Chapter 372 Black Snow: Where did the $88 million come from?

The propellers tore through the Siberian October winds as the military Mi-8 helicopter, like a steel behemoth, landed menacingly on the snow that had been temporarily cleared in Surgut.

The hatch slid open, and a biting wind, carrying snowflakes and an indescribable, pungent smell mixed with crude oil and chemicals, rushed in.

Wang Xiao was the first to curiously peek out. It was her first time visiting this new city located on the banks of the Ob River, which had risen due to the development of the Tyumen oil field and had only a history of thirty years.

Winter always arrives earlier in Siberia than elsewhere.

The farms in Moscow had just finished their autumn harvest, and the world here was already a hazy gray, with heavy snow falling.

It seems that we need to be more careful in choosing crops when building a farm here.

In the distance, the towering cracking towers and burning flares of the refinery were faintly visible in the wind and snow, while the thick pipes, like giant pythons coiled on the earth, spewed out steam and faintly visible smoke.

That deafening roar was the breath of an industrial behemoth.

A raw, gritty, and destructive industrial aesthetic of violence washes over you, cold yet magnificent.

"So beautiful!" Wang Xiao exclaimed sincerely, his voice half-canceled by the gust of wind, "A beauty full of power!"

"What?" Punonin followed her out of the cabin, his heavy military boots sinking deep into the black snow mixed with oil, making an unpleasant crunching sound.

He suspected she was being sarcastic.

Because what they saw when they looked down was a dirty, blackish-gray slushy mixture of oil and fallen snow.

Looking up, one can see a 30-meter-high rusted steel pipe corridor running through the city, with steam valves periodically spewing out unsightly and strangely smelly yellow smoke.

Ivanov shouted from behind, "The king said it's beautiful! Look! This is the ultimate aesthetic that only industry can create."

Punonin was too lazy to pay attention to the two poorly literate men anymore. He took off his gloves and extended his hand with a dignified air to the head of the Surgut local tax police who was hurrying over to greet him: "Hello, thank you for your hard work."

Tax police major Klevosev was utterly flattered.

This superior, who is a year younger than him, can be considered an idol in the entire tax police system.

He not only commanded the Ministry of Internal Affairs' special operations team to carry out decapitation strikes one after another on the Chechen battlefield, forcing the Chechen forces to gradually lose momentum; he also swiftly and decisively annihilated the illegal armed group that was holding up the Moscow container market, giving the Chechens no chance to bargain.

This ruthless and cold-blooded big shot, who was clearly launching a surprise attack, is now being so kind and friendly to him. He doesn't know how to respond and can only grin and emphasize, "It's no trouble at all, Major General. This is what we should do."

Then his gaze fell on Ivanov and Wang Xiao, who were clinging tightly to Punonin, and he didn't know how to greet them.

Just as Ivanov was about to introduce himself enthusiastically, Punonin gave him a cold glance and took the initiative to introduce him to his subordinates: "Oh, they are hitchhikers, ignore them."

In Russia, the president's 211 Special Flight Squadron, when not on flight missions, transports goods for merchants to ensure flight hours and earn money for fuel and aircraft maintenance.

Not to mention the tax police force.

Earning a little extra for gas money is perfectly normal.

Major Klevoseev's smile instantly turned cold, his change of expression as swift as that of a chameleon in Chekhov's writings.

Wang Xiao and Ivanov, without even having time to criticize the guy's reality, were immediately shocked.

Are you kidding me? The direct reason they willingly handed over a hundred million US dollars was that they hoped this trip to Surgut would allow them to cling tightly to the tax police major general's coattails.

“Vlamikil!” Wang Xiao gave him a reproachful look, then extended her hand to Klevosev with a smile, “Hello, sir.”

Major Klevoseev was at a loss for words and could only instinctively grasp Wang Xiao's hand.

His age meant that he received the purest Soviet education from a young age, and the Soviet education forged in him the most basic etiquette of maintaining gentlemanly manners when facing ladies.

Ignoring a lady's outstretched hand? That's completely out of character for him.

But the moment he reached out, the power of discourse was directly handed over to Wang Xiao.

