by Tim Heath
The insider had got him this far. Putin checked the clock. They would not yet be arriving for work at the Kremlin, though somewhere in the same city where Putin now waited, they were beginning to start that journey. Somewhere out there, his loyal traitor was travelling in, knowing what might be about to happen that day. Knowing the President was going to be killed.
Putin got to work. If the staff were not in the Kremlin at that time, it was less likely anyone would be watching. Leave it too late, and it only increased the risk.
Putin pulled out the code he’d been given. He keyed in the data carefully––the device he’d used in Israel had been left there. But Putin soon accessed the system. He was in once again, the calendar for that day very much the same, though the weeks ahead had filled up, as anyone would have expected. Putin smiled. None of these later appointments were going to be fulfilled. He wouldn’t lose sleep over that. He also decided against taking to heart those names––some he knew, most he didn’t––who had arranged a time with the President. They would all be given a chance to make their peace with Putin once he was back in power.
Putin checked out Orlov. Little had changed in his arrangements. He was apparently meeting with Filipov still, that same evening. Whatever reason the oligarch was at the Kremlin to speak with the President, required a clear diary. That was telling.
Putin closed everything down. He disconnected the wires though he left the device itself in place. He might need it later, he wasn’t sure. One final check possibly before he went in to know for certain the meeting was still on. Putin didn’t want to put himself in such danger for no reason. He would make up his mind nearer the time. It could just be the nerves speaking. He wasn’t usually a man who got nervous. But this wasn’t a usual situation.
London
“She’s what?” Anissa exclaimed, rage erupting on her face like a sudden storm tearing across an unsuspecting town. Sasha had started talking about work, just a little. Bethany May had since been completely let off, moved departments as agreed and now fully cleared of punishment following her former connections to Filipov and Russia.
“She bargained her way out of punishment.”
“But she killed my family!”
“She didn’t,” Sasha said, though he didn’t know that to be true, and it showed.
“Who do you think told Filipov about us, Sasha? Come on, she gave him our names.”
“We don’t know that.”
“We don’t have to know that to see it’s blatantly obvious. Bethany must have warned Filipov about Alex as well.”
They didn’t know that, either, but Sasha wasn’t going to sound like a broken record. He regretted even starting the conversation now.
“She’s not at MI6 anymore, so we don’t have to work with her.”
“She shouldn’t be working anywhere! She’s guilty.”
“Anissa, you have to drop this. It’s not going to help.”
“But they are dead because of her. My husb…my so…” She couldn’t finish either word.
“And the men responsible are behind bars, Anissa.”
“No, the men who carried out the crime are behind bars. Those ultimately responsible are still free.”
“Blame Filipov, by all means.”
“Filipov, yes, but that bitch too. They are all guilty.” Sasha didn’t know what to say. “Where is she?”
“She’s gone, Anissa, I don’t know where she is. Why does it matter? We don’t have to deal with her. She’s made her trade.”
“That doesn’t help me, though, does it?”
“No, of course not.” Sasha let some of the emotion drop, though it was Anissa who spoke again next.
“Tell me where she is. I have to know.”
“Why?”
“Because I do, okay.”
“You want to speak to her? Do you think that will do any good? Do you think you’ll be able to control yourself?”
“I don’t know what I want to do. But I have to know.”
“Why?” Sasha repeated, not even wanting to find out where May was now based.
“Because I’m bloody asking you!” Anissa screamed, catching Sasha by surprise, Anissa rising to her feet, though Sasha remained seated. He stayed calm inside. She was venting. That was a good thing. She could even break stuff if she wanted. Sasha was sure Alex wouldn’t mind. It wasn’t as if he was going to miss anything, anyway.
“Look, I’m sorry for shouting,” Anissa said, suddenly calm, though still pacing around the kitchen. She knew she wasn’t going to get anywhere with Sasha by shouting at him.
“You have nothing to be sorry about.”
“I need a drink.”
“I’ll put the kettle on,” Sasha said, starting to head towards the kitchen.
“Not that kind of drink. Something much stronger.” The medication she was on made alcohol off limits for her.
“That’s not a good idea. Doctor’s orders.”
“Screw the bloody doctors, Sasha.” That temper was back. She was jumping between hot and cold, angry and calm. Sasha knew this was to be expected but had no clue of how to handle her.
“There isn’t anything here,” he said, which was at least accurate. Thank goodness for drinking it all before he’d left for the hospital.
“Then buy me some!” she screamed, throwing her empty mug halfway across the room. It landed on the sofa so didn’t break. She stormed into her bedroom and shut the door. Sasha could hear her searching through the drawers, either sorting out Alex’s things for removal or testing the room for contraband. Sasha stood outside the door but would leave her for a moment.
Sasha had taken a shower, Anissa quiet in her room after the initial noise of her clearing away Alex’s stuff. Sasha had been staying at the hospital for a while, and taking a shower in his own home was a welcome relief. Sasha came out of the bathroom, and Anissa’s bedroom door was open, but she wasn’t there. He searched the flat quickly, wearing a towel around his waist and still dripping, but she had gone.
