Starting from South America, speeding through the world

Chapter 71 Running away with a bucket
Mikhail closed the glass door, then took off his coat and hung it on the copper hook next to him.

Aren't you smoking Upmann tonight?

“We’ve changed our tastes,” Igor looked up and gestured to him. “This is Montecristo No. 3. Sit down and order for yourself.”

The greenhouse was very hot, and the iron box next to the fireplace contained dry charcoal and several pieces of cedar wood, the flames crackling as they burned.

It was drizzling outside, and a layer of mist rose on the window, blurring the lights in the distance.

Mikhail sat down, took a cigar from the box, skillfully cut off the end, lit it with a lighter, and carefully took two puffs.

"Was the route from Kazan smooth?" Igor asked casually, his tone as if he were chatting after a meal.

“Nothing went wrong on the way,” Mikhail replied in a low voice. “However, there were more port inspections, the customs officer changed, and the procedures were slightly altered.”

"name?"

“Dmitry Prokhorenko, in his early thirties, was originally one of the people from the Odessa border crossing.”

"So, Boris is moving pretty fast."

"Yes."

Igor nodded and continued smoking his cigar.

He sat on a low leather sofa with his legs crossed, looking more like a relaxed estate owner.

“This one is good,” Mikhail said, trying to start a conversation. “It has a strong earthy flavor, but it’s not overpowering.”

"Ha, you used to think this was too tough."

“I didn’t understand these things back then,” Mikhail smiled.

Igor didn't say anything more, his gaze fixed on the blazing coals.

After a while, Mikhail finally couldn't hold back and spoke up:
"Actually, I came tonight to talk to you about my arrangements on my end."

Igor took the cigarette from his mouth and turned to look at him.

"The tasks during this period are much more complicated than before."

Mikhail's tone was as usual, without any extra emotion.

"The routes are more concealed, and the rendezvous is not very reliable. We have to repeatedly confirm whether some people are still on our side."

"Ah."

“I’m not saying I’m not capable of this job,” Mikhail paused for a moment, “I just want you to consider whether we can make a slight adjustment to the quarterly revenue sharing, even if it’s just increasing the subsidy per order by a certain percentage.”

"You want a raise?"

“It’s not really a pay rise,” Mikhail shook his head. “It’s just that with the current situation, the risks and costs for the part I’m in charge of are much higher than before. Temporary scheduling, staff adjustments, and the variables in communicating with clients are all increasing.”

Igor did not rush to respond.

He stared at the tiny spark burning at the end of the cigar for several seconds.

"You know what you're doing?"

"Ten points."

Raindrops pattered against the glass outside the window.

A brief silence fell over the room.

"In which year were you transferred to the logistics department?" Igor suddenly asked.

"At the end of 1985, you were still in charge of overseas intelligence liaison for the South Caucasus Army Group."

“I remember.” Igor nodded, a slight smile playing on his lips.

"You were the first person to be able to clearly draw up the entire rear ammunition allocation diagram, much better than those majors who sat in offices at the time."

"I just did the job according to the rules."

"Later you came with me to Tbilisi."

"Those rifles were pulled out of the ninth warehouse. Three transfer orders were issued, and military vehicles made five trips. Nobody dared to check."

Igor grunted in agreement and stubbed out his cigar in the copper ashtray.

“You’ve done a good job all these years, I know that.”

"What time is it now? The world is in chaos, more people are dying, and customers' appetites are growing—"

At this point, he slowly made the sign of the cross on his chest: "Thank God."

"—But the people in the government are turning a deaf ear." "You mean in Kyiv?"

"And then there's Herson. His documents have been sitting in his drawer for three days without anyone touching them, and when I asked him, he said he was still looking at them."

"Isn't it ridiculous? I even had to call myself and beg a guy who used to work under me to deliver that internal letter upstairs."

I understand your distress.

"Even so, I completely understand why you came here tonight."

Igor's tone was more gentle and sounded very sincere.

"But you also have to understand me."

"We can't rely on increasing the intensity of our measures to cope with the current tension."

Mikhail remained silent.

“I know what you’re worried about. You’re worried that too much commotion here will cause instability in goods and production lines, and it will also cause unrest among people.”

"To put it bluntly, you're afraid that if something happens to me, you'll have nowhere to go."

Mikhail said in a low voice, "It's not that I don't trust your judgment, it's just that so much has changed outside in the past few months."

"It's precisely because so much has changed, Misha, that you need to stay calm."

As Igor said this, he narrowed his eyes slightly, "You know your position, and I've always been aware of your value."

“Even Sasha hasn’t been to this place much. When he wants to see me, I always make him wait in the corridor.”

Mikhail subconsciously raised his head.

“If you really want to make demands, you shouldn’t be here,” Igor continued.

"You should meet me at the warehouse, at the port, or at any restaurant."

Mikhail was momentarily at a loss for words.

Igor stood up, walked to the window, wiped away a small patch of fog, and looked out at the pitch-black night.

"Before the New Year, I will make those who should shut up shut up and those who should relent relent."

"Once the Nikolayev line is completely uncontroversial, you can secure the southern clients and negotiate freely; I will not interfere."

At this point, Igor turned his head: "But before that, let's not act rashly, okay?"

Upon hearing this, Mikhail could not say anything more and could only lower his head respectfully and say, "I understand, Igor Sergeyevich."

But what he understood was not just the vision that Igor had painted for him.

Because these kinds of remarks come up far too often among them.

"Wait until the Romanian shipment is settled."

"Wait for old Yuri to change positions"

It's always like tonight.

His attitude was mild and his words were polite, but he always kept a safe distance. He was not hypocritical, but he was unwilling to fully keep his promises.

If he were still twenty-seven or twenty-eight, he might have taken this guarantee as something to look forward to.

But now, looking at Igor's silhouette reflected in the firelight, he suddenly felt that the face was a little far away from him.

It's not unfamiliar, it's the kind of distance that makes you unable to see clearly when you get too close.

Moreover, Igor is really old.

It's not about age, but the habit of "taking a step back to analyze the situation."

Mikhail had placed great trust in this rhythm because it represented order and the old-fashioned approach.

But he suddenly realized that this new era might not be about rhythm, but about seizing opportunities.

Suddenly, the image of Boris leaning against the sauna and talking flashed into Mikhail's mind.

Do you regret it?

He didn't answer at the time.

But now, he is beginning to vaguely realize that the past may have been a mistake.

Fortunately, there is still a chance to correct it.

(End of this chapter)