WATER WORKS: 4) THE INVENTOR
Sunday Funnies: A Serial Novel of Intrigue, Lunacy & H2O
6.
Daniel Petersen, passport stamper, arrives promptly next morning. We roll out of central Moscow-and spill into a grotesque development of 50 look-alike multi-story tenements. The single elevator isn’t working. I follow Petersen up five flights in a stairwell stinking of urine. He knocks a door.
It cracks open, then widens enough for us to slip inside.
A female potato on legs leads us into a sparsely furnished room. She points at a square card table surrounded by folding chairs.
"She wants us to sit," says Petersen.
"Caught that."
A cheap oil painting of a waterfall hangs over a stained sofa.
Three minutes later a young woman appears, mid-20s. Ludmila Zhilin introduces herself to us. "My uncle, he comes soon. My mama makes tea."
Mrs. Potato appears on cue with a pot of tea and four chipped cups.
Ludmila excuses herself and reappears two minutes later with a man not much older than she.
"My uncle."
Her uncle mutters a generic greeting, drops his maimed vinyl briefcase onto the table, plops himself into a chair and fumbles with a cigarette, which his niece lights. Then he starts babbling in Russian.
"My uncle says he is followed," said Ludmila.
"Right now?" I ask. "To this apartment?"
Ludmila babbles, her uncle babbles back, she returns to me. "Everywhere."
I walk to the window and peer through cheap lace curtains at a goon on the grass below, peering up.
Uncle Alexandre, meanwhile, covers the table top with technical diagrams, mathematical calculations, and cigarette butts.
I am completely out of my depth, but Alexandre seems to know his stuff. His fear is genuine. And the goon downstairs offers a side dish of verisimilitude.
"Okay," I finally say. "Here's the situation. I'm not a technical person. It would take me ten years of engineering and three doctorates to understand any of this. The question is, what can I take back with me for evaluation by the experts?"
Ludmila translates.
Alexandre shakes his head before she is even finished. "Nyet! Nyet!" He scoops up his diagrams lest I try to commit them to memory.
"If I'm going to buy this invention," I say, "I need to take something home to show my technical people."
Ludmila translates.
Alexandre returns fire in guttural Russian.
"If you don’t act now,” says Ludmila, “my uncle already has someone to buy.”
It sounds like a bluff.
"Yeah?" I say. "Who?"
Uncle Alexandre snorts a two-word reply that does not need translation: “Dulci Acqua.”
"Dulci Acqua," echoes Ludmila.
"What is Dulci Acqua?" I ask.
Ludmila poses my question.
Alexandre shrugs it off with a dismissive mutter.
"A buyer is a buyer," Ludmila translates.
I consider this, quickly assessing my options. "Okay, if your uncle's invention is good enough for Dulci Acqua, it's good enough for me. What kind of deal do you want?"
Alexandre whispers; Ludmila translates:
"My uncle asks five million dollars US advance on 15 percent royalty. And you help him leave Russia, live in America. And..." Ludmila listens to her uncle "...my uncle must give Dulci Acqua chance to match deal."
"Why?"
"Is good business.”
"Maybe I should join forces with Dulci Acqua," I say
Alexandre considers this and utters something.
"Could be," Ludmila translates.
Alexandre, doubtless, sees new value in playing me off against Dulci Acqua.
"When do you meet Dulci Acqua again?" I ask.
"Soon."
"You introduce me?"
"We see," he replies, scooping papers into his broken briefcase. Then he rises and speaks in rapid fire.
"My uncle asks how fast you can make deal?" says Ludmila.
I say, "How fast can I meet Dulci Acqua?"
Alexandre listens to Ludmila, closes one eye, nods, speaks.
"My uncle makes meeting tomorrow. He shows Dulci Acqua your card."
I turn to Petersen. "Does everyone know how to stay in touch on this?"