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It was vintage Aaron, having a man stay to observe and eventually report. Aaron knew that at some point down the road, in a quiet moment when it was just the two of them over a glass of Pinot Noir at Kshanti, he could turn to Hayden and say, “So, how was Frankfurt, my friend?”

“Funny how Aaron seems to disappear just when things are getting interesting, don’t you think?” Timmermans said, digging for the silver cigarette case in his coat pocket.

“What’s the situation with Riga-Tech?” asked Hayden. “I’m the bishop and you’re the rook, that’s the situation. It’s all part of one big chess game, my friend, and the guy who’s moving the pieces is about 35,000 feet over Newfoundland right about now.”

Hayden took his micro-recorder from his sport coat pocket and clicked it on. “Note to self: what am I doing here?”

Two men walked into the room. Hayden had an immediate flashback to a series of advertisements that used to run on the Metro North trains out of New York’s Grand Central Station. They were called “The Rothman’s Man,” and were a collection of powerful, heroic, Constructivist-leaning WPA mural style images of squarejawed men clad in Rothman’s suits scaling buildings, pulling trees out of the ground with their bare hands, or pumping hand cars down railroad tracks with their ties flapping in the wind. The tag lines said things like “Adores his in-laws, passed on Mensa, and really enjoys his commute.”

The figures now standing in front of Hayden were the Russian version of Rothman men. They were life-sized placards of the new Russian economy - suits, slicked back hair, tough, humorless. It was interesting to actually see them in person. Hayden had become curious when Aaron asked him to stay behind for the meeting and did a little homework.

The first man was Zlotnikov. He was young and well built. The second man was Tebelis. He had dark glasses and a turtleneck sweater, the kind of garb that could have snatched him a role as one of the mute, East German bad-guys in a Bond film. Both men had firm handshakes; Zlotnikov, in particular. Neither man smiled. It was a funny scene, one Hayden would have ridiculed as “B” movie stuff had he not been a real-life participant. He had a hard time taking it seriously. The most intriguing bit of all, though, was that the two men weren’t what they said they were. On paper, they ran Riga-Tech. The reality according to Hayden’s contacts, however, was that Tebelis owned nightclubs and Zlotnikov dealt in stolen Mercedes. Hayden hadn’t shared these factoids with anyone.

“Who’s he?” Zlotnikov asked Timmermans, pointing to Hayden.

“This is Hayden Campbell, Cannondale’s director of communications.”

“Director of communications of what?”

“Good question,” Hayden said.

“Cannondale asked him to be here,” Timmermans interjected, trying to keep things moving.

They made their way into a quiet ante-room. It could have been any business hotel, anywhere. The idea was to fly in, take care of affairs, wash down a wurst with a glass of Spaten, and fly out again.

“This Dutch man, Kuipers, he does not like us,” Zlotnikov began. “We have good satellites; you have good technology, no?”

“It’s not you he has the problem with, it’s Cannondale,” said Timmermans, lighting a Dunhill.

“He does not want to take American money? Idiot.”

“They want to keep the technology in European hands.”

“And you? Are
you
not European?”

Timmermans looked puzzled.

“It does not bother you?” Zlotnikov asked.

“I’m a businessman.”

“I see,” Zlotnikov said, pleased by Timmermans’ candor. He took a handkerchief out and wiped his brow. The man didn’t appear the least bit nervous, but he was a world-class sweater.

“We want to be in a position to launch the satellite when Kuipers and his Euro-cronies lose their little battle,” Timmermans said.

“Are you so confident that he will lose his battle?” Zlotnikov said, scratching his pug nose.

“This is larger than one jingoistic bureaucrat,” Timmermans said, mashing his cigarette into the ashtray.

“We know something of bureaucrats,” Tebilis grunted.

They were the first words Timmermans and Hayden had heard the man speak. Hayden watched quietly as the men completed their business by toasting the universal thread of capitalism with raised vodka glasses and a bowl of caviar.

