“Your accounts will be in our system tomorrow.”
“Okay, I will wire fifty million dollars into the account tomorrow from Union Bank Switzerland.”
Al-Zubaidy’s eyes opened wider. The reaction was involuntarily. “Yes, sir.” He put all his effort into maintaining a professional demeanor. “Please have the wire instructions list our street address and me as your contact.”
“Excellent.”
Masrov spent the next five minutes signing his name as the banker indicated what each form was for and where to sign. As soon as he was done, Masrov stood and thanked his host. He had an appointment to get to.
Thirty-five minutes later, Masrov was in the lobby of the Fortune Tower on Sheikh Zayed Road waiting to meet a real estate agent who was running late. After five minutes, Kara Livingston, a stunning British expatriate, walked into the lobby. She spotted Masrov instantly and strode across the lobby effortlessly. Her business attire and four inch pumps appeared completely out of place among the Muslim ethics of the United Arab Emirates. Masrov had been referred to her by Al-Zubaidy, being told that she was the top commercial real estate broker in Dubai.
As she walked up, Masrov realized she was looking at him eye to eye, matching his 5-foot 11-inch height. She was breaking every norm expected by the conservative Arab businessmen in the city. But her niche was finding office space and apartment rentals for the plethora of European, Asian and North American business people setting up shop in Dubai as their Middle East headquarters.
“Mister Masrov,” Livingston extended her hand. “What a pleasure to meet you.” If she was self-conscious about being late, she showed no sign.
The Russian was pleasantly surprised, his eye quickly scanning her left hand and seeing no ring on her finger. “Miss Livingston. The pleasure is mine.” The pair shook hands.
“Please call me Kara. Shall we head on up?”
“Of course.” Masrov said, smiling. He stepped to the side and swung his arm out. “After you.”
The elevator ride to the 32 floor took only seconds. Livingston bantered with her new client, not quite sure whether the discussion had passed over into flirtation. Walking off the elevator, she turned to her left and used a white scanner card to pass through the glass doors and into an unoccupied lobby that featured Persian rugs and a granite and mahogany reception desk.
“As you can see, everything in this building is one hundred percent first class, on par with the finest office buildings in London, New York or Moscow.” She added the last city in deference to her client. “You have 3,130 square feet in the northeast corner. The views are phenomenal.” She walked through a lobby door and down a short hallway. “Let me show you your new office.” She opened a three inch thick mahogany door hung on four gold-plated hinges. “Viola,” she said as she stepped in and out of the way of Masrov’s view.
The Russian stepped in and stopped. “Wow.” The corner office had floor to ceiling glass windows that formed an arced flowing corner. Outside, the many office and residential towers of the Jumeirah Lake area of Dubai formed the rapidly growing skyline of the most modern city in the Middle East. In the distance, the blue waters of the Persian Gulf shimmered in the afternoon sun.
“Fantastic isn’t it? You can see the Palm Jumeirah and the marina. This is the hottest area in Dubai.”
“What are the asking terms?”
“Eighty-eight dirhams per foot, escalating at four percent per year for five years. In dollars that’s about twenty-four dollars a foot to start.”
The Russian laughed. “The owners must think we are still in 2005. If they want to have a tenant in here then they better get real.” Masrov thought about the asking price, doing some math in his head. “If you can get me eighteen dollars U.S. per foot, I will take the space. And I want the first six months free.”
“I will take that to the landlord and see what they say.”
“Like I said, if they aren’t interested, I will see if I can get lucky with some of the other millions of square feet of empty office space in Dubai.”
The Russian started to walk out but stopped and looked at Livingston. “Are you are free this evening?”
Livingston laughed. “Um, right then… that was an abrupt change of topic.”
“I am Russian. This is the way we think.”
“Oh. What is it you are thinking?”
Now Masrov laughed. “Perhaps we should share that over some champagne. I am sure you can recommend an appropriate location.”
“You are being very presumptive, Mister Masrov.”
“You are not saying no, Miss Livingston.”
Kara Livingston blushed slightly and turned her eyes toward the view of the Gulf. “Touché.”
“Seven o’clock? I will pick you up.”
“Seven-thirty. I will meet you at Vu’s. Your driver will know where it is.”
The real estate agent turned to walk out of the office and back down the hall. “Did you want to see the rest of the space?”
“I have a good feel for what I am getting,” he replied.
“Now it is my turn to ask you something. How is it your English is so good?”
“Many years in London now.”
“But your accent is American.”
Masrov laughed. “Touché.” He was following her toward the elevator, enjoying the way she filled out her tight skirt. “I attended business school in America.”
“I see.” She turned right and passed through the glass doors dividing the lobby from the elevator landing. She held the door for her client.
“I am betting that you would not have guessed that,” Masrov responded.
Livingston nodded her head as she pressed the elevator call button. Her hair was shoulder length and had been dyed a sandy blonde, no doubt, thought Masrov, to cover any gray hairs that were always an unwelcome visitor. He judged her to be somewhere around 40, give or take a couple of years.
She stepped to the side, waiting for the elevator to arrive. She looked at the Russian. “Are you married? I won’t go out with married men.”
Masrov raised his left hand. There was no ring and no white line from a recently removed ring. “Are we going out, then?”
She looked him in the eye. “I need to hear you say it.”
“I am not married. I can assure you of that.”
She smiled as the bell rang, indicating the arrival of their carriage. “Neither am I. Please call me Kara.”
18 — The View
Masrov arrived at Vu’s Bar on the 51 floor of the Emirates Hotel Tower at 6:45 p.m. He told his driver that he would be anywhere from two to three hours. His late afternoon had been spent in another meeting, this time with an aviation attorney at the same firm of Heinrik Waddington. It was this specialty and this attorney that had caused Masrov to hire the firm in the first place. Forming companies was a commodity service, done online in the U.S. or Europe for about $100. But navigating the ins and outs of obtaining civil aviation authority was a specialty, one in which experience and connections were invaluable. Abraham Sanjoors was considered the best in the Gulf Region and Masrov was more than happy to pay his senior partner rate of $450 per hour for his advice. The meeting earlier in the day had been introductory, each man learning about the other. Sanjoors wanted to understand the goals and timing of Swiss-Arab Air Cargo and he wanted to set the Russian’s expectation on the amount of time and money required to obtain an Air Operator Certificate from the General Civil Aviation Authority of the government of the United Arab Emirates.
The Russian had reacted to the projected twelve- to eighteen-month timeline with anger, insisting that in Russia, any attorney worth his money knew how to bring about an expedited review. Sanjoors was offended by the suggestion, threatening to quit. Masrov was about to walk out in disgust when the junior attorney in the room, the associate who worked for Sanjoors, suggested another way to get the desired outcome. The firm was representing a small air cargo company that he thought would entertain an offer from Swiss-Arab Air Cargo. They owned two small turbo-prop Antonov AN-32 transport aircraft and barely broke even. He suggested that Abraham Sanjoors call the owner the next day. Masrov asked the obvious question: Can the authority be transferred? Sanjoors answered that it couldn’t be transferred, but if Swiss-Arab purchased the stock of the company, it would control the authority and could change the name of the company.