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It had thus been decided, the Russians explained, that it would be preferable if my companion would agree to deal through another nuclear-weapons complex, this one in the Chelyabinsk region. If the businessman agreed, the three Russians were still willing to act as liaisons for the transaction. "You've met the KGB man," the scientist assured us. "There will be no problems. But for Chelyabinsk, they think it would be best if you make a development loan to a private company that has been set up, instead of buying the materials directly." As collateral for the loan, the company associated with the nuclear facility would deposit the appropriate amount of rare metals with a Swiss bank. Reaching under his coat, the former colonel extracted a sheaf of papers. "Here is a suggested contract. This way, it isn't reported to Moscow as an export sale, which avoids certain bureaucratic problems." Then came the clincher: when the deal was completed, the company that had received the development loan would be allowed to go bankrupt, and my companion would collect the "collateral" -- the rare metals -- from the Swiss bank.
The Russians smiled smugly. Perhaps they were simply intelligent, experienced men trying to adapt to a chaotic world and beginning to understand how free-market economies work.
