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Political Scandal in Moscow

It was your first journey to Russia as a representative of the United States, you had been to Moscow before while as an undergraduate studying the Russian language as a World Languages minor, majoring in Political Science, with an eye towards running for office one. It was barely into your second year in Congress when you entered the coalition for LGBTQ rights along with other progressive members of the House, helping pass legislation to protect marriage rights and extend access for gay parents to adopt.

Now, it was different, and you felt the weight of the importance of this coalition of congressmen and women along with LGBTQ activists tasked with meeting with Russian officials in response to an American gay activist imprisoned in breaking their laws. Michael Corrigan had been arrested the week prior, and he was a constituent in your district.

Only a few months ago when the Russian President, Viktor Petrov, was at the White House meeting with President Frank Underwood regarding a joint military operation in the Jordan Valley. That meeting wasn’t successful, and that failure wasn’t lost on you, and relations between the U.S. and Russia soured further in the United Nations stepping in along with Israel and Palestine.

All this was the backdrop for this coalition visit to Moscow.

The flight was long, and during which you kept to yourself while reviewing the files on Corrigan: he had been an activist for over twenty years, married five years ago and his husband had pleaded with local officials and then met with you on request of the State Department.

One of your fellow congressmen was seated next to you and mentioned, ‘We might have a brief audience with Petrov. Don’t tell the others.’

You shook your head, ‘I doubt he’d even care to hear what we have to say on these issues; we’re nobodies in the House.’

He gave you a cynical grunt and went to another empty seat away from you. You gave him no mind, as you continued reading up on Corrigan.

Hopefully this meeting will at least bring some closure to his husband back home.

‘I told Michael not to go to Moscow,’ he cried over a phone call.

You felt his grief and offered only the blanketed statement of ‘I know,’ and ‘we are doing our best to bring him home.’ The words rang hollow even to you, leaving a bitter taste in your mouth after saying them.

The shuttle to the hotel was quiet, most of the others had fallen asleep on the flight and felt the grogginess of an interrupted sleep. You opted to stay awake for as long as possible, trying to stay on Moscow’s time zone, now close to midnight.

The streets were quiet as well, not much traffic, and Kremlin’s beaming lights struck you in awe as the shuttle drove passed.

Once inside the hotel room you showered and then set an alarm for 8am before falling asleep; tomorrow was going to be full to the brim with meetings and photo-ops, all of which will receive international attention and press.

The alarm rang off and the morning routine seemed like a foggy dream as you dressed for the day; questions from the press shouted in different languages as you and the coalition exited the shuttle and entered the Kremlin, the flashing lights of camera bulbs blinding you as a group photo was taken with a banner that read ‘FREE CORRIGAN,’ accented with pride colors.

Then the coalition was ushered into a conference room, beautifully designed with antique styled table and chairs, on the wall hung various portraits of artists, philosophers, and religious iconography, some of which you recognized. Tea, coffee, and baked goods were provided at the center of the table, ensuring this meeting will take several hours at minimum.

Your role within the coalition was two-fold, one was that Corrigan was from your district and the other was your proficiency in the Russian language. The Russian ambassador was there along with other ministers, some spoke with interpreters and others were fluent in English.

‘We are just concerned with the treatment of Mr. Corrigan,’ one of the elder congressmen asked, waiting for a translation to be done for him.

While the State Department supplied translators, as well as the Russian government, you felt the desire to offer your services since you were a native English speaker, therefore were better equipped to take in the subtly tone shifts often lost by non-native speakers.

The ambassador nodded towards the congressman and then turned to you, ‘I’m amazed at your proficiency in our language, Congresswoman N/A. Tell your colleague that Mr. Corrigan is receiving the best treatment of all our prisoners.’

You thanked the ambassador before translating the rest to the group, forgoing the mentions of his compliments to you.

It went on like this for over an hour, questions about the legality of Corrigan’s arrest, retorts about the laws’ implications for Americans visiting as tourists and the precedent this creates for other former Soviet satellite nations like Belarus or Moldovia.

As the hours dragged on it felt as if nothing was going to be accomplished that day, then a hushed tone came over the room as an attendant entered and whispered something barely audible for you to translate. The ambassador nodded.

