by Tim Heath
Anastasia knew she had enough to give to the British. She pulled the information from her phone using a device she’d purchased for that purpose, and once it confirmed all the photos had transferred, she restored the phone to its factory setting. It had served its purpose.
She used her own phone to write a message to Anissa, someone Alex had talked about a lot and someone Alex had introduced her to in the earlier stages of their relationship.
I need to meet. I have something to give to you. Don’t let Alex know for now, but I’ll explain all when I see you. Come alone. Anastasia.
She pressed send, hoping for the life of her that Anissa still had the same number and that she would understand who the message was from.
Anissa was driving when the message came in. At the first junction, now stuck behind a red light, Anissa checked her phone. It startled her to read Anastasia’s words. The traffic lights changed before she could think of a response––Anissa was unsure if she should do anything about it, she was suspicious of her––so Anissa left the phone on the passenger seat while navigating the rest of the journey. It would give her time to ponder her reply.
Anissa pulled up onto the drive outside her home but didn’t get out of the car. She was holding her phone, her fingers poised to type, having reread the message multiple times. She still couldn’t work out what the Belarusian was up to. Only a reply could hope to shed light on that.
I need to know more before even contemplating a face-to-face. Anissa.
She pressed send and got out of the car. The kids would go to bed soon, and she wanted to be with them before it was too late.
The Kremlin
Filipov watched the news alone, his name being bandied about, accused of war crimes, and an arrest warrant in place for him and his core team. It would limit his movements, but while in Russia, he was untouchable.
Filipov, as always, had a plan.
He’d order the stepping up of attacks in Syria pushing his actions over the edge, and into the realm of a war crime. He needed to force the hand of the ICC. He needed them to do what they’d just done; yet again Filipov couldn’t help but smile at the television, like a spider might appreciate an inquisitive fly edging closer to its web.
The bombing in Syria should have eliminated Putin, wiping away another threat to Filipov’s reign, though a lack of confirmation on that front had been the one negative so far.
He called Svetlana into his office five minutes later, Filipov at the window, lost in thought as she entered the room so that her presence was, initially, unnoticed. She coughed, politely, once she realised Filipov had not moved. He turned and smiled.
“I have an extraordinary mission for you, Svetlana. You are to take my jet and fly to Amsterdam.” She’d not yet heard the news that morning. “What I have for you is an exceptional role that only you can fulfil. You will also need to instruct a team to go to Zurich.”
“What do you want me to do in Amsterdam?”
“Someone will meet you. You’ll get the code we need for the vault.” She knew exactly what the vault meant. Filipov was sending her to get access to the Bank and with it the ability to hold much of the world hostage if they didn’t do whatever Filipov said.
She left the office. The news was on, her name listed as being indicted with a war crime. The report was coming live from the Hague.
“And he’s sending me to Amsterdam?” she said aloud, though, for those who were in earshot, they knew better than to show they were listening to her. She’d trusted Filipov this far, however. She assumed he would have a way of getting his jet in without her presence there being noticed.
How wrong that would prove to be.
Salisbury––England
March 2018
The attack in Salisbury on a former Russian spy––an outspoken man who was against Putin being re-elected––was carried out under orders from Matvey Filipov himself. He knew the target was on Putin’s agenda, knew it would boost his own chances if they made a move, and saw an opportunity to earn points. The West had played their part, albeit unwittingly, by blaming Putin. Filipov had made available the accelerant, once created by Shaun O’Doherty, the man hiding behind his new identity, but someone who Filipov had learnt was meeting with the British. That only meant one thing. The Irishman had turned against Filipov, the man who’d protected him for so long, the man who’d allowed him to live a new life, the man who’d handed him millions by letting him claim that lottery ticket.
Even before the election, Filipov, unsure of the result at that point but confident his chances were about to improve, knew it was time to act.
He’d, therefore, planted Phelan’s unique chemical combination at the scene, not too obviously––he first needed the British to point the finger at Putin––but there nonetheless. It would get discovered, analysed and they would finally make the link. That would put Phelan in a problematic situation. Filipov knew once word got out, Phelan would understand as plain as day what Filipov wanted him to do. Back off, stand down, let him run the nation. Carry on, and I’ll expose you. It was as clear as anything. It would also discredit Phelan in the eyes of the British, particularly if they were to link him to all the murders during the Troubles.
Filipov had seen the lengths to which Phelan had gone to save his family. He was apparently a changed man, very much in love with his wife and kids, the protective husband and father. Yet, inside the man there lived a killer, and even if that had been subdued, the skills remained. Filipov had to send an unequivocal message to Phelan: no more speaking to the British unless you want to be destroyed.
