Consequences Unforeseen

Foros - June 11th 1991, Dinner with the Gorbachevs

Foros – June 11th 1991, Dinner with the Gorbachevs

 

Three Ukrainian beers and Bill Douglas was feeling the effects. He laughed at himself as he bent down to tie his sneakers and felt his head wobble a bit so that he felt inclined to steady himself on the edge of the bed.

On a specific mission he’d never have allowed himself the luxury of a beer or two – or so he told himself with a chuckle, – but on this occasion he felt that the closer he played the legitimate tourist the better, and he considered that the scent of the distinctive Chernihivske beer on his breath would not go unnoticed by Gorbachev: Or his very astute wife for that matter.

He was keeping track of the time mentally, and he knew that it was around 7.40pm so he walked out onto the rear veranda of his room just in time to see the big Russian limo negotiate the narrow street and the tight turn into the hotel’s parking area. He gave the driver a friendly wave to acknowledge his arrival, but the big guy never blinked or gave even the glimmer of a smile. Douglas was unsurprised and thought, “well you bastard, let’s see how you get us back out of this car park and we’ll see if that gives you a reason to frown even more.”

He was even less surprised when he was settled down in the rear compartment to find the obligatory bottle of vodka, already opened, with a waiting glass. Now the driver gave a smile as he looked back saying, “Compliments of our President, Mr. Douglas. He asked me to ensure you had your medicine before I started out. So please, let’s drink to a pleasant evening,” and he produced a larger glass from the console, raised it in salute and motioned for Douglas to hurry up and fulfill his end of the deal.

Formalities over, he reversed back out onto the street with consummate ease – much to Douglas’ surprise and sped off back out onto the main road, screeching round the corner, and on to the causeway towards the President’s dacha. Not another word was exchanged.

The journey was swift, no more than a mile and a half and taken at such speed that it seemed to Douglas that mere moments passed before the gates to the property were behind them. No guards, or overt signs of human security blocked their way and the long driveway itself was deserted. That said, he knew that many eyes followed their progress and the guard dogs trotted along behind them and cut across the road in front of them, ears pricked and sniffing the air.

He had watched these animals from the air and he knew their habits and how deadly they would be to anyone foolish enough to venture uninvited and unescorted along this particular road.

He laughed to himself because he could have walked directly here along the beach and saved everybody some trouble. He might have had to swim a few yards or so with the tide already in, but other than that there was no impediment to an approach from the public area beach. The dogs of course guaranteed that no one ever tried that particular route, day or night.

Gorbachev himself opened the door and beckoned him to the vestibule of the building. “Welcome my Scottish friend,” the president said and with a slight bow continued, “The dogs will not approach within a hundred yards of here, so you are safe within the ‘secret’ fence. Interesting new fangled technology, and at night I just flick this switch here and these damned beasts take control. Remind me if we drink a bit too much to turn the damned thing on again before we send you on your way.

Douglas gave a good humored snort in response and said, “Thank you sir, I’ve not seen dogs like these in action, but from the look of them they’d finish me off in no time,” and he paused to take a look back at the pack circling round the invisible perimeter as if hungry for his flesh. Not one sound escaped them though. No growl or whimper for release. Just ever watchful focus and solid eye contact. It made the Douglas shudder at the thought.