The Makarov File

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The Makarov File Page 18

by Peter Kozmar


  “Maybe,” Andy replied.

  “You mentioned a wife and an operation in the Ukraine. Is your wife from the Ukraine?” Andy wasn’t sure how much, if anything, she actually knew about his domestic background.

  “No, and we’re divorced, she was a nurse in Washington, but left me a few years ago. She moved to the bright lights of Vegas. I’ve not seen or spoken with her in a long time. The last time we spoke was just after she’d moved away. She got herself a good lawyer and cleaned me out. About a year later she called, right out of the blue, wanting me to pay to get her car fixed as it was in the repair shop.”

  “What did you do?” Gamzova asked, she looked genuinely interested in his story.

  “I hung up!” he said, but seeing her reaction he felt the need to justify his action. “There was no point trying to reason with her, I was barely getting by on my income – and blowing most of that on alcohol or at the card table – she’d got everything and hadn’t managed her ‘windfall’ but still had a decent income. She was not good with money even when we were married. So, we’d have just ended up arguing … again,” he added wistfully.

  “You have children?”

  “Yep. A boy and a girl. Both grown up and making their own lives. My son, Mark, left home as soon as he could get away and joined the army. While going through his early teen years he just saw me as a drunk dad who was away a lot and when I came home I always argued with his mom. Since the divorce, we’ve slowly got to know each other again. After a few years he decided to leave the army and do something different. He got a job at The United Nations. I don’t really know what he does for them. He’s well paid and worked in New York but now he’s living in New Zealand, to me that’s the end of the world, but to him it’s home and I think it may continue to be after he’s finished with the UN. We keep in touch and email every few weeks … talk once in a while. He tells me what he’s done and I envy him because he’s so grounded and loves his life.”

  “What about your daughter?”

  “Ah, Jane, she was too young to move out on her own when we separated, so she went with her mom to Vegas, where she finished her schooling. She wanted to be an actress and believed the best place to make it onto the big screen was in Los Angeles. As soon as she turned eighteen, she moved to LA and registered with an agent. To make ends meet between auditions, she worked as a waitress at a diner. She got a few small parts in commercials, crime dramas and even a corporate video, but not the big break she dreamed of as a teenager.”

  “So what happened?”

  “Jane fell for a waiter who, like her, wanted to be an actor. She got pregnant and had a daughter. Her partner landed a leading role in a television drama series about a Navy Seal team. The pilot episode was a hit and now they are making the third series. He lives in Beverly Hills and she’s downtown looking after his kid between waiting on tables and bit parts in dead end acting jobs. The studio got him a lawyer and she got nothing. He has refused to admit that he fathered the child saying they were not 'together’ when Jane found out she was pregnant … even cast doubt on him being her only sexual conquest. Jane was left literally ‘holding the baby’ with no support from him. He wouldn’t agree to a paternity test on advice from his lawyer … he knows the child is his … he just doesn’t want any involvement that would jeopardise his career. He’s a piece of shit!”

  “Talk about bad luck.”

  “Well, Jane wasn’t the sensible one, she always had her head in the clouds, she never listened to me.”

  “Do you see your grand-daughter?”

  “No. Jane sided with her mom when we split and doesn’t want anything to do with me. She doesn’t want my grand-daughter, Star, to have anything to do with me either. It would be nice to build some sort of relationship and I know Mark has done his bit to help, but somethings are not meant to be.” He felt more than a pang of guilt while he talked about Jane. Truth was, he was a piece of shit, if he’d been a half-decent father, Jane would have looked to him for advice and not fallen for her acting ‘Romeo’.

  Sensing a change in his demeanor, Gamzova quickly changed the subject. “Why does my President support you in your efforts? It doesn’t explain why my boss, Colonel Malchik, has such high respect for you.”

  “Back in 1993 Oleg Malchik had been my opponent when I first came to Russia. I’d out-foxed him and, in the process, I’d gained the respect of General Dudek, his superior. I was the first foreign recipient of the award and General Dudek presented the award to me personally.”