With the deal completed, Zlotnikov began to talk about the “New Russia” under Putin. Hayden’s sources indicated that Zlotnikov and Tebelis were both actually Latvian by origin, but grew up in Moscow. Zlotnikov was sixteen when Yuri Vladmirovich Andropov became General Secretary of the Soviet Union. Zlotnikov’s parents sent him to school to study engineering, which led to his interest in technology.

“This Andropov, he was a poet as well as an overfed bureaucrat you know,” Zlotnikov said sarcastically, bumping back more shots of vodka. He was getting increasingly drunk.

“Andropov?” asked Hayden, trying to imagine the irony.

“Yes. He thought writers should be given the freedom to help the party and the state in its struggle for order. I remember one of his pathetic poems published after his death. It was called ... let’s see ... ‘Power Corrupts’.”

“Let’s hear it then,” Hayden said.

Zlotnikov stood up, paused dramatically and then recited the poem, word for word. When he finished, he bowed and said “translates better in Russian. I give you Y.V. Andropov, my friends, poet extraordinaire, and an idiot for sure.”

The men clapped wildly, laughing. Hayden was beginning to like Zlotnikov. Just then, several unescorted women, a mixture of Germans and Hungarians, entered the room — an arrangement, no doubt, made by Zlotnikov and Tebelis. It was Hayden’s cue to leave. He didn’t want to get too chummy with these guys. One deep stare into the eyes of the Hungarian girl in his lap and he would be contemplating a lifelong relationship with her that would end three weeks later. That’s the way it was with him. Besides, Michelle was on his mind.

Hayden smiled at the absurdity of four strange women entering a room to sit in the laps of men they didn’t know. What if people did that on the street or on the bus, or at the opera? Maybe the world would be a very different place, free of inhibitions like actually knowing someone before you slept with them. Maybe it was already that way. Maybe
knowing
people didn’t really matter anymore. Knowing someone didn’t stop people from mistreating each other. Having tea together didn’t stave off deceit. A lifetime of beers and baseball games together at the local bar didn’t stop men from sleeping with their best friends’ wives. What was the point in
knowing
?

Hayden looked over at Timmermans, who was enjoying himself with two of the ladies. They were messing up his hair and loosening his tie. Timmermans had a broad smile on his face, the kind an awkward prep school boy would have on a visit to a brothel. 

Timmermans had read somewhere that in every two miles the average driver makes four hundred observations, forty decisions and one mistake. Once every five hundred miles, one of those mistakes leads to a near collision, and once every sixty-one thousand miles one of those mistakes

leads to a crash.

Timmermans had just crashed. Her name was Malene. She came from Bavaria. She had large breasts.

He looked at the clock on the nightstand. “Grote ver Jezus!” he shouted. His plane was leaving in just over an hour. Malene’s artificially-tanned forearm lay across his hairy chest.

“Wake up,” he said, stirring her.

“Eh?” she said in a morning stupor. Timmermans got the sense that she was used to being awakened this way.

“We’ve ... you’ve ... got to go. I need to catch a plane.”

The full impact of what had transpired began to hit him. His heart rate accelerated. He began to talk to himself as he scurried around the hotel room picking up bits of his belongings. “Going to be okay. Just a mistake,” he said to himself. “Not something I regularly do. Love my wife. Can’t believe this happened!”

He had compromised himself. Nothing he could do could change that. He picked up Malene’s black lace underwear and tossed it on the bed.

Malene saw Timmermans look at his watch. “Yes, okay, I go,” she said, making her way to the bathroom. Her body was beautiful. Ten hours ago it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. He had pounced on it like some crazed animal. Now, although her body remained beautiful, he wanted to dispose of it.

He sat at the end of the bed. The bathroom door was open. “Tell me something. Why do men do this?” he said in a palliative attempt to make himself feel better.

“You want to talk of such things now?”

“No, you’re right … I …”

“I suppose people want what they cannot have, and when they get it, they feel sad.”

Timmermans thought for a moment, puzzled. He wasn’t sure if what she had said was profound or pitiful.