‘It seems our president will in fact be joining us soon, briefly to give an update on Corrigan’s condition.’

Excitement spread the coalition with the one congressman who mentioned this on the flight looking smug as he knew this would happen.

President Viktor Petrov entered, a tall and proud man, leader of one of the most powerful nuclear nations, and all stood to greet him without hesitation. He replied in English for everyone to take their seats while unbuttoning his suit jacket.

‘Thank you for taking the time to meet with us, Mr. President,’ one of the congresswomen was beaming at the recognition they were receiving. ‘We understand how important your time is and appreciate you hearing our concerns.’

President Petrov nodded, ‘Of course, but you see this law will remain intact even if Michael Corrigan is released.’

Stone silence fell over everyone.

As you were the most junior member of the coalition and of the representatives you felt it wasn’t your place to say anything beyond the party line of ‘release Corrigan’ and ‘these laws are barbaric and inhumane.’

Nevertheless, bold action was needed, and you seized it.

‘Mr. President,’ you began in Russian. ‘I understand your sentiment on this matter, these laws were created to protect the tradition of the Russian people, as their faith has become a focal part of their identity since the collapse. However, you can understand that a wave of change towards gay acceptance has swept across the continent and not just in the West.’

President Petrov seemed amused by your boldness, not only to speak to him in Russian but also without the consent of the rest of the group. ‘Then you understand why I can’t bend to the sways of the West then, Miss?’

‘Congresswoman N/A,’ you replied sharply. The coalition watched in bewilderment, not knowing what was being said between you and the Russian president. None of the provided translators said anything, out of possible fear of retribution from their respective employers in government.

Petrov nodded, ‘My mistake, congresswoman. However, Mr. Corrigan knew the consequences of his actions if he came and deliberately set out to break them with the intended purpose of being arrested. Am I incorrect in this assessment?’

‘No, sir,’ you continued, ‘but he is a citizen of the United States and therefore should be released back to us.’

‘And yet he still broke our laws, should he leave without punishment then? What precedent would that set, hm? You’re very naïve to assume his release would happen because a handful of representatives flew all this way with a press junket at their side.’

Finally, a translator broke rank and began to give a whispered explanation to the rest of the group.

‘Corrigan will be tried, convicted and sentenced in the coming weeks, setting an example to the rest of the world the seriousness of Russia’s laws.’

Petrov’s eyes were hard and fixed upon you, and he looked at you like a school principal would after a bad student was sent to his office. However, his body seemed relaxed in his chair, he was in his element here and you were vastly out of yours. Embarrassment swept over you, and the heat of anger from the rest of your coalition burned into your skin without looking at them.

‘If I may,’ one of the congresswomen began, ‘Mr. President, we apologize for any assumption on our part. Congresswoman N/A was out of line in speaking to you in this way. May we meet with Mr. Corrigan? Just to confirm with our own eyes that he is being treated fairly and give this news to his family back home?’
Petrov nodded and turned his attention to the ambassador, whispering orders to him about escorting them to see Corrigan’s prison cell.
Petrov stood from the desk, always image conscience, fixed his suit jacket, ‘Please relay this message to your president that we do not fold on the whims of one man, not even if he’s American with a pocket of activists at his side.’

And with that, Viktor Petrov left the conference room.

The ambassador stood and guided you and the other representatives out the door. You purposefully stayed a bit behind the rest of the group, partly due to shame and the other partly due to fear of their condemnation, of which was inevitable.

Michael Corrigan looked well, given the circumstances of his arrest, but he made it clear he wasn’t leaving without the others he was arrested with.

‘Michael, we can’t help them, they’re Russian citizens, we’re here for you,’ a congressman stated, one of the more senior members of the coalition who had made this sort of activism his life’s work.

Corrigan shook his head, ‘You know more than anyone the cost of revolution, of change! I can’t abandon them here, to torture, to death!’

How selfish, you thought. He should want to be released so he can tell his story to the rest of the world, to inspire others. Then again, weren’t you just as selfish for being there, for speaking directly to the president of Russian without expression permission, for what? A brief moment of recognition.

Others in the group expressed aloud what you were thinking, how selfish Corrigan was being, he should want to see his husband and family again, all of it. Instead, Corrigan remained steadfast, refusing to relent.

