Chapter 378 Fate is Bitter (Bug Fix): Dark Night Crisis
Punonin seems to have had a very tough life.
Nonsense! Who goes on a business trip for several days, finally comes back, hasn't even had time to go home, and then comes back looking exhausted and looking like they're cleaning up other people's messes?
The tax police major general looked at the couple in front of him and cried out from the depths of his soul: "If you had just listened to one piece of my advice, you would have gotten married in the summer, and would all these problems have arisen?"
They were all incredibly stubborn, and none of them would listen to reason!
Ivanov's eyes widened, unable to believe his ears: "Vlamikil, can you be that naive? Even if I marry the King, they'll find other excuses. For example, we're in the foreign trade business, and our funds come from abroad!"
Punoning choked for a moment, then glared back at him: "That's still better than you two being stuck with ready-made excuses right now!"
Yura is going crazy. He hasn't been able to calm these two down yet, and now another person is stirring things up.
He cried out in despair, "Vlamik, what are you doing here?"
Isn't this big enough already?
Wang Xiao retorted first: "If Vladimir isn't coming, why would we send you? What good are you? You're always following Koch around, and when he stabs us in the back, you don't even utter a sound, not even bother to give us a heads-up. Are you our friend? You're practically our mortal enemy!"
Yura was unaware of Dou E's injustice; otherwise, he would surely have said that the endless winter snow in Moscow was all for him.
He had to speak up to defend himself: "I only found out about this at night."
Wang Xiao looked at him in disbelief: "My God! My dear friend, what kind of noble spirit do you possess? You truly amaze me. They didn't tell you anything, which means they didn't consider you one of their own. Even so, you were still able to hold firm to your beliefs and rush out at the first moment to stop your true friend. You are so great that you forgot yourself!"
The wind in Moscow on an October night is so cold that it could blow snow at any moment, but even the coldest wind can't compare to the chilling feeling of Wang Xiao's words.
Yura was struggling to breathe.
Punoning, annoyed by their noise, spoke up and stopped them, saying, "Alright, alright, do you want to wait until you're done arguing before you go in?"
Chubais's office is located in the White House, or more accurately, the Russian Federation Government Building, but whatever the name, it cannot change the tragic history of being bombarded two years ago in the same October.
Fortunately, despite the tight finances of the Russian Federation, the government still allocated a budget and began renovations to the White House last year.
At this moment, high walls have been erected around it, clearly indicating that it is heavily protected.
Even under the illumination of streetlights and searchlights, the bullet holes on the walls of the White House are still clearly visible, seemingly a silent reminder that once a wound is inflicted, it can never truly be restored to its original state.
Unlike the State Property Management Committee building, there were no signs protesting the national privatization policy here; instead, there were tight security measures.
People entering must undergo strict security checks.
Fortunately, Russia values human relationships, so Punonin's face is still useful.
With him leading the team, the security check was just a formality.
As they stepped out of the elevator, Wang Xiao suddenly turned back and glanced at Yura, saying meaningfully, "You'd better be more careful, or you'll be used as a pawn again."
Yura's face instantly tightened, turning a suspicious red under the fluorescent light.
He instinctively protested, "Hey, Miss Wang!"
However, even Punonin shook his head in disapproval this time: "Alright, Yura, let's talk about it when we get back."
The traces of repairs inside the federal government building were clearly visible under the harsh fluorescent lights. The newly painted walls attempted to conceal bullet holes, but in some corners, the rough outlines of cement repairs were still clearly discernible.
It is clear that the government budget is indeed tight, and officials are unwilling to spend money on their own offices.
The air was filled with a strange smell, a mixture of lime, disinfectant, and stale smoke.
This made the perfume on the secretary, who had rushed over, seem even stronger.
Unfortunately, the long hours of overtime work ruined her once-perfect makeup, and her face was etched with fatigue.