  Gamzova looked surprised, “What exactly did you do to earn the award?”

  “It was a long time ago,” he said dismissively.

  “They don’t give out that award for minor acts. Plus, you were CIA. Why did they present our highest award to a CIA agent? You weren’t working for us were you?”

  Andy laughed for a moment, “No. I wasn’t working for the Russian Government. I just happen to stop rogue elements of the Russian Army from invading the Ukraine and stopped a coup which would have overthrown your legitimate Government.”

  “I see,” she said not entirely convinced by Andy’s answer.

  “Okay so now we are both on the same page, it’s time to head back to the boat before they send a search party to make sure we haven’t ‘escaped’!” he said it with a smile as Gamzova let out a chuckle.

  As they neared the jet-skis Gamzova stopped and turned towards Andy, “I think it’s time for you to call me by my first name, Luba, when we’re not in public. When we are in public we need to be formal.”

  “That’s good I didn’t want to presume you were okay with me making a habit of using your first name without your permission, and please call me Andy, when we’re not in public.” Gamzova nodded her agreement. That’s a huge step forward! Andy was surprised, but pleased that they could drop the formalities when not on show.

  They got back to the picnic hamper and loaded it into the panier on Andy’s jet-ski before turning the machines around and pushing them to the water’s edge. Once they were seated, Andy turned to Gamzova: “Race you back to the yacht, no cheating!”

  CHAPTER 21

  Chousov had arranged a formal dinner and invited several politicians and business leaders from Antigua to join them. His son, Alexi, arrived a few minutes after Andy and Gamzova. Andy found him easy to recognise from the photographs. Alexi had the same eyes, nose and looks as his father, but without the toll caused by a lifestyle of excess. In a few years, age will not be kind to you and you’ll look even more like your father.

  A small group of men had gravitated around Gamzova who was wearing a black designer cocktail dress with a plunging neckline and fine dark red trim. You look stunning! Andy knew he had failed to hide his out-of-condition body, even in the fine Italian tuxedo he picked out of the closet, that had his ’size’ on the label. Aspirational thinking had crossed his mind! He was glad to have found a cummerbund to conceal the bulge over the waistband of his trousers.

  He spent most of the evening making small talk with the Island’s Finance Minister and the owner of a luxury resort, whose name he forgot almost as soon as it was uttered. While they freely indulged in the wine on offer, Andy stuck with sparkling mineral water, having to ignore the urge to casually pick up a glass of wine each time a tray was presented by the circulating waiters and waitresses. He knew he had to stay sober, but, with unlimited alcohol being available, his resolve had become a lot harder to maintain.

  When conversation moved onto the nature of his employment, Andy said that both he and Gamzova provided security consulting services to Mr Chousov. Alexi joined the group briefly, introduced himself to Andy, then peeled away to circulate amongst the other guests spending most of the pre-dinner drinks talking to the Deputy Prime Minister and Chief of Police. Interesting choice of companions.

  Andy checked the seating plan and found his name at the far end of the table next to ‘Jasmine Bentley-York’ whoever she was, and on her other side none other than Hampton. Gamzova was seated much furthe
r up the table, between the Deputy Prime Minister and Henry Meisel, a reclusive Hedge Fund billionaire.

  The string quartet stopped playing and the conversations fell silent when the Maître d’, wearing a black tuxedo and white gloves, rang a small silver hand bell. His voice had an air of command which held his audience’s attention, for that short period of time he was in control, “Mr Chousov, Mr Prime Minister, Mr Deputy Prime Minister, distinguished guests, ladies and gentlemen, please make your way into the dining room, the chef informs me service will start in five minutes.”

  Andy made his way to the chair he’d been allocated. He stood patiently behind his seat as he waited for Ms Bentley-York to arrive. Andy caught Hampton’s eye as he approached with a tall, unusually thin, woman on his arm. She had long waist-length blond hair and wore a sapphire-blue cocktail dress with matching high-heeled shoes and looked to be in her mid-twenties.

