Dimitri Romanov stepped through the customs checkpoint at Sheremetyevo International Airport, pulling his suitcase, tugging his laptop bag over his shoulder, and scanning the arrival area for his planned transportation to the server facility outside Moscow. He had made this journey three times over the past two months, overseeing the technical infrastructure that would support John Foster's global ministry, but today felt different. The weight of launching ticket sales for nine massive events across three continents pressed on his shoulders as he navigated through the familiar terminal.
He had barely taken ten steps beyond the customs barrier when two men in uniform approached him with the purposeful stride of law enforcement officials. Both wore the subtle earpieces and serious expressions and IDs that identified them as FSB agents.
"Dimitri Alexandrovich Romanov?" the taller agent asked in accented English.
"Yes," Dimitri replied cautiously, his mind racing through potential reasons for official attention. His work with John Foster Ministries had been carefully structured to avoid any legal complications, and his server operations had been properly licensed through legitimate Russian technology companies.
"You will come with us, please," the second agent said, gesturing toward the terminal exit. "Official business of the Russian Federation."
Dimitri's mouth went dry. "Am I under arrest? Do I need to contact an attorney?"
The first agent smiled slightly. "No, Mr. Romanov. You are invited to an important meeting. Your cooperation is requested, not required."
Despite the polite phrasing, Dimitri understood he had little choice in the matter. He followed the agents through the airport and into a waiting black limousine bearing official government license plates. The vehicle's interior was luxurious but intimidating. One agent sat next to him in the back seat. He watched keenly as their route took them through Moscow's sprawling urban landscape.
The agents remained professionally courteous but offered no information about their destination or the purpose of his summons. Dimitri's mind cycled through possibilities, none of them particularly comforting. His work with John Foster Ministries had operated in legal gray areas—establishing server infrastructure for a religious organization that some governments might view as potentially subversive.
When the limousine approached the distinctive red walls and towers of the Kremlin, Dimitri's anxiety transformed into complete bewilderment. He had expected to be taken to FSB headquarters for questioning about his technical operations. Being escorted to the seat of Russian government power suggested something far more significant was occurring.
The security screening process was thorough and professional. Dimitri was required to surrender his phone, laptop, and all electronic devices, then subjected to metal detection and a comprehensive pat-down. The guards treated him with respect but left no doubt about the seriousness of the protocols. Finally cleared for entry, he was escorted through corridors lined with portraits of Russian leaders and ornate decorations that spoke of centuries of political power.
The conference room where they brought him was magnificent—high ceilings with elaborate moldings, a massive wooden table that could seat thirty people, and windows overlooking the Kremlin's inner courtyards. Two uniformed officers of the Kremlin security force stood at attention near the door.
"Please, sit," one of the officers said in English, indicating a chair positioned about halfway down one side of the conference table. "Would you like tea?"
"Yes, thank you," Dimitri replied, grateful for anything that might calm his nerves. The officer poured tea from an elegant samovar into a fine china cup, complete with saucer and small spoon. The familiar ritual provided a moment of normalcy in increasingly surreal circumstances.
Dimitri had barely taken his first sip when the conference room door opened. Both security officers immediately snapped to attention, their formal posture indicating the arrival of very important officials. Three men entered the room, and Dimitri nearly choked on his tea as he recognized their faces from countless news broadcasts and official photographs.
The Russian Foreign Minister entered first, a distinguished man in his seventies wearing an impeccably tailored suit. Behind him came the President of the Russian Federation, whose presence filled the room with unmistakable authority despite his relatively modest physical stature. The third man wore the traditional black robes and distinctive hat of Orthodox clergy—the Patriarch of the Russian Orthodox Church, one of the most influential religious leaders in the world.
Dimitri rose from his chair, unsure of proper protocol for meeting such august figures, but the Foreign Minister approached him with a hearty laugh and a firm handshake.
"Please, Mr. Romanov, don’t worry about protocol. We are here for informal discussion, not state ceremony." He gestured to his companions. "I am the Foreign Minister of the Russian Federation, this is our President, and our honored guest is the Patriarch of the Russian Orthodox Church."