She greeted Punonin politely, then apologized: "Sir, I'm sorry, Mr. Chubais has guests now."
Punoning bowed politely to her: "It's alright, we can wait. It was my presumption to bother you without an appointment."
The secretary smiled wearily, gestured for everyone to follow her into the adjacent meeting room.
The reception room was small. Except for the side facing the door, there were sofas against the walls on the other three sides. However, none of the three people in the room sat down. Instead, they stood and paced back and forth in the room.
When they saw the door open, the three of them looked up, their eyes brighter than the light bulbs in the room.
But when they saw the person's face, they couldn't help but show their disappointment.
Ivanov, on the other hand, recognized them and raised an eyebrow in surprise: "What are you doing here? Wasn't Mr. Chubais supposed to be seeing you?"
Who are the people in the meeting room? They are three bankers who just met at the State Property Management Committee: Vladimir Vinogradov of the Reform Commercial Bank, Mikhail Friedman of Alfa Bank, and Valery Malkin of the Russian Credit Bank.
Malkin rubbed his nose and said sullenly, "Our Deputy Prime Minister is so busy with state affairs, how could he possibly meet with a nobody like me?"
Vinogradov called out to him, "Valery!"
Then he explained to Ivanov, "Mr. Aven has arrived, and Mr. Chubais is speaking to him."
Who is Mr. Awen?
Peter Aven, a former minister in Gaidar's government and currently the president of Alfa Bank, is also a friend of Chubais.
Ivanov immediately flattered the three of them: "With Mr. Aven's help, the three of you will surely achieve your goals."
The three men immediately smiled, expressing their gratitude: "Mr. Ivanov, you're such a kind person. By the way, is there something urgent that you've come so late?"
They did meet at the State Property Management Committee, but the three of them were busy arguing with that stubborn and unpleasant Koch and didn't bother to ask Ivanov what he was there for.
Ivanov didn't mince words and stated his purpose frankly: "Qualifications. They said I'm not qualified to participate in the Yusco Company's auction. I need to correct their mistake."
The air seemed to have been frozen in place, awkwardly ceasing its flow.
The three bankers all wore subtle expressions, their emotions so complex that a micro-expression expert could write a full-fledged paper about it.
Finally, it was Alfa Bank's Friedman who reached out his hand: "Good luck, my dear Mr. Ivanov. You know—"
He gestured to himself and his colleagues, saying, "For us, the most important thing is not Yukos, but fair competition. We are not afraid to compete with anyone, as long as it is fair and just competition. Because only with fair competition, where the market decides, can we have hope for Russia's future."
“Of course!” Punonin, who had been nodding and exchanging pleasantries without saying a word since entering, suddenly spoke up. “Look at you all, look at everyone sitting here tonight. With you here, with countless people like you here, Russia’s economy will be better than before, no matter what.”
He pointed to the window; outside, it was pitch black, the night as thick and sticky as spilled ink, enveloping the entire world.
Punoning’s voice was filled with barely suppressed excitement, “Because in the past, there would never have been any business owners like you, working tirelessly in the middle of the night, running back and forth between government buildings, striving again and again for the future of your businesses.”
The bankers, who had initially been reluctant to deal with the tax police major general and had only politely nodded to him, were instantly radiant with pride upon receiving such a huge affirmation, and even their backs straightened involuntarily.
Of course, they are not the kind of parasites of the planned economy who only know how to wait for handouts.
They are the darlings of the market economy; they will strive, keep striving, and fight for their careers until the last second they stop breathing!
The atmosphere in the meeting room instantly became harmonious and joyful, with everyone wearing proud smiles, practically radiant with happiness.
Punonin was still giving a passionate speech, saying that with such diligent businessmen and officials working tirelessly, there was no reason for the Russian economy to be worse than before.
Wang Xiao smiled, but sighed inwardly: That's not necessarily true.
There's a saying: I'm not afraid of you being lazy, nor am I afraid of you being stupid, but I'm most afraid of you being both diligent and stupid.