  She smiled at Andy as she reached the table. “Jasmine, this is Andrew Flint, he works for Mr Chousov,” Hampton said as he gestured with an open hand towards Andy. “Andrew, this is Ms Bentley-York a former model, now, social media influencer.” She smiled graciously. Andy slid her chair back for her to position herself in front then slowly eased it forward in perfect timing as she sat.

  “Please call me Andy,” he said as he took his seat next to her.

  “Then you must call me Jasmine,” she said, as she leaned back to allow the waiter to remove the napkin from the table and place it on her lap. Hampton took his seat on the other side of Jasmine. To Andy, it felt like Hampton was there to ensure he behaved and didn’t ask any difficult questions.

  The time passed quickly as Andy tucked into the immaculately presented and incredibly tasty food. He enjoyed the conversation with Jasmine who proved to be an engaging and articulate companion. He learnt about her modelling career and how using social media had enabled her to reach her audience, which ran into millions of regular followers, enabling her to exert her influence on a wide range of social issues.

  As they neared the end of the meal, Jasmine excused herself, stood and headed over to speak with one of the other guests. Hampton leaned over towards Andy for the first time during the meal. “I hope you’ve had a good evening? Jasmine can be great company.”

  “Yes, I’ve had a great evening, thanks.”

  Hampton pointed to a portly man talking with Jasmine and said, “He’s a successful Hollywood movie director. Jasmine never stops networking.” Hampton paused, a look of concern spreading across his face. “I’m sorry I have to tell you this,” Hampton’s tone sounded apologetic, “but today we’ve had to dismiss one of our crew.”

  “Really!” And you are telling me this, why?

  “We’ve had reports, from some of our guests, that someone had been going through their belongings. Naturally, these reports were of great concern to us as it is a complete breach of privacy and trust. We have been investigating the issue and trying to find our curious crew member. Today we caught him in your cabin. He wasn’t supposed to be there and we believe he’d been through Ms Gamzova’s cabin too. We don’t believe that he took anything, and, as far as we can work out, he acted on his own. From what we have gathered, he didn’t mix with the other crew, they thought him a bit of a loner.”

  “I see.” Now it clicked into place. The conversation he’d had with Gamzova on the beach. The jet-skis or the picnic basket must have been bugged. How else would Hampton have known about his observations and Gamzova’s confirmation of someone searching through her things too?

  “Did you hand him over to the police?”

  “No. We don’t want the publicity an arrest would bring. Instead, immediately dismissing him from our service with no severance and no references is enough. He breached the trust we have in all our crew members and may never work again.”

  Andy wanted to dig into the story a little more, “Could I speak with him and find out if he took anything?”

  Hampton shrugged gave a frown, “Unfortunately, no, you can’t. Once we dismissed him we had him flown off Babushka and put on the first commercial flight off the island; in this case, Miami.” Hampton looked at his watch, “He’ll be wandering the streets of Miami, the enormity of his actions sinking in.”

  “Thank you for telling me,” Andy said as he looked directly at Hampton with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

  “We checked each item he took with him as he left Babushka and he could account for everything, but we can’t be certain he didn’t have had a hiding space on board. He may simply have left items there, rather than taking them with him.”

  “I’ll double check to see if anything is missing.”

  “If you do find items have been taken, let me know and we’ll take all steps to replace them. If it’s something of sentimental value, I can only apologise and offer compensation for its loss. Now if you’ll excuse me, Mr Chousov has to make his speech.” Hampton moved away from Andy and, using a dessert fork, gently tapped the side of his crystal wine glass; the sharp high-pitched chime brought a hush across the room.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, our generous host, Mr Chousov, would like to say a few words to finish our wonderful evening.”

