Authors: Alex Shaw
There was a pause and then a voice asked in Russian. “What do you want?”
Snow started to prepare his Oscar acceptance speech. “Eric you wanker! I’m back in town and I’ve brought two friends!” Snow held up the bottles to the camera. “Come on you German Gay-Lord open the door and let’s get drinking!”
There was a hiss of static before a voice answered in faltering English. “Eric no here. You go.”
Snow needed to get into the house, he’d see nothing otherwise. “Eric open the door and stop being a poof! Come on, my two friends here are getting impatient!”
There was a slight buzzing sound and a click. The gate opened and Snow stepped inside. It was closed behind him by a large figured in a black t-shirt and urban combat trousers. He looked at Snow then pointed to the front door. Snow surreptitiously looked around. He was standing in a large paved courtyard. The house was directly ahead; to the left was a slope which led down to the underground garage. Past this he could see a lush green lawn. Directly to his right was a fountain and small ‘dacha style’ out-house. The front door opened and two uniformed Militia officers greeted him.
Snow smiled. “Is Eric having a party?”
“Who you are?” The first asked in English. Snow realised it was the same voice he had heard on the telephone the day before.
“I’m a friend of Eric. Who are you?” Snow replied and placed his bottles on the step.
“My name is Officer Kopylenko and you are very drunk.”
Snow raised his arms smiling. “Guilty as charged!”
Kopylenko pointed at him. “Tell me please, what is your name?”
Snow gave his own name; he had no reason to lie. “Aidan Snow. Nice to meet you.”
“Can I see your passport Mr Snow?”
“I’m sorry; I don’t have it with me.”
“Hm, I see. In that case I am very sorry but I shall have to issue you with a fine.”
Snow pointed at the bottles. “Is there not something else I could give you?”
“We will take those too, but you must pay a fine.”
“Fine, that’s fine!” Snow started to laugh and retrieved a wad of notes from his pocket. As he did so he made sure that it slipped through his fingers and fell on the ground. He noticed Kopylenko eye-up the bundle of bills greedily.
Snow shakily retrieved the money and smiled. “Now officer, how much do I need to give you? Will $100 be enough?” As Snow held out the notes he looked around. “Where is Eric?”
“I told you Eric is not here. This is the wrong house. Give me all your money and you can go.”
Snow made a decision, double or nothing. “Where is Eric? Are you robbing him?” He tried to push past the two men but the second officer grabbed his arm. Snow half-heartedly punched him in the face before shouting, “Eric I’m on my way!”
The officer loosened his grip and Snow burst into the house only to be pushed to the floor a moment later. Several heavy kicks connected with Snow’s torso and as he was dragged to his feet a fist hit him in the side of the head causing him to see stars.
Kopylenko spoke again. “You have assaulted a Militia officer. We now must arrest you and keep you here until you are processed.”
“Let me go. I’m a British citizen!”
Snow protested.
Kopylenko spoke the second officer in Russian.
“Take him away and put him with the other English idiot.”
Snow let his feet drag and his head loll forward as the officer moved him down a flight of stairs and then pushed him into another room. The heavy door was locked behind him. Snow rubbed his head and looked around. It was a wine cellar but empty apart from the racks. There was a narrow barred window to one side at head height which let in the only source of light through which he could see a flower bed.
“Bloody Hell! Aidan you found me!
Snow noticed a large dishevelled figure sitting on a patio chair. “Hello Brian.”
Webb smiled. “How the heck did you get here?”
“Connections.”
“Aidan thanks a million for coming.”
Snow held his forefinger to his mouth, then moved back to the door and listened. He could hear nothing through it. He nodded at Webb. “Tell me what happened?”
“I was out with Mitch and Michael having a few – you know how it is, and then got a taxi home. The driver stopped the car, I thought he needed a piss but then he just ‘legged it’. Then when I got out to see where the heck he was going some blokes came at me. I thought it was a bloody team of hit-men! Aidan, I was that tanked-up that I just got back in the taxi and drove off. I tried to lose them but crashed into a sodding bus shelter, shook me up I can tell you.” Webb lifted his grey fringe to show his blooded forehead. “I kept moving until I couldn’t go any further. Then I called you.”
“And they grabbed you.”
“Yep. I was that blotto and shagged out that I couldn’t do anything to stop them. They slapped me around a bit for good measure.”
One against four was bad enough odds for anyone but an overweight drunk pushing sixty had no chance. “The Militia came to see Katya.”
“How is she? Is she ok?” Webb’s face showed real concern.
“She’s fine. She told the Militia to go screw themselves. They said that unless she paid them $75000 they were going to charge you with sexual assault.”
Webb burst out laughing. “On whom, me self?”
“They say you grabbed a woman and tried to shag her up against a wall.”
“If only.” Webb stood, hobbled towards Snow and hugged him. “Thanks again for coming, I knew you would.”
“What are friends for? Brian don’t worry, I’ve spoken to the SBU. They are building a case against the bloke these goons report to.”
“So who you are working for now, MI6?”
“It’s called the Secret Intelligence Service nowadays, but yes.”
“Does your watch become a power boat?”
Snow found another chair and sat. “You really can be a silly sod, do you know that?”
Webb nodded. “So the SBU are investigating Katya’s ex-husband?”
“Her ‘ex’ is a Politician?”
“No, he’s the Militia thug running this, Pavel Kopylenko.”
Snow frowned. “He’s Ana’s father?”
“Yes. He’s the reason I’m here.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Aidan. Katya’s been offered a great job in London. But as Ana is underage we need her father’s written consent for her to leave the country.”
“Which I assume he had refused?”
“You assume right. So, Katya and I have had to start legal proceedings to attempt to get a court ruling stating that we can take Ana to the UK.”
“And he’s trying to stop this?”
