by Peter Kozmar
“Find out what has happened to my friends,” Putin glanced at his watch, then stood abruptly, “I need to attend my next meeting, Anatoly will give you further instructions, for now, you may keep that file with you.” Andy got to his feet. Putin rounded the table to shake his hand, this time with a bone-breaking grip and, as he released it, he asked, “Before I go, would you like a selfie with me?”
CHAPTER 11
Andy felt the energy drop after the charismatic President left the room. Kruputchkin re-entered accompanied by a young woman wearing a dark suit and wide collared white shirt; the jacket not quite hiding the pistol she wore on her hip. Her brown hair tied back in a tight bun which gave her face a hard edge to it. Andy recalled she’d been with the President’s secret service detail earlier and had been one of the group to clear out of the room. “Mr Flint this is FSB Agent Luba Gamzova. She is part of the President’s security detail and the President has requested that she is to work with you.”
“And, how will Ms Gamzova help?” Andy asked casually.
“Luba is a second Dan black belt in karate, a pistol marksman, a diver, an explosives and demolitions expert as well as a keen tri-athlete and marathon runner. As a member of the President’s secret service detail she is well connected within the security services and can give you access to people and places that would otherwise be out of your reach.”
While Kruputchkin spoke, Andy studied Gamzova closely. With a slim figure, she looked like she worked out regularly. He figured Gamzova to be in her late-twenties and, to be selected for the President’s personal security detail, had to be very good at her job. Gamzova probably wouldn’t take any shit from anyone, but it would be a pain for him to have someone tagging along for the ride –giving updates and remembering to include her in his plans – he worked better on his own.
“I normally work alone,” Andy stated emphatically.
Kruputchkin continued as though he’d not heard Andy, “Mr Flint you are not a US Government official with diplomatic status. You are here as a civilian and while in Russia you are subject to our laws. You have no power to question, detain, photograph, wiretap, abduct, torture or shoot anybody. On Russian soil you must accept our generous offer of assistance otherwise the car will return you to the airport.”
He had a point, Andy conceded. With an FSB shadow they were less likely to hack my phone and tail me all the time. The battle really wasn’t worth fighting. “In that case, I’ll happily work with Ms Gamzova,” Andy said as he approached Gamzova and shook her hand. Gamzova’s bright blue eyes locked with Andy’s, he couldn’t fail to notice the iciness in her expression. You are one person I want on my side. After the handshake ended, she quickly stepped back.
“I’m pleased that’s settled,” Kruputchkin looked from one to the other, he could see that neither of them looked happy to be working with the other. “When your work is complete you are to return the file to Ms Gamzova.” Andy held the file up in the air in acknowledgement. Kruputchkin looked at his watch, “let’s sit and talk for a few minutes.” The three of them sat while the two unarmed agents from the convoy remained standing behind them. Kruputchkin suddenly realised they were there. “Wait outside the room,” he commanded, and, with a brief nod in response they left, closing the door behind them.
Once they were alone, Kruputchkin pointed to the file and continued, “During the last six months twelve multi-billion-dollar companies have changed ownership. Corporate takeovers are not unusual in Russia. We expect to see one, maybe two per year. However, in these cases they were all sold to one company, the Makarov Corporation, for undisclosed amounts. We investigated the transactions and believe no funds were exchanged.” Andy looked puzzled, but Kruputchkin pushed on regardless. “The companies appear to have been given away, details of the companies and their previous owners are in the file.”
Andy opened the file and looked at the first page, a table of contents listing each of the companies in alphabetical order. Below the twelfth company the headings: ‘Murdered’; ‘Missing’; and, finally, ‘Makarov Corporation’. He started to thumb through the file while listening to Kruputchkin.
“We have seen six wealthy entrepreneurs murdered, their murders remain unsolved. All their details are in the file. We believe they didn’t want to sell their business interests and, as a result, were murdered. Four more have disappeared, their families have no idea where they are, and there have been no ransom demands.” Kruputchkin’s expression changed as he remembered something important, “That doesn’t include Vladim Martirossian, we didn’t know about him until late yesterday. Three others have been reported to Police as kidnapped. A further eight individuals have gone into hiding with their families.”