The men took seats around the conference table, the President directly across from Dimitri while the Foreign Minister and Patriarch flanked him. The arrangement felt conversational despite the overwhelming nature of the company.
"What can I do for you?" Dimitri asked, his voice barely steady.
The Patriarch leaned forward, his weathered face kind but serious. "Mr. Romanov, I have been receiving regular briefings from Father Mark Appleton about the ministry of John Foster. While Father Mark serves the Greek Orthodox Church rather than our Russian Orthodox Church, we recognize no boundaries when God's work is concerned."
Dimitri blinked in surprise. "Father Mark has been in communication with you?"
"Indeed. The priest has kept me informed about Mr. Foster's divine commission, his miraculous resurrection, and his upcoming ministry events across the Christian world. When we learned that the final event would take place in Moscow, I felt compelled to bring the matter to the attention of our government."
The President smiled, his eyes twinkling with what might have been amusement. "Mr. Romanov, you appear shocked. Did you expect all governments to oppose this ministry?"
"Well... yes, actually," Dimitri admitted. "The angel who appeared to Mr. Foster warned that earthly powers would work to disrupt his mission. We've already encountered opposition from certain agencies in the United States."
The President's expression grew more serious. "Russia has a long tradition of recognizing God's hand in worldly affairs. When the Patriarch brought this matter to my attention, I was intrigued. A man who died and returned to life with a divine commission? Such claims demand careful consideration, not immediate dismissal."
The Foreign Minister nodded. "We have reviewed the evidence that Father Mark provided—medical records, witness testimony, video documentation of miraculous healing. While we remain appropriately skeptical of supernatural claims, the evidence is... compelling."
"More than compelling," the Patriarch added. "I have prayed extensively about this matter and feel convinced that John Foster carries genuine divine authority. Russia will not stand in the way of God's messenger."
Dimitri felt the ground shifting beneath his understanding of how the world worked. Instead of opposition, he was encountering support from the highest levels of Russian government and religious leadership.
The President leaned back in his chair, studying Dimitri carefully. "Mr. Romanov, not only will Russia fully support this ministry when it comes to our nation, but I have a personal request to make."
"Of course, Mr. President. Anything."
"I would like to speak during the Moscow event. Not as a political figure seeking advantage, but as a Christian leader acknowledging God's work in the world. Russia has experienced great trials in our history, and our people understand the reality of suffering, death, and resurrection."
Dimitri could only nod, too stunned to form coherent words. The idea that the President of the Russian Federation wanted to participate in John Foster's ministry event exceeded his wildest expectations.
The Patriarch smiled warmly. "Mr. Romanov, you seem overwhelmed. This is understandable. You expected opposition and instead find eager cooperation."
"I... yes, Your Holiness. This is far beyond anything I imagined possible."
The Foreign Minister pulled out a folder containing official documents. "Russia will provide full logistical support for the Moscow event. Security, transportation, communications infrastructure, whatever is needed. All permits and approvals for use of Luzhniki Stadium are complete and in order. Additionally, we will return the rental fees your organization has already paid for the stadium's use."
"Additionally," the President added, "we will ensure that your streaming infrastructure receives the highest level of technical support from Russian telecommunications companies. This message deserves to reach as many people as possible."
As the meeting concluded with warm handshakes and promises of continued cooperation, Dimitri walked through the Kremlin corridors feeling as though he had stepped through the looking glass into an alternate reality. He had arrived in Moscow expecting to finalize technical preparations while dodging government interference. Instead, he had discovered powerful allies eager to support John Foster's divine mission.
The FSB agents who had brought him to the Kremlin returned his electronic devices and escorted him back to the waiting limousine with the same professional courtesy they had shown throughout the day.
As Moscow's skyline passed by the limo’s windows, Dimitri reflected on the extraordinary turn of events. If Russia was willing to embrace John Foster's ministry at the highest levels of government and religious authority, perhaps other nations would prove more receptive than the angelic warnings had suggested.
The real question now was whether John Foster was prepared for the level of official support he might receive—and whether such support would help or hinder the delivery of God's messages to a world in desperate need of divine truth.
