"Jason, isn't this hotel a bit too expensive? Ninety-five rubles a night? Maybe we should go somewhere cheaper," Samuel said nervously, eyeing the luxurious room in front of them. "The Susa Hotel we stayed in before was great—convenient, affordable..."
Jason casually slipped two ten-ruble notes into the bellhop's hand and gestured for him to leave. Once the door closed, he turned to his younger brother with a grin. "Come on, Samuel. Don't be so tight-fisted. We're here for serious business. If we don't stay somewhere upscale, how are we supposed to impress those greedy Soviets?"
Samuel nodded reluctantly. "I suppose that's true." But his face still showed worry. After a moment's hesitation, he added, "But isn't this too risky? We're moving 300,000 yuan worth of cigarettes. That's no small amount. If those 'Greyskins'—the Soviet police—catch us, it's ten years of hard labor in Siberia."
Jason walked over to the sofa, sank into it, and lit a cigarette. He exhaled slowly before replying. "What's the matter, Samuel? Having second thoughts?"
"I just don't see why we have to take such a huge risk," Samuel replied, frowning as he sat beside him. "We've made more than enough money these last few years. With what we've saved, you, Christina, and I could live the rest of our lives in peace. So why gamble everything now?"
Jason chuckled. "That's exactly the problem. You're still stuck in the mindset of when we used to worry about every meal. Sure, we have money now—but things are changing fast. Think about it—six years ago we were pulling factory night shifts for thirty-seven yuan a month. That was enough to get by. But now? Thirty-seven yuan wouldn't buy us breakfast."
He leaned over, placing a reassuring hand on his brother's shoulder. "We've got millions now, but in a few years, as the economy grows and inflation eats away at everything, how long will that last? I don't want you or Christina to go back to scraping by. You both deserve better. You're not kids anymore. In a few years, you'll start your own families. I want you to be comfortable. That takes money. A lot of money. I can't earn it playing safe."
Samuel looked moved but still unsure. "I get what you're saying, and I'm grateful. I just wonder... can't we keep doing things the legal way? Even if we stick to what the Soviets allow in, we could still double our money in four or five years…"
Jason laughed and gave his brother a playful smack on the head. "Four or five years? You think we've got that long? Did you notice the building across the street when we came in?"
"You mean the bank?"
"Exactly. That's the Société Générale, a French bank. You know what that means?"
"No… what?"
"It means the Soviets are opening up—full reform. Just like China did, but even faster. The reason we've made such easy money is because they've been closed off for so long. No consumer goods, barely any imports. So people like us could swoop in and sell them what they need at huge markups. But now? Once reforms kick in and real foreign goods flood the market, our days are numbered."
"I get it now," Samuel said, nodding. "You're trying to get in one last big score before the door closes."
Jason smirked. "Partly. But this isn't the end—it's just the beginning."
Samuel blinked. "Huh? But you just said—"
"I said our old business is coming to an end. But if we play this right, we can level up. There's something new on the horizon, and if we're bold enough, we can get in ahead of the curve."
He stubbed out his cigarette and stood. "Come to the window."
Samuel followed him over. Jason pointed across the street. "Look at the Société Générale, then look at the Soviet central bank next to it. See the difference?"
Samuel stared for a while. "Well… the French one looks nicer. And there are way more people going in and out."
"Exactly. That's the future. And when I get back from my meeting tonight, I want you to tell me what else you notice. Think hard. Also—keep an eye on Christina. Don't let her wander off. This isn't China. It's her first time here, and I don't want any trouble."