A frustrated collective sigh was released by everyone as they left the prison cell. You turned back to get a final look at Corrigan, ‘I’ll have to explain over the phone to your husband, Michael. It will break his heart.’

‘I’ve already broken it plenty of times, this will be no different.’

You shook your head at him, and quietly joined the others. Once in the shuttle, that barrage of insults came, the ‘how dare yous’ and ‘where do you get off talking like that,’ and finally, ‘you’re so naïve to think you could sway the president.’

Emotions ranging from anger to disappointment were hurled at you, and all the while you sat in silence, taking it all in.

‘Why did even bother coming if not to confront Petrov?’ you stated plainly, trying hard to exhibit any emotion.

‘To show Russia we don’t abandon our own,’ the smug congressman spat. ‘And you didn’t believe me when I said Petrov was coming! The nerve you have to even talk directly to him. You’re only here based on Corrigan being from your district, that’s it. Be quiet and translate for us.’

‘And there it is,’ you retorted.

‘Yes, there it is, congresswoman. When we return to Washington, you will be censured and then voted out of committee. Oh, and wait until the Democratic leadership hears about this!’

A deafening silence remained for the rest of the ride back to the hotel.

When you reached your room, you noticed the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign was on the knob of the door. They can’t still be cleaning, can they?

Once inside you saw a man in a dark suit, clearly an FSB Russian security agent.

‘Congresswoman N/A,’ he stated in English with very heavy accent. ‘I am here to escort you back to the Kremlin.’

A sinking feel of dread consumed you. Oh no, you’re about to become a political prisoner, another example for Viktor Petrov to consolidate more power in Russia.
‘Am I to be arrested?’ you asked in Russian.

The agent stayed still, ‘You’re to come with me, that is all.’

‘Can I inform the rest of my group? Please, I have family back home that need to know the reason I’m being detained.’

‘There’s no time for that, do not make a scene.’ He pushes you towards the door and out into the hallway. His grip on your shoulders is tight and you try hard not scream or shout, but tears do start to fall onto your cheeks. Once in the lobby of the hotel two more FSB agents flank you, and there’s a black unmarked SUV they move you towards.

Once inside, that sinking feeling has deepened and you bite the inside of your cheek to prevent anymore tears. You plead with them in Russian to at least explain yourself, you didn’t mean to speak out of turn and will offer all the apologies possible to the president. The agents remain unmoved by your words.

There’s too much to take for you to create a plan, not of escape but one of gaining the sympathy of the Russian government.

The Kremlin looms over the car as night has crept up and the building lights beam through the darkly tinted windows.

The SUV stops and agents escort you out quickly. They take you to a side door and up some very discrete stairs, and you think it’s to an interrogation room; to your surprise it’s lavish, one similar to the oval office, and it dawns on you, this is Viktor Petrov’s office.

It’s empty and one of the agents tells you to take a seat on the leather couch.

You comply, what choice do you have at this point? You take in the décor of the room; how bold everything is compared to the White House’s oval. Pictures of diplomats, maps of the old Soviet Union, and paintings from famed Russian artists. The color palette was dark, with lots of browns and deep red and green colors, whereas the Oval has a softer palette, no doubt the touch of the First Lady.

It couldn’t have been more than five minutes before the door opens and President Petrov enters.

You stand to greet him. ‘Mr. President.’ You try and sound unshaken but know you’re failing at this.

‘Congresswoman, please this isn’t a detainment.’

Petrov motions you to sit back down and oblige him immediately, if you’re obedient maybe he’ll reconsider your arrest. He says it isn’t a detainment, but he was trained as a spy in the KGB, and any words he says must be treated as doubletalk.

You’re trying your best to stay cool and collected all the while your heart is racing.

‘Sir, I meant no disrespect earlier,’ you begin in Russian, ‘I only wanted to express our concerns for one of our own.’

Petrov looked amused, much like he did during the earlier meeting. His steel blue eyes never break from yours, almost like he is sizing you up.

‘Congresswoman, please, no need to lobby me, is that the correct term? Lobby? We are alone here.’ He answers in English, accented but still fluent.

‘Then why am I here, Mr. President?’ your throat is dry, and Petrov knows this is from fear.