He swore.
Drying himself as quickly as he could, he dressed and was pulling on some socks when he heard a key being put into the front door, and soon after, the door opened. Anissa stepped in with a bulging bag of food.
“I’ve got some essentials,” she said, as calm as day.
“You aren’t meant to leave without letting me know,” Sasha scolded, worried to have found her missing but clearly relieved now that she was home again.
“Come on, I’m a big girl. I can look after myself.” She kicked off her shoes––she’d gone without socks––and marched the bag into the kitchen. “Besides,” she called, “you were in the shower. I wasn’t going to call through and check if it was okay. I’ve been shopping before, you know.”
The bag clunked as it was put down onto the worktop. Sasha watched her from a distance taking out various essentials. There were deodorants and makeup products as well as various food items. Pasta, rice, a few tins, some fruit and veg. Bread, milk. Wine. Three bottles at the bottom of the bag. Two white and one red. She placed the white wine in the fridge without saying a word. Sasha remained silent.
“I’ll cook us some pasta tonight,” she said before Sasha could comment on the shopping.
“You don’t need to,” he replied.
“I’m fine,” she said, leaving it at that.
Sasha went to grab Alex’s clothes that were piled up in one corner of Anissa's room. Anissa had apparently done a thorough job. Most, if not all, Sasha would be able to wear himself. He moved them into his room, glancing over towards Anissa, who seemed to be making some preparations for the food. He decided to let her cook and took the time to sort through everything of Alex’s, putting most of it in its place in his bedroom, selecting a few items to give away.
When he came back out of the room, the pans were sizzling with the cooking Anissa was doing, the smell hitting his nostrils with delight. She was halfway through a glass of wine.
“Want some?” she called, taking
a sip, clear that Sasha had seen. “It’s South African,” as if that made much of a difference. She grabbed a glass from the cupboard anyway and poured Sasha a generous amount, topping up her own glass to a similar level at the same time.
“Anissa, you really have to be careful,” Sasha warned. She brushed the comment away, handing him the glass of wine.
“To being flatmates,” she said, clinking glasses with Sasha before they both took a sip. She was right, it did taste good.
Five minutes later she had plated up, the pair sitting around the small table that divided the kitchen area from the lounge. Two could sit there at most. The apartment wasn’t geared for a family.
Sasha helped clear away. The food had been delicious, and they’d eaten mostly in silence. Sasha didn’t know how to handle the new Anissa, though he realised she was more the grieving Anissa, the on-the-mend Anissa. She would get better, he was sure. He emptied out all the fresh items from the dishwasher and proceeded to load it with the dishes from the meal. Anissa grabbed the wine glasses from Sasha’s hand as he was about to add them to the other dirty items.
“We might still be needing these,” she said, turning from him without saying anything more. She went and sat on the sofa, placing the glasses on the wooden coffee table and switching on the television. Sasha dropped the subject and after putting in what he could, gave the saucepans a wash in the sink.
“Bring the wine,” she called, as Sasha placed the last pan on the drying rack. He’d had enough wine himself, and she’d been drinking more than him. A little more wouldn’t hurt, but they were nearly through the bottle already. He grabbed it from the fridge. She split it between the two glasses. A house-buying programme had just started on the television which Anissa seemed to be watching. Sasha took a seat on the sofa next to her, but with space between them. She passed him the wine but didn’t say anything.
An hour later, the programme had finished. Anissa was resting her head on his shoulder, the wine finished, her body no doubt struggling to cope, sleepiness making it difficult for her to keep her eyes open.
“You know,” she slurred, the first clear sign that she’d drunk more than she could handle, the television now switched off, “since being married, the only other man I’ve kissed was you.” She let it settle in as if it would be a massive shock, but Sasha was aware of what had once happened in St Petersburg.
He remained silent.
“I felt so guilty about it back then,” she laughed, a little uncontrollably, everything apparently getting the better of her, though Sasha would take laughter over crying any day. “You were so forgiving.”
“Nothing happened,” he added, for clarity.
“Oh, don’t I know that!” she barked, laughing hysterically now for a full minute. “But boy did I want it at the time,” she said, going deadly serious, the room suddenly totally silent. “It was knowing I was married that stopped me.”
“You did nothing wrong.”
“In my mind, I did, believe me.” Her speech was very slurred. “You think I’m some nice girl, but I like it dirty as much as the next woman.”
“Anissa, you need to go to bed.”
“Oh yes I do!” she said as if answering an entirely different question. On her own planet.
Sasha started to stand, causing Anissa to collapse onto the sofa, again more laughter following.
“Oops,” she yelped. Sasha helped her to her feet, Anissa now standing just a few inches in front of him. Her eyes were smouldering.
“I’ve got no reason to hold back now, though, Sasha,” she said, putting one finger on his bottom lip. She moved in closer, though the smell of alcohol told Sasha all he needed to know.
“You’re very drunk.”
“Not that drunk,” though even that didn’t come out as smoothly as hoped.
“I’ll take you to bed,” Sasha said, helpfully.
