Free Web NovelI kept my expression just as hard as his and continued.
“When I first met you, Mr. President, I told you I wanted to be your friend. I have no interest in Russian politics or domestic affairs. Still, even though I half-expected it, it doesn’t feel good to know others don’t see it that way.”
The flicker of emotion that had appeared on Putin’s face vanished in an instant, replaced by his usual expression.
“Ivanov came to see you? And told you to stay away from me?”
“He showed up unannounced and got straight to the point—asked what my intentions were in being near you, told me to stop meddling in ★ 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ★ Russia, and that Russia belongs to Russians.”
There had been more to the exchange, but I stuck to the essentials.
There was no need to recount every word.
“Is that your opinion as well, Mr. President?”
Putin just looked at me in silence.
“I’ll give up the Gazprom shares and everything else you promised me. I’ve no intention of being insulted as if I’m clinging to you for some meager profit.”
“Mr. Kim—”
Instead of answering to his low call, I finished speaking.
“I’ll keep my word. I’ll continue to manage your slush fund.”
I made my tone deliberately formal and rigid—to signal distance.
“But I don’t know if I’ll return to Russia again.”
Putin stared into my eyes as if trying to read my true intent.
If things weren’t settled now, the chances of continued checks and interference from his people would only grow.
Better to draw a clear line while I could.
“Hm...”
Putin let out a low sound, closed his eyes, and tapped his forehead with a finger, deep in thought.
I had a good idea why.
Without the siloviki’s backing, it’d be harder for him to seize the near-imperial power he wants—so of course he’s weighing it.
I poured vodka into the glass with his ice and waited for his thoughts to run their course.
At length, his lips parted.
“...It’s only natural Ivanov would be wary of you. He’s finally gotten a chance to return to the center of power, and there’s plenty of competition from oligarchs and even Medvedev.”
Putin opened his eyes and downed the vodka in one go.
“But even so, visiting you like that clearly crossed a line. I’ll warn him, so I hope you can let it go.”
“You’re just going to warn him?”
“To weaken the oligarchs, I need a force to counterbalance them.”
The siloviki were supposed to be his instrument for consolidating real power—yet here they were, already causing trouble.
A faint crease formed between his brows.
“That’s why I chose people from the KGB and the military.”
“I understand, Mr. President.”
“Ivanov is one of the most prominent KGB veterans. Not just because we trained together—he gets along with everyone from the intelligence world.”
He poured himself another glass, looking frustrated by this unexpected turn.
“I haven’t secured complete control yet. Since my days as acting president I’ve been slowly filling positions with my own people, but there are still too many officials tied to the oligarchs.”
A heavy sigh escaped him.
Still turning his empty glass in his hands, he spoke quietly.
“As much as I’d like to get rid of Ivanov, it would hinder my reforms. I hope you can be generous enough to understand.”
I could understand his position.
But the stronger my foothold in Russia, the harsher the pushback would become.
If I showed any sign of stepping back now, others would think they could treat me lightly.
“What if there’s an alternative?”
“An alternative?”
“Gusinsky’s already a done deal, so that’s not the problem... The real issue now is Berezovsky and his cronies, isn’t it?”
At the mention of the oligarchs holding power, Putin’s expression darkened.
He nodded slowly.
“If left alone, he’d make me his puppet. I’ve always known what he’s like, but this time he’s gone far beyond the line.”
And he wasn’t just talking about the Gusinsky investigation.
Berezovsky thought he’d made Putin president and was trying to pull his strings at will.
“Not only did he interrupt my conversation with you at the inauguration—there’s everything else.”
His voice was edged with anger at the memory.
“Mr. President, in the end, replacing Berezovsky with the siloviki changes nothing. They’ll use you just the same.”
“I may have elevated them, but if they act against me, I won’t forgive it—whoever it is.”
The way he ground out the words left no doubt.
When he later appointed Mikhail Kasyanov as prime minister, Kasyanov would turn on him, becoming an opposition politician.
