My vague suspicions turned into deep conviction already here, in Germany, when a certain old man, who usually distributed advertising leaflets from travel agencies to the students of our language school, one day suddenly conspiratorially asked all the men to stay after classes. And hinted that there was a nice business. To those interested, the "employer" explained: "The work is only for single comrades. You need to take a lady out of Kharkov through a fictitious marriage for 20 thousand euros." It turns out that you don't even need to look for jewelry stores in Kharkov, since the potential bride herself solves all the related issues. I, like some of my less well-off classmates, showed enthusiasm and even won a kind of handicap, secretly promising the old man that I would fork over a whole ton if he decided to have matrimonial affairs specifically with me.
"You are being disturbed by the firm 'Meteor'..."
Within a day, I repented of my journalistic (and what else did you think?) enthusiasm and of having left the old man my mobile phone number. It was over that period that a certain Viktor Antonovich, the owner of a Ukrainian dialect, appeared in my life, calling back almost every hour and insistently demanding a meeting.
However, the conversation that took place with my counterpart in one of Cologne's pubs turned out to be both remarkable and useful. Useful, if only to tell readers the outline of concluding fictitious marriages, which my interlocutor preferred to call exclusively "business" marriages.
By the way, I note that the representative of the interested party immediately protected himself from merely curious idlers: he asked me to bring along a foreign passport with a permanent visa, a certificate of registration at a permanent address, and a general civil passport with a mark that I was not married. Well, regarding the latter, I had to explain to Viktor Antonovich that it was, so to speak, at the consulate - to have a stamp of registration placed in it...
- So then. You are very lucky that you got in touch with us specifically, - my "employer" starts right off the bat. - First, the real cost of a business marriage does not exceed 10 thousand euros at the moment. Second, we are not some swindlers, but a solid firm, called "Meteor", and we conclude a corresponding contract for the provision of services. Thus both we and you avoid a possible rip-off.
- I have two questions to begin with, - I interrupt my interlocutor. - Why is the amount twice the usual in this case, and what exactly do you plan to sign - a marriage contract, or what?
My enterprising "Cupid", who has money in his pocket instead of a bow in his hand, apparently does not catch the irony:
- The system is this: we conclude a contract for the provision of information services; an account is opened in your name in an offshore zone with the ability to receive money at any time via a Visa credit card. The contract states that it is considered fulfilled when 'the firm "Meteor", represented by its employee Nikonenko A.G., receives from the worker an official document registered in the name of Nikonenko A.G. with the Aliens Authority of the Federal Republic of Germany.' As you understand, such a document will be the stamp in the passport of citizen Nikonenko on her right to permanent residence in Germany.
Complete bliss for the 'locomotive': both a new wife and an account
- Within two or three days after signing the contract, - Viktor Antonovich takes some papers out of a sports bag and waves them in front of my nose, - you will receive a 50% advance payment, as it states. And after your "wife", the aforementioned Nikonenko, establishes herself in Germany, the final settlement will follow. That we are not bluffing, you can verify almost immediately via the telecarding system: we will give you the password to an account opened in your name, say, in the Cayman Islands, you call the bank and find out how much is in it. Then, with your card, we will go to any ATM, and you will see that you can withdraw money.
- All right, but what guarantees are there on my side? Suppose I sign the contract, take the advance, and disappear.
"Cupid" shows me a gold-toothed grin:
- Well, that's unlikely. The contract will contain your registration data in Germany at a specific address... No, no one is going to strong-arm you. Just take a closer look...
This time he shows me the contract more slowly. In that part of it that concerns penalties and force-majeure circumstances. Regarding the former, it is said that 'improper performance by the worker of his duties leads to termination of the contract with him and the return by the worker of the advance payment he received, with compensation for moral damage to the firm "Meteor" in the amounts specified in Appendix 1 to this contract.' Regarding force majeure, it is stated that 'the refusal of the official authorities of Germany in written form to provide, on their part, the necessary documents in the name of Nikonenko A.G. is sufficient grounds for terminating the worker's obligations to the firm "Meteor". In this case, the worker is paid monetary compensation in the amount specified in Appendix 1 to this contract.'
- As you see, - Viktor Antonovich smirks, - no one is going to rip anyone off. Our firm has connections to Russian-speaking lawyers who, if you decide to play games, will simply put you in a debt hole. Well, and if the Germans, already in Germany, recognize your marriage as fictitious, you will still get something for your efforts.
So that the reader can take a little break from the verbal acrobatics of the contract I saw, I will explain simply: the 'Meteor' legally puts a 'meter' on anyone wanting to shirk their duties - the trickster will have to pay, in addition to reimbursement of the prepayment, a hundred percent moral compensation! On the other hand, if the firm fails to properly arrange a business marriage, it graciously leaves the 'worker' 500 euros. In addition to paying for the trip to Kharkov and other overhead costs, of course.
- Well, I'll think it over, - I conclude my conversation with 'Cupid'. - You'll agree, this is not decided offhand. You just didn't tell me what the increased fee is connected with? And, by the way, why is your firm called 'Meteor'?
The marriage agent wrinkles his nose for some reason:
- You see, with a homegrown Kharkov Jew, of course, everything is more profitable. But our client values speed, and she pays for it. That is, we could buy a 'locomotive' for her on the spot, but she doesn't want to wait until he gets an invitation, and so on. She needs an established 'locomotive' with a permanent residence permit mark. Like you.