“Yeah you will!” she exclaimed in delight, grabbing his backside. Sasha knocked her hand away.
“Stop it, I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Don’t want to have me then, Sasha? I know you do! I’ve seen it in your eyes already.” He couldn’t deny there were feelings, but not like this. This wasn’t romantic or anything close to appropriate.
“You won’t even remember this in the morning, Anissa, you’re drugged up and drunk.”
“I’m not,” she said, unclear which of the two she was denying, maybe even it was both. “Anyway, that’s more reason to screw me.” It didn’t make sense to Sasha, but then drunk people never did. He lowered her down onto the bed, pulling the duvet back over her. She must have been asleep before he shut the door, switching off the light in the process. He removed the wine glasses from the table, adding them to the other things already in the dishwasher. He didn’t know how much Anissa would remember in the morning, maybe nothing. It didn’t matter. He wouldn’t raise it if she didn’t. Yet more water under the bridge.
He went into his bedroom, closing the door. Sleep was calling.
29
The Kremlin
Svetlana was at the Kremlin early that morning. Filipov was not due in until lunchtime––far from unusual––and he had meetings later that day anyway. She went about her daily routine, doing everything she’d planned to do. No surprises for her today.
At nine she got the information she was expecting. She picked up a telephone to the FSB unit she’d prepped. “It’s me,” she said. No one else would be calling from that line. She rattled off some numbers. “Mean anything to you?” There was a pause while they checked them at the other end.
“Yes, we know the base,” came back the confirmation.
“Wait until five but surround the place. Nobody leaves.”
“Why wait?”
“Because it’s important we do. I need the other person involved.” She ended the call. She stood up and paced around the office––Filipov’s office. When he wasn’t in, she used his desk to make all her calls. She liked how it felt. She ran the place, anyway. Nobody would mention anything to Filipov. They feared her.
She poured herself a drink from Filipov’s full range of expensive options. She picked a particular favourite––she’d tried them all by that point––and savoured the taste while standing at the main window, looking out at the gates into the Kremlin in the distance. People were starting to arrive, office workers and backroom staff. The tourists were not permitted for a couple more hours yet and only got to see a small section, anyway.
A few more hours and everything would change.
London
The doctor supplied by MI6 had been to see Anissa, Sasha leaving and going for a jog. He wanted to give the two women space to talk.
Anissa had been staying with Sasha for a week already. He had not mentioned her mood swings and drinking to the doctor the first time she had visited, but neither had changed.
“So it’s working well being here?” the doctor asked Anissa.
“Yes. I don’t think I would cope well on my own.” Both knew that was true. Having Sasha working for MI6 also kept it a closed world, though neither were currently on active service. Anissa had her next checkup on that score in three week’s time, though the doctor could sense already Anissa wasn’t ready.
“Sasha mentioned you’ve been drinking quite heavily.” The snitch, but she didn’t voice that thought.
“Nothing excessive,” she lied.
“You were told to avoid alcohol altogether, though, as it affects the medication.”
“Then change the medication.” Anissa knew alcohol was the only medicine she needed at that moment, or so she thought, anyhow. Not that she would dare voice that to the doctor. She planned to say as little as possible and be declared recovered as quickly as she was able. It wasn’t going well so far.
“I’ll take that into consideration,” the doctor smiled. She had no intention of stopping the medication, though she might opt for one less affected by alcohol. “Are you sleeping well?”
“Yes,” she lied, t
his time the doctor spotting the fact. Anissa was getting constant nightmares, the explosion, never being able to get there in time. Sometimes she was in the car herself, alone. It was water then, she was drowning. She’d not told Sasha about the dreams though she had once woken up screaming, Sasha coming in through the door seconds later.
In all the dreams Bethany May would be there, in the fog, just out of arm's reach. She would have the chance to save Anissa but never did. Sometimes she just laughed as Anissa drowned, or laughed as the car exploded.
“That’s good,” the doctor said, making notes on her pad. She would up the strength of the sleeping pills she was prescribing Anissa.
“Are you ready to talk about what happened?”
“I want to talk about it with someone from Six.” The doctor was a hired in specialist. Though there were departmental professionals within the Security Service, they would only assess Anissa when it was time to come back. The doctor sitting there now was outside of Six.
“Do you have anyone in mind?”
“I don't want to see a counsellor. I'd like to talk it through with someone from my line of work, a woman.” That caused a problem. Everyone senior was male.
“I’ll see who is available.”
“No, it can’t be someone unconnected. There was someone from before. I think she’s moved departments. I could speak to her, though. I know I could.” The doctor had no clue about the specifics of those within MI6, or who might or might not have moved on. She had been pulled in exclusively to help Anissa learn how to live with her ordeal.
“What’s her name?”
“Bethany May,” Anissa said, her tone calm. The doctor added that to her pad. “But please, don’t mention I’m ready to speak to anyone yet. I don’t want the Service getting ahead of themselves. They’ll assume I’m ready to come back. I want to see how the chat goes, first, if that’s okay. Can you find out where she is?”