Putin had destroyed him without spilling blood—by releasing a secretly filmed sex tape online and unleashing a flood of allegations, effectively erasing him from political life.
He’d even been suspected of ordering assassinations to remove opponents.
“I called you here to drink and talk lightly, but I guess that’s out the window. You said you had an alternative? Let’s hear it.”
His anger subsided, his face returned to neutrality.
“Use the person who knows Berezovsky’s weaknesses best. Through him, gather the oligarchs who will pledge their loyalty to you.”
The name forming in Putin’s mind was the same one I had in mind.
Yes. He’d do nicely.
“If you try to take down all the oligarchs at once, the national economy will be thrown into chaos.”
“I don’t intend to remove them all. Someone who knows Berezovsky’s weaknesses best...”
He seemed to be searching for the answer, but it didn’t come readily; his mouth set in a downward line.
I spared him the trouble.
“Chairman Roman, of course.”
“You think he’d betray Berezovsky? The man’s like a foster father to him.”
“Mr. President, Roman must have enough evidence to have Berezovsky arrested tomorrow if he wanted to.”
“...Hmm.”
The reason it had taken over a year to remove Berezovsky was the lack of solid evidence to lock him away.
In the end, all Putin had been able to do was apply political pressure—buying Berezovsky the time he needed to escape abroad.
From there, Berezovsky became the face of anti-Putin sentiment overseas and a lasting thorn in his side.
But with hard proof, Berezovsky could be put away for good.
“Tame the oligarchs into a single faction supporting you, and build up the siloviki as a counterweight—let them check each other.”
“That’s exactly what I was thinking.”
Hearing his own strategy echoed seemed to please him; a faint smile crossed his face.
“If you extend your hand, Roman will take it. He’s a master at aligning himself with the winning side.”
In the original timeline, Roman had betrayed Berezovsky anyway.
I’d just be pulling the trigger sooner.
“But it needs to be done quickly. Otherwise, Berezovsky will run abroad—and even in exile he’ll keep attacking you.” ƒrēewebnoѵёl.cσm
“Exile, hm...”
“Petty criticism is one thing, but international opinion is another matter entirely.”
If he cared about his image, he wouldn’t resort to something as crude as an open assassination.
Putin had never cared much for public opinion.
“Besides, if he defects to the U.S. or the U.K., then you can’t kill him. Doing so would mean accepting a diplomatic incident.”
Of course, whether Berezovsky went into exile or not, Putin would find a way to have him killed.
Physical means weren’t the only way to destroy a person.
I thought of Berezovsky, years into exile, essentially bankrupt, found hanging from a noose.
“Better to lock him up in a Russian prison and have him spend the rest of his life there.”
“If Roman switches sides, it would make things easier. Most of Berezovsky’s dirty work was done by him.”
“Guarantee his safety and give him a big enough reward, and he’ll switch. Probably hand him a few of Berezovsky’s companies.”
After Berezovsky fled abroad, Roman had eventually surrendered to Putin.
Putin, taking in what was essentially his foster son, had secured the loyalty of the oligarchs.
“If that happens, there’s no reason to give the siloviki too much power. Let them keep each other in check.”
“Exactly! That’s exactly what I wanted. Mr. Kim, you always seem to read my mind. There’s no one else who says exactly what I want to hear like you do.”
The bright smile returned to Putin’s face.
“So this is enough of an alternative, Mr. President?”
“More than enough. We can shorten the timeline, too.”
Not just shorten the timeline—the entire power map would be reshuffled.
Seeing that he was in a good mood again, I said what I’d been planning to.
“Raise Medvedev—someone who belongs to neither the oligarchs nor the siloviki.”
“Medvedev?”
“Without your backing, Medvedev has no faction of his own. His power comes entirely from you, and no one knows that better than he does.”
“Hmm...”
