The Makarov File

by Peter Kozmar

  “Expect two of us as I’ll be travelling with my colleague, Ms Luba Gamzova.”

  “That’s not a problem, I’ll inform the airport and crew to expect both of you. I recommend you check out of your hotel because you’ll be away for a few days.”

  “Really? Where are we travelling to? Will I need my passport?” Andy asked trying not to sound too alarmed at getting on a plane to ‘anywhere in particular’.

  “This line isn’t secure, so you will have to wait until you are on the jet when the flight crew will brief you further. Goodbye for now Mr Flint, we will see you when you arrive.” The call ended abruptly without Andy having a chance to say anything else.

  Andy immediately called Gamzova and told her to pack an overnight bag and meet him outside the hotel, as they were going to see Mikhail Chousov. He briefly brought her up to speed and they agreed to meet an hour later; Gamzova would arrange a car to take them to the airport.

  It didn’t take long for Andy to repack his bag. After he checked out of the hotel he joined Gamzova in the car for their journey across Moscow to Myachkovo. The car pulled up next to Chousov’s gleaming white Citation X, they climbed out and quickly crossed the short distance to the jet’s stairs.

  The pilot descended the stairs and smiled as he welcomed them before introducing himself. “I’m Mark Baddeley and my First Officer is Chris Jackson. Chris is just finishing the last of the pre-flight checks. Once completed, we’ll have the jet de-iced and be on our way to Antigua via Faro in Portugal for refuelling. Let’s get out of this cold and into the warm.” Andy and Gamzova followed Baddeley up the stairs and into the jet. Once inside the cabin, they felt the warmth and took off their winter coats and hats, which Baddeley took to the rear of the jet, along with their bags.

  Gamzova sat down in the first leather seat on the left leaving Andy to take the seat on the right. Andy kept his backpack and placed it by the side of his large, comfortable, soft leather seat. He looked out of the window as the ground crew removed the stairs from the side of the aircraft and the chocks from the wheels. The cabin filled with a gentle hum and a slight vibration as the engines fired up. Andy continued to watch the activity of the ground crew more intently when the de-icing truck started spraying the wings and fuselage with de-icing fluid. Once the de-icing truck had moved away, Baddeley’s voice came through the cabin on the intercom.

  “Okay, please buckle your seatbelts as we’ll be heading for take-off in the next 5 minutes. Air traffic control has cleared us for departure and, once airborne, we’ll be heading South West. Please keep your seatbelt loosely fastened throughout the flight as we expect to hit some turbulence over the Alps. The sky should be clear so you’ll have exceptional views today. If you need anything, just buzz from the panel on the armrest of your seat and either Chris or I will be along.”

  The aircraft moved quickly across the tarmac and turned onto the main runway. Andy felt himself being gently pushed forwards out of his seat as the crew applied the brakes bringing the Citation to a stop. He looked out of the window and watched the ailerons moving up and down and the air brakes raised and lowered as the crew made their final checks.

  With the aircraft trimmed for take-off, the engine noise increased and the brakes were released. The aircraft rapidly accelerated down the runway, Andy could feel himself being pushed back into his seat and moments later they were climbing; the aircraft shuddered slightly as the undercarriage retracted. The jet banked as it climbed offering Andy a stunning view of Moscow which quickly disappeared into the distance. Within a few minutes they were cruising at forty thousand feet.

  To pass the time Andy read the file on AVX Global and its dynamic owner Mikhail Chousov before moving onto the other companies and their owners. After two hours Andy paused from his reading to take in the spectacular views as they passed over the snow-capped Alps. He reflected on how, only a few days earlier, he’d been in the mountains below looking at the stunning views close up. He glanced over to Gamzova who was asleep wearing an eye mask, noise cancelling headphones and covered in a blanket.

