“I am told my portfolio is valued at twenty-one billion euros, or thereabouts. Is that a number that shocks you?”
Limonov was not shocked, except for the fact that the gossip had proven so close to the accurate number. Still, he said, “You have worked hard building your fortune, and you have worked hard strengthening our nation. You have excelled in both endeavors.”
Volodin went silent again, his eyes locked on Limonov’s. His thin smile was so tight his lips had lost some of their color. “Eight billion U.S. dollars, give or take, is held in banks abroad. My problem, Andrei Ivanovich, is that too many people know exactly where these foreign accounts are.”
Limonov knew the total number of people involved in establishing and maintaining Volodin’s riches was five, which didn’t seem to him to be a large number, especially considering the sums these men were dealing with and the number of accounts involved.
Still, he said, “Yes. The five bankers here at the Kremlin were necessary, however, because of all the financial intelligence required in order to ensure your assets were well hidden from outsiders.”
Volodin looked down at his fingernails. “So that nobody knows where my money is, many people have to know where my money is. Is that it, Limonov?”
Volodin seemed to be pointing out an irony, but Limonov wasn’t certain. He just nodded a little.
“The locations of my foreign holdings, these are banks also used by other members of my government, other individuals, other people in my circle who require offshore accounts.”
“Yes, sir. That is often the case. As it is with the network I have created, several investors here in Russia benefit from single entities that we have created as shells to—”
“The problem, Andrei Ivanovich, is that the more people who know where my money is, the more people who can either get to it or stop me from getting to it.”
“I assure you, no one knows where your holdings are. I’m sure your investment team went to unprecedented lengths to ensure this.”
“But you just told me five people knew. Not including me.”
“Well… yes, but I mean no one outside of the inner circle of accountants who you entrusted with your money.”
Volodin said, “Don’t you think the West is looking at people like those five technocrats? Don’t you think they will use them to get to me? All five of these men are tight with FSB, with other known groups that outsiders know of. Don’t you think it is just a matter of time before someone in the FSB will accept a bribe or a political rival will promise the moon and the stars to one of the men involved with my portfolio?”
Limonov had no answer, because he saw no solution to the problem. If Volodin wanted to stick his $8 billion in his mattress, he was welcome to do this, but Limonov felt certain that would be even more dangerous than having a deep network of bank accounts hidden under the names of dozens, if not hundreds, of trusts and shell companies.
He only said, “I feel certain your accounts are safe.”
Volodin shook his head. “Well, I feel less certain. I need to move money. I want you to help me. Only you. No one else must know. The fact that you turned down government work, you aren’t in the confidence of the FSB, and you are not a known Kremlin cashier will help obfuscate the fact you are involved.”
Limonov understood why he was here now. “I see. What percentage of your total offshore holdings would you like to move?”
“All of it.”
Limonov did not mask his shock. It would have been impossible to do so. “But why? I understand the sanctions have made many in the Kremlin nervous, but they won’t touch your money. They can’t. Plus, there is no indication the Americans are aware of specific holdings, and by moving money around, securing different locations, you will only draw attention from the Americans—”
“This is not about America. This is about home.”
Limonov thought for a moment, worked it out for himself. “Your assets were put in their present locations by men trusted by the FSB. Is there someone at FSB you do not trust?”
Volodin nodded. “Of course there is.”
“Well… Mr. President. I am no chief executive. But can’t you simply remove this person from his position? Replace him with someone you do trust?”
“No. Replacing my potential enemies with other potential enemies is more problematic than simply moving my holdings. You are not known at FSB as being one of my financial planners, so they aren’t going to be expecting me to give you this access.
“As it stands now, my personal assets are tied up in vehicles that are known to the FSB. In many cases they are controlled by the FSB. It is only via the goodwill of the Russian government that I have any money at all.”
Limonov understood what Volodin was really saying. The Russian president had created a nation where he, the chief executive, made all the rules. It worked to his advantage now, but where would this arrangement leave him when he was no longer the chief executive? Basing his future on the hopes that his nation’s intelligence service carried benevolent feelings for him wasn’t much to bank on.
Volodin wanted his money away from the gravitational pull of the next Kremlin leader.
Limonov couldn’t imagine Valeri Volodin lying on a beach in Tahiti with a fruity drink in his hand, living out his days. But that wasn’t up to him. Volodin wanted a golden parachute, and he was willing to pay Andrei Limonov to set it up for him.
Limonov said, “This… what you are asking, it will be very difficult. I have never dealt with the numbers you are speaking of.”
Volodin continued to speak as if he had not heard Andrei Limonov. “And we need to do this quickly. Speed is our friend in this endeavor.”
Limonov persisted. “The sums in discussion, even if I could mask the movement of the money, the arrival of the money somewhere else would cause certain suspicion. If I do this, I need to do this very slowly and carefully.”
Volodin just shook his head. “This must begin within the next month or two. I will need to see your plan before that.”
“This is an incredibly short time frame. May I ask what is the reason for the rush?”
“You may not. I understand your current assets under management are three billion dollars. You have also moved tens of billions of dollars offshore in the past several years. I need you to do that which you already do, but in a larger scale, and faster. Much faster.”
Limonov wondered if Volodin had any clue just how difficult this would be. In an instant he told himself, Of course he knows. He’s just putting the screws to an underling to do his bidding.
Volodin put his hand on Limonov’s shoulder, which did not convey the fraternity that he might have been intending. “Look, friend. You do this, your commission will be substantial. What do you think of one and a half points?”
Andrei Limonov was an accountant, a moneyman, so he could not help making a quick calculation in his head.
If he pulled off this impossible task for his president as directed, he stood to make $120 million.
In a matter of months.
A small gasp came from his already open mouth.
Volodin squeezed his shoulder. “Yes, I see you are interested in this partnership. I will leave you to get to work. Come up with a plan, and then we will discuss implementation. I will instruct my staff to give you access to me twenty-four hours a day. You do nothing without my knowledge.” He leaned in a little and offered a thin smile. “This scenario doesn’t give you power of attorney over my finances or anything ridiculous like that. I have to trust you more than anyone else to offer you this job… but that’s not saying much.”