Saint Petersburg, Russia, Thursday 2:00AM.

The streets were nearly empty as the night’s freeze started to really settle in. The season was changing as fall was quickly ceding to winter. The temperature had plunged well below freezing and no self respecting person would be walking the streets at an hour like this.

However there were still places where entertainment could be found. Those few souls who happened to be roaming streets were most likely stumbling toward home after a night of drinking and dancing at places like the Neon Bar or the Fish Fabrique, where the techno beats would shatter the silence of the night as patrons exited. For ordinary people this was the top of the line. The most exclusive and exotic night of entertainment required an invitation to the Octyaberskya Enbankment.

Up to 125 invitations would be sent out on a given night and there were another 25 regulars who required no invitation. Once you reached this stratosphere the evenings entertainment was complimentary. The building had no name and those who had been inside simply referred to it as the Waterfall. Although they only spoke of it to others who had also spent a night at the Waterfall.

A night at the Waterfall would begin with an invitation personally delivered by a courier. The invitation was a thin slab of black marble with the address and time written in molten gold. The courier would hand the invitation to the desired recipient state that their presence was requested that evening and leave. Most expected the invitation and curiosity compelled the others to attend. A night at the Waterfall was a night that could never be forgotten.

Roman Denisovich Malenkov sat at his customary table at the Waterfall and smiled. There were still about 30 people in the room. Not bad for 2:00 am on a Thursday morning. This had been one of his smaller gatherings, only 75 invitations had gone out, but he had enjoyed the evening all the same.

Now that the crowd was thinning out and his need to mingle with his guests had been quelled for the moment it was time for several games of Texas hold ‘em. Four other middle aged men sat around the table ready to test their luck against the formidable skills of Malenkov.

Before any game could begin Malenkov needed to make sure his table was well stocked with refreshments. He rose his hand to ear height and snapped his fingers. A 19 year old waitress, who looked like she belonged with a modeling agency quickly glided to his side. Her black satin dress was over adorned with Swarovski crystals which glistened in the light provided by the multiple chandeliers hanging from the vaulted ceiling.

Malenkov had designed the uniforms for his waitresses personally. He admired this Russian beauty as she drew closer to him and his only regret was that he hadn’t removed a button or two from the top of the v neck collar or added a longer slit to the dress. Those were minor concerns.

“Katya, bring me two more plates of shashlik. Also I would like two more bottles of the Russo-Baltique.” Then he snapped his fingers and Katya faded from his view to fill his order.

Once she was out of sight she could breathe easily again. Each night it was getting harder and harder to put on another version of one of Malenkov’s uniforms. His ever present eye was starting to frighten her and being commanded by a snap of the finger was insulting. If only the money from each paycheck wasn’t so important. As she prepared to renter the dining hall she took a deep breath and steeled herself with a fake smile.

Before Katya could return Malenkov snapped his fingers again and Masha materialized by his side almost instantly. She was another young Russian beauty, wearing an identical uniform. “Bring me some cheese and crackers as well, and also a watermelon.”

“A slice of watermelon, sir?”

“No, no I want the whole watermelon.”

“Yes, sir.”

Masha walked with extra bounce in her step as she went to complete the order. The boss had finally noticed her and spoke to her. She was starting to get more time in the main room. If she played her cards as well as he did she might be able to parlay this increased access into something even bigger.

“Now gentlemen let’s get our game started. What do you say, we start the buy in at 1 million rubles?” Malenkov declared after his second waitress had been dispatched.

There were no objections from the other players. As the cards were being dealt Malenkov surveyed the room both for his personal pleasure and also to see if anything could be improved.

The 6,000 square foot banquet hall brought to life all of the grandeur of Saint Petersburg. Being built along the Neva River provided Malenkov opportunities to be creative in his design.

He did not disappoint. The south wall included a 40 foot wide by 20 foot tall waterfall feature that pumped water directly from the river before recycling it back into the Neva again. Marble paneling and gold encrusted frescoes were abundant. The grand chandelier was complemented by a circle of 12 lesser but none the less impressive chandeliers. Each contained thousands of diamonds.

Even after feeding 75 guests for four hours the main dinner spread was still lavishly stocked. Salmon, steak, and chicken dishes cascaded around 30 to 40 different sides. Most of the food would be discarded having never been touched, but as long as the presentation was impressive then the mission was accomplished.

