At this question he raised he face to the ceiling and practically squealed with delight. He knew he always could count on Gwen to say something interesting. "Yes, Ms. Gwen, I remember very well. You looked at me with cold stare I never seen before or since. Not from Russian gangsters, not from American criminals, not from Russian army trainers, not from nobody. You didn't scare me, but I knew you very serious woman, very serious about your man. I said to myself, Blistov, better to be friends with this woman, because being enemies, not a good thing for your future in America. You have gun under table, and I think you not mind using it on Little Jinny. I think these Junes, very interesting couple. Why not make friends. So, now we friends, no?"

Gwen gave him a kiss and said, "Yes Jinny, now we're friends."

The fifth course appeared, a dill shrimp salad that demanded a return to white wine, a chenin blanc from Sancerre. After eating and drinking this perfect combination, Gwen went and stood behind Slevov's chair. She leaned forward and quietly asked Slevov if the paper was a piece of Richard's romance writing. She nodded. Gwen motioned for the paper, and Slevov handed it to her. She then quietly asked Richard if she could read it. There was not a man on the planet who could have refused that request. Gwen read the following:

**Blue, Green, White, Red...........and Beautiful**

Blue cashmere sweater,

Blueness streaming into eyes,

Inquiring look upon your face,

Elicits wanton sighs.

Sitting at the bar,

Looking lovely, happy, cool,

Waiting my arrival,

Me dizzy as a fool.

Casually relaxed,

Yet taking full command,

With fixed intent, direct and frank,

You know and mark your man.

Green suede jacket,

Flaring at your chest,

Other women fade,

Your persona rules as best.

Woman of guts,

Woman with mind,

Person of caring,

Person so kind.

With slim proportions tall,

And purity of line,

Instilled with tasting flavors,

So much finer than great wine.

Golden bands with jewels,

Grouped together, in total, four,

Wrapping lovely ivory finger,

Where all these bands are wore.

Sapphire, emerald, diamond, ruby,

From hidden vaults of lore,

These bands, your hands,

Call my desire, full roar.

There is no blaze of demon fire,

No steel furnace blast making hot mountain pyre,

Ten blowtorch jets welding red hot wire,

None of these shall, for your perfumed throat, wane my desire.

Gwen hadn't expected a poem, but she had expected something like this, something romantic. It was a perfect interlude between courses. The waiters appeared and cleared the dishes. She told them to wait for ten minutes before serving the final course. Roger knew this would throw off the timing of the course servings, and therefore would piss off the chef, but he didn't mess with Gwen when she was on point like this.

She motioned to Peter, who stood and said, "This morning we had a breakfast meeting in Henric's suite. It was me, Pater, Selgey, Bart, and Henric. We had an idea (nodding at Pater) and we asked Selgey and Bart if they like this idea, and they said yes, and then we ask Henric if he likes this idea, and he said yes, too. Over the last two months we've been with Henric a lot, and we watched how he does things. He thinks and then he acts. He does not worry a lot about making decisions, he just makes them. It's crazy idea, we know, but good idea too, and we like it a lot. And, we are thankful that Selgey and Bart and Henric also like it." Roger hoped the idea was forthcoming soon, if it was such a good one. Peter gathered his concentration and went on, "We're going to open ballet academy here in Charleston. That will be our job." At this he smiled broadly at Roger and Gwen, conveying the fact he and Pater hoped they soon would be off the June dole. "Henric pays the money to startup, Selgey and Bart are Board of Directors, and we are teachers. This school is for kids. That's because turns out Pater and I and Henric not so privileged in Moscow when we were kids." He looked at Pater and Henric, who remained impassive. "Selgey and Bart love this new home of Charleston, and so do we, and they want to make Charleston special in ballet world, and so that is our new mission. Ballet in Charleston. We do it." And Peter moved behind Pater's chair and tapped his shoulder, and then moved behind Henric's chair and tapped his shoulder, and then went behind the chairs of Selgey and Bart and put a hand on each of their shoulders. And he smiled.

The ten minutes was up because the waiters appeared with huge trays of cobbler made with upstate peaches, topped with a vanilla sugar paste. The sommelier brought in two bottles of Roger's second best sauterne (not the d'Yquem, thank you, not for this crowd), which he served. Gwen, who had remained standing after Peter's presentation, interrupted the serving of the wine. She said to the sommelier, "Two more bottle of champagne, now please, we have something unexpected to celebrate." The sommelier was taken aback by this, as he and Roger had worked hard together to plan the service and match the wine and food. He was paralyzed, because part of him wanted to look at Roger for confirmation of this command, while the remainder of it was mesmerized by Gwen's presence. Roger could see what was happening to this poor guy, and he felt sorry for him, but on the other hand, how many guys get intimate in this way with Gwen June. Roger thought he saw the guy's eyes start to go in different directions, one towards him and one locked on Gwen. Guess which eye won? After a paralyzing moment he nodded at Gwen and left to get two bottles, and he was quick about it, too.