‘Because I appreciate your boldness, congresswoman. Do you know how rare a trait it is in your people? There’s a lot of pomp and empty talk across the ocean, but once confronted, most people back down, but you,’ he sits up a bit, ‘you answered back to the challenger.’

All honeyed words to soften your resolve, to make you think he’s on your side.

‘Thank you, Mr. President, but if I’m not being detained, why am I here?’

A smile stretches across his face, ‘I like boldness.’

You can feel heat building as your cheeks redden.

This is all a ploy, a trap.

KGB spies are masters at coercion, seduction, deceitful tactics all in meeting their goals. But what was Petrov’s play here with you? You’re just a junior in the House, barely out of ‘training wheels’ as it were with politics.

‘Well, I thank you, again, Mr. President, but if I may then leave and return to my hotel. I’m sure my fellow congress members will be wondering where I am.’

‘If I may, congresswoman, before you leave, ask why did you enter politics? Hm, was it to make change or make a name for yourself, perhaps gather wealth or prestige?’

You smile to yourself, taken a bit back by his question, lowering your eyes from him in reflection, ‘I can ask the same of you, Mr. President, but if I answer you honestly, you’d laugh, call me naïve or childish to think I could accomplish anything in my short time in Congress.’

Petrov only grunts, ‘It's very American, yes? To think you can accomplish so much in so little time.’

You’re unsure how else to respond to him, so you shrug. ‘You’ve accomplished much since seizing control of the presidency in four years, passing anti-gay laws, invading lands that aren’t yours, threatening smaller former Soviet nations, and failing to meet on a compromise with my president with the Jordan Valley.’

A striking action on your part and you aren’t exactly sure where this came from, but if you can get under the skin of the man who has a nuclear arsenal, maybe it’ll be worth it. His face has become sullen, like a man who has heard this before but not to his face and not from some insignificant foreign politician. His body is also tense, sitting more upright than before.

‘Have you eaten yet, congresswoman?’ he asks. He’s deflecting, a tactic you know well from your time as a House member on the floor debating legislation. Your body matches the tension in the room, but you fold your hands over your knees to seem unbothered.

‘No, I haven’t but I should return to my hotel,’ you begin to stand but Petrov stands quicker. ‘You should eat with me.’

He moves quickly to the phone of his desk and barks orders for dinner to be brought, with two place settings. Petrov places a hand over the receiver, ‘How do you like your lamb cooked?’

‘Medium,’ you answer. If he’s going to offer a free meal, why not enjoy it as you like it. You’re still unsure why he’s so keen on keeping you here.

‘While we wait,’ Petrov motions to a cabinet and opens it revealing an array of liquors.

‘A drink.’ He takes out a bottle of vodka and two small shot glasses, pours them and brings them over to you. Now, he’s seated next to you on the couch rather than across from you, and this is beginning to feel more like a date than a meeting of two diplomats.

Petrov places the shot glass into your hands, ‘To you, congresswoman, and to your coalition’s endeavors.’

You hesitate, and Petrov notices this and drinks his.

‘It isn’t poison, what kind of leader would I be if I poisoned everyone who disagrees with me in this office?’

‘Not a very good one,’ you answer and then knock it back. It burns a bit; vodka isn’t your favorite choice of alcohol, and it definitely shows on your face.

Petrov laughs a bit at your expense, and then takes the glass from you and pours again. You begin to protest but he rebukes you immediately.

‘Please, please, congresswoman, how often do you get to enjoy a drink with the Russian president?’

He’s charming, and he knows it, and you know it. Fine, another drink.

‘To you, President Petrov,’ you clink the shot glass to his. ‘And to Michael Corrigan, may his release come swiftly.’ You knock the drink before he does this time. A buzz is definitely growing, it doesn’t burn as much going down a second time.

‘Do you believe that Michael Corrigan is a threat to Russian society?’ you ask.

‘No, I don’t believe that, but you were right earlier when you said this was meant to appease the religious beliefs of my people.’

You nod, ‘Then why not release him?’

His icy eyes stare deeply into yours, ‘I can’t do that to my people, Corrigan represents everything they hate about the West, and your coming here with other American politicians, making demands of release only proves their contempt further.’

‘Fair enough.’ You were in no position to argue back with him, though there was a part of you screaming to do so. He was a hypocrite, and you could tell the others this when you returned.