If the right path is not found, even the most diligent people will cause more damage.
Fortunately, the arrival of the assistant interrupted Punoning's speech; otherwise, Wang Xiao was afraid that she would have burst out laughing while listening.
The assistants arrived carrying large and small bags, which contained coffee, sandwiches, and cakes.
Ivanov immediately and enthusiastically invited everyone in the reception room to try the food: "Gentlemen, please join us, my stomach is growling."
The air was filled with the rich aroma of hot coffee, the meaty smell of sandwiches, and the sweet scent of cakes. They mingled together, creating an aroma that could awaken one's cravings from the depths of their soul on such a chilly October night.
"My God!" Vinogradov took the coffee and sandwich, letting out a deep sigh. "My dear Ivan, you are such a good man."
The other two were equally unceremonious, extending their hands as well: "My God! It is our honor, and the honor of Yusco Company, to compete with such a kind and virtuous person as you in the same auction."
The assistant quickly distributed the late-night snacks to everyone, then quietly nodded to Wang Xiao.
This means that all the civil servants working overtime in this building received this late-night snack gift.
Thankfully, Russian federal government officials now follow the Soviet-era custom of expecting gifts from those who come to them for business, and have no intention of not taking a single needle or thread from the people.
Otherwise, it would be really difficult to deliver so much coffee and snacks.
Enjoying delicious food can always relax you, especially when you're starving.
The aroma of food filled the meeting room, and the sounds of chewing, conversation, and clinking coffee cups dispelled any sense of formality. Everyone ate and chatted, enjoying this rare moment of leisure.
Unfortunately, this tender sentiment built on caffeine and sugar was too fragile and couldn't last five minutes before it was torn apart by sharp arguments.
An angry roar came from the next room: "Anatole Borisovich! You're too stubborn! These are extraordinary times! No normal banking system has enough liquid cash right now! The rules you set aren't an auction, they're blatant spoils-sharing! All you talk about is reform and the market, and this is what you're really doing? How is this any different from the Soviet planned distribution?! It's just a different group of people dividing the spoils!"
"The difference is that we are at least trying to establish rules! Instead of tearing up the rules ourselves for short-term convenience, as you hope, and pushing the whole country back into the hell of hyperinflation!"
Chubais's rebuttal was even louder than the guest's roar: "Cash! It has to be cash! That's the bottom line! There's no room for negotiation! I'd rather bear the infamy than let Russia experience another nightmare like 1992! You can leave, Peter!"
The host gave the order to leave, and the office door was suddenly pulled open.
Peter Arvin stormed out angrily.
The former minister of Gaidar's government and current bank president looked ashen-faced, and his meticulously styled hair looked like a bird's nest.
Without even glancing at the people in the reception room, he walked straight down the corridor, the sound of his leather shoes striking the marble floor particularly jarring in the quiet night.
He walked away without looking back, leaving only a chilling echo in the air: "You will regret this, Anatoly. You are destroying the last vestiges of credibility of reform."
The civil servants, who were originally drinking coffee in the corridor and stretching their stiff necks and backs, looked at each other blankly.
The reception room was deathly silent.
The aroma of coffee lingered, but the sweetness of the pastry seemed to have turned into a sticky feeling in my throat.
The three bankers' faces instantly turned ashen. Vinogradov's eyes were so dark they seemed to drip water, Malkin slumped back in his chair, as if all his strength had been drained away. Friedman's hand, which was adjusting his glasses, froze in mid-air, the professional smile on his lips vanishing completely, leaving only a crushing sense of defeat and despair.
But nobody has time to pay attention to them anymore.
The secretary rushed over, her breath reeking of coffee, and nodded to Punoning once again: "Sir, please come with me."
Seeing Wang Xiao and the others stand up, the secretary didn't say anything, but dutifully led the way.
