Birth of an Assassin Page 12

  “This is my formal application for transfer and I would…”

  Otto raised a hand. “Stop… stop where you are, Lieutenant, before you say too much.” Otto looked up and blew a line of blue smoke over a butt that smoldered in the ashtray. He browsed the application, and then pushed it back across the desk.

  “This won’t be necessary. I’ve not long spoken with General Petrichov in the Kremlin. I believe he’s a friend of yours.”

  “I do know the general, yes. He’s helped me with my career, but I don’t think we could be considered friends.”

  “Well, he speaks highly of you. But that aside, he’s given me an assignment he wants my best man to handle, and he made it clear he was referring to you.”

  He let his eyes smile, but Kornfeld remained without expression and Otto realized there was no love lost either way.

  “It appears the daughters of our Soviet States are being seduced with offers of a better life in the West. If they give in to temptation, they are whisked off to Turkey and never seen again. It’s probable they end up sold into prostitution. This is a serious gap in state security. A gap that must be found and plugged, and you, Lieutenant, are considered the most likely person to complete that task.”

  Otto couldn’t get a feel for his lieutenant’s reaction. The little bastard seemed devoid of emotion. And the whole blind depended on him accepting Otto’s words at face value.

  “Are there any questions so far, Lieutenant?”

  “I presume I will have some sort of starting point, Captain?”

  “Yes, of course.” Otto handed him a copy of the file Petrichov had given him. “Both girls describe a big blond man. Boris, I think. Maybe by tracking him down, things will open up. But you’ll find all of that in the file. It’s up to you to do what you can with it. Can I offer you vodka before you leave, Lieutenant?” Otto motioned to open his liquor drawer.

  “No thank you, Captain, I don’t drink alcohol on duty.”

  The drawer had hardly broken cover when Otto slammed it back into its slot. But he was comfortable with the refusal. He didn’t want to drink with a fucking Jew anyway.

  “Yes, quite right, Lieutenant… Well, all you need to know is in the file so… Oh, nearly forgot, you’ll be working with a subordinate.” Otto turned to Adrik. “Sergeant Mayakovski, please fill in the gaps for the lieutenant.”

  “Oh yes,” Adrik replied. “Captain Mitrokhin hasn’t yet mentioned, but it’s believed military people might be involved in the dealings. And worse, these people may well be working in our own internal security units.”

  “So how do we know my subordinate can be trusted, or that I can?”

  Otto nodded. “Well observed, Lieutenant; considering the possibilities is what investigative work is all about. General Petrichov has already vouched for you, and your assistant was seconded in only yesterday, from Spetsnaz.”

  “And he is?”

  “Yes you’re right, it is a he, and he’s someone I know you trust. A sergeant by the name of Viktor Sharansky.”

  “Viktor?”

  Like a fish on a hook, got him, his first positive reaction. “Yes, I know the two of you have history. I thought that would establish a basis of trust from the outset,” Otto said. “Good. Finally then, because the situation could be delicate, you will make sure that Sharansky will report to you and you alone. For your part, you will feed back your information to me, or the sergeant here. Under no circumstances should information go to anyone else. You understand the importance of why this must be strictly adhered to, Lieutenant?”

  “It’s perfectly clear, Captain.”

  “Excellent, that’s it then. All that remains is for me to wish you luck. If you’re sure there’s nothing more you want to ask, you can begin straight away.”

  “If the file is complete then I believe I have all I need, Captain.”

  Salutation protocol effected, Otto’s eyes swept the Jew from the office.

  He slid the drawer open. “This calls for a celebration drink, Adrik. It looks like our little idea has taken seed. And when I think about it, things might work out better than our original plan.”

  “Yes, and that was quite an achievement getting Irishkov to transfer Sharansky here.”

  “That was easy. He was already in Russia.”

  “What about Nadia Ulyanova, do we leave her in place?”