“That’s why I called you Aidan. Katya doesn’t know about this, but first he went after my business and now he’s going after me. Shit, if I get framed for sexual assault no judge in their right mind will grant me custody over him for Ana.” Webb put his head in his hands and it was several seconds before he spoke again. “I’m her dad, not him”.
“What exactly has Kopylenko said to you?”
“He never said anything about sexual assault the crafty bastard; I thought it was all about my joy-ride in the taxi. He said on Monday they are going to present me and their ‘evidence’ to the judge. Kopylenko said unless they receive payment from Katya the judge will have no option but to find me guilty. So who’s this politician bloke the SBU are after?”
“The owner of this house, Ruslan Imyets.”
Webb rolled his eyes and let out a humourless laugh. “Imyets, the Verhovna Rada Deputy? I should be honoured.”
“You know him?”
“I’ve heard of him, he’s in pharmaceuticals before that he was Militia officer. The channel TVi ran a story on him, it very nearly put them out of business. He’s one of the most aggressive bandits from Donetsk, one of the President’s own ‘Donbas business buddies’. In the last two years Imyets has won more tenders than anyone else, and he’s used some very unsavoury means to secure them. Heck, if Kopylenko’s working for Imyets he’s got some serious Krisha!”
Snow thought for a moment. “What’s the connection between Kopylenko and Imyets?”
“Kopylenko is a Militia officer from Donetsk. Apart from that I don’t know.”
“Have you ever had any dealings with Imyets?”
“No, we don’t move in quite the same circles.”
Snow stretched out and fell his ribs. He’d just have a few bruises. “You know I don’t think Imyets knows anything about this. No offence Brian, but why would he bother with you?”
“I agree. I just sell books, not even mucky ones. I could murder a drink.” Webb raised his arms and gestured around the room. “Ironic eh, they put me in an empty wine cellar.”
Blazhevich checked his watch again. What was taking Snow so long? He cursed. He knew the Englishman too well, he’d ‘improvised’. There was a buzzing next to him and he picked up Snow’s Blackberry which the SIS operative had intentionally left behind. “Hello Alistair.”
“Vitaly, this means Snow is with you?”
“He was but now he’s checking out the address where we believe Webb is being held. I’ve got an eyeball on the location.”
“Which Militia station are they in?”
“They are not. It’s a private house belonging to Ruslan Imyets. They are holding him hostage.”
“So the kidnappers are Militia officers in the pocket of Ruslan Imyets?”
“Correct, which is why Dudka wanted you to back off.”
“Understood.” Vickers was annoyed it was all happening without him. “So what is Aidan doing?”
“He is inside looking for Brian. We had a plan; Aidan’s a drunk ex-pat looking up an old friend.”
“I see. So now they’ve got two hostages?”
“It looks that way.”
“So the plan is working Vitaly?”
Blazhevich shook his head. Both Vickers and Snow always thought they knew best, even though they had very different approaches. “Yes. If it was not the correct location they would have sent Aidan ‘packing’, but if we presume they are holding him then all we do is wait until he is moved.”
In his flat Vickers sipped his tea. “So what would the SBU like me to do?”
“We need to get something on Imyets. The SBU cannot ‘go in’ unless there is evidence of his involvement that’ll hold up in court otherwise our entire investigation will be blown. I can watch but I can’t act.”
“OK. I’ll wait until Monday lunchtime and then if we don’t have Webb or Snow I’ll go ahead with my official complaint.”
“You think Aidan will wait until then?”
“No. Where are you?”
Blazhevich decided there was no point in keeping the location a secret from his SIS contact. “Petropavlivska Borschagivka, I’m in the unfinished church.”
Vickers knew the place, it had become somewhat of a landmark. Commissioned by a Kyiv businessman twelve years before and never completed, its large bell lay outside still wrapped in its protective cover. The bell proved too heavy and too sacred for anyone to run off with. “I’m here if you need me.”
“Thanks.” Blazhevich ended the call. There was movement at the front door. Through the magnified image of the stills camera he saw two Militia officers in shirt-sleeves smoking and grinning. One held a bottle of whisky and poured a shot for the other.
Blazhevich muttered to himself as he took some more pictures. “Come on Aidan.”
The cellar door opened and Kopylenko entered followed by another officer. The second officer spoke quietly into Kopylenko’s ear. “Captain Budt would like to know how your head is Brian?”
“Tell him that his mother should be proud that he hits like a girl.”
Snow sighed; Brian and Katya were both graduates of the same ‘charm school’.
Kopylenko frowned. “I will tell him, it is serious. But a more serious matter is you, Mr Snow. You were not looking for Eric at all were you? No you came here because Brian called you. I have his phone and have also checked with immigration. So I have a question for you Mr Snow, who are you?”
“Why ask questions, just shoot him.” Budt stated in Russian as he removed his side-arm from its holster and held it by his side.
Had he underestimated the men, would they try to kill him? Snow readied himself for action as he spoke. “I am Brian’s friend. He asked me to come and here I am.”
Kopylenko scratched his chin. “Now I believe what you are saying but that leaves us with a problem. You see you have assaulted a police officer. This is something that I cannot ignore so here is the deal. You will pay Captain Budt compensation of $15,000 and myself another $15,000. We will take you to our personal banker. Once you have paid us I will personally drive you back to the airport.”
“And what about Brian?”
“He must see the judge; his offence carries a much higher penalty.”
“Why can’t you just let it go man?” Webb stood, arms out at his sides and palms upwards trying to placate the policemen. “I am not the reason Katya left you. We both love Ana; we should be working this out together.”
Kopylenko’s face contorted with rage and he pointed angrily at Webb. “Because of you my daughter will not talk to me! I am her father! You have stolen her from me, from her grandparents and now you want to take her away for ever!”