He was back in a flash with the champagne and a new set of glasses. Gwen offered a toast: "To ballet in Charleston, to the city we love, to our team, and to little boys and little girls learning to fly through the air." Everyone drank to that.
Chapter 44 - Housewarming

The next two months were a mix of pleasure and hard work. Jinny and Guignard were having a blast acting as gophers for Roger and Gwen respectively. They got to know Charleston pretty well, driving here and there, calling this person and that outfit, researching on the web, buying this and that from this shop and that store. When they got stumped on how to make something happen, they learned to go to Gale for advice rather than bothering Roger or Gwen with details. On their own they started looking for a place to live that they could afford. Jinny kept telling Guignard he could go out and make money the old fashioned way, by stealing or scamming it, but she would have none of that. At some point soon the Junes would disperse the proceeds of the operation, and they would have money of their own. Later, Guignard said, she might entertain some of Jinny's creative money generating ideas.

Peter and Pater also thought of moving out of the June's house, as Henric's academy financing would begin soon. For now they were happily ensconced on the June's third floor, and spending time each week with Selgey and Bart developing a business plan for their entrepreneurial adventure. Helstov began spending time at the Charleston Library Society, the membership library on King Street. Coincidentally, Richard Adams also started spending time there. He began to write more seriously, and she began to read more seriously. How convenient.

Slevov spent a lot of time in the June's orbit. Some of it was spent with Gwen, and the remainder was spent taking long walks around the old section of the city, or on the beach. She had a lot of thinking to do about her future, and Constantine's future. How much time would they spend in Charleston? How much in Saint Petersburg? How much time together; how much apart? She also got involved in learning French cooking. Sometimes she would do this with Gwen, and sometimes with Gale, and sometimes by herself. The June's house never had smelled so good, but one time there was a problem. Slevov was sautéing some shallots and leeks in a pan when she found two small straight gray-blue hairs in it. She picked them out, held them up to the light, then swiveled her head to glare at the two Russian cats who were watching the cooking demonstration with intense concentration. Slevov gave them the evil eye, trying to intimidate them into leaving. No dice. Then she tried hissing at them while giving them the eye. No dice. Next she picked up a large kitchen knife and simulated stabbing them. No dice. Well, they weren't her cats, and this wasn't her kitchen, so she gave up and went back to ignoring them. She would, however, tell Gwen about the hairs in the olive oil.

Roger, Jinny, and Salvator worked on the objects in the warehouse. So far they had inventoried 214 items, accounting for size, type, age, and estimated market value. It was a diverse collection that included small furniture, china, lamps and chandeliers, paintings, rugs, hardware, and textiles. Roger's Divvy Sense had performed at a level he didn't know he possessed. One day he sat back in his chair at the warehouse and scanned through the printout of the inventory. He was amazed by two things. First, the quality that the Hermitage people considered to be grade C, the stuff they sent out for storage in the distant warehouses. Many of these objects were quite remarkable. The second thing was that he had selected these objects from among thousands he had scanned in the forty some warehouses they had unlocked during the five hours of the theft. He was pleased with himself.

Roger sat at a long table set up with laptop, internet access, and printer. Jinny would bring an object front and center, Roger would analyze it and make remarks to Salvator, who would begin an internet search for information. Salvator would feed this information back to Roger who would process it mentally and enter it into a simple database: description, origin, type, dimensions, recent auction comparables, and finally, an estimated worth. The boys spent days and days doing this; but they enjoyed it, even Jinny. After all, he was looking at his cultural heritage, and he was very proud of having stolen it.

Gwen and Guignard worked just as hard on procuring the two properties as quickly as possible. Have $6M in cash helped the process considerably. The team all had agreed that the first use of the money would be the two houses. That was only fair to Constantine and Henric, who had done so much to make the mission successful. The additional $3M needed to finance the remaining parts of the operation was in the works, and Constantine expected delivery in a few weeks. He apologized with the simple explanation, "Market volatility." Guignard learned a lot about real estate, and showed an interest in it, but Gwen told her, "Honey, there's lots of uncertainty in dealing with real estate as a profession. Let's find you something you enjoy doing but with a little more security to it."

Constantine and Henric left to fly back to Saint Petersburg for a few weeks to deal with business matters. Before they left, Gwen's father found, bought, and sent to Gwen a Petrova .45 caliber and a Brusshev 10mm. Gwen presented these to Constantine and Henric one day at lunch in the June's dining room, after they had feasted on a delicious coq au vin prepared by Slevov. The Russians went nuts, and demanded an immediate trip to the Forest Service target range up in Awendaw. The Petrova was a beast of a gun, not very accurate, but Constantine loved it. Henric took the Brusshev, and at least was able to hit the person-sized target at twenty-five yards.