Makarov is well organised, financed and resourced. Ruthless in achieving their goal. These take-overs can’t be their end game. What’s this leading towards?
“To save me reading to the end, what do you know about the Makarov Corporation?” Andy asked. Gamzova looked at him with incredulity at his rude interruption of Kruputchkin.
“Today it’s the largest private company in Russia and the world’s fourth largest. The Makarov Corporation is a Russian company though, for tax reasons, its registered offices are in Bermuda. The owners are a Trust in the British Virgin Islands, the Trustees are Russian, very private, attract no publicity and spend little time in Russia. What details we have, are in the file.”
“What do you know about the Trustees?” Andy asked.
Kruputchkin looked uncomfortable in his seat as he adjusted his position, “Their identities are unknown, or rather the ones registered on the paperwork are not the real owners.”
“Why do you say that?” Gamzova asked without embarrassment.
“The registered Trustees are two coal miners from Vladivostok, a farmer from Yakutsk and two bakers from Saint Petersburg. I don’t see them as being the brains behind an international conglomerate and criminal enterprise.” Gamzova nodded in agreement.
Kruputchkin stood and moved to the door, “It’s time for you to leave if you are to make your meeting at the US Embassy.” Andy opened his backpack and crammed the President’s file within, before pulling on the draw cords and closing it. Kruputchkin led them out of the Kremlin to a waiting car, “Ms Gamzova will wait for you while you meet with Mr Kintbury at the Embassy.”
Kruputchkin is well informed … How did he know my next appointment was at the Embassy with Kintbury?
Andy climbed into the front and placed his backpack on his knee while Gamzova climbed into the back of the car. The driver grabbed his fist microphone and told his control room they were heading to the US Embassy.
Once clear of the Kremlin, Gamzova was first to break the silence. “We don’t need you!” her terse statement not expecting an answer. Well, you’ve got me, so get used to it! Andy turned his attention away from the busy Moscow rush hour traffic to her, turning in his seat to look at her. She didn’t look happy.
“Too bad, it’s not my call. My Government asked me to investigate the murder of American nationals in Russia. Your President has, personally, asked me to widen the scope of my investigation. Since I don’t have any formal investigative powers, we have to work together, and believe me, I’m not happy with that arrangement either but I’m here to do a job and that’s what I intend to do.”
He paused to allow what he’d said sink in, “Of course you could ask to be reassigned, but you’d have to take it up with your President, otherwise, get over yourself or you’ll end up like Malchik did when he met me.” He remained calm, this wasn’t the first time people had been less than pleased to be working with him and he was glad his Russian hadn’t deserted him so that he could converse with Gamzova but also so that she knew he understood.
Gamzova stared at him with a defiant look in her eyes. Andy continued, directing his attention back to the road. “Regardless of whether you need me or not, we’re in this together so you’d better get used to it or it’s going to be hard work for both of us.” They co
ntinued the rest of the journey in silence.
The Marines at the US Embassy waved the official car through the heavily reinforced gates and directed them to a nearby car park. Andy climbed out of the car and opened the rear door. Gamzova looked up at him, surprised. “I said we were working on this together,” Andy shrugged “Coming?”
She got out of the car. At the entrance to the Embassy building they were met by three Marines in dress uniform carrying side arms. “Andrew Flint and Luba Gamzova here to see Bob Kintbury.” One of the Marines opened the door and guided them inside.
Gamzova approached the security desk that had a shield of thick ballistic glass. “I have a pistol I need to secure.” She removed the pistol from her holster and slipped the magazine out before sliding the pistol and magazine down the chute for the Marine behind the glass to store. The Marine behind the security desk pointed to the sign written in both English and Russian that stated cell phones were prohibited beyond the reception. Gamzova removed her phone and slipped it through the chute, Andy followed suit. Andy then held up his backpack.
