Coast. After a
short, bloody war, the Italian, Irish and Chinese gangs had to shrink their
territories and make room for the newcomers.
1919 was the year that Batka crossed the crucial point about
which he had spoken with Laptin in moments of frankness. ‘They’ invited him to
attend their annual meeting.
Once, in response to Laptin’s admiration of his headlong
moneymaking, Batka had told him that the true recognition of his success would
come when ‘they’ noticed him and he took his rightful place amongst them. And
now it was a fact.
Batka never used names when talking on that subject. He
called those mysterious people ‘they’, ‘the masters, ‘the owners’. He revealed
that ‘they’ consisted of several groups, and each group controlled a certain
part of the world, or certain economic or political spheres. Some of the groups
had existed for centuries. Others were products of more recent times. Most of
them kept their wealth and knowledge in closed clan-like circles and
transferred it from one generation to another. There were rivalries between
some of them, but once a year they laid their differences aside and met to
discuss world affairs and problems. Batka had named the meetings the ‘World
Council’. Sometimes on such occasions, self-made individuals, like Batka, were
invited. As expected, this alignment kept its activities secret. One could be
sure of one’s existence only if one became noticeable enough to be invited to
their meetings. Batka had told Laptin that if any person ever managed to unite
the ‘Council’ he could, without exaggeration, be called ruler of the world.
Laptin did not dare ask Batka how the meeting had gone and
what had been discussed there. He waited until he resumed that conversation and
then slipped in the burning question.
“There is no hope for Russia,” Batka responded. “‘They’, or
better to say one group of the alignment, which I call the idealists, have put
in a lot of planning and money to stir up what’s happening there. Russia is now
a giant experimental field and ‘they’ will try out everything that has been
planned.”
“So, we didn’t steal the gold from Russia but from the Reds
who serve these anonymous masters,” said Laptin.
“We’ve got to move out everything we can from there. It is
not our country any more. One day we’ll take it back, though.”
Soon after this conversation, Batka announced that he had to
make a journey to the Pamir Mountains ahead of schedule. The latest news from
that area exposed the need for quick action if Batka did not want a big chunk
of his fortune there to be expropriated by the communists. The Bukhara Emirate,
where Batka’s mining business was, was under Bolshevik attack and would not be
able to resist for long. Batka intended to transport the last production of the
mine and the rest of his bandit treasure, which was hidden in the Pamir caves,
through British India to Karachi. He had decided to lead this operation and
take his eldest son, seventeen-year-old Alexander, with him. His intention was
to give the heir to his business and criminal empire a big real-life lesson.
Laptin was one of the few chosen to say goodbye to Batka at
the port. When the small group of people who had come to see him off watched
the ship sail away, one of Batka’s American executives made a casual comment.
“The route is too insecure. A businessperson of his class shouldn’t take such
unnecessary risks for himself and his son. They may not even return from those
troubled lands.”
Nobody in that small group of people could have imagined,
even in their wildest dreams, just how prophetic those words would become. The
young Alexander would not return, and Batka Ivan would no longer be the man
they had known.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The Lake of the Golden Ducks, somewhere in the UK
The present day
For about an hour, the man paced the wide pathway
surrounding the Lake of the Golden Ducks, as the locals called it,
short, bloody war, the Italian, Irish and Chinese gangs had to shrink their
territories and make room for the newcomers.
1919 was the year that Batka crossed the crucial point about
which he had spoken with Laptin in moments of frankness. ‘They’ invited him to
attend their annual meeting.
Once, in response to Laptin’s admiration of his headlong
moneymaking, Batka had told him that the true recognition of his success would
come when ‘they’ noticed him and he took his rightful place amongst them. And
now it was a fact.
Batka never used names when talking on that subject. He
called those mysterious people ‘they’, ‘the masters, ‘the owners’. He revealed
that ‘they’ consisted of several groups, and each group controlled a certain
part of the world, or certain economic or political spheres. Some of the groups
had existed for centuries. Others were products of more recent times. Most of
them kept their wealth and knowledge in closed clan-like circles and
transferred it from one generation to another. There were rivalries between
some of them, but once a year they laid their differences aside and met to
discuss world affairs and problems. Batka had named the meetings the ‘World
Council’. Sometimes on such occasions, self-made individuals, like Batka, were
invited. As expected, this alignment kept its activities secret. One could be
sure of one’s existence only if one became noticeable enough to be invited to
their meetings. Batka had told Laptin that if any person ever managed to unite
the ‘Council’ he could, without exaggeration, be called ruler of the world.
Laptin did not dare ask Batka how the meeting had gone and
what had been discussed there. He waited until he resumed that conversation and
then slipped in the burning question.
“There is no hope for Russia,” Batka responded. “‘They’, or
better to say one group of the alignment, which I call the idealists, have put
in a lot of planning and money to stir up what’s happening there. Russia is now
a giant experimental field and ‘they’ will try out everything that has been
planned.”
“So, we didn’t steal the gold from Russia but from the Reds
who serve these anonymous masters,” said Laptin.
“We’ve got to move out everything we can from there. It is
not our country any more. One day we’ll take it back, though.”
Soon after this conversation, Batka announced that he had to
make a journey to the Pamir Mountains ahead of schedule. The latest news from
that area exposed the need for quick action if Batka did not want a big chunk
of his fortune there to be expropriated by the communists. The Bukhara Emirate,
where Batka’s mining business was, was under Bolshevik attack and would not be
able to resist for long. Batka intended to transport the last production of the
mine and the rest of his bandit treasure, which was hidden in the Pamir caves,
through British India to Karachi. He had decided to lead this operation and
take his eldest son, seventeen-year-old Alexander, with him. His intention was
to give the heir to his business and criminal empire a big real-life lesson.
Laptin was one of the few chosen to say goodbye to Batka at
the port. When the small group of people who had come to see him off watched
the ship sail away, one of Batka’s American executives made a casual comment.
“The route is too insecure. A businessperson of his class shouldn’t take such
unnecessary risks for himself and his son. They may not even return from those
troubled lands.”
Nobody in that small group of people could have imagined,
even in their wildest dreams, just how prophetic those words would become. The
young Alexander would not return, and Batka Ivan would no longer be the man
they had known.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The Lake of the Golden Ducks, somewhere in the UK
The present day
For about an hour, the man paced the wide pathway
surrounding the Lake of the Golden Ducks, as the locals called it,
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