C is for Kompromat
Still breathing heavily, Mikhail Medvedya rested on the park bench as he polished the fog from his glasses. His mother had bought the wooden frames as a gift when he graduated from the Columbia School of Journalism two years prior. Engraved on the left handle were his initials. On the right side was the phrase “see what others don’t.” As a kid, he was insecure about his nearsightedness and hated wearing glasses. He was proud to wear these frames because they reminded him that seeing was just as much a matter of intention as of ability. Putting his glasses back on, the runners on the trail came back into full focus. He rose and bent over at the waist to stretch his tense hamstring muscles before returning home. As he stretched, he felt a vibration in his pocket accompanied with a tri-tone marimba sound. He opened his phone to an email notification with a subject line that read: “For your eyes only.”
Medvedya widened the aperture and adjusted his camera as his subject, James Adler, came into focus. It was the premiere of a documentary about Adler’s life and work — Limitless Energy. The man who had invented and productionized the world’s first nuclear fusion reactor was neatly contained, along with his date, in the camera’s focus frame. In the jockeying for position among the paparazzi fray, someone bumped Medvedya causing him to drop his camera. As a writer, this wasn’t his usual beat, but he had petitioned for this assignment given what his research had unveiled about Adler.
James Adler was dressed in a cream tuxedo jacket that rested warmly on his ebony skin. He wore red designer loafers which called attention to his feet. His wife, the movie star Amechi, had picked the loafers for tonight saying to her husband “tonight is a statement and it starts with your foundation.”
As his documentary would show, at his root, Adler was a visionary. He saw what others couldn’t. As a young scientist he identified a plausible solution to the heat loss problem in nuclear fusion. Disgruntled that others were skeptical of his results, he raised venture capital and created a company to commercialize his technology. He chose Nigeria as his testing ground because of the looser regulations and weaker energy infrastructure. Now he was back in Lagos at his documentary premiere to celebrate what he had accomplished. He was doing what all powerful men do: making a statement and controlling the narrative. He wanted everyone to know that he had brought safe, cheap, limitless energy to the world starting with Africa.
Medvedya couldn’t scrub his mind of the pictures of deformed children he had been emailed several weeks earlier. At first it seemed a grotesque internet prank, but every few days he would receive additional details. The last message he received from the anonymous account was a link to a magazine profile about Adler and the cheap energy he was providing Africa. The subject line of the email read: “at what cost?”
Medvedya’s investigation unearthed truths that would change the world’s perception of Adler. Adler’s technical implementation for a nuclear reactor was more heat efficient, but it had an increased risk of leaking tritium, a radioactive isotope of hydrogen that was extremely dangerous when ingested. African governments were so desperate for increased energy production capacity that they overlooked any risk factors with the technology. There were rumors that Adler’s reactors were leading to increased cancer rates in many of the countries where they operated. So, Adler created a charitable foundation and a cancer research organization to quell those rumors. Forbes and Fortune magazine credited him with being a philanthropist. Medvedya knew what he had discovered could threaten Adler’s push to bring the technology to the United States and other western countries.
Medvedya cooly asked, “Mr. Adler, have you always known about the tritium leaks?”
Adler had invited Medvedya for breakfast at his condo in Accra. At the documentary premiere, the journalist had confronted the business man. Medvedya told Adler that he had one week to give comments before the draft publication was finalized.
Medvedya found Adler inscrutable. Adler was dressed in white linens and loafers. He wore sunglasses and a thin smirk. Medvedya wanted to peek into Adler’s soul but his own sweaty reflection was all that greeted him back from Adler’s reflective lenses. Medvedya removed his wooden frames to wipe his face with his handkerchief. Neither men had even touched their forks let alone the breakfast.
Adler responded, “Have you heard of the Russian city of Zheleznogorsk?”
Confused, Medvedya answered, “No, and I don’t see how that’s relevant?”
Adler was smiling openly now, “Medvedya, the bear. You see Zheleznogorsk is famous for its flag which features a bear splitting an atom. Zheleznogorsk being a site for extracting plutonium, the flag is very tongue in cheek. But that is not why I bring this old Russian city up.”
“So what’s your point?”
“You see the Russians chose the bear because it symbolizes the strength required to tame the nuclear forces. Through the strength of my technology, the continent is on the brink of an industrial revolution. There has never been this much cheap, reliable energy in Africa. Ever.” Adler removed his sunglasses and looked deeply into Medvedya’s eyes. “This technology has created so many economic opportunities for Africans and I will not be stopped in bringing it to the rest of the world.”
“But, at what cost?” Medvedya slid a manilla folder across the table towards Adler.
Adler opened the folder and flicked through pictures of people suffering from radiation poisoning, email evidence where he downplayed the risks in the technology, and documentation showing the paper trail to keep tritium leaks quiet. Closing the folder, Adler responded, “scientific progress comes with its own costs.”
Adler looked to the side as though he were processing something. Medvedya leaned in as if he were expecting a moment of humanity. Adler then retrieved his gun from beneath the surface of the table aimed and fired at Medvedya’s chest. Medvedya was rocked backwards. The right side of Medvedya’s face was exposed due to the trajectory of his fall. Adler stood over him now and fired two more shots. Noticing the writing on the frames, Adler removed them from Medvedya’s face and peered at them: “see what others don’t.”