The latter, with a beaming smile, asked him quite familiarly, "Major Klevov, where can I buy the most authentic local specialties in Surgut?"

Punonin frowned and interrupted her impatiently: "Go do your own thing and don't waste our time."

Wang Xiao's eyes widened, and he shook his head repeatedly, looking very disapproving: "Vlamikil, you are an excellent tax police major general, but if I may be so bold, you are really not a qualified husband and father. We have come all this way to Surgut, shouldn't we bring back some local specialties as gifts for my sister Lydia, my nephew Tonya, and my niece Lena?"

“Exactly!” Ivanov stepped forward at the opportune moment, earnestly criticizing him, “You only care about work and neglect your family too much.”

Punonin was so angry at the two of them that he almost fell over backwards.

Those two bastards! They're deliberately emphasizing their close relationship.

But Punonin didn't want to engage in a prolonged tug-of-war in public amidst the heavy snow—

He has a sense of shame!

So he could only coldly reprimand, "Alright, get back to work! Enough with the nonsense."

Wang Xiao smiled and then affectionately instructed Klevosev, "Major, you can't take your superior to strange places. Vladimir, we'll keep a close eye on you for Lydia's sake."

Punonin's forehead veins were practically throbbing, and he couldn't take it anymore: "Since you two don't want to stay in Suvagut, get back to Moscow right now!"

Ivanov was startled and stammered, "But how are we going to get to the Workers' Cultural Palace? The snow is so heavy, and our fractures have only just healed. What if we break them again?"

Punonin sneered: "Breaking your legs will just make you stay home quietly."

Wang Xiao protested immediately: "Vlamikil, how could you leave us all alone in the freezing cold? I'm going to tell Grandma Tonya!"

Punoning was genuinely amused and exasperated. How could someone be so shameless, and act so nonchalantly?

But he had to admit that a person's appearance really does have an advantage.

No matter how well he knew how cunning, treacherous, and ruthless the woman in front of him was, her East Asian face made her look naturally young, and her wide-eyed expression made it perfectly plausible that she was Lena's classmate.

Needless to say, Ivanov, with his handsome face, has been virtually invincible among the Madame and old lady groups since he was a child.

Even Punonin's own grandmother wished he were her eldest grandson.

This kid has been like this since he was little. If anything doesn't go his way, he'll run off to the adults to complain.

The tax police major general turned his head away, too lazy to waste time on them.

At the crucial moment, Major Klevosev, the chameleon, demonstrated his veteran skills and made a quick and decisive arrangement: "Sirs, if you don't mind, you can take our car to the Workers' Cultural Palace, it's on the way."

Since the Earth is round anyway, how could there be any reason for people in the same city to be on different routes?

What if there aren't enough cars to seat so many people?

Of course, the unimportant people stayed put and waited for the vehicle to be dispatched.

Punoning didn't say anything and strode forward.

Did Wang Xiao and Ivanov have any other choice but to follow closely without hesitation?

When the car arrived at the square in front of the Workers' Cultural Palace, Punoning's patience had reached its limit, and he simply threw the person out: "Alright, we're here."

Wang Xiao quickly handed the bag her assistant gave her to Major Klevosev: "Thank you. This is a small gift we brought to the heroes of the Surgut Tax Police Department. We hope you can lead them to accept our highest respect."

These are their must-have gift boxes when they go out, ready to be given away at any time.

The bag contained beautifully packaged gift boxes, including floral water, mentholatum, a lighter, a pack of cigarettes, a cigarette, a towel, a razor, and a bag of milk chocolates.

The gift isn't expensive, but it's practical.

Major Klevoseev immediately thanked the young men with a broad smile, saying that these were truly valuable gifts.

Punonin coughed, and Wang Xiao and Ivanov immediately got out of the car, then smiled ingratiatingly at him.

It's a good thing they don't have tails, otherwise they would be wagging their tails more enthusiastically than anyone else.

"Wait a minute!" Punonin frowned and called over his deputy. "You go with them and keep an eye on those merchants. Make sure they don't do anything underhanded."

Major Klevoseev suppressed a laugh; his superior was really going to great lengths.

They clearly don't care about their safety and are afraid they'll be bullied, yet they still come up with all sorts of excuses to keep an eye on them.