25
Edge of Moscow
Rad had been in the lockup for a day already. He’d heard deer passing through in the night. With the start of a new day, he was out before dawn, his weapon in hand, trying to pick up their tracks. Early morning or just after sunset was the best time to catch sight of a deer as they came to the water to drink. Rad was ever watchful for any predators doing precisely what he was trying to do. He would not be food for any hungry wolves still recovering after winter.
Rad was at the edge of the river. All around him nature was coming back to life after the bitter months of winter. Birds flew over the water, he could hear insects of various kinds all around. There was no sign of any deer, though they were close, Rad could tell.
He trained his scope towards the only building he knew of in the area. He could see smoke rising a little above the trees though the building itself was hidden from where he was crouched in the grass. They were apparently still at the property. Rad wondered if it was just the girl, or her parents with her. If she was alone, would she be happy to see him?
A sound from his left pulled him back into his immediate location. An animal had undoubtedly moved through the undergrowth. Rad raised himself up a little and edged in that direction. He stopped. There was silence again. It had to be a deer, but with the ever-thickening undergrowth, the trees coming into leaf more every day, getting a clear view would be hard, especially into the forest.
Another twig snapped.
Rad crouched, bringing his gun in front of him. He checked all around him though the water behind acted as a barrier from anything coming at him from the rear. He couldn’t rule out a wolf pack, his only encounter with one of them had been fast, loud and angry, and he’d escaped up a tree, the wolves getting bored after a while and going off in search of something more catchable. That encounter had given Rad newfound respect for nature, and predators especially.
Rad wanted to remain at the top of the food chain. If there were deer around, it was possible he wasn’t the only thing hunting them, even if he was the only human.
Except he wasn’t.
The slightest sound of another twig snapping made Rad focus a little to the right, and he saw her. The same girl from the house down the river, the one he’d watched bathing the other day. Now she was fully clothed, dressed in colours to blend into the forest, and holding a rifle in front of her. She wasn’t aware of Rad homing
in on her. She was watching the deer she’d been tracking for the last hour.
Rad watched as she lowered herself to the ground, apparently preparing for the shot. Rad couldn’t see the animal from where he was but knew roughly where it had to be. He mirrored her action, estimating roughly where she was aiming, and waited, glancing back and forth. Rad could see her finger preparing the trigger, her shoulder pressing into the rifle. Rad could hear a little movement ahead––it was possible there was more than one deer––but still, he couldn’t see anything.
Then she fired.
A deer could be seen scampering––presumably she’d missed––and Rad instinctively fired off another round, in the split second he glimpsed the animal, putting the buck down instantly.
The second shot had startled the woman, who had stood up in surprise, only then spotting Rad. She smiled at him. Rad smiled back, getting to his feet.
She walked over to the deer, apparently dead. She’d seen her own bullet hit the tree.
“Hello, I’m Radomir. Rad for short,” he said, holding out his hand to the girl who couldn’t have been much older than twenty now he was close up to her.
“Nastya,” she said, taking his hand. “Nice shot,” she added.
“You startled it. You made it easy for me. I couldn’t miss.” She laughed. She might not have been as good a shot as her father yet, but she knew a hunter when she saw one.
“That was one hell of a shot. You can’t have had a second to react.”
“Instinct takes over in moments like this.” She looked at his weapon. She swore loudly.
“That’s some weapon!”
Rad passed it to her, Nastya shouldering her own gun over her shoulder––which looked somewhat amateur compared to the one she was being given––before accepting the weapon. It must have weighed at least double what her rifle weighed. She passed it back to him.
“You live around here?” He apparently lived somewhere nearby. There was no road access to this part of the forest for miles around.
“Yes, close to here. About two kilometres in,” Rad said, waving in the general direction, though not being too specific.
“Really? Didn’t know we had any company in this section,” she said, smiling at him. “Not that we’ve explored this part of the forest. With the water flowing away from here, the best hunting is the other way.”
“Except today, it seems.” They looked back down at the deer.
“It’s your kill, this one.” She looked a little dejected.
“Rubbish,” he said, warming to her all the more. “You made it easy for me. It’s yours.”
“I didn’t shoot it.”
“But you saw it first, so that counts for something. I wouldn’t have known where it was unless I’d seen you approaching it. You showed me where to find it.”
“I did, did I? So you were watching me?”
Rad reddened a little but said nothing. Today wasn’t the only day I’ve watched you.
“I can’t possibly get this back to the house by myself,” she said, and Rad could see that. It must have weighed at least as much as he did, maybe more.
“Good point.”
“Besides, it’s far too much for us to manage. We can share it.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m positive. You help me move it, you cut it up, and it’s a deal.” She was positively beaming at him. She had a stunning smile.
“Look, my place is not that far from here. I have a quad bike in a shed. That should help us move it back to my dacha, and I’ll cut it up there. You keep the carcass safe.” She nodded and pulled her rifle back out front. “I won’t be long,” Rad added, jogging back towards his place.