  Andy continued to enjoy the view of the mountains and allowed his thoughts to wander as he tried to connect the dots. The Makarov File provided the template for the aptly named Makarov Corporation to grow its criminal, and now, its business empire. No one had bothered too much while it took out rival gangs, but once those with money and influence were targeted, people took notice. The next phase of their evolution would see the exploitation of political influence. But why kill the Americans? He hadn’t written that in the file. Could the killings have been a message for the American Government announcing Makarov’s arrival on the world stage? Or just a simple message for the Americans to keep out! he mused.

  With the Alps behind them, Andy fired up his laptop and focussed on the images from Fedor Arkaday and re-read the notes which he’d taken. Arkaday said he’d seen Kruputchkin at the nightclub on the night he was drugged and compromised. He studied each of the photographs looking for clues. Out of the twenty photographs, only three, taken over a period of two hours, had captured Kruputchkin in the background drinking with friends. Andy didn’t recognise any of the men with Kruputchkin, but then he didn’t expect to. Kruputchkin looked relaxed and happy. He appeared to pay no attention to Arkaday, as he was fully engaged with his friends.

  Andy scrolled through the photographs again. There it was: the photograph that had piqued his interest. In it a lone figure in the shadows off to the right could be seen watching Arkaday. Andy made a note to send a copy to Hobbs; she would be able to run the image through the Agency’s facial recognition software.

  His thoughts were interrupted by Baddeley’s voice in the cabin, “Mr Flint and Ms Gamzova, we have started our descent into Faro and we’ll be on the ground in around thirty minutes. I’d recommend you use the time in Faro to stretch your legs and get some fresh air before we head on to Antigua.” Gamzova didn’t move she was fast asleep. How can you sleep so deeply!

  Ten minutes later Baddeley spoke again, “We’ve just passed over Seville and in a few minutes, you’ll have views of the coast as we make our approach into Faro.” Andy’s ears popped as they descended. Gamzova started to stir and slowly removed her eye mask, sat up and looked out of the window. She stretched then removed her headphones before folding the blanket and placing it carefully on the floor.

  “Did you sleep well?” Andy asked.

  She almost smiled but stopped herself, “I’m used to grabbing sleep whenever I can, this is comfortable compared to some of the places I’ve slept in over the last few years. Have I missed anything?”

  The final few minutes of the journey were completed in silence as the two of them watched the Portuguese landscape pass by. The pilot gave his passengers a smooth landing and taxied the Citation across the airport to the executive jet apron. “Mr Flint and Ms Gamzova, we have now arrived in Faro. We are going to be on the ground for about thirty minutes. You can either stay on board or you can head across to the executive transit lounge to freshen up and use their facilities. By then we’ll have completed our departure formalities and be ready to continue. Please don’t leave the airfield.”

  Andy looked across at Gamzova. “What would you prefer to do?” he asked.

  “I’m going to the lounge to make good use of their shower.”

  “We are thinking along similar lines, a change of scene for half an hour is better than nothing.”

  The ground crew had wheeled into place a set of metal steps. A man, who Andy presumed to be Chris Jackson, dressed in a neatly pressed uniform and highly polished shoes, appeared from the cockpit and opened the cabin door. Bright sunlight and fresh warm air spilled into the cabin. As quickly as he had arrived Jackson stepped out of the aircraft and down the stairs.

  “I have a few things I want to do before I go to the lounge, I’ll join you there,” Gamzova said as she reached for her shoes.

  “Sounds like a plan,” Andy replied to her back.

  Baddeley appeared from the coc
kpit and smiled when he saw his passengers, “We had fantastic views of the Alps today.”

  “It looked pretty special,” Andy replied.

  Andy glanced out of the door, the bright sunlight hurt his eyes and made him squint. “Here, use mine, I always carry spares,” Baddeley handed Andy a pair of metal rimmed sunglasses.

  “Thanks.” Andy donned the sunglasses and as he stepped down the steps he felt the dry heat wash over him and welcomed the change in temperature from the chill of Moscow.

  “Mr Chousov must be busy today,” Baddeley commented.

  “Why?”

  “There’s another one of his jets parked up,” Baddeley pointed to his right, “Faro is our regular refuelling hub between Europe and the Caribbean.”