Captain Andrei, Punonin's deputy, shared the same awareness, keeping a low profile and dutifully acting as his bodyguard.

Braving the wind and snow, they walked to the Workers' Cultural Palace.

As soon as they entered the courtyard, everyone realized something was wrong.

There were so many people that it wasn't obvious from the outside; but once inside, you could see a dense mass of heads.

Hundreds of oil workers, dressed in heavy overalls and wearing cotton hats, gathered at the building entrance, holding simple signs with crudely painted slogans:

"Outsiders, get out!"

"Siberian oil belongs to the Siberians!"

"Defend our oil fields!"

Upon seeing strangers approaching, the previously silent workers instantly erupted into a thunderous roar, like soldiers under attack: "Get out! You outsiders, all of you get out!"

Not far behind them is the "Glory of the Oil Workers" monument.

In a group of 15-meter-high forged bronze sculptures, three workers are depicted wielding hydraulic wrenches as weapons, aiming towards the sky.

Wang Xiao kept her head down, her face hidden by a cotton hat and mask in the style of Lei Feng hat. She huddled among the bodyguards, not uttering a sound.

Captain Andrei didn't step forward either. He was wearing a military overcoat, a common and unremarkable outfit in Siberia.

His task was simply to bring his superior's two unofficial younger siblings back safely.

Whether they can participate in the auction and acquire the Surgut oil field is none of his business.

Ivanov knew this old man was unreliable, and silently cursed in his heart: Your $10,000 red envelope is gone!

He adjusted his smile, clapped his hands as he walked forward, and made "whoosh" cheers.

Unable to get the megaphone from the workers, he took the loudspeaker his assistant had prepared and launched into a passionate speech: "Fantastic! I'm so happy to see you all protecting the oil field like this! Looking at you reminds me of the days when we defended Sakhalin! We were all united, wholeheartedly protecting our oil field!"

However, the workers weren't having any of it and immediately chased them away: "Don't try to get on our good side, Surgut doesn't welcome outsiders like you!"

As his voice faded, the workers once again formed a moving wall, blocking any outsiders attempting to enter the building.

Just then, the auction organizers came out to remind everyone: "Ladies and gentlemen, the auction will begin in fifteen minutes. Please hurry and enter the room."

Ivanov's assistant seized the opportunity to shout, "We've arrived! Sir, we've arrived!"

The staff member gave him only a cold glance: "You've arrived only when you walk into the auction hall."

Without giving the visitor a chance to speak again, he turned and left.

The oil workers blocking the entrance to the Cultural Palace became even more agitated, letting out a deafening roar: "Get out, you outsider thieves and robbers!"

Ivanov, not to be outdone, jumped onto the flowerbed, using the 20-centimeter height to bolster his imposing presence: "I can't leave! I must! I want to witness the birth of a miracle! $88 million! The starting bid for the oil field was $88 million! I want to see with my own eyes how that $88 million came about!"

The wind blew snow into his mouth, but it didn't stop him from continuing his impassioned speech, "I extracted oil and gas from Sakhalin Island and exported it to Japan, which is how I made some money. I've always been in foreign trade, importing goods that our country is in short supply from abroad and selling them to others, which also made me some money. I have a good reputation in business and never default on payments, so my friends trust me and have given me some financial assistance. Then I used it as collateral to borrow some money from the bank, which is how I managed to raise the 88 million US dollars needed for this auction."

He looked on with curiosity. "But I'm a private business owner. The money my company earns is the money I earn. It's not surprising that I would take out this money. What I'm curious about is, where did your Surgut leader get the money? Did you all lend it to him? You must be living a very comfortable life. That's 88 million US dollars!"

The workers immediately erupted in chaos. What? $88 million? Where were they going to get $88 million?

They have been receiving only basic wages for a long time.

They were told that oil exports were handled by a Moscow-based oil company with a monopoly on exports. Although they were supplying products continuously, the oil fields often failed to receive payment.

That's why everyone united and was determined to drive away all these foreign vampires.

Only when the oil field belongs to the employees can they receive wages and bonuses.

But now they've been told that the starting bid for the shares is $88 million.