He took just ten minutes to get home, and Rad quickly cleaned away some things he’d been working on. He shut the gun cabinet. Checking his hair in the mirror––it was presentable, given he was practically camping out––Rad picked up the keys for the shed, and went to where he stored the quad bike. He checked the fuel level, which would get him there and back, and switched on the engine. As he headed out, he could hear a shot being fired. He throttled up as fast as it would go.
About three minutes later, he was there. Nastya was in a tree, but everything else was quiet. Whatever had been on the scene had either run away when the quad bike was approaching or had been scared off by the gunshot.
“You okay?” Rad said, parking up next to the deer, but leaving the engine running.
“Yes, I’m fine. Something was making an approach in the bushes. I didn’t want to take a chance. I fired into the air and climbed the tree. I think whatever it was, ran away.” That would have ruled out a wolf pack. They wouldn’t have given up on a deer carcass quite as quickly. She jumped down from the tree in one smooth motion, landing on her feet, her hands only just brushing the ground as she sprang up back to full height.
“Nicely done,” Rad said, admiring her as she came towards him. “Think you can manage this with me?” he said, pointing to the dead animal before them.
Ten minutes later they had tied the deer crudely to the back section of the quad bike. Nastya perched on the seat behind Rad. He shuffled forward a little to allow her the space to sit while still able himself to drive them back. He took the return journey a lot slower––it was far heavier now, the buck hardly tightly secured, and Rad was enjoying having Nastya’s long legs wrapped around him. She was holding him tightly as they bounced over some rougher ground.
Back at the lockup ten minutes later, Rad untied the ropes holding the deer in place. He dragged it into his shed. With the quad bike not in there, it was the best spot to place the animal while he set about cutting it up.
Nastya looked around the place though didn’t go into anywhere that wasn’t otherwise open.
“Nice setup,” she said politely, though Rad knew it wasn’t much of a property. He needed it for one purpose, and comfort and style hadn’t ranked high on his list of requirements.
“It’s not much, but suits me for when I’m here.”
It was plain he lived by himself. There was no room for anyone else. Nastya noted that with some pleasure and a little relief.
An hour later Rad was done with the animal. He’d given most of the meat to Nastya, wrapped in plastic and loaded onto the bike. He said he would drive her back with it all later. He only kept a little, which he dropped into his lockup. Nastya followed him inside, keen to see his place. She liked the guy.
Rad laid the meat onto the table. He would cook it all up later over a fire, and it would last him the few days he planned to stay. He needed no more meat than that. It would only attract attention from hungry scavengers.
“It’s cosy,” she said after he’d moved a few things and made a fuss about getting the place presentable. He’d had no one inside his lockup before, let alone a girl.
“Like I said, it serves a simple purpose.” She looked at the computer, something she didn’t expect to see in a hut so deep into the forest.
“You work out here?” It wasn’t as much a question as a statement of wonder. She knew there would be no internet signal this far out of Moscow.
“When I have to, yes,” he said. “I write,” he added. He didn’t want to get into anything about his actual working life. She loved to read, and this took her off on a tangent talking all about books, what type of books Rad liked, how long he’d been writing and if he’d written anything she might have heard of. Thirty minutes later, Rad just about keeping up with the conversation without giving much away about himself, they were outside standing next to the bike.
“Shall I get you back? Your folks will wonder where you’ve got to.”
“They aren’t my folks. It’s my uncle and his new wife. Besides, they went to town yesterday.”
By town, it wasn’t clear if she meant one of the smaller villages dotted around the region, some as near as an hour away, or Moscow itself––hardly an actual town, though affectionately called that by some locals––about three hours away. All he registe
red was that she was alone right now.
They got onto the bike, Nastya as squashed up to Rad as she had been before, despite there being a lot more space now that only parts of the animal were being transported. Rad set off up the track. He had a fair idea of where their cabin was but had never gone that way on the bike before. She navigated him off the track for the last bit, checking that he would know the way back. Rad only had to take a route once to find the return path, though he would not explain that to her, or how he’d learnt it.
He drove the quad bike up to the front door and switched off the engine. It was a beautiful-looking dacha, probably built by her uncle. That must have been over twenty years ago, but it was still in excellent condition and had a bedroom in the loft which was where Nastya said she stayed. Inside, it was as Rad had expected. Minimal, but tasteful. The kitchen had everything a country house kitchen needed.
Rad helped Nastya carry the meat into a deep freeze, something all hunting families had. The meat was nearly out; it had apparently been a long winter, and this first kill of the year would feed them for weeks. Rad was glad he’d been able to help.
Nastya went to put the kettle on as Rad washed his hands. The water was cold yet refreshing. There was no hot water at the property, the water pumped, like his, from a nearby well.