by Peter Kozmar
“All that travel sounds exciting, but don’t you get bored?” he asked.
“How can I get bored? I’ll blog and run my own photo shoots as I go. I’ve a paid assignment in Martinique for a soft drinks company which is expected to last a week. I’m to look cool, hip and trendy while hanging out with other cool-hip-and-trendy-looking people swimming, surfing, building camp fires and drinking their product. It tastes awful … did I mention I have to act too?” their laughing was interrupted when the steward arrived with Andy’s coffee. Andy gave a small nod to the steward who placed down the coffee cup and left.
“How did you find your way onto the Babushka?”
“I met Alexi at a nightclub in Ibiza, Spain, about four years ago. We hit it off straight away. We had a wild night partying until dawn. That morning we had breakfast on the beach watching the sunrise, then I packed my things and we flew to London on one of his jets, where we hit more clubs. He said if I ever needed a place to stay, I’d be welcome anywhere. I see Alexi every few months at various places around the world. So here I am. I got here last week.”
The steward appeared again and took their breakfast orders. Jasmine asked for a bowl of fresh fruit salad followed by a poached egg on wholemeal toast. Andy requested fresh croissants with a selection of preserves and orange juice.
As the steward stepped away Alexi strolled in and addressed the steward, “Dominique. My usual.” He leaned over and kissed Jasmine on both cheeks and sat with them. “I’ve not had the pleasure,” Alexi leaned forward and offered his hand to Andy which he shook, “you must be Andrew and you’re accompanied by the lovely Russian lady my father can’t stop talking about. You are a lucky man to have such a companion. I’m Alexi my father owns all of this.” He wafted his hands around the yacht. Andy could feel his cheeks flush with embarrassment at the mention of Gamzova.
“Ms Gamzova is a work colleague, nothing more.” He looked at Jasmine to gauge whether she had any interest in his explanation or not. He recalled that she could act and didn’t appear interested in his relationship with Gamzova.
“What line of work are you in?” Alexi asked.
You already know the answer, and you’re trying to embarrass me.
“I provide consultancy services. I’ve just come from Moscow where I met with Anatoly Kruputchkin. He’s an interesting character, do you know him?” Andy took a sip of his coffee and closely watched Alexi’s reaction.
Alexi looked momentarily surprised at Andy’s question and leaned back in his chair. “Yes, as a matter of fact, I do. We grew up in Saint Petersburg together and went to the same school. When father’s business grew I went to school in Switzerland. I still saw Anatoly when I returned home during the holidays. We lost touch after I went to study in Britain and my trips home became less frequent. We met again a year or so ago when my father and I had a business meeting in Moscow. He attended the meeting with the President. We exchanged details and have kept in touch.”
Now that’s an interesting piece of news. I wonder how much you know? Andy pressed on, “In Moscow did you ever come across an American by the name of Amanda Lightfoot?” Alexi’s expression fleetingly showed concern, then quickly changed to indifference, as though he had never heard the name before. However, Jasmine’s reaction was different; like the child in a classroom who knew the answer and she was bursting to tell everyone, the only thing she didn’t do was raise her hand and add an urgent: “Me, Sir, Me!”. Alexi’s eyes darted quickly towards Jasmine as he realised she was about to say something that he wasn’t planning on having to explain.
His reaction wasn’t lost on Andy, but before Andy could ask another question, Alexi looked back at him and said, “Yes. I know Amanda.” Andy could see Jasmine’s face drop as if someone had stolen her prized school pencil case. “We met in Moscow and, boy, does she know how to party. Amanda has met many of my friends, including Jasmine here,” he turned to Jasmine for confirmation as he said, “hasn’t she?”
Jasmine nodded then spoke, a little less forthright, as though she’d been scolded, “Yes, she’s lovely. Definitely loves to party. She’s good fun and easy-going. A breath of fresh air in the business world.” Jasmine turned to Andy and asked, “So, how do you know Amanda?”
