"Well, I am sure you will enjoy the ballet then, but I also understand you enjoy the martial arts.", he said.
My eyes popped open at that. "That's quite true. I have black belts in both aikido and tae kwan do. I understand you are quite adept in judo." That was also in the briefing, as were several photos of him tossing people in hip throws while bare-chested. I gathered he thought it played well with the public. Where was he going with this? I flicked my eyes towards Secretary of State Powell and he looked confused as well.
"I simply was thinking about this evening. I know we are scheduled to go to the ballet, but I am a member of a dojo here in Moscow. I understand this is very much at the last minute, but I was wondering if you were interested in changing your schedule. I will understand if you can't, of course."
I sat back in my armchair and studied President Putin. There was a ghost of a smile on his face. It was a challenge, plain and simple, and a chance to see what kind of opponent he had in me. According to the CIA dossier, he was quite highly ranked. On the other hand, I probably hadn't been in a tournament of any sort since I got out of the Army, although I had continued training and practicing. Even now, as the President, I usually managed an early morning workout with a few Secret Service agents every other day. They had even begun teaching me Israeli Krav Maga combat, which I thought went well with my nature. It's a violent take-no-prisoners training, and the real fights I had been in, especially that one in the Bahamas, had been that style to me. Regardless, this was definitely a personal challenge, and my response was important.
Next to me Secretary Powell was stirring, and commenting, "It seems rather doubtful we would have time for both, and I am sure the ladies would like to see the ballet."
Putin, however, kept his eyes focused on me, and I looked back, not blinking. I nodded. "Da!" Then I pointed a finger back and forth between us, and then wagged it side to side. "You, me, no fight. Nyet!"
He barked out a laugh and smiled broadly. "Da!", and then rattled off some more Russki. "No, practice and some sparring, and we won't fight each other. Let us see what we are made of."
I grinned and nodded. "We fight and somebody loses, we end up in World War III! Not a good idea!"
He laughed some more. I glanced over at Colin, who looked horrified, and then turned to face one of the Secret Service agents in the background, who looked even worse. I gave them both a thumbs-up, which simply caused Putin to laugh harder.
We broke apart at that, adjourning our meetings until the morning, and we left to tell our wives the ballet was off. That was fine with me, since I'm not real big on ballet. It's better than opera, though. Regardless, once we were out of the building and back in the limo, Colin said, "Have you lost your mind?"
I smiled. "I think you meant to ask, 'Have you lost your fucking mind!?' Colin, he's testing me. It's a personal thing. He wants to know if he can back me down. I lose face if I don't."
"You'll lose face if you lose! What then?"
"I'd better not lose, then." I looked over at the agent riding with us. "Think I'm going to lose?"
Most of the time these guys are just in the background, but here I was putting him on the spot. He thought for a second, and said, "I don't know. Do you have to stick with straight judo? Or can you use other martial arts?"
"Good question. I don't know. We'll have to find out tonight."
He shrugged and smiled. "You're pretty good, sir. Not as good as us, but you'd give somebody in a tournament a run for their money."
"Oooh, money! Tonight, get the best odds you can, and put me down for $500. More if you can find a sucker." I looked at Colin. "Some bets you just can't lose!"
"Good Lord!", he muttered to himself.
Marilyn's comment when we got back to the hotel was a little more succinct. "You're an idiot!" Most everybody else seemed to agree.
I simply smiled and reiterated that there was a lot of face involved in this. On the other hand, I knew Marilyn wasn't going to enjoy watching a tournament. Not only did she find them generally unpleasant, but she didn't like seeing me at my most brutal. She looked rather unhappy. I looked over at one of the embassy staffers and said, "Call over to the Kremlin and tell them there has been a slight change of plans. Secretary Powell will escort both his wife and mine to the ballet. I will visit the dojo on my own. Make up some excuse if you have to. Tell them I don't want to lose in front of my friends." I turned to the others and grinned. "Maybe we'll get better odds."
Marilyn gave a quiet shriek and glared at me. Colin simply said, "You need to win, or you are going to look like a horse's patoot."
I nodded. He was right.
Marilyn calmed down quickly enough, and after a pleasant dinner in a private dining room with the Powells and the other staff, we broke apart to go our separate ways. Much of the conversation was about my planned idiocy, although nobody was quite ballsy enough (aside from the Secretary of State and my wife) to call it that. I did get a bit more info from a CIA type on Putin, who was the president of his judo club back in St. Petersburg, his home. He was considered quite good, but it was questionable if he had ever actually been in a real fight of any sort. In that regard I had much more experience.
We left about the same time. Alma gave me an amused look but didn't say anything. Her husband told me to not screw up. Marilyn told me not to hurt anybody. I just laughed and headed out with my detail and Ari Fleischer, who wanted to see how bad this was going to be and how he was going to have to spin it. "Nervous, Ari?", I asked him.
"Rule of thumb Mister President. Never do something unless you already know how it's going to work out. It's like what they teach you in law school. Never ask a question you don't already know the answer to."
"You'll never accomplish anything if you don't try something different. Either way, I can spin this to win the cooperation of Putin.", I countered.
"He doesn't vote."
I shrugged at that, but he was right. We both knew that this was going to get out. We had a big chunk of reporters with us on this trip, and while some of them would be decoyed over to the Bolshoi, some busy little beaver was going to figure out they were being snookered and find out about my little side trip. If they didn't get into the tournament, they would find somebody with a video camera.
I hadn't been in a real martial arts club in almost twenty years, but the smells brought me back. You could smell the perspiration from years of men working out and the industrial cleansers trying to combat it, scents that permeated everything, like a really clean locker room. You knew it was clean, but you knew that smell. I was directed to a locker room in the rear, where several other people were already changing out of their clothes and putting on their gis. Several looked at me curiously, but was it because I was the American President, or simply somebody new that they didn't recognize? I was shown to a locker, empty except for a gi that seemed to be in my size, and began changing. I was belting the black belt around my waist when President Putin, with an interpreter, came up to me.
"I am glad you could make it. I understand Secretary Powell and your wives couldn't make it. I am sorry to hear that.", he told me.
"Marilyn is not a big fan. I need to keep some peace in the family.", I admitted.
"Da! Very important!", he told me directly.
I smiled and agreed. He led me out of the locker room, side by side, and there was considerable applause from a packed bleacher section and from other members of the club when we appeared. This was a real club, and there were a number of different colored belts around the floor mats. Camera flashes began blinking, so I knew somebody had leaked the evening's festivities to the press. Too late to back down now.