- And as for 'Meteor', - the matchmaker grins, - I don't know. Of course, it would be better to call the firm 'Depot'. After all, what do we actually do? We attach wheels to 'locomotives', that is, money, so that they carry 'passengers' in the right direction. Toot-toot, to Europe!
Petersburg epic
Of course, the conversation with the 'meteor man' lasted a little longer than I told the reader. Among other things, I also learned that Viktor Antonovich's firm has existed since 1995, serves about 10-12 'passengers' of both sexes per month, and that the monthly profit from each of them - minus overhead - is somewhere around 'four and a half thousand per head': the client pays the firm 16-17 thousand euros, of which ten thousand goes to the 'locomotive', and another 1,500 to 2,500 constitute those very overhead costs.
What exactly? Well, as my interlocutor explained, you have to push the timing of marriages, and you need to competently prepare documents for the consulate proving that the marriage is real. Viktor Antonovich, by the way, particularly emphasized that his office has been working with marriages for almost seven years now, but... without any marriage: during this time, Ukrainian law enforcement agencies managed to put at least three competitors behind bars - 'well, they were suckers, instead of taking "passengers" onto the firm's staff and legally working, they just forged documents'.
My epic with 'Meteor' ended with me breaking with the 'employer', which required changing my phone number. But I decided to test the very outline he presented in practice, flying to St. Petersburg for a week to find out whether there is also a demand for 'locomotives' in my city.
I acted simply: I drew a homemade placard 'I will take you out for permanent residence' and went to the line at the German consulate general. I stood there for three hours until a local 'Meteor' paid attention to me. However, first - a selection of conversations with those who noticed my modest proposal...
11:23. A random passerby Ira, 19, a student: 'I would gladly leave. What, it costs $10 thousand? And won't it work just for love?'
12:08. An elderly woman who had been looking at me for a long time: 'I am willing to pay this money for a marriage with my 28-year-old daughter. But where is the guarantee that you won't sell her there to a brothel or demand that she sleep with you? What, are you of a different orientation?! Then leave your phone number, I'll call back.'
12:14. A girl of indeterminate age with a can of 'gin and tonic' in her hands: 'Excuse me, how much does it cost to "take a ride on a Jew"? Ha-ha-ha...'
12:26. Olga Anatolyevna, 46: 'I need a business marriage for my sister. No, we don't have that kind of money, but we are ready to transfer to you a privatized room in a sparsely populated communal apartment. Only we will draw up the gift deed upon the provision of a residence permit.'
13:40. Ilyukha, a guy of a 'thuggish' appearance: 'Can you arrange a German bride? If you do it quickly, I'll pay double.'
14:34. A flashy woman slightly over 40, who introduced herself as Maria Viktorovna: 'How much it costs is fundamentally not of interest to me. I want to convert depreciating dollars into euros and leave for Germany forever. Call me in the evening, we'll set a meeting, and you'll tell me everything.'
As the reader can see, there is a spontaneous demand for the corresponding service not only in Ukraine, but also in St. Petersburg. But the most interesting thing is that some 'businessmen' are trying to organize this demand even in the second capital of Russia. As I said, right at the very end of my mini-investigation, two respectable men approached me with an offer to talk aside. The essence of the conversation was that a completely legal firm that they represent is ready to pay 10% of the fee for each groom or bride I find in Germany for my interlocutors' clients. However, they significantly underestimated the fee, not knowing that I had already had a chance to communicate with their Ukrainian 'colleague': the notorious 10 thousand euros. Without any surcharges for speed.
How hard it is to be a 'locomotive'
It is no secret that some 'locomotives' of both sexes, under the ringing clatter of wheels, have already traveled the path proposed to the author by marriage recruiters. It is also no secret that for some lonely immigrants, their eyes may have lit up as soon as they saw the amount offered by cunning masters of pseudo-matrimonial affairs 'practically for nothing'. To the enthusiasts I would like to say the following: even if we set aside the moral aspect of the problem, even if we don't think about the illegality of this operation from the point of view of German law, a business marriage, upon closer inspection, still turns out to be profitable only for intermediary firms operating in this market of services. For a 'locomotive' who wants to get easy money (as well as for a 'passenger'), the costs will be much greater than the profit. Here are just a few aspects of the problem that should be kept in mind.
Any children born during marriage are considered legitimate children here. Accordingly, a fictitious husband will be responsible for them both morally and financially, regardless of by whom and when the wife became pregnant. A similar precedent was considered in a Berlin court, and even a paternity test did not help the "locomotive" sucker. In such a case, there are few options left: either start actually living with one's fictitious wife, or pay alimony.
In any case, in Germany people are responsible for their former spouses for life. In other words, even after successfully dissolving a profitable marriage, the "locomotive" has every opportunity to support the "passenger" until the end of his days. Here's an example: the "locomotive" got a well-paid job while the former fictitious wife has no job. Will the social welfare office support her? No, before granting social assistance, the social welfare office will ask what means the former husband has at his disposal. With all the consequences that follow.
Without any options, the "locomotive" cannot rule out the possibility of having to pay off the debts of the former spouse if the latter suddenly dies or simply leaves. In that case, the one who coveted a sum of 10 thousand euros will spend his life paying off the debts of a person who is a stranger to him.
The "delights" of fictitious life could be listed endlessly, but I think what has been mentioned is quite enough for the only correct conclusions.
When I asked both the Kharkiv and the St. Petersburg "meteorologists" whether they were aware of such problems, I heard in response almost the same cynical thing: "If you're so smart, don't be a 'locomotive' yourself, but make others one!"...