For the last four hours Abrahamovich Zhirnyy, founder and
CEO of Abraoil, Abragaz, Abranet and an assortment of other enterprises bearing
curious similarity in name had tossed, turned and toiled attempting to sleep. To
aid his endeavours Abrahamovich had tried the English method of counting sheep
jumping a fence. To his dismay he found the sheep consistently refused their
woolly fleeces and morphed into American oil executives gleefully skipping over
a derelict, Abraoil pipeline, evocative of the previous days’ trading on the
London exchange. The plummet of Abraoil shares would have made brokers of the
Great Depression pop champagne corks in celebration of their comparative good
fortune. Seeking alternative mind numbing distraction he poked his head over
the bed side to watch the alligators.
His wife had disagreed with him sharply on the notion of having carnivorous reptiles in an open pit that circumnavigated their bed. Abrahamovich had been insistent however that it served as a reliable deterrent to any potential hit-men, kidnappers or obsessive collectors of Renoir, of which four, almost certain originals hung in the bed chamber. Pointing out plans for bolting the bed to the wall and controlling the removable floor from the same did little to assuage her misgivings. She had volunteered to forgo this excellent and imaginative form of security to sleep in the room next door. Finally a, “hhrmphh-ahh,” indicated inner-peace was achieved and surrender to a comatose state.
His wife had disagreed with him sharply on the notion of having carnivorous reptiles in an open pit that circumnavigated their bed. Abrahamovich had been insistent however that it served as a reliable deterrent to any potential hit-men, kidnappers or obsessive collectors of Renoir, of which four, almost certain originals hung in the bed chamber. Pointing out plans for bolting the bed to the wall and controlling the removable floor from the same did little to assuage her misgivings. She had volunteered to forgo this excellent and imaginative form of security to sleep in the room next door. Finally a, “hhrmphh-ahh,” indicated inner-peace was achieved and surrender to a comatose state.
Few men have a natural inclination for diplomacy when roused
from their slumbers earlier than usual. Fewer still if their nocturnal rest has
been hacked back to a mere two hours and eleven minutes. Such was the case for
Abrahamovich when a four-thirty tap on the door arrested his blissful state.
The oligarch muttered some choice words in his native tounge, hazily considered
buzzing the door open and letting the inconsiderate buffoon supplement the
alligators diet, but remembering that unlike last week in North Korea such
liberties were frowned upon in England. Sighing he put the floor in place and
admitted his butler, Sanderson.
Not unlike his employer, Sanderson had ejected his emotions in a short yet virile tirade, Elizabethan in nature when the door- bell summoned his presence at the unearthly hour of four-twenty. Hugging on his dressing gown, he proceeded, cricket bat in hand to the front door. The peep hole revealed the hulk of a figure, verging on an overgrown silver-back gorilla breathing heavily, rapidly depleting London of its oxygen quota. Upon such an unsolicited sight at such an unseemly hour most Londoners might have felt a platoon of Royal Marines recommendable. Instead Sanderson, long born of experience groaned, then gritting his teeth started the tedious task of de-barricading the principle portal of the Zhirnyy residence. Turning a bleary eye to the caller he mustered a neutral expression and accosted him.
“Good morning Mr Rachmaninov, what can I do for you.”
"Where ze bosz?"
"Oddly enough he's asleep," replied Sanderson, professionally suppressing any trace of sarcasm.
Boris Rachmaninov became increasingly agitated.
"I need see 'im now!" lending emphasis to his words with a jutted jaw.
Sanderson, coldly but politely asked if Mr Rachmaninov would wait in the hall. Boris answered rudely and with considerable heat that he would not. He chivied the unfortunate butler upstairs with himself in close succession.
Sanderson's announcement of Mr Rachmaninov did little to allay Zhirnyy's ire. As a rule, unlike Sanderson, Zhirnyy was fond of Boris; a useful heavy-weight body guard cum bully, depending on the requirements of the occasion. Boris did however have an unfortunate penchant for first rate blunders in the bits of free-lance thuggery and smuggling he engaged in. More than once Abrahamovich had been roused from sleep by urgent tales of woe coupled with more urgent requests for money, lawyers and in one instance a bazooka.
Zhirnyy fixed Boris with a gimlet eye and Sanderson, reckoning Mr Rachmaninov's chances of survival were standing at about 3 to 1, discreetly withdrew. Zhirnyy's breathing was slow and measured, his nostrils flared and white. Unusually though, Boris stood his ground and still catching his breath ignored his boss's ill concealed fury.
"Bosz, der monkies haf captured zer banana boat!"
Abrahamovich's face transformed to that of an expired cod on the fishmonger's slab and challenged a Siberian landscape for whiteness. Slowly the power of speech returned.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes bosz!!"
"Not just a few bananas, or a crate but the whole banana boat?"
"Da, da!"
Zhirnyy fixed Boris with a gimlet eye and Sanderson, reckoning Mr Rachmaninov's chances of survival were standing at about 3 to 1, discreetly withdrew. Zhirnyy's breathing was slow and measured, his nostrils flared and white. Unusually though, Boris stood his ground and still catching his breath ignored his boss's ill concealed fury.
"Bosz, der monkies haf captured zer banana boat!"
Abrahamovich's face transformed to that of an expired cod on the fishmonger's slab and challenged a Siberian landscape for whiteness. Slowly the power of speech returned.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes bosz!!"
"Not just a few bananas, or a crate but the whole banana boat?"
"Da, da!"
