Hetman (2 page)

“I think it will do well.”

“Do you mind if I pick your brain?”

“No.” Snow was glad of the distraction.

“Is it Kiev or Kyiv? Look this newspaper is ‘The Kyiv Post’ but my guidebook says ‘Kiev’.”

Snow remembered when ‘The Kyiv Post’ was ‘The Kiev Post’ but did not want to confuse issues. “Kiev is a translation from Russian but ‘Kyiv’ is from the Ukrainian.”

“Oh. So what should I try to speak?”

“You can use either in Kyiv but Ukrainian is the official language.”

Bass pointed at the paper. “But this report says that they have passed a law granting Russian second language status.”

“In the East the majority of the population is of Russian descent so they prefer to speak Russian. And beacuse the President is from the East he wants Russian to be used more. It’s his first language.”

“So it’s a bit like Wales then? In Cardiff they speak English but go north and it’s all Yaki-da?”

“Yes.”

“I get you. It mentions here ‘Bandits from Donetsk’. Are there a lot of mafia types in Kyiv? Should I be worried?”

“I lived there for a few years and never saw any trouble.” Snow lied but then his experience of Ukraine had not been unusual. “In the early nineties they had problems of course but that all got worked out. Kyiv is very safe, the new President has brought his cronies in from the East but as a foreign businessman they’ll welcome you. At the end of the day people are people, regardless of where they are from or what language they speak.”

“I see. So what are the women like?”

“Most of them have two legs.”

Bass started to laugh noisily as the cabin crew started their safety demonstration and then readied themselves for take-off. As soon as the plane levelled out Bass ordered another double scotch and then fell asleep. Snow tried to doze again but his mind was too troubled.

Levo Berezina, Kyiv, Ukraine

Snow paid the taxi driver and climbed into the entrance to Brian Webb’s apartment block. As usual the Soviet era building was grimy and smelt vaguely of rubbish. Snow pressed the lift button and hoped that it worked. Brian had once joked that he lived in a penthouse. His flat may well have been on the eighteenth floor but it was certainly no penthouse. With a jolt the lift doors opened and Snow was jerkily taken to the top floor. As the doors closed Snow turned left and found the correct flat. He pressed the bell, which sounded like a strange kind of Chinese bird and waited. The door remained closed. He listened, heard nothing, and then rang again. There were noises from inside and then it was suddenly pulled open. Snow could not help but smile at the vision of Katya dripping wet clad in nothing but a bath towel. He still had no clue how Brian had pulled her.

“Aidan!” Her frown turned to a smile and she stepped forward and hugged him.

“Katya.” He dropped his holdall. He could feel her curves through the thin towel and had to remind himself that although she was gorgeous she was his friend’s wife.

She moved away and looked up at him. “You look good. Come in.”

“Thanks, so do you.”

She smiled mischievously and as she turned he caught a flash of her bum as the towel rose up. Snow closed the door and followed her into the lounge. She sat and lit a cigarette.

“Is Brian here?” Snow thought he already knew the answer but had to ask.

Katya exhaled angrily. “No, he’s bloody not.”

In any other circumstance Snow would have laughed at Katya’s use of language, clearly influenced by her husband. “Do you know where he is?”

She shrugged. “He was meant to pick us up from the central railway station this morning. We had to drag our bags to the taxi rank.” She noticed Snow was frowning. “We went to Yalta for a week; Vika and I. You remember Vika?”

Snow nodded, she had big breasts and Brian had a nickname for her which he couldn’t repeat. “So he wasn’t with you and he didn’t turn up at the station?”

“Yes. Aidan what’s wrong, what are you doing here? I haven’t seen you since after…”

“Arnaud was killed? It’s OK, it’s been four years. Look, Brian called me this morning and said he was in trouble, I’ve never heard him speak like that.”

Katya now seemed more concerned that angry. “He’s not come home some nights when he’s been out drinking. Euro 2012 was awful, he met up with a group of England fans and Michael Jones; well you know Michael. I just thought that he’d done the same. I thought you were him at the door. Do you think something has happened to him?”

“That’s what I’m trying to find out.”

“You are a good friend Aidan for coming here.”

They were both startled by the doorbell. Katya looked at Snow. He nodded and made for the door. He looked through the peep-hole and saw two men in uniform. He sensed something was not quite right; he put the chain on and opened the door.

“Hello can I help you?”

The two officers reminded Snow of Laurel and Hardy
and looked a little confused by being faced by a foreigner. The nearest and much thinner of the two spoke. “Is Webb, Katya at home?” He asked in Russian before adding in English, “Please.”

Snow continued to play the dumb foreign visitor. He did not want to let on that he spoke Russian fluently. “You want Katya, ‘da’?”

“Da.”

“Ok.” Snow called back into the flat. “Katya the police are here and want to speak to you. I don’t understand as I don’t speak Ukrainian.” He was telling the truth, Russian was different enough.
 

Katya looked at Snow; eyebrows raised but made no comment. She had pulled on a long t-shirt dress. “Tak?” ‘Yes’ - she asked in Ukrainian.

Stan Laurel
persisted with Russian and said. “Can we come in?”

“What is this about?” Katya too now used Russian.

“Your husband.” Oliver Hardy stated.

“Come in.”

Snow stepped aside as the two uniformed men entered the flat. They all went into the lounge. Katya took up her previous seat and lit a new cigarette.

“Who is this?” Oliver Hardy the older, more senior officer asked as he tilted his head towards Snow.

“A family friend. Now what is this about?”

“Your husband has been taken to our station for questioning.” It was Stan Laurel, the younger officer again.

“About what?”