Gwen showed what she could do with her Glock. She consistently filled the centers of the targets with tight clusters, and the boys were impressed. They joked that Jinny was lucky he had not fucked around with Roger or her that first night he had met them in the French restaurant, and Gwen appreciated the humor.

The Sullivan's Island house was first to close. As the closing date approached, Gwen and Guignard shifted into high gear, designing, decorating, and buying everything from sofas to slipcovers. They enlisted Gale as volunteer consultant, promising her as compensation full participation in all future social events held on the property. The Rodstras left this in their capable hands. The real interior decorating challenge was to integrate the Hermitage stuff with the non-Hermitage stuff, and in order to do that, Gwen had to work with Roger to pick a set of Hermitage objects that worked together. There were days when practically the whole crew was in the warehouse, watching as Roger and Gwen worked together to select the items. Jinny and Salvator ran around like rabbits, bringing this object with that object, matching one painting with one table, taking objects away that were rejected and bringing forth others. Watching them was like watching a team of surgeons making sure all the body parts in the body were complementary and in their right places. When they selected an object, they made a mark in the inventory database.

The closing day came, and the totebag of cash was presented. Then the cleaning and landscaping teams took over for a week. Then the days of designing and decorating commenced. First, all of the selected Hermitage objects were moved into place. With this as the foundation, Gwen and Gale built upon it with new items, spending long days at this, having fun and taking lunch breaks on the upper deck. Trucks came and trucks went. Delivery men entered bent under loads and left standing upright. Things fell into place, Slevov participating when she felt like it. Constantine stayed away, saying he would judge it when it was done, and in two weeks, the house was complete.

There was no rest for the team. The Kiawah house closed, the second totebag appeared, the cleaners came and went, and the same process started again. Days in the warehouse, days on the phone talking with suppliers, days on the computer buying things from auction houses and specialty firms and interior decorating concerns. Roger made sure the value of the Hermitage objects were equivalent in both houses, and also that he had lots left over for any other Russians who might show up to join the expatriate community. He reminded Gwen about the ship's captain and ship's cook, both of whom had expressed the intention of appearing, and neither of whom had money. Gwen said, "Them I'll worry about later." In three weeks the Kiawah house was complete.

The long-awaited housewarmings occurred a week apart on Saturday nights. The Rodstras hosted the first event on Sullivan's Island. In addition to the usual suspects, Selgey and Bart invited three visiting members of the San Francisco Ballet, Jinny invited the president of the Charleston Huguenot Society, Richard invited three local writers of note, Roger invited the owner of the Bordeaux estate Chateau Plistroud, who was visiting his daughter who is attending the College of Charleston, and Gale invited the Mayor and his wife. Gwen invited Roger's auntie because she knew none of this would have happened if Little Jinny Blistov had not tried to scam the old girl with the fake circa 1737 Heppleworth end table.

The food, wine, and social interaction were fabulous, with lots of energy and lots of fun and some new friendships formed. All the Russians saw a good future ahead of them, surrounded by a high quality of life. The scenario was replayed a week later down on Kiawah, with a difference. Fewer guests outside the core group were invited, which was fine with the Gromstovs, and Jinny had arranged a dramatic event.

In the newspaper he had seen a notice of an airshow in Columbia, SC. The airshow featured the Air Force Blue Angels, but included planes from other eras and countries, including a privately owned Russian MIG 23 Flogger combat aircraft. This baby was right out of the 1970s cold war.

So as part of the Kiawah housewarming party, Jinny bought a private performance of the plane, and with Guignard's help, he organized the Kiawah event. Everyone was at the house at 5pm. He allowed one hour for the champagne aperitifs to perform their duty. At 5:45 he and Guignard herded everyone outside and onto the beach, champagne coupes in hand. He did everything he could to enhance the mystery of the event, saying there would be a big surprise in a few minutes. Roger noticed that every minute or so, Jinny looked at his watch. Gwen asked Guignard what was up, but she said Jinny had refused to tell her. At 5:55 Jinny raised his hand for quiet. He stood looking out towards the water, but had the group face him with their backs to the water and demanded, "Quiet, absolute quiet please, no talking." They shushed. "Everyone, something is going to happen in a minute. You must be quiet, and you must listen to me and do exactly what I say." He had their attention. He looked at his watch, which showed 5:58. "Listen, listen, and when I tell you to, turn around and look out at the water."