If the company doesn't have the money, how can it participate in the auction?

If the company has money, why not pay them salaries?

Where did the company's money come from? 88 million US dollars!

They kept saying it was the Moscow Export Oil Company that owed them money, but so this is what it was all about!

The crowd instantly erupted in commotion, with someone shouting, "Drag out those damned parasites! Give us back the wages and bonuses they owe us!"

With roars echoing one after another, the crowd, who had initially been united against the outside world, began to turn around and rush towards the Workers' Cultural Palace building.

Wang Xiao wouldn't laugh at them for being brainless and easily fooled.

Because of the severe information gap in this era, many things that should be made public are kept secret.

For example, during the auction of the Surgut oil field, even the workers there didn't know the starting bid or what was going on.

They were used to following orders from their superiors. Nominally, they were the owners of the organization, but in reality, they didn't have the final say in anything.

The anger of being deceived and fooled surged like a raging storm, desperately trying to push back.

The auction organizers were dumbfounded. They tried to stop them, but they couldn't.

To prevent outsiders from participating in the auction, the Surgut Oil Company specially organized a group of tall, strong workers who could stand like towering iron towers.

They can knock someone flying with a simple twist of their shoulder.

To put it bluntly, Surgut Oil Company only used them as pawns and didn't regard them as people with brains at all, so they never thought about what would happen if they realized what was going on.

The enraged workers stormed into the Workers' Cultural Palace building as if it were empty, heading straight for the auction venue.

Before they even got inside, the leader's anger had already reached its peak.

Because the air was filled with the rich aroma of coffee and small cakes.

Russia's cold climate means that coffee beans can only be imported, making it a luxury that oil workers, who often struggle to earn their full wages, cannot afford.

There were also small cakes! My God! This is a delicacy that oil workers, who have been living on potatoes for so many days, can only dream of.

These damned parasites, these shameless fleas, they suck the blood of us oil workers!

"Give us our wages back!"

The auctioneer and the general manager of Surgut Oil Company were both stunned. The latter reacted quickly, immediately standing up and frowning as he asked, "What are you trying to do?"

The workers, who were usually docile and respectful of him, were now enraged, roaring at him, "88 million US dollars! Where did you get 88 million US dollars? Give us back our money, you despicable parasite!"

The general manager instinctively denied it: "What 88 million US dollars? Gentlemen, this is just a misunderstanding."

Ivanov seized the opportunity to sneer: "Oh, so you deceived the auction committee. You didn't have any money at all. You just tried to get something for nothing by using fake bank deposit certificates to swindle the country's shares!"

He pointed at the general manager of Shulgut Oil Company and protested to the officials of the privatization auction committee on the spot, "Didn't you review the information he provided? How could you let a fraudster come and swindle the country's shares?"

One minute the official was drinking freshly ground coffee made from imported beans and eating delicious cakes, the next minute he was about to be swallowed whole by angry workers.

Now that Ivanov was right in the face, he could only deny it: "No, no, no, we strictly reviewed his deposit, there was no problem, the money was all in the designated account."

This angered some of the workers who had initially tried to defend him.

It turns out there was no misunderstanding. They were the fools, the fools who were completely fooled by him!

"Give us back our money!" Someone took the lead, and everyone grabbed the general manager's suit and tie, dragging him out of the activity room that was being used as the auction venue.

The turn of events happened so quickly, and the workers were so fierce, that the management of Surgut Oil Company, who had participated in the auction, were at a loss.

It wasn't that they didn't want to save their general manager; rather, they themselves became targets of attack and were dragged out as well.

Pshaw! What good people could be sitting together drinking coffee and eating cake?

Wang Xiao and Ivanov cleverly dodged to the side, determined not to be caught in the crossfire.

Captain Andrei was somewhat dazed and confused, completely bewildered as to how the situation had suddenly turned upside down.

People who couldn't get into the auction hall got in.

The person who originally had the entire venue to himself was instead dragged out.

Ivanov glanced at his watch and reminded the trembling auction committee official, who was clearly afraid of incurring the wrath of the committee, "Shouldn't the auction begin now?"

The official instinctively declined, saying, "Sir, as you can see, there's been a slight mishap. The auction can only begin normally once this mishap is resolved."