“That can’t come inside, sir,” the Marine informed him, “you’ll need to leave it here. We’ll take care of it and give it back when you leave.” Reluctantly, Andy handed it over. Then, for the third time that day, Andy found himself walking through airport-style metal detectors.
After a few minutes they were joined by Bob Kintbury, a short overweight, bespectacled man with a receding hairline and a bushy salt and pepper beard. Andy couldn’t recall having worked with Kintbury during his time at the Agency. He was pretty sure that he would have remembered Kintbury in his brown shoes, casual trousers and a grey cardigan complete with leather elbow patches. He looks more like a University lecturer than a senior manager with the Agency.
“Hi, I’m Bob Kintbury.” Kintbury extended his hand which Andy shook, “and you must be Andrew Flint.” Kintbury’s grip felt weak, his hand sweaty, but Andy gave him a firm handshake all the same.
“This is Ms Gamzova. She’s assisting with the enquiry.” Kintbury nodded at her and gestured for them to follow him out of the waiting area and into a nearby meeting room. The windowless room could seat ten people comfortably around the table. On the end wall were two large flat screen televisions with a camera between them, both screens were displaying the State Department crest.
Kintbury looked at them from his seat across the table, “I’ve been instructed by Director Hobbs to offer all possible assistance to you Mr Flint. What would you like to know?” This guy doesn’t hang about. Straight to the point. No pre-amble. I may start to like the guy ... even if his handshake needs to be worked on!
“What can you tell me about Bruce Chester?”
“Bruce? Bruce was a great guy to work with. I’ll miss him. He’d been working on the Russian desk on and off for years, one of the most experienced agents we had. A hard worker and he had the networks in Moscow and Saint Petersburg to back him up. His reports were always on time and his expenses were submitted weekly.” Kintbury paused, a look of regret crossing his face, “Poor man had a posting back to Washington in three weeks, with a promotion, it would be the start of his transition out of the Agency.”
“Why have him posted back to Washington when all his contacts were here?” Kintbury folded his arms and leaned forward, agitated.
“I have to run this team on a tight budget, and I didn’t have the funding to cover a promotion for Bruce. Sending him Stateside meant he would be off my books. I planned to bring in a more junior resource at a lower cost to the team. Bruce could manage the handover from DC. To fill the gap, Amanda was to spend more time here and, with the increased responsibility and workload, she’d be promoted.” Kintbury paused for a moment then added, “Not to the same grade as Bruce, but a small promotion all the same.”
Andy’s opinion changed from his initially positive one of Kintbury. This guy is an accountant. Just cares about managing upwards and making sure his budgets are carefully managed. “What about Amanda Lightfoot?”
Kintbury’s demeanour changed, he unfolded his arms, smiled, leaned back and subconsciously rubbed his chin. “Young, very ambitious, another hard worker. Some of the boys liked to say she worked hard and partied even harder. She’d been in and out of Russia for six years. At first she’d socialise with us, but after a year or so, she spread her wings and tended to mix with wealthy young Russian men. Amanda said it helped her cultivate assets. The high-grade information she gathered was actionable, she got results and I had no reason to question her methods. Though Bruce did think she was too close to her assets which she’d cultivated and more than once had her shipped back to Langley so she could normalize her life and reconnect with the Agency.”
“Who did she spend her social time with?” Gamzova asked.
“I can’t tell you from memory, however, I can give you the names from her files before you leave. Amanda travelled far and wide with these people, from some of the finest Châteaux in Europe to sailing on super yachts in Saint Tropez, she sure picked them.”
“Did you know her fiancé?” Andy asked.
Kintbury looked surprised. “Err … I don’t know anything about a fiancé. She didn’t act as though she were in a long-term relationship, quite the opposite,” Kintbury shrugged, “she never struck me as the homemaker type.”
“What were they doing in Saint Petersburg?”
