Zakharin raised an eyebrow. “It seems you are well informed,” he said, knowing he had just lost any negotiating leverage. “Your Peregrine might indeed fill a temporary void in our reconnaissance needs. But I am aware of a business concern.”
Hendriks forced a startled look. “What could that be?”
“It is my understanding that you have recently sold your avionics company. At a price of several billion dollars, if the press is accurate.”
Hendriks stared at the linoleum floor and nodded. “Yes, I recently sold my avionics company, and I also divested my other business interests.” He unconsciously dipped a hand into his side jacket pocket, his fingers probing for a small metallic object.
“Starting a new chapter in life?”
Hendriks said nothing. Hidden in his coat pocket, his fingers pressed against the sharp metal until they trembled.
“Though you appear a bit young for retirement,” the general said, “I believe one should enjoy the spoils of their work while they can. I offer my congratulations. But my point is this. My government has procured avionics equipment from you for many years. I would not feel comfortable purchasing the Peregrine from new owners. And, of course, there is the question of the legality of obtaining this technology.”
“I own the Peregrine design personally, with royalty rights for the next three years,” Hendriks said. “A retirement gift from the company, you might say. So you would still be doing business with me.”
“And your government? The European Union will not allow the export of such an item to Russia at this time.”
“Not in this form,” Hendriks admitted. “But it is easy enough to circumvent. We piecemeal the parts to you from sources in different countries, and the final assembly can happen here. I’ll even send a team to do it for you.”
Zakharin considered the response and nodded. “Yes, that may be feasible. But I am curious to know why you are not selling the Peregrine to the NATO countries.”
Hendriks’s fingers again went to work on the object in his pocket. “Simple economics. The Americans’ product will limit my sales to NATO. I believe that I can sell more to you.”
“I can make no guarantees.”
“I am not here to ask for any. But there is one other item I hope you may consider. I would be able to offer you a personal commission of five percent on every Peregrine sold to the Russian government.”
Hendriks knew Zakharin had achieved his rank by cronyism, not skill. In the Russian hierarchy, the higher up the chain of command one traveled, the
more corruption blossomed. With no surprise, he saw Zakharin’s eyes widen in anticipation.
“What is the selling price?” Zakharin asked.
“The first lot will be twelve million euros each. Less with a quantity purchase. Your commission would be payable in your choice of currency and banking locale.”
“I will discuss it with the Procurement Directorate at once. I am positive we will be able to arrange at least a minimum purchase.” Zakharin eyed the vodka bottle for a celebratory shot.
“Excellent,” Hendriks said with little emotion. “I have an additional request, if I might. It would be a great honor to arrange for the president a demonstration similar to today’s.”
“President Vashenko?” Zakharin gazed at the ceiling. “It would be very difficult to arrange. But he does appreciate modern technology and might enjoy a viewing. Still, my influence is limited, as I am just a lowly military man.”
“I understand. Nevertheless, I would enjoy showing him the Peregrine’s capabilities.” He winked. “It might increase the quantity purchased.”
“Yes, I can see the wisdom in such a demonstration. I will do what I can.” The general looked at his watch. “Well, Martin, I hope that we have the chance to continue our friendship. I was just a captain when you began selling digital aeronautical instruments to Aeroflot many years ago. Since that time, we have had a mutually beneficial relationship.”
“Agreed,” Hendriks said, recalling that Zakharin’s vacation dacha near Sochi was at least partially funded by bribes from his company. “You know, General, I am aware of an external business opportunity that might be of interest to you.” He paused to let the Russian take the bait.
“Yes, please tell me more,” Zakharin said, before downing his third glass of vodka.
“I was recently in Paris and ran into some old colleagues. One has recently brokered a deal for the acquisition of a pair of French attack helicopters in Senegal for the president’s security force. But they were unable to acquire armament for the craft and are seeking to purchase a dozen light air-to-surface missiles. I was told your Vikhr laser-guided missiles would fit the bill quite nicely.”
“Are they willing to pay a commission?”
“Around six figures, I believe.”
The general placed his empty glass on the desk. “I’m sure I could locate a dozen missiles in inventory that could be assigned to field exercises. But transport would be of concern.”
“I’m told that if you can make delivery in Ukraine, they will handle the transport to Africa. Could one of their representatives contact you discreetly?”