"Oh!" Ivanov sneered. "I seem to recall you telling me downstairs that anyone who walked into this auction house could participate. Now that we're here, why cancel the auction? Does that mean only those you've chosen are eligible to participate?"

This is a direct accusation that the auction committee and the Surgut company officials are engaging in insider trading!

Although everyone knows this, there are some things that can be done but not said.

The official immediately denied it: "How could that be? That's not true! Absolutely not, absolutely not!"

But as the saying goes, "He who takes a man's money is bound to be grateful," and the aroma of the coffee and the sweetness of the cake hadn't even faded yet, the official still wanted to do his part for those who had entertained him: "Sir, would you like to continue participating in the auction? Leave someone behind, at least leave someone to participate in the auction."

The CEO and other management of Surgut Company wanted to, but how could the workers let them off the hook?

The oil workers aren't really stupid; they know perfectly well that once the auction ends, the $88 million raised will definitely be taken away.

By then, even if these parasites are torn to pieces, the money that went to Moscow will never return to Surgut.

"No! They are not allowed to participate in the auction. This oil field belongs to us; they have no say in it!"

As they spoke, everyone quickly dragged the parasites away.

With no other option, the leader of the Surgut Oil Company, who was the last to leave the auction venue, could only wink at two people hiding in the corner.

Thank goodness, these roughnecks had never experienced an auction before and didn't know what it meant to be a "partner in the bidding."

To prevent the auction from becoming a one-man show and appearing obviously fake, the CEO of Surgut Oil Company, like other bankers, arranged for someone to accompany him during the bidding.

As long as they are there, they can still keep the 40.12% of shares put up for auction today in their own hands.

The company leaders wanted to give him a few more words of advice, but the workers didn't give them a chance and dragged him out.

Ivanov glanced at his watch again, then asked the auctioneer with a smile, "Sir, may we begin now?"

The official believed he had done everything he could to help. If things didn't go as planned, it wasn't his fault.

Moreover, this Mr. Ivanov is no pushover either! He has powerful backers.

Why would he want to offend this tycoon?

The official acting as the host nodded: "Alright, ladies and gentlemen, let's begin today's auction."

After the rules were read out and the starting price was announced, someone immediately raised their paddle: "90 million US dollars!"

The increase of 2 million was intended to put psychological pressure on competitors.

But when it comes to playing with a big heart, how could a player like Ivanov be afraid of them?

He went even further, offering a direct quote: "95 million US dollars!"

Good heavens! A collective gasp immediately filled the room.

The two people who were originally just brought in to make up the numbers were dumbfounded and had no idea how to deal with it.

But as the saying goes, ignorance is bliss, and the more bewildered a person is, the bolder they become. Immediately, a young man with freckles on his face shouted, "One hundred million US dollars! We'll put up one hundred million US dollars!"

Ivanov glanced at him: "One hundred and ten million US dollars, I'll write a check now. Sir, is that alright? It's illegal to ask for an exorbitant price."

The person accompanying him was dumbfounded; he had only acted impulsively and regretted shouting it out as soon as it left his mouth.

100 million is 12 million US dollars more than 88 million. He has no idea whether he'll be torn to pieces by the oil company leaders when he gets back after actually securing the deal.

Now that this outsider has raised the price to 110 million US dollars, he is not angry at all, but feels relieved.

Good, good, he doesn't have to bear the responsibility of 100 million US dollars.

He immediately fell silent and resolutely stopped raising his placard.

The host was getting anxious, slowly counting down while subtly hinting to the staff to remind the two people accompanying the camera to contact their boss immediately.

However, even after realizing what had happened, the accompanying photographer couldn't reach his boss by running outside to make a phone call.

In October 1995, the cell phone signal in Siberia was so poor that it was impossible to make a call.

Nikolai and his bodyguards watched from the sidelines, seemingly oblivious to their own thoughts, secretly sneering to themselves.

What a load of crap, how could you possibly get through?

Do you understand the workers' movement? In any workers' movement, there must be leaders, people who take advantage of the chaos to incite emotions, and people who remind everyone to focus on the key points when they can't react in time.

Among these oil workers were informants planted by the boss.