“Actually, I haven’t met her, but I’ve heard many nice things about her. Unfortunately, she’s missing, and I’m trying to find out what’s happened to her.”
“Missing!” Jasmine gasped putting her hand across her mouth.
“Yes. I’m speaking with her family and friends trying to find out a little bit more about her. As you seem to know her quite well, is there anything you could share with me to assist in my search?” Andy said looking directly at Jasmine as he realised she was the most likely out of the two of them to be honest and upfront with him.
However, it was Alexi who spoke before Jasmine had a chance to respond. “I don’t think there is much more to say. Amanda was highly social and very popular,” he said with a shrug, “we don’t know where she is at the moment, we didn’t even know she had disappeared until you told us.” It sounded like Alexi was bored and wanted to move on, but Andy had other plans.
He continued looking at Jasmine and asking questions. “Did you know if she had any close friends or did she hang out with a particular person?”
Again, before Jasmine could answer, Alexi stepped in with a dismissive, “No. She moved between groups and never stuck around for long.”
Andy realized that whatever Jasmine wanted to say wasn’t going to be said at this moment in time, not with Alexi sitting there, so he turned his focus to look directly at Alexi, “Where did you meet Amanda?” Andy asked as he sipped his coffee savoring the hot dark liquid.
“I met her at the Icon nightclub in Moscow, she had been partying with friends and she accidentally bumped into me, making me spill my drink,” he smiled and gazed into the distance, “I think it was deliberate.” He flashed his white teeth at Andy. “We had a great time. Amanda hooked up with me a few times after that,” Alexi returned his gaze to Andy, “I can’t be absolutely certain when I last saw her. Sorry.”
Andy turned to Jasmine hoping Alexi wouldn’t keep answering for her. “You knew Amanda, where did you meet her?”
Jasmine briefly looked over to Alexi with a nervous expression. Even when Alexi returned a perceptible nod, Jasmine looked uncomfortable answering Andy’s question. “Alexi and I were hanging out when Amanda joined us?”
“When was that?” Andy probed, it seemed a good place to start.
“Three years ago I think,” Jasmine rubbed her chin and thought for a moment. “Yes, three years ago. I’d just rented out my loft in New York, and bought a place in Paris. I’d gone to Moscow for a shoot over a week. It was freezing, and the clothes they made me wear were thin and didn’t keep me warm. Amanda had been great fun. We went to a few clubs and met up for lunch.”
“Did she hang out with anyone in particular?” Andy asked.
Jasmine looked nervously at Alexi. “No, she never stayed with any one person, always moving amongst different groups.”
Andy turned to Alexi, “Did you know whether Amanda knew Anatoly Kruputchkin?”
“She knew almost everybody who’s anybody in Moscow. I expect she did.” Alexi leaned forward leaving only inches between him and Andy. “Do you think he had something to do with her disappearance?” The smell of stale tobacco from his breath washed over him.
“I don’t know. At the moment, I’m just finding markers, and then, when I have a bit more information, I might be able to join some dots,” Andy said with a shrug. His tone was as neutral as he could make it as he felt he had got as much as he could out of the conversation. One thing is for sure, there is more to your relationship with Amanda than you’re prepared to divulge, but for now I’ll leave it for you to fill in the blanks.
As luck would have it, the three stewards returned, each carrying a highly polished silver tray with their individual breakfasts. They placed them on the table and took a few
steps back to allow their guests to enjoy the food.
CHAPTER 23
Andy decided to use the comfort of the yacht, and the privacy of his cabin, to use Insights to create a comprehensive review of Vladim’s employees. After firing up his laptop and hooking up to the on board Wi-Fi he logged on. Andy created a new case file, then typed in the name, date, country of birth, passport number and cell phone number for each employee. He didn’t need much of the data, Tomas had provided, as Insights would use various algorithms to sift through multiple databases, find any connections and rate the connections.
