Kiev, Borispol Airport
The sleek special plane carrying the cultural exchange group glided smoothly onto the tarmac, coming to a gentle halt. Martin gazed out of the window, taking in the sight of the lively welcoming crowd gathered below. This official event had the Ukrainian government rolling out the red carpet, sending high-level officials to receive them.
Martin was not the only Hollywood star to step off the plane. Sharing the flight were two-time Oscar winner Sean Penn, maverick director Abel Ferrara, and the charismatic Ukrainian-American actress Milla Jovovich.
As the cabin door swung open, U.S. officials disembarked first, greeted warmly by Ukrainian personnel. Following them, one by one, the art world celebrities emerged, including Martin, stepping into the cool Kiev air.
A grand welcoming ceremony awaited them on the tarmac. Blond, blue-eyed students in traditional dress approached, presenting each guest with flowers. The air buzzed with excitement and cultural pride.
Amidst the flurry of introductions, Alexandrovich pushed his way through the crowd, reaching Martin with a vigorous handshake. "Boss, I finally waited for you!" he exclaimed in English, his eyes gleaming with enthusiasm.
Martin handed his bouquet to Bruce, his trusted assistant, and joined the group heading towards their cars. "I can feel Ukraine's warmth," Martin remarked as he walked. "This place reminds me a bit of Atlanta."
Each VIP had a private car arranged, and Martin soon found himself driving through the historic streets of Kiev, heading to his luxurious hotel. After a swift check by Bruce, ensuring everything was secure, Martin settled into his lavish suite, its elegance a testament to the city's opulence.
Alexandrovich followed closely behind, ready to discuss business. Meanwhile, Milla Jovovich and Sean Penn were packing their bags, preparing to explore the city. "We're going out to have a look around," Milla said, turning to Martin. "Want to join us?"
Martin glanced at Alexandrovich, weighing his options. "Sorry, I have some work to attend to. You guys go ahead," he replied, his tone polite but firm.
As Sean Penn and Milla Jovovich headed out, Milla couldn't help but wonder aloud, "Has Martin Davis' business expanded to Ukraine?"
Sean Penn nodded knowingly. "Strictly speaking, he's more than just an actor now. Rumor has it he's worth over $2 billion, making him the richest actor in Hollywood and a significant player in the industry."
Milla's eyes widened in surprise. "Is it really that much?"
"Outside estimates can be off," Sean explained. "Martin Davis doesn't have a publicly listed company, and many of his assets are private. But I'd say at least $2.5 billion, maybe more."
Milla shook her head in amazement. "Even if he's not the richest, he's definitely in the top three."
Back in the suite, Martin invited Alexandrovich to sit. The Ukrainian, though not particularly tall, cut an impressive figure in his formal suit, his presence commanding the room.
Martin broke the ice. "I've read the report you sent. Excellent work."
Alexandrovich beamed. "The auditions have been a hit across Ukraine, Russia, and Belarus. Ratings are sky-high in many Eastern European countries."
He continued with enthusiasm, "Our selection process isn't just about talent, but also looks and appeal. Viewers love it, and they get to vote for their favorites, which boosts engagement."
Martin nodded, drawing parallels to the success of American Idol and its predecessor, Super Girl. Audience participation was indeed crucial.
"We've already secured $22.15 million in advertising revenue," Alexandrovich reported. "The rest will go to the broadcaster '1+1' as per our contract."
"And the finals?" Martin asked, leaning forward.
"The finals are a sensation across Eastern Europe and the former Soviet Union. We expect our ad revenue to be two to three times that of the regional competitions."
Alexandrovich paused, then added, "Boss, the finalists are thrilled at the possibility of you judging. Could you visit them tomorrow?"
Bruce, observing the enthusiastic Ukrainian, pondered if Martin was selecting talent for a show or assembling a new entourage.
Martin, having little interest in the formalities with high-level officials, made a quick decision. "Let's set it for tomorrow morning. Pick me up early."
Alexandrovich's eyes sparkled with gratitude as he confirmed the arrangements, the anticipation of tomorrow's visit adding an extra layer of excitement to the cultural exchange.
Alexandrovich offered a warm farewell before departing, leaving Martin to relax and prepare for the evening's event.
As dusk settled, the Ukrainian government hosted an opulent banquet, a grand affair attended by Martin and the entire cultural exchange group. The ballroom shimmered with crystal chandeliers, casting a warm glow over the distinguished guests.
Reporters buzzed around the event, eager for interviews. Martin, ever the professional, handled the media with ease. "I have deep roots in Ukraine and have always collaborated with Ukrainian artists," he began, his voice confident and sincere. "Napoleon's Beauty, starring the remarkable Alexandrovich, was a project my studio proudly invested in. Additionally, the hit show Servant of the People, which has captivated audiences across Eastern Europe, is another testament to our fruitful partnership."
Unlike many of his peers who talked a big game but rarely followed through, Martin was a man of action, genuinely supporting fellow artists in Ukraine.