From the moment Surgut Oil Company openly threatened in the media that any outsider who dared to participate in the auction of company shares would inevitably face resistance from the workers, the boss, with the mentality of "better safe than sorry," began to plant an insider.

Although Tyumen Oblast, where Surgut is located, is a well-known oil base, many oil companies, like those in other industries, have fallen into the tragic situation of shutdown or partial shutdown due to various factors.

In fact, it's not difficult for unemployed and semi-unemployed workers to wander around and mingle in groups.

This informant, who was planted here, was also someone who came on short notice to act as a gatekeeper today, and there wasn't time to notify them.

But he's clever and very good at adapting to changing circumstances. He knows when to fan the flames, when to offer advice, and when to take action.

At this moment, the CEOs and leaders of those oil companies are probably being led around in the cold on the street by him and his men.

Until the auction ends, the leaders' phones will never be returned to them, nor will they be able to reach the company.

If we don't let them freeze properly and suffer a great loss, how can we let the workers vent their anger?

The auctioneers have run away, and we can't contact them. The auctioneer's countdown can't go on forever.

He could only helplessly read out: "One hundred and ten million US dollars once, one hundred and ten million US dollars twice, one hundred and ten million US dollars three times, deal!"

The hammer fell with a dull thud.

Ivanov stepped forward, shaking hands with the host with a beaming smile: "Thank you for your hard work, sir. I wonder if I would have the honor of treating everyone to coffee?"

The host's heart pounded because he suddenly held a roll of banknotes in his palm.

This is a common tactic used by businessmen: rolling large sums of US dollars into small rolls for easy storage.

He forced a smile: "No need for that, sir. Congratulations!"

"That's good," he tried desperately to reassure himself. The price had risen from $88 million to $110 million, a premium of $22 million.

Good heavens, you should know that he was well prepared to end the auction without paying a single penny more.

Now that there's an extra $22 million, even if it doesn't end up in his pocket, it's at least more cash for the government.

The auctioneer consoling himself with a sense of nobility.

When Ivanov left, he had a long face and gave that hothead an annoyed look.

If this arrogant guy hadn't spoken so quickly and raised the price to one hundred million US dollars, he wouldn't have risked increasing the price to one hundred and ten million.

It hurts so much! That's a huge sum of money.

Wang Xiao was both amused and exasperated: "Alright, alright, that's very good. You did a really great job today."

Captain Andrei nodded silently to himself.

On several occasions, the boss's half-brother always chose the right time to make his move and spoke very cleverly, leading the entire situation before and after the auction by the nose.

It's hard to imagine that this is a notorious playboy.

Ivanov was then pleased and took Wang Xiao's hand as they went downstairs.

It was only when they went downstairs again this time that they could clearly see the mosaic mural "The Conquest of Siberia" preserved in the hall.

In the mural, geological team members stand on the tundra, with gushing oil columns and hammer and sickle emblems behind them.

Wang Xiao paused for a moment, then said, "Let's go."

Ivanov stopped looking at the mural and replied in a low voice, "Okay."

By the time we stepped out of the Workers' Cultural Palace building, the snow had actually stopped.

Unfortunately, countless feet and vehicles have trodden across the snowfield, and the thick layer of oil stains and thin layer of snow sludge cannot cover up the traces. The snowfield still looks dirty.

"Shall we go and meet up with Punoning?" Wang Xiao looked up at the street. "Or should we take a taxi there?"

Before Ivanov could answer, Xiao Gao suddenly shouted, "Watch out!"

Then Nikolai grabbed his male boss and rolled to the side, bullets grazing their feet.

Wang Xiao was also shielded behind Lyuba, her mind as white as the snow.

No way? They just shot someone in broad daylight, right on the street.

Didn't the police department just launch a nationwide crackdown on organized crime?

In just a few days, the Mafia has risen from the ashes again?

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[Eating popcorn] I finished this chapter while slacking off during the afternoon meeting. I should be able to update the next chapter normally at 8 AM tomorrow. Although its performance is terrible, so bad that there's no point in continuing. But it's like raising a child; you can't just ignore a terrible student. I'll persevere and finish it. [Thumbs up]