Their footsteps seemed to wake the three bankers, who quickly got up, hastily finished the rest of their coffee, stuffed a sandwich into their mouths, and hurriedly chased after them downstairs.
If Mr. Arvin can't persuade Chubais, then there's no need for them to keep dawdling here; they must quickly come up with another way out.
Even without coffee, Chubais's life was still very bitter.
Despite being the First Deputy Prime Minister and the renowned father of Russian privatization, he still couldn't get any sleep late at night and had to work hard in his office.
Winning the argument with Peter Awen did not excite the 40-year-old First Deputy Prime Minister; instead, it seemed to drain his energy, leaving him looking exhausted.
He nodded to Punonin, his voice low and deep: "And you? My dear Vlamikil, did you come so late also to act as a lobbyist and ask for short-term bonds as collateral?"
"What strange things are you saying?" Punonin denied it immediately. "I'm not crazy. The purpose of the government issuing bonds is to raise funds, control inflation, and raise money for national construction. The purpose of the government auctioning off enterprises is also to raise funds. If bonds can be used instead of cash in auctions, then what's the point of issuing bonds in the first place?"
After all that work, all the government ends up with is a bunch of bonds it issued itself.
What's the government's motive? To use national assets to buy its own bonds? If it really wanted to, wouldn't it just issue more?
Chubais gave a wry smile: "Look, even our tax police major general understands the most basic economic principles, yet our bankers are still making up nonsense."
It's not that they don't understand; it's that they only care about their own interests! They just want to get something for nothing!
Punonin smiled slightly: "Cash, our government budget needs cash. I know you're not having an easy time, so I brought you the cash."
He stepped aside, revealing Ivanov, and then reached out to help introduce him, "My dear Anatoly, this is the cash you wanted, $350 million in cash."
Ivanov nodded to him: "Hello, Mr. Chubais, I apologize for disturbing you so late at night. But Mr. Koch told me that there is a problem with my qualifications to participate in the auction. I wonder if there is some misunderstanding?"
Chubais leaned back in the boss's chair, as if the chair could share the burden on his shoulders.
He looked at Ivanov, who, though utterly exhausted, still shook his head firmly. "No, I have read Mr. Koch's report. There is no misunderstanding."
He shook his head, his gaze returning to Ivanov's face. "The source of your funds is highly suspicious. We have no way of believing that it complies with the principle of ultimate beneficiary transparency."
Punonin interrupted him, saying, "Anatole, I've also seen the principle you mentioned, and it's too vague. The principle of 'presumption of innocence' means that you cannot disqualify an excellent businessman from participating in the auction of state property simply because of suspicion."
He was tall, and the light cast his shadow on the desk, exerting an invisible pressure on the deputy prime minister, who had to straighten his back and look at him: "My dear Vlamikl, the government has the right to freeze accounts suspected of money laundering for 30 days."
Chubais implied that the government's decision not to freeze the Five Continents Group's accounts so far was already an act of exceptional leniency.
But how could Punonin accept such a threat?
His pupils contracted slightly as he stared at Chubais, saying each word clearly, "I also highly suspect that the Menatep Bank's funding sources are problematic and need to be thoroughly investigated."
Chubbs's face fell, and his voice was icy: "Sir, I must remind you that the auction has nothing to do with the tax police."
Punonin said calmly, "Ensuring the fairness and impartiality of the auction is also the responsibility of the Ministry of the Interior."
If eye contact had a tangible form, Wang Xiao was certain that the two people's gazes could generate electric sparks, crackling and popping.
Punonin looked at the other man and said, “I don’t understand, Anatoly. You want cash, and Ivanov has already brought cash, all real money. If you keep harping on the source of the funds, Khodorkovsky will only have more problems.”
His eyes were sharp. "His source of funds is even more questionable. Has he ever engaged in any production or business activities? No! Since his time in the Komsomol, all he's done is turn rubles on paper into actual rubles. He has never created any wealth; he has always only exploited loopholes in the system."