  “Oh yes, but now she’ll lay a different trail. We just need to change her story and get her up to speed with the alterations we’ve made on the statements. She must have enough to give to the Jew to enable him to track down Boris. The lieutenant might be just the man to take care of that little business for us. But whichever way that coin falls, good riddance. I think we’re on a win-win here, Adrik. When you’ve finished your drink, contact her pimp. We need to make sure Miss Ulyanova is absolutely clear with what we want.”

  *

  Jez left the office and his mind played with thoughts about the captain. Of all the opinions that smoldered within, dislike was the most prominent. There was a falseness about Mitrokhin he couldn’t quite pinpoint. But why dwell on it? One thing for sure, he had no intention of getting to know him any better than he did already.

  He wondered about General Petrichov, as he marched down the marble staircase. It had been a long time, and here he was personally requesting that he head a task. This could be the job to put him back on the fast track. Yes, it had to be.

  He imagined the stern approval on Anna’s face and smiled. His mind jumped from Anna to the task and back again; he wasn’t looking where he was going and collided with a soldier. A slight recoil and he found himself staring at three stripes.

  “Whoa, sorry, Sergeant, my fault, I wasn’t taking care,” he said, and looked up to be met with a pleasant surprise. “Viktor,” he rushed his words, “would you believe I’ve just been discussing you? How are you? It’s been so long, too long. What have you been up to?”

  “It has been a long time,” Viktor replied respectfully, “yes, Lieutenant, and I’ve just been informed I’ll be working for you, sir.”

  He knew Viktor too well to take the comments seriously, but it didn’t stop embarrassment warming his cheeks. “Yes, yes, all right,” he said, face moving from tepid to hot. “Maybe I’ve been lucky, but there’s no need to rub it in. And you’ll be working with me, not for me.”

  Viktor grinned, grabbed him by the upper arms and embraced him. “You’ve got no less than you deserve, soldier. You were a natural from the start.”

  “Well… maybe, thanks. Anyway what of you, I’ll bet you’ve been in the middle the action since we were last together?”

  “Well, as a matter of fact I’ve had more than my share. And you needn’t sound so resentful about it. You can reach a point where you’ve had enough.”

  “Oh, and you’ve reached that point?”

  “To be honest, Jez, I have. Retirement has been on my mind. I’ve enough time in and had come back to Russia to put the paperwork together. But when I was given the chance of working with you again, I thought, what the hell, I’d enjoy this one last duty.”

  “I’m flattered,” Jez said, and fluttered his eyelashes mockingly. “No really, Viktor, I can think of no better compliment. Mitrokhin had told me you were here, but I didn’t think I’d see you until tomorrow. Where are staying?”

  “Army quarters, but I thought I might look for a room in town. Enjoy the city lights before retiring to the countryside.”

  “Well, the countryside is on a backburner for a while, but moving out of the barracks is a good idea. I have an apartment with a spare room.”

  “That would be great. Will you be there?”

  “Yes, of course. I want to hear about everything you’ve worked on, each and every detail.”

  “Oh, maybe I should find a place in town after all. It’s not too late for second thoughts – is it?”

  Jez laughed. “Yes, it is. Come on, let’s go, it’s cold.”

  They picked up Viktor’s kit and made th
eir way further downtown to Jez’s apartment.

  “What do you think of Mitrokhin?” Jez asked on the way. “Have you come across him before?”

  “I haven’t had contact with him for a long time and was on my way to see him when we bumped into each other. But I did work for him, oh, what seems like a hundred years ago now. I didn’t have that much to do with him, but the whispers had it he was shady. Not that I ever witnessed it. He was inseparable with a Sergeant, Mayakovski I think his name was.”

  “Yes, that’s right and they’re still together,” he said.

  They soldiered on to the rooms, vying for the opportunity to speak, but Jez knew he couldn’t compete with Viktor’s stories. When they reached the upmarket part of downtown Moscow, Jez proudly opened his palm towards an apartment block.

  “Welcome to my humble abode,” he said.

  “What, surely this isn’t it? Looks a bit rough. Are you sure I can’t have second thoughts and take a room in a better part of town?”

  Jez pulled Viktor’s sleeve and pushed him playfully into the building. In the apartment, he showed him to the spare room and left him to stow his kit.