  Chousov stood. “Thank you, Andrew,” he briefly turned to the guest on his left, “Mr Prime Minister, Mr Deputy Prime Minister, distinguished guests, ladies and gentlemen, thank you for giving your precious time to be with us this evening. I am extremely humbled. I’ve really enjoyed your company and stimulating conversations. I think the food this evening has been absolutely delicious, so, I’d like to say ‘thank you’ to our chef, Jean-Paul Pattet, please put your hands together as a sign of appreciation for his excellent food.” Everyone clapped enthusiastically.

  A tall thin man dressed in chef whites approached the table, and stood beside Chousov, he looked nervous at receiving the attention. Chousov beamed at his chef as he said, “Jean-Paul, we all loved your food this evening.” Another round of applause broke out as Jean-Paul raised a hand into the air to accept the compliment while avoiding eye-contact with the guests before turning and quickly slipping away.

  “I’d like to thank the staff who waited upon us and delivered a faultless service, under the exacting eye of our Maître d’, Monsieur Lafette-Grange. Thank you.” Chousov started the applause, the room followed his lead. The Maître d’ led the waiting staff into the room to form a straight line at the opposite end of the room from Chousov. They stood to attention for a few seconds then, on the nod of the Maître d’, filed out; the clapping died down again.

  “It’s been a lovely evening with excellent food and fine company, and I’m sure you all want to be home before dawn, so I’ll keep this brief and not speak for as long as I usually do.” Polite laughter filled the room. “I’d like to thank you all for making me so welcome amongst you. I’ve travelled far and wide, and I must say that, here in Antigua, I have experienced the friendliest, most open and honest people I’ve ever met. I have discovered that business is not about the bottom line or market share. It is about people. Our employees, our customers and our business partners, everything stems from people and our relationships. It is because of our friendship and the warmth of your hospitality that I now base myself here and call your island my home.” He paused as a polite applause rippled round the room.

  “I have invested, and will continue to invest, my considerable wealth to help grow the island’s economy and creating more employment opportunities for the people of Antigua. My charitable foundation already invests heavily in your schools and sports clubs to help your youth engage, develop and grow, winning scholarships to the finest universities before coming home and establishing their rightful place in your communities. We will continue to do so over the coming years.” There was further polite applause which slowly died down.

  “This evening, I’m pleased to announce a new initiative. My foundation will be awarding four University scholarships per year to help disadvantaged youth go to University wherever they have a place. The schola
rships will remove cost as a barrier to a first-class education for the island’s most gifted youth.” The room filled with loud applause which continued for some time.

  “Thank you, thank you, you are all too kind, but this is the least I could do for my new adopted home. I would like you all to be upstanding and raise a glass for a toast to my new Country.” Everyone stood. Chousov said simply, ‘To Antigua.’ The guests raised their glasses and responded as one, ‘To Antigua’.

  At that precise moment a loud explosion off the port bow heralded the start of a spectacular fireworks display between the Babushka and the island.

  CHAPTER 22

  Andy didn’t want to take breakfast alone in his cabin so he went to the dining room and was rewarded by the sight of Jasmine. She was wearing a bikini which revealed her long legs and well-toned and tanned body. As there were no other guests, Jasmine had the exclusive attention of three stewards. It was then that Andy noticed the Babushka had moved during the night and anchored off a different tropical beach which provided another spectacular backdrop for breakfast.

  “May I join you?” Andy asked.

  “Of course, you’re most welcome.”

  Andy sat opposite Jasmine. “Thank you for your company last night, I enjoyed our conversation over the meal. How long are you staying on board?”

  Before Jasmine could answer, a steward approached and addressed Andy. “Sir may I offer you tea, coffee or freshly squeezed juice?”

  “Yes, a strong long black, no sugar, please.” The steward smiled, turned and went to organise the coffee.

  “I’m here for three more days before I head to Montserrat, a good friend has a beach villa there and I plan to be there for two weeks before we sail to Martinique. When we arrive, I’ll be staying with another friend I know through modelling, she lives in Sainte Marie and I’m staying with her for a week or so before dropping down to St Lucia, where my parents have a holiday home.”

 

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