Petrov pours a third glass, and you fail to tell him to stop. No toast this time, but you still clink glasses and knock it back swifter than the last two.

‘Do you have a family,’ Petrov suddenly asks, placing the glasses down on the coffee table before you. The question throws you a bit. ‘Excuse me?’

‘A family,’ he repeats. The vodka, it seems, has already begun to affect your thinking. God, you’re such a lightweight.

‘I have a little boy,’ you answer.

‘But no husband,’ Petrov states flatly. You shake your head.

‘Divorced?’

‘Yes,’ you answer quickly. ‘You’re divorced too, if I remember correctly.’

Another smile returns to his hardened face, ‘I am. Free to do as I like, with whomever I like.’

It could have dawned on you sooner, but perhaps it’s the vodka that gave you clarity. So stupid.

‘Mr. President,’ you state slowly, ‘I apologize for everything I said in the meeting earlier,’ you begin to stand quickly, too quickly as the alcohol has made its affect known to Petrov. ‘But I do need to get going.’

Petrov stands as well, ‘Well, congresswoman, it is not every day I can share a drink with a lovely woman.’

You roll your eyes without care, ‘Viktor, you’re the president, you have a harem of women in your country who would looove to be here right now and have a drink with you, to be wined and dined. I am not them.’

‘Viktor?’ he asks with a little smile. He takes a step forward, but this only makes you more nervous than before, causing you to shift your weight and pull back.

All your good sense left your person, thanks to Petrov’s vodka. He chuckles, placing his hands in his pockets, ‘You’re right. But they’re not here now, and you are.’

‘What choice did I have? Your men threatened me in my hotel room.’

There’s a silence between you as you watch Petrov’s face, his lips are tight, but the rest of his face is still. He’s so hard to read or maybe you’re just not as clever as you thought you were.

‘I need to leave now,’ you’re trying your hardest to sound firm.

‘N/A, I will have my men return you to your hotel. Hopefully this exchange will remain between us,’ his voice is soft now. You nod, ‘No one needs to know I had a drink with you.’

Petrov tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. A part of you wished he kissed you and you feel immediately disgusted at yourself for that intrusive thought. He’s a warmonger, a thug, and he imprisoned an innocent man.

There’s a knock at the door and voice states that the dinner Petrov ordered is ready.

‘A shame your lamb will go uneaten,’ Petrov says.

‘Yes, a shame. Tell your men they’re driving me back to the hotel.’

He then barks orders at the door and two agents enter. Petrov tells them to wait and minute before taking your hand and clasping it with both of his.

‘Congresswoman N/A thank you for the enlightening discussion, have a safe trip home.’ He then presses his lips to your fingers and releases your hand.

---

When you return to D.C. there is a discussion of censure from the leadership but thankfully it goes nowhere, and you’re able to keep your position in the coalition. It becomes apparent that the congressman who threatened you was all hot air and didn’t press the issue further.

What surprised you the most was that no one knew you had a quasi-dinner date with Viktor Petrov after the failed attempt to release Michael Corrigan. You couldn’t quiet place that feeling, but it was a sexy one to have a secret like this.

There were moments where you found yourself thinking about him suddenly, his icy blue eyes that burned and could almost see into your soul. His cold voice that caused a shiver whenever you thought back to that exchange, the drinking and the questions.

Regret had seeped in as well, not having dinner with him, but it was the right decision. Would you have slept with him if you had stayed? The rational part of you said no, but there was that intrusive thought of, yes.

President Viktor Petrov was mainstream news again when the U.S. President, Francis Underwood and the First Lady and Ambassador, Claire Underwood, made their appearances on television to discuss the release of Michael Corrigan.

Good, you thought to yourself, Petrov will release Corrigan at the behest of the U.S. government, and possibly make changes towards that barbaric law.

However, this wasn’t the case as you read the morning news on your phone the following day, seeing that Corrigan had hanged himself in his cell the day before his release, and that Claire Underwood called Petrov shameful on live television. A bold move, and one that you respected.

Undoubtedly, the Underwood White House would make the call to Michael Corrigan’s husband, but you also felt the need to reach out as well.

There was no response but left the same hollow words everyone was: I’m so sorry for your loss, and please reach out if you need anything.