  “We’ll eat here, and go over what each of us thinks about the case,” he shouted across the room divides.

  “Sounds good: if you have plenty of food in, I’m starving.”

  Jez had already planned a stay and had kolbasa hard sausage, beef and vegetables in the pantry. After mixing the latter into individual crockpots, he cooked a Zharkoye and served the dish with the kolbasa as an accompaniment.

  “I feel more than a little guilty,” Viktor said. “I’m getting the pick of good food, while workers queue in the streets in the hope they’ll get enough scraps for their families. It’s not something you think of when you’re off fighting in another country, but here…”

  “What you say is true, I know, but refusing it doesn’t put the food in their bellies.”

  Viktor agreed reluctantly, but still looked determined to live with his guilt.

  *

  While the meal was eaten, a half bottle of vodka was devoured. For Jez, the room wouldn’t stay still and a woozy head played with his vision. But he had to give his attention to the case, so went to the bathroom and spun open the cold tap. The water glugged, and the pipes banged before freezing water came out with a spurt. He rinsed his face until his thoughts cleared.

  “I’ve gone through the paperwork and Mitrokhin seems to have told me things on top of what’s been reported,” he said, as he came back into the lounge. “Maybe the general had given him additional information, but, wherever he got it from, most of it is from the two girls who escaped. We start with them.”

  “Yes,” said Viktor. “There are bits of it that are not overly clear, but the one thing both girls do agree on is that one of the abductors was called Boris. And you’re right we’ll have to begin with them if only to clarify their account. They both live near South Port. The nearest is...”

  Viktor squinted at the name on the bottom of the sheet. Jez realized it must’ve been his eyesight because drink never affected him.

  “Nadia Ulyanova – and she’ll be our first call,” Jez said.

  He sipped from the glass, but the vodka burned his stomach and he pushed it aside. Viktor picked it up, slammed the glass on the table and slugged it back. “Silly to waste it,” he laughed.

  Jez gave a weak grin. “As an aside, I have a habit of nosing into local police cases – it stems from the boredom of internal security. Families have lodged reports of missing girls. They’ve all stated the girls left willingly, so the cases weren’t given a high priority.

  “I don’t want to jump to conclusions, but they were all young rural stock from Moscow’s south-east sector. There’s just a chance there’s a tie in with what our girls have reported. We’ll need to be thorough, and because of the possibility of military involvement we might be at risk, so trust no one.”

  Chapter 21

  Jez woke and peered out through vodka-bleary eyes. All seemed alien to him: he couldn’t even remember where he was. But then thoughts dawned of how he and Viktor had spent the evening. He groaned, pulled on shorts and T-shirt and stumbled through to the living room. Out of narrowed slits in his face, he watched Viktor scurry about without a care.

  “Come on, lazy bones,” he said. “Breakfast was laid an hour ago.”

  “Yes, yes, all right, Momma, I’m coming as quickly as I can.”

  “How do you keep fit with a lifestyle like this? It’s a wonder you haven’t gone to seed. And just look at that pot belly.”

  Still dozy and Jez was caught out. He looked down to his midriff. His face curled irritably, as he looked up to see Viktor with a big grin.

  “Very funny, but my fitness is what keeps me going in this job. You’re not that far wrong though, I don’t feel as sharp as I was. I slapped forms in front of Mitrokhin requesting a transfer back to Spetsnaz. This task was his reply. I accepted because I felt a certain obligation.”

  “Obligation to what?” Viktor asked.

  “Oh, nothing really... I don’t know, maybe I’ll move on after this.”

  Many times in the past, Jez had wanted to tell Viktor of his pact with General Petrichov, but the general had made it clear he should tell no one. And keeping the secret from Viktor had always been easy enough. He wasn’t a man to push for answers.

  They finished eating, already late. Jez wanted to blame anybody but himself – for anything and everything. “Anyway,” he bleated, “if you hadn’t made me drink so much last night, I would’ve been up before you.”

  “Oh yes, and it took some force. Still, we’re ready, might as well go now. There’s a metro near here, isn’t there?”