Malenkov would indulge in whatever caught his eye and he constantly scanned the room. He was always looking for some sort of stimulant. Presently his gaze landed on a table across the room. Konstantin had been spending considerable time with Ruslan. They were probably swapping sordid stories unfit for polite society. He instantly started to imagine a conversation between the two of them. Malenkov soon got bored with that idea and his ever searching eye began to look for his next source of entertainment.

It was now that Malenkov noticed that Pavel was absent for the third time this week. He would have to check in on him tomorrow at work. Perhaps it was nothing but of late Pavel had seemed like a bit of a weasel. That made him wonder what a weasel would taste like.

He smiled again as he looked at his cards. It was good to be the king. Well at least in this castle. He had a pair of aces and a pair of queens. He licked his lips as Katya returned with his shashlik and the million dollar a piece bottles of vodka. His two plates were overflowing with the pork kebabs. His eyes moved back and forth from the plate of food to the waitress as if trying to decide which was more worthy of his attention. Once his food had been placed on the table his eyes lingered on Katya until she faded from view. Perfection all around.

Katya felt his leering eyes as she returned to the kitchen. The money wasn’t worth it anymore. It was only a matter of time before Malenkov acted on the highly inappropriate ideas she knew were swirling around in his mind. One more paycheck and then she would vanish. She would be totally helpless against Malenkov if he ever tried to make a move.

Malenkov was a giant of a man. He stood at six feet four inches tall and was pushing 325 pounds. He was a jovial man who counterbalanced the dour mayor of Saint Petersburg perfectly. As deputy mayor he knew his role and he played it well.

But after midnight his time was his own. Every week night from midnight until three or four in the morning he hosted some type of event. There were two things that were certain, the food would be otherworldly delicious and the women would be beautiful. On the weekends the parties would last until 7:00 or 8:00 in the morning.

Malenkov slept about 4 hours a day. He usually didn’t find his bed but would be found slumped slumbering in a chair with a drink or a half eaten platter of food beside him. No matter what happened the night before he was always in the mayor’s office at 10:45 every week day. He would rarely leave before 10:00pm. Once midnight hit he would join the party that officially started at 10:00.

Now Malenkov pushed 15 million rubles worth of chips onto the table as he said “I raise.”

At the same moment Masha brought her platter of food and spread it before Malenkov. The watermelon had been sliced and then quartered. Malenkov picked up a wedge of watermelon and took a massive bite. The juice from the watermelon was streaming down both sides of his mouth as he said “Do you fold Dmitri? Also Masha, the shashlik is no good, bring me a plate of chicken and a plate of salmon.”

Dmitri was literally half the man that Malenkov was. At five feet six inches and a light 135 pounds he was completely overshadowed by Malenkov. Yet he was not intimidated.

For 30 seconds Dmitri stared at Malenkov trying to get a read on his opponent. He watched with veiled disgust as the human trash compactor stuffed watermelon, cheese, and shashlik down his throat, even after complaining about how bad it was. When Malenkov finally reached for the vodka Dmitri spoke “Fold to a fat slob such as yourself? No, I don’t think so. I am all in.”

50 million rubles worth of chips were now pushed into the center of the table.

Malenkov laughed as he grabbed another piece of watermelon. “I love to watch you lose.”

Before he could say another word he heard the uncertain step of his personal secretary. He turned to see the man trying to decide when to approach him. Malenkov waved him closer and the aide walked up to him and handed him a message.

“This had better not be from the mayor. I am about to win 80 million rubles.”

“No sir,” the aide responded as Malenkov unfolded the paper.

There were two words written on it. As he read them he dropped the watermelon from his free hand. As it crashed onto the plate he read the two words again.

Inimicitia Aeterna

With the shock of the note subsiding Malenkov stood up laughed again as he picked up his cards and said “it is your lucky day Dmitri I fold.” Turning his attention to his aide he said “file the flight plan, we are wheels up in 30 minutes.” Returning his attention to his guest he said “Gentleman stay as late as you like, but my night has come to an end.”

He walked out of the room with his aide beside him, but his eye took one last look at his watermelon and at Katya as she handed Ruslan another drink.