The first sound was sensed by the group, coming from behind them, the sound of an engine. The sound was high pitched, rhythmic, and powerful. Quickly the sound grew louder, deepened in pitch, and increased in volume. It was the sound of a plane engine....a jet engine. Jinny looked over their heads into the distance, but he kept their eyes on him and their ears focused out over the water. Then he saw it in the distance, bright red, low over the waves. He waited another fifteen seconds, holding them in the suspense created by the ever growing growl, hum, and roar of the sound. Then he said loudly, "Turn around." As they turned, he ran around in front of the group and pointed into the distance, out over the water, yelling, "Look for the red, look for red!"

And then they saw it, the red dot, the red object far out over the waves. They knew it was a plane, but what did it have to do with them?

They found out. The red dot approached the shore fast. One second it had appeared far out to sea, and the sound was muted. Thirty seconds later they recognized the thing as a fighter jet, and the sound mushroomed into a dull roar. Jinny jumped and down on the beach, pointing at the growing spectacle, waving his arms. "MIG jet," he yelled, "MIG jet." The group was mesmerized, and then it was upon them. A Russian MIG 23 Flogger combat aircraft flying at 300 miles per hour tore over their heads, not more than 200 feet off the ground, the Mikoyan-Guervich engines screaming at a volume that almost made their ears bleed. There was a flash of red color, and a form accompanied by a blast of hot air, and then it was gone; gone over Kiawah, gone over the island, banking back out over the ocean, then gone from sight.

Everyone stood with their hands over their ears, shell-shocked. Everyone turned slowly and looked at Jinny, who still was dancing on the beach, hands to the sides of his head. Everyone said aloud or to themselves, "Holy shit."

Well, that was the highpoint of the Gromstovs housewarming party. The food and wines were great, and everyone loved the decorating job Gwen and Gale and Guignard had done, and Helstof and Henric loved their Hermitage artifacts, and they loved their new house. It was a success. As people headed to their cars and the drive back to Charleston, Roger took Jinny aside and asked, "How much?"

He said, "$75,000."

Roger said, "Where'd the money come from?"

Jinny just shrugged and smiled. Roger let it go at that. These Russians were full of surprises. An hour later Jinny was lying in bed staring at the ceiling, the sound of the MIG engine still reverberating in his ears. He let his mind flow over the events of his time in Charleston.
Chapter 45 - Little Jinny Blistov

His memories started that night in the French restaurant when Gwen was alerted to something unusual in the air by the sound of Roger racking the slide of his gun under the table. The table was covered by a white cloth upon which sat the wine menu from which Roger was trying to decide on the '89 Chateau Latour or the '90. Jinny got his first glance at Gwen, who was staring at him, he being the cause of Roger's concern. Gwen hated Jinny in those first moments. She hated his height, she hated his shoes, and she hated the way his beard wound around the sides of his neck. And she really hated the threat he presented to the man she loved. Jinny sensed this animosity, but at the same time he sensed her charisma. What a woman.

So much had happened since that night some ten months ago. Jinny could do nothing about his height, but he no longer wore hideously ugly sneakers that Gwen wanted to feed to the local gators, with his feet still in them. He let Pierre shave him at least once a week, and was a slick dresser. Jinny now knew that large wine glasses with bulges were for burgundy, and that connoisseurs drank their champagne out of white wine glasses, not flutes. He had a wonderful girlfriend in Guignard, and they were in love.

Jinny didn't know exactly how he was going to earn his living, but he had his share of the mission proceeds in his pocket, and Guignard had hers. It was quite a chunk of change, and should last them until the next batch of wealthy Russians showed up in order to avoid really cold Russian Februarys. Jinny was delirious knowing that more than 200 objects from the Hermitage now graced his newly adopted town of Charleston. His new friends Peter and Pater were here, and they were doing well. The adventurous escape from Russia at the hands of the Gromstovs and Rodstras had formed a bond with them. Together they could explore the results of Czarish influences, via French Huguenots, in Charleston.

Next to falling in love with Guignard, the best thing Little Jinny Blistov had accomplished in the ten months since that night in the restaurant, had to do with Catherine Deneuve and Gwen June. Those things that happened in France were just so weirdly important. What had happened? He wasn't sure. Something great and not wholly understandable. What had gone on between those two women in the car, and in the vineyards, and in the hotels? Who was this woman, The Deneuve? What was it about her that was so compelling, not only to men (that was easy to understand....the world's greatest beauty) but also to women. What was this power that had been transferred in France from Deneuve to Gwen, and what was happening now between Gwen and Slevov? These things fascinated Jinny, and he wanted to experience more of them.

What did the future in Charleston hold for him, his woman, the two gay guys, the heavy duty gangsters, for Roger and Gwen, for Gwen and Slevov, for Helstof and Richard Adams? What was this strange and interesting future that was unfolding? And lastly, Jinny wondered, what exactly was up with those two Russian cats?

###

Richard Dorrance lives in America's most beautiful town,

Charleston, South Carolina.

You can look at other books on his website: richarddorrance.com