“Amanda’s intel suggested that a mafia organisation linked to the Makarov Corporation was based here. She planned a mission to identify the head of the organisation, Bruce decided to tag along at the last minute. I knew he pissed her off as she protested about it to me.”
“Why?” Gamzova asked, her eyes fixed on Kintbury.
“She didn’t think she needed a babysitter to hold her hand.”
“Do you think she needed a babysitter?” she asked. Kintbury leaned forward and placed his hands palms down on the table top.
“Before they were snatched, I had no doubts about her ability to detect trouble and stay safe. I didn’t think Bruce needed to be there,” he slowly shook his head, “they got Bruce too!”
“Is there anything else you can tell us about the mission?”
Kintbury leaned back from the table and clasped his hands behind his head, “This was a routine operation. It surprised me when I heard they’d failed to report in. I keep going over the briefing and can’t see how it went so wrong.” He stopped, clearly still going over the events in his mind. “If that weren’t bad enough, the four agents I sent to investigate their disappearance, were murdered. We’ve been in crisis ever since. When they found Bruce’s body, we all went into shock. I’ve not lost an agent before but to lose six at once,” he trailed off, “my career might be as good as over now.”
“What can you tell us of the other four agents who were killed?” Gamzova asked. She didn’t appear to know about the dead agents until five seconds ago, but now she sounded as though she’d already been briefed.
A saddened expression came over Kintbury’s face, “There’s not much to say. They were good guys, with experience too. After receiving their briefing from me, they were on the first flight out to Saint Petersburg. They were ambushed in their hire car on the main highway, they died in a hail of machine gun fire, it must have been terrifying for them. I knew each of them pretty well.”
“Do the police have any leads?” Gamzova asked.
“No. Nothing.”
“What about Vectron Security?” Andy asked.
“We followed our standard protocol after our four agents were murdered. The protocol has us use external contractors from our preferred suppliers list. We went to Vectron Security, as they are our only external contractor for security services in Russia. The Vectron team here are top operators. The team they dispatched had plenty of experience between them. They were all former Navy Seals, but they were taken from their hotel, tortured, murdered and their bodies dumped the following day.” Kintbury shook his head, “The local police have no active leads. They clai
m the hotel’s CCTV was out of commission. The reports they gave me on the murders were brief.”
I’m not sure I can learn much more from this guy. Andy decided to end the meeting, “While you gather the details of Amanda’s contacts from her files, can you also get me the details of the shooting and where the Vectron team were abducted? Oh, and lastly, we’d like to know about the target area Amanda and Bruce went to investigate.”
“Sure, stay here I’ll be back soon,” Kintbury left the room.
Andy turned to Gamzova and asked, “What do you think?”
“Whoever abducted the Vectron team were highly professional and bold. They took a team of highly skilled operatives from their hotel without raising alarm or giving the team an opportunity to resist. It is too convenient that there was a problem with the video footage of their abduction from their hotel. It would appear to indicate the hotel management is somehow involved.”
Kintbury returned with a thin file and handed it over to Andy. “Is there anything else you’d like to know?” he asked.
“No. I think that’s all for now. If I do think of something, I’ll be in touch.”
Kintbury reached into his jacket and produced a business card, “My direct line is on there, now, let me show you out.”
As they passed through the reception area, a Marine handed Andy his backpack. Andy stopped and quickly placed the thin file inside and zipped up the backpack. Gamzova approached the security booth where her pistol and full magazine were returned. She immediately homed the magazine into her weapon then placed the loaded weapon into her leather holster. Kintbury held the outer door open for them.
“I’ll say my goodbyes here. Good luck, call if you need anything. Oh, and Mr Flint, remember all your travel and hotel costs go against Director Hobbs’s cost centre, not mine.” Yep. He’s a tight ass accountant. Andy led the way from the Embassy building towards the Government car and their waiting driver. He paused for only a moment about to turn and speak with Gamzova when he heard a sharp crack and felt the shockwave as a bullet passed within centimetres of his forehead.