“Call a cab for me,” Malene said. “Go have lunch with your wife.” 

"Good evening ladies and gentlemen, I’m Jacob Dimbleby. Tonight our broadcast of “Any Questions?” comes to you from the beautiful Palais Royale in Brussels. The topic: “Nation States in an Internet World.” We’re honored this evening to have Michel Lorraine, president of FranzCom, France’s

largest mobile operator; David Moore, Assistant U.S. Trade Representative for European Affairs; and Sir Graham Eatwell, European Competition Commissioner.

“Let’s begin. The Internet is quite possibly the single most powerful threat to the nation state as we know it. Autocratic regimes fear its ability to expose corruption and tyranny, while democratic governments struggle to harness its power for collective good. The result is a borderless world where unilateral decisions are becoming increasingly rare. What is the landscape going to look like going forward? Who’s in control? Who has lost control?

“Our first question from the audience tonight comes from Mrs. Susan Hale
.

“Thank you. My question is this: Europeans are accustomed to seeing 
American companies get their way when it comes to international trade. In 
your opinion, is the Internet causing a shift in that balance of power?”
 

Moore
 

“Thank you for your question. I have to say, I disagree with the premise. 
More often than not, the United States has not gotten its way in the trade 
arena. But that’s history. Let’s look at the situation as it stands right now. 
The backdrop to every conversation that Europeans and Americans are having at the moment – be it political, social or economic - is still Iraq. We are 
pleased that the fence-mending has begun, and that Europe and the United 
States are working together to help Iraqis build better lives for themselves. “This kind of partnership on global issues needs to carry over to our trade 
relationship. In order to keep the partnership thriving, we must recognize 
trade for what it is — a sensitive element of every country’s sovereignty. Sometimes you lose, sometimes you win, sometimes you have an extended 
stalemate. It always has been that way.

“Trade is being impacted by the Internet much in the same way that other 
areas of society are. It has added an element of speed by creating efficiencies, 
like the ability to double or triple inventory turns, or streamline supply chains 
and procurement systems in ways that were not possible even ten years ago. I 
think going forward what you’re going to see are governments generally having to act more quickly. I’m sure Monsieur Lorraine can attest to that.”
 

Lorraine

“Certainly. Companies, too. The Internet has introduced an element of 
competition that has forced every company — French, German, American 
— to reassess what it really wants to be. Ten years ago, FranzCom offered 
just mobile phone service and paging. Now we offer text messaging, photos, 
email, streaming video, and wireless Internet access.”

Dimbleby

“Interesting. Commissioner Eatwell, how are you finding the Internet 
affecting what you do at the Commission?”

Eatwell

“Not so surprisingly, it is making bureaucracies more accessible to everyday people. The Commission has a reputation, sometimes deserved, sometimes 
undeserved, of being an insular bastion of grey suits making closed-door decisions about the fate of Europe. The Internet has allowed us to become far 
more transparent with the roughly 460 million people who now make up the 
European Union. Economically, it allows people to immediately see data 
about their own country vis-a-vis other members of the EU. Linguistically, 
it allows us to simultaneously post versions of EU law in all official languages, rather than waiting for paper. Culturally, EU citizens have an easier time planning vacations, or monitoring cultural events throughout the 
EU. One of the goals of the EU has always been to be borderless. The Internet is a tool that is making that happen.”

Dimbleby

“Thank you. Our next question comes from Mr. Philipe Wouters.”
 

Wouters

“My question is for Commissioner Eatwell. Commissioner, you mentioned that the Commission has a reputation of being a body of grey suits 
making decisions about the fate of Europe.”

Eatwell

“
I said sometimes deservedly, and sometimes undeservedly.”
 

Wouters

“Yes, thank you. Sir, we’ve seen an increasing number of mergers and 
acquisitions originating outside of Europe that have been rejected by Brussels, particularly from your office. In fact, you’ve earned a bit of a reputation for taking a hard line with global mergers. I can imagine that this is a new phenomenon for our trading partners. Is it likely to cause friction going forward?”