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THE^FORBESINVESTIGATIONintent, dated October 28, 2015, the same day as
the third Republican presidential debate.
The tower was meant to be the tallest
building in Europe, featuring a few floors of
prime shopping, a high-end hotel and new office
space, topped with 250 luxury residences, homes
for the Russian elite. According to the terms,
Rozov was on the hook for construction while
Trump would simply lend his name and help
manage the place once it opened. In exchange,
according to the Mueller report, the presidential
contender would get a cut of condo sales,
beginning with 5% of the first $100 million and
gradually stepping down to 1% of everything
over $1 billion. Sater says each unit would have
been about 2,500 square feet, far larger than the
typical luxury condo in Moscow. They were
targeting a price of about $1,500 a square foot,
about 30% above the average for luxury
apartments in town. If all went well, Trump
would have walked away with an estimated $34
million from condo sales and upfront fees. Big
money, sure, but nothing life changing for a guy
worth $3.1 billion.
To juice the numbers, Sater says, he wanted to
give away a penthouse to Putin. On top of the
terrible optics, this could have put the Trump
Organization in danger of violating the Foreign
Corrupt Practices Act, which bans American com-
panies from bribing foreign officials. Sater says
the plan was not meant to entice the Russian
president. “You’ve got to have a billion dollars for
[Putin] to take you seriously,” he says. “It’s good
for Congressman [Nancy] Pelosi or [Adam] Schiff
to say that, but in the real world, Vladimir Putin
ain’t getting bought with a penthouse.” When
contacted, a representative of Putin deflected
questions, saying, “We believe that you should
address to relevant authorities, not to the press
office of the president of Russia.”
To Trump small amounts of money matter—
the tower agreement details the slices he could
shave off every year, including hotel management
fees (an estimated $1.3 million), office rents (est.
$240,000), residential management fees (est.
$225,000), spa operations (est. $75,000) and so
on. Add everything up and Forbes figures Trump
could have gotten an additional $2.6 million
annually—math verified by Sater, who confirmed
an Excel spreadsheet that details the projected
payments line by line.
Count enough years and it’s theoretically
possible to get to any number: $13 million over 5
years, $67 million over 25, $94 million over 35.
Regardless, even with the condo deals, it wasn’t
really close to the “hundreds of millions” Cohen
and Mueller cited.obert Mueller did not find
collusion to steal the 2016
election—but he did find evidence
of collusion to try to make money.
Sater and Cohen did the work on
the ground, rubbing elbows with oligarchs and
Russian-government entities.
In sworn testimony before Congress, Cohen
left no doubt about who was ultimately in
charge: “To be clear, Mr. Trump knew of and
directed the Trump Moscow negotiations
throughout the campaign and lied about it.”
There was good reason to lie, given the cast of
characters involved. On October 9, 2015, before
Trump had even signed the letter of intent, Sater
wrote that he was meeting with Andrey Molcha-
nov, a former member of the Russian senate who
controlled a plot of land that could work for the
tower. Three days later, Sater claimed the
chairman of VTB, a Kremlin-controlled bank on
which the U.S. imposed sanctions, was “on
board” with the project. Ultimately, he secured an
invitation to Russia from a different bank, days
after it had also landed on the U.S. sanctions list.
Then there was Sater’s plan to get billionaire
brothers Arkady and Boris Rotenberg to invest
hundreds of millions in the project. From a
political standpoint, it would be hard to think of
a more problematic pair to bring into a deal with
a U.S. presidential candidate. Arkady Rotenberg
has known Vladimir Putin since childhood, when
they were judo partners. He and his brother are
now among Russia’s richest people, worth an
estimated $3.7 billion combined, with interests in
banking and construction. Arkady Rotenberg’s
companies got $7.4 billion in government
contracts for the 2014 Olympic Games in Sochi,
over $5 billion for the 2018 World Cup (which
Russia hosted) and more to build a bridge
connecting Russia and Crimea. In 2014, the U.S.
Treasury Department sanctioned both brothers,
identifying them as members of Putin’s “inner
circle.” The Rotenbergs did not respond to our
request for comment.
The same thing that made the Rotenbergs
targets of the U.S. government—their ties to
Putin—made them appealing to Sater. In his
mind, if he could get Putin’s associates to invest
$400 million or $500 million, then the Russian
president would surely greenlight the project—a
key step in a country where the government calls
the shots on major real estate developments.
Trump would have theoretically had to sign off
on bringing in the Rotenbergs or anyone else
who wanted a piece of the action. “Everybody
was going to make money on this,” Sater says.
“And at the end of the day, some schmuck fromFORBES.COM JUNE 30, 20 19R