“Trust him, Mr. President. He’s your man anyway. Not that he’s likely to think otherwise, but if he ever does, you can take back what you’ve given him.”
Putin didn’t answer right away, so I pressed the point.
“Medvedev will naturally be kept in check by both factions. Without your support, he’d collapse quickly.”
If the oligarchs and siloviki were locked in a tight balance of power, desperate for even a scrap of Putin’s favor, it was only a matter of time before they decided Medvedev’s very existence was an obstacle.
“You’re planning to put him in charge of Gazprom because you trust him, aren’t you? You can afford to give him a little more weight.”
Finally, Putin’s expression eased into satisfaction as he raised his glass.
“Let’s have a drink.”
We clinked glasses, and I downed the vodka he’d poured me.
“Vodka really is the best.”
Putin murmured with genuine pleasure. The Russian love for vodka was no joke—every drinking partner I met here seemed to sing its praises.
As the drinks went back and forth, we made light conversation, touching again on today’s address.
When the mood had warmed enough, I brought up Ivanov again.
“I’ve given you an alternative. Now I’d like you to hand Ivanov over to me.”
Putin, still holding his glass, looked at me.
I caught the subtle shift in his expression.
“Hand him over?”
“Yes.”
“Wouldn’t that be difficult for now? The siloviki would push back hard.”
As expected, Putin took a small step back.
This was the time to stand firm. I let my face show clear disappointment.
“Even after I’ve given you an alternative, you’re more concerned about them than about me.”
“Mr. Kim...”
He called my name softly, but I didn’t back down.
“I told you I’d give you every form of support. Money if you need money, corporate acquisitions if you need acquisitions, and advice if you need advice.”
He couldn’t just brush that aside.
Even knowing my words were calculated, it still made my throat dry to speak so directly to the Tsar of Russia.
“Are you only planning to use me when it suits you? The friend I know and the friend you know seem to be entirely different people.”
The smile left Putin’s face, replaced by a flat mask.
The air grew heavier.
“Are you disrespecting me, Mr. Kim?”
“Mr. President, I think you’ve got that backwards.”
I didn’t look away from his glare.
Our eyes locked in mid-air.
“What you’re doing now feels that way to me.”
“If I didn’t respect you, I wouldn’t even bring this up. I’d handle it myself, leave Russia, and never come back.”
Hearing the same words again, Putin downed his vodka in rapid succession, as if to relieve the pressure.
“This isn’t just about me being insulted—it’s about you being disrespected. If he’s doing this before he’s even secured his position, what happens when the siloviki have the oligarchs’ level of power?”
I hadn’t intended to put emotion into my voice, but a chill crept in anyway.
“Think of it as using Ivanov to give them a wake-up call.”
“...An example.”
“Yes, an example.”
Discarding Ivanov, the emblem of the siloviki, would not be easy for Putin.
He stayed silent for a moment, deep in thought, then asked me:
“What do you intend to do, Mr. Kim?”
“Kill him.”
“Kill him? That won’t be easy. His security detail is extremely capable.”
I already knew that.
But “not easy” didn’t mean “impossible.”
“I’ll handle that myself.”
“What do you need me to do?”
“Keep the other siloviki from interfering.”
If they got involved, Ivanov would be untouchable.
Not only were their personal security teams top-notch, but they controlled the military.
“That’s all?”
“Yes. I’ll do it myself—as a warning to both the oligarchs and the siloviki.”
In a country with proper law and order, it would be impossible—but Russia was still a place where mafia groups could have shootouts in the middle of Moscow.
It would be years before the government’s full-scale crackdowns would bring security under control.
“Do as you please. I’ll make sure the siloviki, the police, and the military stay out of it.”
“Thank you.”
“Now, enough of these headaches—let’s hear more about you, Mr. Kim.”
We drank and talked until midnight, covering everything that had happened so far.
By tomorrow, Ivanov’s mansion in Moscow would be echoing with gunfire fit for a battlefield.
