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Automatically translated version. May contain inaccuracies compared to the original.
Secret meeting on the eve of Mindich’s birthday
A super-secret agent of a super-secret service that doesn’t even have a name for secrecy’s sake (to confuse NABU, SAP and all six MI) was walking past the five-star InterContinental hotel on Saturday evening at the same moment guests from the Pinchuk YES forum were spilling out onto the street.
So many people on the street, especially foreigners — something secret is definitely happening here, the agent recalled his tradecraft courses and began studying faces.
The agent first noticed on the hotel’s porch a face resembling Davyd Arakhamia’s, who, although hiding in a jacket and jeans, like turtles often do, hadn’t managed to pull his head inside at the moment of danger.
From the fact that Davyd’s interlocutor wore shoes, the agent immediately understood that it definitely wasn’t Goliath. But because he wore a cap and had no name badge, it was immediately clear that he seemed to want to remain incognito.
Since the Continental hotel chain’s rules forbid even John Wick from committing crimes on hotel grounds, the men had therefore stepped outside. Got it! That’s it!
Without thinking long, the agent immediately tossed a surveillance-laden IQOS at the interlocutors’ feet and hurried away so as not to become an accomplice.
Mykhailo, what should people like us give someone like Tymur Mindich for his birthday?! — the relay began transmitting the conversation.
Who are “we”? — the journalist asked.
You won’t prove anything! Ihor is a figure of nationwide significance! And I’m not just talking about Terekhov now!
I think we should get him a factory or a bank! — Soros spoke through Mykhailo’s earpiece.
Another bank and another factory? We still haven’t taken the head of the parliamentary committee! — Arakhamia wheezed.
You don’t skimp on friends!
Koretsky said that almost everything has already been stolen, we’re even economizing on enemies now! So the best gift is a handmade gift! — Arakhamia declared.
But you already gave him a raid at Veselyi…
It’s not him, — Oleg, whose surname cannot be named because he’s currently preparing to defend his black belt at the Kyiv and region championship in not appearing on NABU and SAP tapes, quickly stepped out of the shadow toward the secret interlocutors.
And it’s not me, — Oleg repeated his “crown” and returned to the shadow.
Is that the same Oleg I thought of? — Mykhailo asked Arakhamia.
Don’t think about him! He doesn’t like that! — the bearer of state secrets and Balenciaga sneakers couldn’t contain his emotions.
Maybe you could give Mindich a spot on the negotiating team?
Does he have an anniversary?!
No
Umerov had an anniversary when they gave him one! — a man who didn’t look like the prosecutor general but resembled Ruslan Kravchenko slowly approached the secret interlocutors.
Excuse me, do you know where the nearest Ukrposhta branch is? — the man asked.
Where, where? In Vienna, — Arakhamia joked. Everyone laughed except Kravchenko and Mykhailo.
Ruslan, why are you carrying such a large suitcase? Are you going somewhere? — Arakhamia asked.
No! — Kravchenko replied and got into a black minibus with a Poland sign under the windshield.
I think he’s not going anywhere… — Arakhamia said.
Apparently… — Mykhailo replied.
Listen, well, I’ll probably give Mindich a Kyiv Regime T-shirt. First, it’s cheap, because I’ll give mine. Second, it will remind him of home while he’s in Israel. Third, it might be the only asset he’ll ultimately have left from us. That is, from Ukraine! — Arakhamia said, watching the minibus with Kravchenko.
It’s your call. I’ll probably go… Arakhamia pondered.
As Zaluzhnyi would say now… Wait! What’s the matter?! You mean envelopes?!
But the interlocutor’s figure was receding gradually but inexorably like the plans for a second term of those who came for one. Like the minibus with Kravchenko.
Suitcase, minibus. He definitely isn’t going anywhere, — Arakhamia thought, and as he bent to tie his shoelace, he saw the IQOS.
What luck! I’ll give it to one of my friends, — Arakhamia thought.
Excuse me, could you tell me where the Ukrposhta branch is? I want to send an IQOS to Monaco.
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