He reminded Chubais, "Don't forget, the whereabouts of the Communist Party's funds are still unclear. Don't waste your time working for the Communist Party."
At first, Chubais's face was as stiff as a rock, and his expression was ashen. But when he heard this, he finally interrupted Punonin impatiently: "No, you and I both know that the Soviets don't like Jews."
Despite being a favorite of the Komsomol during the Soviet era, Khodorkovsky was not a hero.
However, when he graduated from university, despite his excellent grades and great interpersonal skills, he was rejected without hesitation when he applied to work at an arms factory, which was not a popular choice.
It was an open secret that the Soviet Communist Party disliked Jews and was always wary of them.
The reason Khodorkovsky was able to do business so well in the Soviet era was simply because the Soviet mainstream never regarded business as a promising profession; becoming a party or government official was the only path to success in everyone's eyes.
“But he has no idea how to do production or business,” Pronunin emphasized. “He might be good at reselling licenses, but he has absolutely no idea how to organize production. Good heavens!”
He couldn't help but complain, "Anatole, I think it's a risky gamble for you to hand over these vital companies that are vital to the nation's economy to bankers."
Look at those bankers; they're busy making big money speculating on rubles and dollars one minute, and then busy speculating on short-term government bonds the next. How can they possibly settle down and focus on the production and operation of their businesses?
Chubais said impatiently, "Vlamikil, you're judging people with prejudice. How do you know Khodorkovsky is no good? He's just like your friend—young, energetic, charming, and sociable. In fact, he has a very good relationship with Yukos and knows Yukos very well; otherwise, he wouldn't have been so eager to participate in Yukos's auctions."
He knew there were voices criticizing them, saying they were arbitrarily choosing new owners for national property.
Ha, how absurd is this baseless speculation!
In fact, everyone who participated in the auction was carefully selected.
They are doing everything they can to select the most suitable new owners for Russia’s most important national assets.
This is to ensure that when the company is handed over to a new owner, it will not cause fierce opposition within the company, leading to terrible incidents such as strikes.
Punonin shook his head, insisting on his own idea: "Relationships can't solve all problems, and brokers can never replace real business owners. Anatoly, I'm just asking you to be fair and just, and give real business owners a chance to compete on a level playing field."
He pointed at Ivanov and said, "He has experience running oil companies and introducing advanced foreign technologies. He should be qualified to enter the auction house."
“Vlamikil!” Chubais interrupted him with a grim expression. “Mind your place. Your actions are highly suspicious. There’s something going on between you two.”
Before Ivanov could refute, Punonin nodded and then shook his head: "No, sir, you're mistaken. It's a table-of-mouth deal. If he succeeds in acquiring Yukos, then the tax police will be stationed at Yukos."
He said meaningfully, “You’re all in a rush to find funds for the government budget, so you’re only focused on one-off deals. I can’t do that. As the head of the tax police, I have to make sure we can collect taxes on time and in full.”
After working in this field for several years, he had to admit that in Russia, when it came to taxation, one could only focus on the major cases and let the minor ones go.
Given the current state of economic downturn across the country, all he could grasp was an outlet, an entry point.
Imported goods are subject to tariffs, while exported goods are subject to export taxes on energy and minerals.
As long as these two points are grasped, even if other domestic enterprises cannot collect taxes, the country's finances will not collapse.
Punonin reiterated: "I have no other requests, and I do not ask for guaranteed admission. I only ask that merchants be given a normal opportunity to participate in the auction."
Chubais's lips were pressed tightly together, and his facial muscles were as stiff as marble.
The clock in the office ticked away, its sound making everyone's nerves involuntarily tense.
He frowned, about to speak, when his gaze suddenly swept over something, and in an instant, his face turned cold and stern: "No, we cannot give a pass to funds of unknown origin."
Punonin raised his voice: "Anatole!"