  “Yes, but I’ll phone the police station near Kolomenskaya metro first. We need a car. Do you have civilian clothes with you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good, make sure you wear them. I want to keep this job low profile.”

  In the shower, Jez let cold water run hard against the back of his neck for several minutes. The icy treatment did the trick: by the time he’d dressed, in box-cut black leather jacket, white shirt, black tie, grey slacks and black brogues, the hangover was almost a memory. Viktor was also in civilian clothes – the same civilian clothes. They were like a pair of bookends and might as well have stayed in uniform – oh well.

  They arrived at the Kolomenskaya metro several kilometres south-east of the city centre, and spilled out onto a wide busy avenue.

  Jez tasted freshness generated by a cool, clear blue sky. “Let’s walk,” he suggested. “It won’t take long and I need the air to clear my thoughts.”

  Besides, he wanted to get a better feel for the area. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but he had doubts about Nadia Ulyanova. She’d been the second of the girls to escape. But her address was urban, which didn’t match with the other girls.

  Once off the main street, they found tree-lined avenues and crossed spacious land gaps. The area was scenic, almost a rural village atmosphere. The avenues ran as far as the steep banks down to the Moscow River. But rounding a blind bend, they came to a plethora of commercial lots and apartment blocks. They guessed shortcuts through alleyways, until they reached the address she’d given in her statement.

  “Well,” Jez said. “Nadia lives in a Plattenbau – what a surprise. The missing girls are from rural locations, country peasants. I tell you, Viktor, a concrete apartment block doesn’t fit.”

  “Maybe those girls have nothing to do with this case. Or even if they have, Nadia might be a raving beauty the kidnappers couldn’t resist. Who knows? I think you’re condemning her before she’s had a fair chance.”

  “Perhaps, but the set-up doesn’t sit comfortably with me.”

  Inside the dull colourless housing system, Jez excused himself as he squeezed past a lady washing the stone floors. She bent back on her knees and wrung out the cloth over a bucket. The disinfectant drove sobering channels through Jez’s nostrils and he stopped. Sh
e pulled a face, looked skyward, but nodded pleasantly and moved to one side.

  On the way up the stairs, Jez said, “Nadia will be at work and that means we have to knock on neighbours’ doors, which just about sums up internal security for me.”

  He knocked on her door. They waited. When just about to try the neighbours, he heard shuffling. A few bolts were thrown, a key in the lock clicked, and the door opened wide. A girl stood brazenly in the doorway: a flimsy dressing gown hung open and well-endowed breasts did their utmost to escape the confines of a sheer nightdress. Jez turned to see Viktor drooling.

  The girl smiled while making no attempt to cover up. But Jez wondered why she wasn’t at work.

  He took the lead. “Nadia Ulyanova?” he asked politely.

  “Yes,” she answered. One huskily spoken word and Jez hid a smile at Viktor’s eyes popping.

  “I’m Lieutenant Kornfeld and this is Sergeant Sharansky. We’re from internal security and we’d like to talk to you about the statement you made to the local militia.”

  Jez flipped her a sight of his papers and she stood aside to allow them access. Nadia regained the lead and walked them through a long passageway to a large lounge, wiggling with every step. Too sophisticated – this didn’t feel right.

  The lounge didn’t hold any surprises either: nothing overly expensive, just too much of it. He’d made use of working girls since his career took him to Moscow. Because if he couldn’t have Anna, he didn’t want to become involved with anyone. Not that he needed that excuse, but religious beginnings did leave him with more than a smidgeon of guilt. Whatever… this apartment was near enough the same as the girls he’d visited, including that overpowering smell of cheap perfume.

  Furnished but basic: a suite enhanced with sumptuous pink and yellow throws, trinkets on shelving, and everywhere pristine clean; a silver-framed photo of a swarthy man with thick black hair pulled back into a ponytail; a vodka flask with a sword and soviet freedom insignia. Jez leaned closer to look at it: ‘Honorary member of the KGB’ inscribed on the side of the case; so she had a military friend.