With the Martirossian information covered, he moved onto the President’s files, quickly scanned through to pick out key details of the oligarchs and entered them in the same format. Finally, he keyed in the details of Kruputchkin, Chester and Lightfoot, and did the same. There is a link in here somewhere, I just have to find it.
With the data entry complete, Andy hit the Analyse option and the AI started to work its magic, trawling through various back doors into social media sites, banking, phone company, utility and Government databases, before it moved onto the trail of geo-positional data each mobile device leaves in its wake. With no known defence to the software it collected photos and video sessions from each target phone. Insights would identify patterns and flag any deviations from those patterns – it acted like a virus accessing and copying data from everything it came across – nothing could stop it.
Andy knew the analysis would take a few hours to complete so, out of curiosity, he created a new case file and selected the Query Person feature before entering his name, nationality, date of birth and passport number, and while the software did its data collection and correlation on this second case, he decided he’d stretch his legs and get some fresh air to clear his head.
As he reached for the door handle, his cell phone started to ring and vibrate. That’s unusual, few people have my number and these days even fewer would call it, he thought. He looked at the cell phone display and could see the call was from a Washington DC number. He decided to answer the call.
“Hi Andy Flint. How can I help?”
“Mr Flint, it’s Mrs Chester.”
“Hello, Mrs Chester, how are you and …” Andy started in reply.
Before he could add anything further, Mrs Chester cut in, “You said that if I found something, I should call you on this number. Well, I was going through one of Bruce’s suits and found a slip of paper in one of the pockets.”
“Thank you for remembering to call me, now, what made you curious about this slip of paper Mrs Chester?” he asked.
“It says, ‘Amanda. One-hundred-and-fifty-thousand dollars. Swiss account.’, then there is a string of numbers. I did a bank identification number search using the first six digits and it came up with a private Swiss Bank. I think she has a Swiss Bank account with a big sum of money in it. So I thought of your request and called you. Was I right to do so? I wouldn’t normally go through his pockets but in the circumstances …,” her voice faded a little as she remembered why she was doing this.
“Mrs Chester, you did the right thing and, yes, that information is important,” Andy turned and looked out of a cabin window onto the calm, sparkling water. This is new, why would Amanda need a private Swiss Bank account?
“There is more writing,” she informed him, sounding like she had managed to control the emotion.
“Go on,” he encouraged.
“Bruce also wrote, ‘Makarov, Saint Petersburg, and, can she be trusted?’”
It sounded suspicious, I didn’t say anything about Makarov to her when we met and I don’t need her to turn detective on this. “Mrs Chester, please don’t go jumping to conclusions, and let me investigate this information. Now, can you read me all the details on the piece of paper, please?” Andy reached for the pen on the cabin’s writing desk and wrote the details down on the complimentary writing paper. After reading the number back to her, he wished her well, assured her he would be checking the information before ending the call.
Andy went back to his laptop and logged back into Insights where the only query he made was the fifteen-digit number. He’d let the AI work through all of the potential meanings, seek out the most likely one and present it for him to read. He put his cell phone in his pocket and headed out of his cabin.
He took a route around the yacht that brought him to the bow where, down below in the crystal-clear water, he saw Gamzova snorkelling. He watched her shadowing a large stingray which glided effortlessly along the seabed. After a few minutes Andy felt the sun burning his pale skin. Best get some sunscreen, last thing I need to deal with is sunburn.
He looked up as he turned away and noticed two sentries watching him from one of the upper decks. Andy could make out the muzzles of their rifles above the handrail. These crew members weren’t dressed in the standard white crew uniform he had become familiar with; they were dressed in a light blue uniform with matching light blue baseball caps. This was the first time he’d seen any of the security Chousov had in place to protect him.
Andy made his way indoors and approached a crew member carrying four rolled-up towels. “Where may I get some sunscreen?” he asked.
The crew member smiled at Andy, “If you accompany me, sir, I’ll take you to the medical centre. They will be able to assist you by providing the right type for your skin.” Okay, this is a bit surreal, personalised sunblock, that is service. Andy followed the crewman through the yacht to the medical centre where a young female crew member, wearing the familiar white uniform greeted him, her name badge read: ‘Dr Jo Chesterfield’. She also wore a discreet lapel badge bearing a red cross.