The older officer took over and Snow wondered if this was an attempt at ‘Good Cop – Bad Cop’. “He has been identified as being at the scene of a very serious incident. We need you to tell us where he was yesterday.”

“What kind of incident?”

“I am afraid that until we have investigated further I cannot tell you anymore.”

“What kind of answer is that?” Katya’s face flashed with anger. “I demand you tell me why you are holding him!”

“It really would be in your own best interests to answer the question.” The younger officer smiled, as did Snow.

“Where was he yesterday?”

“He was here.”

“With you?”

“No.”

Oliver Hardy looked confused. “Where were you?”

“Yalta.”

“So how do you know he was here?”

“I called him.”

He nodded and pointed to the house phone. “On that number?”

“Yes, I mean no. I called his mobile.”

“And he said he was here?”

“Yes.” She could feel herself starting to redden.

“So how do you know he was really here?”

Snow cut in, still using English. “Anyone for tea, or coffee or perhaps ‘sto gram’?”

“Ask him to be quiet please.” The older officer asked Katya.

“Do it yourself.”

He didn’t. Stan Laurel pointed at Snow. “Mister, quiet please.”

Snow smiled, the officer now sounded more like a young, homosexual Borat. “Oh, sorry.”

“So how do you know he was here or not?”

Katya did not reply straight away but let the smoke flow out of her mouth. “Have you informed the British Embassy that you have arrested my husband?”

“He has not been arrested.”

“So he is free to leave?”

“No.”

“I don’t understand.”

The older officer abruptly stood. “It is difficult. He is being questioned.”

Katya stood and stabbed her finger in the man’s direction. “I demand you let him go.”

The officer’s face changed and Snow sensed that violence may be on his mind. “You are in no position to make any demands! In fact I may have to arrest you for obstructing a police investigation.”

“Please just answer our questions.” The younger officer pleaded.

Snow stood and readied himself for a physical confrontation. “So how many was that for tea? Milk and sugar?”

“Shut up!” The older officer spat in Russian. “Now, tell me do you know where your husband was yesterday?”

“He said he was here.”

Oliver Hardy seemed to relax and looked at his colleague and nodded. “That is all for now but we will need to come back if we have any more questions. Your husband’s situation is serious.”

“When can I see him?”

“We will let you know.”
 
Both Militia officers headed for the door. Snow gladly let them out.

Katya shook her head in despair and lit another cigarette. “I mean what the fuck? What is happening? What is this all about? Aidan do you understand anything?”

Snow put his arms around her. “Look you and I both know that Brian is harmless, he’s a lover not a fighter.”

Katya snorted. “He’s not a lover either.”

Snow ignored the insinuation. “At least we now know where he is. I’ll go to the Embassy – I have contacts there and if they aren’t going to charge him I’ll get him out.”

Katya started to cry. “Thank you Aidan. I’m scared. Can you stay here with me?”

Snow looked down at her. “I’ve got to see a few people but yes afterwards I’ll come back and stay here. Get a pen and write down my number, just in case.”

“OK.” She smiled and moved away.

Snow had a thought. Brian and Katya’s daughter was nowhere to be seen. “Where’s Ana?”

“Summer camp.” Katya replied as she returned from the kitchen clutching a pen and a post-it note.

Snow scribbled down his number. After they had finished there was a moment of silence. Katya spoke first. “Aidan I’m scared.”

“I know, it’s a scary thing to happen but wait here. Don’t open the door or speak to anyone, I’ll be back as soon as I can. Call me if you get worried or if anyone unexpected turns up. OK?”

“OK.”

Snow kissed her on the forehead and left.

Volodymyrska Street, Kyiv

Alistair Vickers enjoyed relaxing in the bath. He had a CD of Bruch’s Violin Concerto No. 1 in G minor playing as he luxuriated with a very expensive glass of Ukrainian Cognac. It was early Saturday evening and for once he had decided to cocoon himself from the world and its worries, his phone was off and he had no intention of answering the door. He found nowadays that he generally preferred his own company in his down time.
 
Running with the ‘Kyiv Hash House Harriers’ or going to the ex-pat hang outs was fun but more and more it left him feeling empty. If he had been asked years ago where he would have seen himself at the age of forty five he would have said living in suburbia or some such foreign equivalent with a wife and two point four children yet here he was, single and inebriated sitting in a bath. Vickers smiled he mustn’t get depressed, that had been a side effect of the painkillers he had previously become addicted to. No he must just relax and stop trying to explain his unbelievable lightness of being. He half smiled. Life was good, his life was good. Alistair Vickers was the SIS intelligence officer responsible for Ukraine. He closed his eyes but reminded himself that he mustn’t fall asleep lest he become a second Whitney Houston.

He snapped his eyes open, the bath water was cold, the CD had ended and there was a ringing at his front door. He dragged his tired body out of the bath, pulled on a dark satin robe and made for the door. He peered through the spy-hole and couldn’t believe who he was looking at.

Snow removed his finger from the bell as the door opened. He shook his head, for the second time that day he had been greeted by someone in a state of undress. “Alistair, you needn’t have bothered getting dolled-up for me.”

“Very droll. Come in.”

Without being bid to do so Snow made for the kitchen and started to make himself a coffee. “I thought you would know I was here already?”

“On a work day maybe but my phone is off and so is my computer. So to what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?”

“Brian Webb is being held by the police.”

Vickers sat at the kitchen table. “What for?”

Snow shrugged. “I don’t know, the Militia wouldn’t say.”

“And how do you know this?”

“Coffee?”

“No I’m fine.”

Snow added boiling water to his cup and stirred. “I was at his flat when the Militia came to question Katya.”
 
Snow sat and explained the events of the day thus far.