Unfortunately, the office phone rang suddenly the next second, silencing his roar.
When Chubais answered the phone, his expression changed drastically after just one sentence, and he quickly agreed, "Okay, I'll be right there."
Then he hung up the phone with one hand and grabbed Ivanov with the other, his voice urgent, "Quick! Come with me!"
Punoning wanted to ask again what exactly happened.
Chubais shouted, "We don't have time, we have to leave immediately."
Then the people in the office saw that Punonin solidified instantly, just like poured cement.
He hurriedly said, "Stay here and don't wander off."
He ran out of the office with Chubais.
Once outside the office, Punonin remembered to call out, "Yura, what are you standing there for? Hurry up!"
Those whose names were called then rushed towards the door with "Oh, oh."
The remaining people looked at each other, not understanding what was going on.
Wang Xiao walked to the office window and looked outside. Only then did he realize why Chubais had reaffirmed his original idea at the last moment.
Because right across from his window was the office building of the Communist Party of the Russian Federation. The red five-pointed star emblem gleamed under the searchlights.
Whether by coincidence or by choice, Chubby deliberately chose this office, using the prominent red star to spur himself on: work harder and harder, and never let the Russian Communist Party make a comeback.
Therefore, he cannot abandon Khodorkovsky and the votes he represents.
The secretary rushed over and greeted the guests who had been left behind: "Ladies and gentlemen, please follow me."
Everyone, quickly lift your feet.
This is the office of the country's vice premier. If something is lost or something happens to them while they are here, they will be left speechless and unable to complain.
The secretary led everyone back to the meeting room.
Considering the coffee and snacks they had just eaten, she even brought them blankets so they could make do with the place for the night.
Wang Xiao and Ivanov didn't care about the simple conditions; they were filled with anxiety and uncertainty.
Ivanov whispered to Wang Xiao, "What do you think it could be? Could it be..."
He didn't voice his guess, but Wang Xiao already knew perfectly well.
There are very few things in all of Russia that could cause such panic as the First Deputy Prime Minister, the Tax Police Major General, and the de facto head of the Ministry of Internal Affairs.
The most likely explanation is that something has happened to the President of the Kremlin.
Although in Wang Xiao's memory, in real history, this president lived quite a long time, at least until the year 2000, he was still alive.
But history is always full of uncertainties. For a patient who has suffered from heart disease for many years and is also an alcoholic, it is all too common to die from a heart attack.
Even Wang Xiao couldn't guarantee that he wouldn't get into trouble tonight.
She reached up and rubbed her face hard, letting out a painful groan from the depths of her heart.
Why are the cunning and shrewd Western capitalists choosing to retreat at this time, avoiding any involvement in the auction of Russian assets, at least not openly?
It's precisely because they are cautious that they believe there's no need to take risks, so they never reach out.
But she couldn't resist; greed prevented her from turning back, for fortune favors the bold.
She took a deep breath, her mind made up: "We must support Vladimir."
According to Russian law, if the president dies suddenly, the prime minister is the first in line to succeed to the presidency.
They hadn't had much dealings with this prime minister, so it was better to stick with someone they knew and push Punonin to the top.
Moreover, although this Chechen war only lasted for a little over six months and had a limited impact on the general public, the military on the battlefield did not think so.
Punonin's command of several decapitation strikes by the Ministry of Internal Affairs, as well as his decisiveness and ruthlessness during the hostage crisis, won him the hearts of his troops.
His chances of gaining the support of the military are no less than those of the Prime Minister.
To prevent the reception room from being bugged, the two embraced and whispered in each other's ears about their next move.
The more they discussed it, the more desperate they became.
In the end, Wang Xiao even wanted to kneel down and beg all the gods to bless the president so that he could live a good life.
She preferred dealing with the frail president to Punonin.
They were not prepared and did not want to face a sudden upheaval.
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[Let me see] Good morning, off to work.
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