  Once Andy had descended the stairs he turned to see Jackson walking around the aircraft inspecting it closely. The fuel line from the gas truck was now connected and pumping aviation fuel into the starboard wing. Andy wanted to linger as he found the sweet smell of the avgas addictive. Jackson smiled as he passed Andy on his way back to the stairs. Andy made his way towards the executive lounge and the prospect of a shower and maybe a meal.

  CHAPTER 17

  Luba had finished lacing her shoes when Jackson re-entered the cabin and resumed his place in the cockpit. She gathered her shoulder bag, stepped into the bright sunlight and made her way down the stairs onto the tarmac. She could see Flint making his way along the yellow walkway towards the lounge when a man, dressed as ground crew, caught her attention.

  Something wasn’t quite right, but she didn’t know why. The man glanced at Luba and moved away from the front nose wheel and headed towards the main wheels. Luba paused, still watching the man, trying to figure out what bothered her. Then it came to her: he was wearing designer sneakers and not the usual black protective boots worn by ground crew.

  She decided to investigate what he’d been doing and by the time she reached the front landing gear the man had made his way to a nearby service vehicle. It didn’t take Luba long to discover a small black plastic container, no larger than a paperback book, attached by magnets to the fuselage in a small cavity amongst the landing gear. Luba reached into her bag for the telescopic asp baton she carried for personal protection and gripped it firmly as she turned and ran towards him.

  “Hey! You there, I need to see some ID!” Luba shouted as she reached him.

  “No problem, just a sec,” came his replay, only his accent wasn’t Portuguese, she didn’t know what sort of accent, but it didn’t fit and, as the man turned towards her, Luba spotted the pistol. She reacted with lightning reflexes; in one fluid movement she extended the asp and swiped it across the right side of his face. He emitted a yelp of pain as the force of the blow sent him off-balance to his left.

  He had no chance to recover as Luba followed up with a powerful scissor kick to his head, causing it to snap backwards. She then brought the asp down with great force onto the man’s wrist sending the gun spinning to the floor. The man howled in pain. A sweeping motion with her left foot sent the pistol safely out of reach. Finally, Luba delivered a powerful kick squarely to his chest sending him rapidly backwards into the service vehicle and, as he bounced off, his knees buckled and he slumped to the floor groaning in pain.

  ***

  Andy heard the commotion and looked back towards the aircraft. He saw Gamzova fighting with one of the aircraft maintenance crew. He ran towards them, his arms pumping hard, his legs felt heavy and didn’t move as quickly as he’d have liked. It took several seconds to reach Gamzova, by which time she had already cuffed the man’s hands behind his back using plastic cable ties which she carried in her bag.

  Andy had to catch his breath before he could speak. “What happened?” his lungs burning through the exertion. I need to go to the gym more!

  “He attached something to our aircraft,” Gamzova replied as she pointed to the front wheel.

  Andy could taste blood in his mouth. His lungs had stopped stinging, but his chest felt tight as he walked over to where Gamzova had indicated. It took Andy seconds to find the device, which looked out of place amongst the wiring, hydraulics and landing gear. He decided to leave it in place for the experts to remove. He returned to Gamzova and her captive, she’d already turned his pockets inside out.

  “Did you find anything?” he asked

  “Nothing. He wasn’t carrying anything. Did you see the device?”

  “Yes. I’d like to know what the authorities make of it.”

  Baddeley descended from the aircraft and approached them, “We called the police when we saw the fight. What’s happened?”

  “He planted something on the aircraft. It’s a small black box in the front landing gear,” Andy replied. Baddeley went to look for himself and returned a moment later.

  “That’s not part of the aircraft, we’ll need to get clear,” Baddeley instructed. He avoided going back into the aircraft and instead made his way to the bottom of the stairs and shouted to his co-pilot,

  “Hey, Chris, we’ve got a situation out here. There could be a bomb on board. Inform the Control Tower and make your way slowly out of the aircraft.”

  “Roger, that!” came the reply and, a few seconds later, Jackson slowly made his way down the steps to join Baddeley and the others.

