Washington, D. C., Wednesday…

The Lear jet touched down at Reagan National Airport and Vladimir watched with amusement as one of the VPs from his drug company ran out onto the windy tarmac. He hadn't been to the Washington office for a while, so the fellow was probably trying to maximize his ass-kissing time.

It was a short ride to his hotel in one of the company's executive limos. After thanking the driver and going through some banalities with the VP, Vladimir was alone. He needed to continue his work on countering the administration's moves against the drug industry.

The US government periodically tried to control the international drug companies. Through their numerous lobbyists and campaign donations the companies usually managed to get their way. Money was always the clincher. Those with the money, bought power, and therefore ruled as de facto masters of the world. It just depended on the whims of the market place who had the money at any given time.

Capitalism is wonderful. Uncontrolled capitalism is better. Without controls, we can stomp all over the middle class, getting them to pay dearly for products that they don't even need half the time. And their taxes even pay for most of the research program in my drug company via NIH grants. He chuckled and served himself a vodka on the rocks from the minibar. Then he sat down at the luxurious desk of the hotel suite to open up his laptop. After it booted he connected to one of his own personal servers in Switzerland. The computer software automatically set up the coding. His computer people had guaranteed that not even the NSA could break through the code, though there was also added security in the fact that his signal bounced through several satellites and other earthly connections from India to Iceland. It would take the best hackers in the world to even determine the source of the log-on to the server.