Dr Chesterfield looked to be in her mid-thirties and had long, curly, sun-bleached blonde hair. Unlike most doctors he’d met, this one didn’t look burnt out, overworked or sleep deprived. Dr Chesterfield looked more like a professional surfer than a qualified doctor. I’m really feeling my age! The crewman turned and left Andy with the doctor. “How can I help you today?” she enquired.
“I was outside and could feel the sun start to burn, so I just need some sunscreen,” Andy replied, “I’m not allergic to anything so any Factor Fifty you have will be fine and I will be on my way. I’m sure you get this all the time, but I only had a short time to pack and forgot.”
The doctor smiled, “Yes I do. I also prescribe a lot of sea sickness and malaria tablets too.”
“Can’t be too tough for you out here?”
“Most of the time I treat sprains or cuts, mainly crew members, but sometimes guests. It’s not always so easy. I’ve had to operate on a guest with a burst appendix, and a few months ago, I had to set a crewman’s broken leg after a bad fall and there wasn’t any way of getting him off the boat safely because of the weather.”
“Sounds interesting, you must enjoy your work?”
“I do. I sometimes have to pinch myself at how fortunate I am,” Dr Chesterfield walked across the dispensary to a tall cabinet and unlocked it.
“How did you find yourself working here?” he asked, casually spreading his hand to indicate the yacht.
She removed a tube of sunscreen and locked the cabinet while she continued their conversation. “I studied Medicine at Bristol University, that’s in England, and after qualifying I worked in the Emergency Department of a busy acute hospital which gave me great experience, but the long hours were killing me. One particularly bad week, I worked three eighteen hour back-to-back shifts and seven patients in my care died. The first four died as victims of a car accident, next a drug overdose and then a suicide. These were par for the course in a busy ED, but the seventh, a young child, no more than three, was the final straw …,”
Dr Chesterfield paused before she continued, “… she came in after being beaten and abused by her parents. I found out, during the court case, that the poor thing had been abused since birth. She’d regularly been in and out of our unit but child social services did nothing to intervene or stop it; we simply patched her up and returned
her to the abuse. When I examined her, I could see that she’d been starved, burnt with cigarettes and severely beaten, she was unconscious when she arrived, and then she gave up the will to live and died. I tried to console myself that in her last minutes she was in a place where she was comfortable and knew nothing bad was going to happen, but it broke me. No matter how good my team were, we couldn’t save her … or any of them.”
“When I finally got back to my room, I cried. And, after I’d regained control of my emotions, I started to search for work outside the Health Service. It was there I came across a cryptic advert from a London-based executive search agency. I applied there and then. Within two days, they responded positively, I had an interview over the phone and, the following week, in person. I wasn’t told it was with AVX Global until I received my contract. That was four years ago, I’ve worked in Switzerland at the Château, the houses in Bermuda, London and New York, and I’ve been on the Babushka for about a year.” She handed Andy the tube of sunscreen and moved over to a large touch screen tablet computer attached to the wall where she entered the change in inventory and keyed in Andy’s name.
“Any regrets?” Andy asked.
“No. I’m paid three times what I earned in the Health Service. I don’t work crippling hours. I love my work and get to enjoy myself when we don’t have the owners or their guests staying with us. I don’t feel stressed and I’ve seen no one die in those three years. I’ve stayed in touch with some of my former colleagues and it’s got no better for them, they’ve aged, look sick and some have already suffered heart attacks.”
“I just saw you type in my name. How did you know my name?” Andy enquired.
“I’m briefed daily on all crew and guests. Who’s on board, who’s expected and whether they have any medical conditions. It’s important for me to know especially for our longer term or elderly guests.”
“Could you give me a rundown of all the visitors to the Babushka over, say, the last twelve months?” Andy asked.