  Andy and Gamzova stayed with the suspected bomber as the others moved away from the aircraft and adjacent fuel truck. The other members of the ground crew were already waiting at the Executive Terminal. Minutes later four police cars screamed into view from different directions, their lights flashing, sirens wailing. They screeched to a halt to the front and rear of the aircraft. The armed officers joined Andy and Gamzova.

  “What’s happened?” a Lieutenant asked as he approached from behind his officers.

  “It looks like he’s planted something on the aircraft, by the nose wheel,” Andy said as he pointed to the man on the floor.

  “I’ve gone through his pockets and he’s got nothing on him. No ID, keys, wallet or phone,” Gamzova added.

  The officer acknowledged their input and left them to investigate. Seconds later he returned and started to issue orders, “Clear the area, no radio-talk. Get these three to the station and pick those up on the way.” He gestured with his open hand to the crew and airport workers watching from the Executive Terminal. With an officer holding each arm, the would-be assassin was pulled to his feet and led towards the waiting police cars.

  Andy and Gamzova walked behind and slightly to one side. Four more police cars and two vans had arrived. The Lieutenant waved at one of the cars and one of the vans to go to the Executive Terminal to pick up the others. More officers were ordered to fan out to form a wide cordon around the aircraft while they waited for the bomb squad.

  As they walked towards the building they heard a dull thud, like the sound of a firm pillow being punched, then shouting over from their right. They turned to see the suspect lying awkwardly on the ground his legs twisted beneath him. A large pool of blood had started to form under his head, or what remained of it. The officers had drawn their weapons and were scanning the distance for obvious firing positions beyond the perimeter fence.

  Andy didn’t need to be told to run for cover, he did it on instinct, sprinting to the nearest police car and lying down behind it. Gamzova lay next to him. They heard more shouting, this time from the Lieutenant trying to ascertain the position of the sniper. None of his men had seen anything.

  Gamzova spoke, “It must be at least six-hundred meters to the fence line and the marksman will be further away, probably on high ground, with a clear view of the killing area. This guy is a pro.”

  In the distance Andy could hear the high-pitched buzz of a trail bike as it accelerated away. “Can anyone see that motorcycle?” came the shout, but again, no one could see anything. “Clear the area and move away from the jet. Leave the body, if it is a bomb, I don’t want to risk any more lives.”

  As Andy stood he looked across at the lifeless body of
the bomber, he couldn’t help but think this had been a well-planned attack and whoever was behind it didn’t want any loose ends. Andy and Gamzova climbed into the rear of the police car they had used as a screen and were driven to the airport police station near to the main airport terminal building. The police station had a good view of the airfield.

  Nearing the police station, Andy listened to the radio traffic, although he wasn’t fluent in Portuguese, he did understand a few of the words and phrases. It was sufficient to grasp that the Lieutenant had asked for all flights to be grounded and the airport closed. He’d called in the bomb squad and said something about a motorcycle. The Lieutenant’s onto this.

  When they arrived at the police station – a drab grey, two-storey concrete building – they were led to the staff canteen on the first floor. Not long after, they were joined by the Lieutenant and a Sergeant. The pilots were last to arrive.

  “Please make yourselves as comfortable as possible as you may be here for some time. We have tea, coffee and snacks,” he looked at his watch, “in about an hour-and-a-half the canteen will open and we’ll have hot meals.” He smiled, “The food here is good.” He patted his stomach by way of emphasis and slowly shook his head, “Too good!” I like this guy. Doesn’t take himself too seriously Andy mused. “I’m going to leave you in the capable hands of Sergeant Mendez. If you have any medical needs or urgent requests, please feel free to ask.” Sergeant Mendez smiled, offered a cursory wave at the four of them and, much to Andy’s surprise, he then left the canteen with the Lieutenant.

  Andy and Gamzova sat near the windows while their pilots made their way to the coffee machine located next to the kitchen. Andy watched as Jackson poured two black coffees and handed one to Baddeley who had positioned himself on a two seater couch in front of an old television which was broadcasting a hockey match, its volume set low.