The media thronged him, their questions rapid-fire. One voice rose above the rest, "Alexandrovich mentioned he invited you to judge the finals of the 16th Saint Girl Group Selection Competition. Is that true?"
Martin nodded solemnly, "Yes, I've decided to accept Alexandrovich's and 1+1 TV's invitation."
Another reporter chimed in, "Alexandrovich credited you with inspiring him to write Servant of the People?"
Martin chuckled, waving off the compliment. "He's being modest. The idea was all his and his team's brilliance." He gestured expansively, recounting, "One day, Alexandrovich shared his vision for a TV series with me. I watched it and knew it was something special."
Spotting Alexandrovich on the periphery, Martin pushed through the crowd and pulled him close, draping an arm around his shoulders. "This man is a super genius, a true people's artist. When I first saw the script for Servant of the People, he said he wanted to use art to awaken the Ukrainian spirit."
Alexandrovich gazed at Martin, his eyes filled with respect and gratitude. The acknowledgment was more than he had ever received from any other collaborator.
Martin continued passionately, "Our friendship symbolizes the rich cultural and artistic exchange between America and Ukraine."
"Absolutely!" Alexandrovich agreed, shaking Martin's hand firmly in front of the cameras. "Our bond is stronger than the Caucasus Mountains!"
The two men became the centerpiece of the evening, their camaraderie and mutual respect radiating through the banquet hall. Martin's high-profile presence was unavoidable, both due to his public visit to Kiev and his involvement in numerous official events. His status in Hollywood made anonymity impossible.
Moreover, Martin's conspicuous participation served another purpose, it underscored his official capacity and the significance of his visit amid the complex geopolitical landscape. Ukraine, caught between the influence of NATO and pressure from Russia, faced a precarious balance. Martin's presence was a subtle reminder of international support.
In a plush suite at the Interstate Hotel, Lynch from Los Angeles dialed Michelle Bryan. "Boss, I acquired the goods the client requested. They'll be shipped to North America soon; someone will need to collect them."
"Understood," Michelle replied crisply. "Have you located Nikia?"
"Yes," Lynch confirmed. "She's back in her hometown, participating in the Saint Girl Group selection competition and has made it to the finals."
Michelle's tone hardened. "No one takes my money and lives freely. No one!"
"I get it," Lynch assured. "Boss, don't you think our inventory needs refreshing? Eastern Europe has an abundance of beauties, and the prices are shockingly low. This region truly is the womb of Europe."
Michelle considered this. "What's your suggestion?"
"There are 15 finalists in the Saint Girl Group competition, but only three winners. I've reviewed their profiles, they all have exceptional looks and figures. If we bring them over, they could be top earners for us."
Michelle, well aware of the quality of their Eastern European 'goods,' agreed. "Slavic women, as long as they remain unmarried and childless..." She left the thought unfinished, the implication clear.
Linqi added, "Pulling some of the eliminated contestants from the Saint Girl Group finals is also a big selling point for us. The best among them can be sent to the higher-ups."
Michelle, always quick to recognize a good idea, praised, "You're getting smarter, huh?"
Linqi, hearing a knock at the door, responded quickly, "Of course, it's you who sent it to the higher-ups, boss."
Michelle queried, "Is it easy?"
"It shouldn't be difficult," Linqi replied, already formulating a plan. "After winning the regional finals, the contestants gather in Kiev for unified training. Most come from ordinary families."
He paused, choosing his words carefully. "The economic situation here is dire. When these girls arrive in Kiev, they stay in luxury hotels, are chauffeured around, and treated like celebrities. But when they're eliminated, all that luxury vanishes. After experiencing such an extravagant lifestyle, how could they go back to their previous, modest lives?"
Michelle laughed heartily. "You truly are a genius at dragging people into trouble."
Lynch continued, "I'm working on ways to contact them. This will offer them another choice. When they're eliminated, they'll be desperate for an alternative. I'm giving them a dream route to America."
Michelle reminded him, "And Nikia. If she wins and becomes a member of the Saint Group, dealing with her in Kiev will be very troublesome."
Linqi assured, "Boss, don't worry. I'll make sure she pays the price!"
Michelle hung up, and Linqi put away his phone, signaling his assistant, Andre, to step up. "Your team needs to speed up. We're moving too slowly!"
Andre explained, "The organizers have tightened security at the hotels and training venues to prevent journalists from sneaking in. It's been difficult to contact the athletes."
Linqi wasn't interested in excuses. "We can't waste any more time. We're not the only ones eyeing this batch of high-quality goods. If they're not chosen, they might look for other opportunities."
Andre assured him, "We've contacted some service personnel and should see results soon." He asked, "What's the exact pitch?"
"These girls have dreams of becoming big stars," Lynch said, his strategy simple yet effective. "Where's the most developed place in the entertainment industry?"
"America, Hollywood," Andre replied automatically.
