Maden Mike - Tom Clancy Firing Point

—

“Congratulations, Mr. Ambassador. How does it feel?”

The handsome Russian smiled. “The ceremony itself was rather anticlimactic, to be honest. We exchanged pieces of paper and took pictures.”

“Welcome to the club.”

“The honor for me today was to finally meet you in person, Mr. President. Your reputation in my country is stellar.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“Yes, your file is quite thick. ‘Brilliant, ruthless, cunning. Perhaps our country’s greatest nemesis,’ it reads in part. But these are values my superiors respect greatly, as do I.”

“‘Nemesis’? You make me sound like a comic book villain.”

Christyakov grinned infectiously.

“In Russia, Captain America is a villain.”

Christyakov’s English was faultless, as were the porcelain veneers on his million-watt smile. The diamond-studded watch on his thick wrist was probably worth more than the one-bedroom fixer-upper shack he and Cathy had purchased just after they got married.

“Coffee? Tea?” Ryan asked the younger man as he stood at the small service table. He pointed him to the chair across from the famous presidential desk. The Russian fell into it like it was an old friend.

“Coffee, if it’s not too much trouble. Cream, no sugar.”

Ryan poured two cups, dumping too much creamer into the Russian’s. He liked his black, the way that God and the Department of the Navy intended it.

Ryan handed Christyakov his cup and took his seat behind the desk.

“How do you like Washington, Maksim?”

“I find it to be a city of ‘Southern charm and Northern efficiency.’”

Ryan smiled to himself. If he was quoting JFK, he got the quote completely backward. Or perhaps he was just being polite?

“If I’m being perfectly honest, I find it to be neither on most days,” Ryan said.

Christyakov leaned forward in his chair. “The architecture is stunning, and the women are gorgeous.”

Well, he got that right, at least.

“I appreciate your time today. I think it’s important we get to know each other. Scott Adler speaks highly of you.”

“That is kind of the secretary to say. He is a very skilled diplomat and is held in the highest respect among my colleagues and superiors.”

“Scott is a good diplomat, and an outstanding negotiator. But his most important quality to me is that I can trust him completely.”

“A rare thing these days. Trust.”

“Agreed. Perhaps that’s why we’re having this meeting today.”

Christyakov took a sip of his coffee. “Excellent. How might we build trust between our nations?”

“That’s an excellent question. But I can think of a better one.”

“Which is?”

“How can we build trust between ourselves?”

“You mean, between you and I, personally?”

“Yes, of course. At the end of the day, politics is about people, not government. I need to be able to look a man or a woman in the eyes when I’m talking to them and know they’re not shoveling horse hockey in my direction when they move their lips.”

Another smirking smile turned the Russian’s mouth. “You must be very frustrated, then, especially living in this city.”

“I like dealing with honest people. Makes life easier.”

“That is an admirable goal, Mr. President. But I have found that most people are loyal only to themselves, and that honesty is a function of self-interest.”

“That seems rather cynical.”

“Honesty and cynicism are not incompatible.”

“But dishonesty and trust are.”

“I couldn’t disagree more. I prefer the company of liars. A liar is a self-interested man, which means he is a rational man. He lies because he knows the honest truth bears a cost he’s not willing to pay. But the honest man? He’s the dangerous one. He’s the one who insists on telling the truth no matter the cost. Such a man is an irrational man that cannot be reasoned or bargained with. An honest man is either your best friend or your worst enemy. Usually your enemy. Most people can’t handle the truth. If you tell them the real reasons why they’re fat or poor or stupid or unsuccessful in life, generally they will hate you for it—and for the very reason it is the truth. If every congressman on Capitol Hill told the truth, the whole truth, for just one day, your empire would collapse in a heap of ashes.”

The man likes to hear himself talk, Ryan thought.

But he suddenly understood that Christyakov wasn’t appointed just because of his family connections. He was a cold, cunning, ruthless son of a bitch. And someone to keep an eye on.

Christyakov saw Ryan’s face darken.

“I see I have made you uncomfortable with my honesty. Does that mean you are more or less likely to trust me now?”

“I certainly have a clearer sense of who you are and how you think.”

“And is that more or less advantageous for me?”

“We’ll have to wait and see.”

Ryan took a sip of coffee. “I know you come out of the oil and gas business. How did you manage to do any deals with people you knew you couldn’t trust?”

“Numbers don’t lie. There is no ambiguity in a P&L statement. But of course, you come from the business world yourself. You built your first fortune on railroad stock speculation, I believe. And made millions more as a stock trader back in the day.”

“I got lucky every now and then. But even the stock trading business is about trust. We have a saying, ‘Figures don’t lie, but liars figure.’ You need to be able to trust the guy on the other side of the trade for it to work.”

“Trust? Yes, of course. There must be trust for business to work, or politics for that matter.” The ambassador tented his fingers thoughtfully. “But trust is different than honesty, and far easier to come by. A dishonest man will be completely trustworthy so long as he fears the consequences of betrayal.”

“I would rather deal with honest men than fearful ones, in business or in politics.”

The Russian’s eyes widened. “I’m surprised. I would have thought that your Mideast wars taught you otherwise. The mujahideen are honest about their faith and their hatred for you, and have killed thousands of your soldiers and citizens to prove that honesty. Better if they were more fearful than they were honest, don’t you think?”

“I think we’re talking apples and oranges here.”

Christyakov shrugged. “People are the same everywhere, are they not? In my country, trust is rewarded, but lies are punished. The bigger the lie, the bigger the penalty. That doesn’t make men honest, but it does protect the truth.”

Ryan well knew what that meant. Critics of President Yermilov had a nasty habit of suiciding themselves out of apartment windows or shooting themselves with bullets to the back of their own heads. Truth is treason in the empire of lies, Ryan reminded himself, citing his old friend Ron Paul.

The only “truth” in Russia was that opposing Yermilov was a guaranteed death sentence.

Time to change the subject.

“Your uncle was quite successful in his oil and gas business.”

“He is very shrewd. His company employs quite a few Americans, actually.”

Too many, Ryan thought. The sons of two current congressmen and the daughter of an ex-senator sat on the boards of Christyakov corporations.

“He’s a multibillionaire, I believe.”

“I thought success was a good thing, yes? Aren’t we all good capitalists these days?”

“He’s a friend of President Yermilov.”

“As are many people in Russia.”

Including the top vory of the Russian mafia, Ryan wanted to say. And they’re probably your friends, too .