"Exactly, Hollywood! Los Angeles, to be precise," Lynch said, confidence radiating from him. "With the allure of Hollywood, they're likely to bite. We need to appear as a legitimate company in Kiev, from contracts to personnel, and maintain a professional front."
Andre nodded. "You handle the professional side, Boss. The local team and I can manage the rougher work."
Linqi, ever prepared, handed Andre several work permits, company documents, and proof of business dealings with Ukraine. "Show them these first. This entertainment company is registered in Los Angeles and has a decade-long history. It's even participated in some movie investments. I'm not worried about any questions."
Andre, impressed, said, "Boss, you're very thorough."
Lynch continued, "I'll draft the contracts myself to ensure they look authentic. We can offer $2,000 as a resettlement allowance. Once they're in Los Angeles, it'll be much easier to manage them."
The distance from Eastern Europe to North America posed challenges. The Ukrainian 'goods' they bought often arrived damaged. High-quality goods were rare since most were sold in France before reaching North America.
As Andre prepared to leave, Linqi reminded him, "Get the previous small shipments to the Black Sea quickly. Find a suitable port to load and ship them without delay."
Andre, aware of the urgency, responded, "I'll handle it immediately."
Left alone in the suite's living room, Lynch picked up a newspaper, perusing the entertainment section. The front-page headline covered the arrival of the American cultural exchange group in Kiev, featuring many familiar Hollywood names like Sean Penn, Milla Jovovich, and Martin Davis.
Lynch noticed Martin's name splashed across an important Ukrainian newspaper. Flipping through the pages quickly, he discovered that Martin Davis had accepted an invitation from the Saint Girl Group Selection Competition and the Ukrainian 1+1 TV station to serve as a judge for the finals.
"This bastard came to Ukraine too?" Lynch muttered under his breath, recalling how Michelle's company had paid a hefty sum to some girls just to seduce Martin and turn him into a client. Instead, those girls had taken the money and vanished.
Could Martin have any connection with Nikia, who had made it to the finals? Lynch pondered this briefly before dismissing the idea. A Hollywood star like Martin Davis, who had seen countless beauties, was unlikely to keep in touch with someone like Nikia.
It must be a coincidence, he thought. Without the exchange group and the organizers' invitations, a star of Martin Davis's caliber would never serve as a judge for a local competition like this.
Lynch couldn't help but think about the seedy side of the entertainment industry, the stunning looks and figures of the contestants, and Martin Davis's notorious reputation. He sighed, envious and jealous. "So many flowers about to be devoured by that pig Martin," he muttered.
But Lynch quickly refocused. Michelle Bryan's mission was paramount, and Nikia had to be punished as a deterrent to others under her control.
Setting aside the newspaper, Lynch stood and walked to the window, where he could clearly see the 1+1 TV station building. "They're probably training over there," he mused.
1+1 TV Station
A sleek black Mercedes bulletproof sedan pulled up in front of the 1+1 TV station. Martin, accompanied by Alexandrovich, stepped out and walked towards the entrance, flanked by Bruce and several other bodyguards. Martin had increased his security detail for this trip, adding four more bodyguards to his usual team, not out of fear of Russian actions, but due to the general security concerns in Ukraine.
Waiting at the entrance were Alexandrovich's fiancée, Olena, a screenwriter and producer, and Alexander, the director of 1+1 TV station. A throng of media reporters clustered around the entrance, their cameras flashing incessantly.
A Hollywood superstar's presence in Eastern Europe commanded far more attention than any local celebrity, especially when that star was also an American national hero and a billionaire. The significance was further amplified by the global reach of the Coca-Cola brand, to which Martin was deeply connected.
"Master! Master!" a chorus erupted as Martin approached the steps of the TV station. On either side of the isolation tape, a sea of red Coca-Cola red swept across the crowd. Young people in red T-shirts, fervent members of the Coca-Cola Cult, chanted "Leader" in English.
Martin's demeanor towards the Coca-Cola Cult members was notably warmer. Stopping in front of them, he greeted in Ukrainian, "Good morning, everyone!"
This simple greeting in their native tongue electrified the crowd. Enthusiastic cheers and unique slogans rang out.
"Coke Cult, Ulla!"
"Master, Ulla!"
Martin, ever the showman, took a pen and began signing posters, T-shirts, and Coke cans thrust at him by eager fans. Bruce handed him a Coke, which Martin opened and raised high, shouting, "Hurrah!"
The crowd, matching his energy, lifted their Cokes and echoed, "Ura!"
The Coca-Cola Cult's impromptu toast added a jubilant note to the morning. Martin casually handed the Coke he had just sipped to a blonde girl in the front. She looked ready to faint from joy, clutching the can like a treasured relic.
As he waved to the crowd and headed into the TV station, the chants rose again, a unified roar of admiration and excitement.
"Hula! Hula—"
Inside, Martin's entourage and the Ukrainian hosts prepared for the day's events, each step a careful dance of diplomacy, celebrity, and covert intentions.