by Peter Kozmar
Andy looked across towards the ground crew and saw a sleek silver Mercedes draw to a halt. That must be our ride. Andy unbuckled as Gamzova did the same. He reached for his backpack and holdall as the co-pilot emerged from the cockpit. The co-pilot smiled at them both and opened the side door from the cabin then stood slightly back as the ground crew pushed the metal stairs against the aircraft’s body and fixed them into place.
Andy paused for a moment at the top of the stairs to shake the co-pilot’s hand and thank him for getting them down safely. Then he headed down the stairs with Gamzova following close behind. On his face he felt the warmth of the late afternoon sun which felt far cooler and more pleasant than the sun’s strength he’d felt a few hours earlier in the Caribbean.
The trunk of the Mercedes opened as the chauffeur exited the vehicle to open the rear passenger door before stepping forward to greet Andy. “Mr Flint, I’m here to take you and Ms Gamzova into the city. Just let me know where you’d like me to drop you off.” He reached forward to take Andy’s holdall and Gamzova’s travel bag which he placed in the trunk. Andy stood to one side and allowed Luba to get into the car first. Their chauffeur closed the door behind them.
Andy realized he’d not discussed with Gamzova what she’d planned to do while he prepared for his court appearance.
“The Russian Embassy on Wisconsin Avenue, please,” Luba requested.
“Take me home,” Andy said telling the driver his address. The driver nodded and pressed a button on his walnut dashboard which raised a thick glass partition between him and his passengers. The car slowly pulled away from the jet and accelerated out of the airport towards the city.
“What will you do at the Embassy?” Andy asked.
“That is not your concern. When your personal matters are resolved. I’ll travel with you to Saint Petersburg and we’ll continue with our investigations,” she reached into her bag and produced a card which had two phone numbers written by hand, “I wrote this while you were sleeping. The first is my cell, the second the Embassy switchboard. Ask for the Department of Culture and to be put through to the Deputy Cultural Attaché. You’ll soon reach me.” Gamzova handed him the card.
It wasn’t long before they pulled up at the Russian Embassy. Gamzova got out of the car, reclaimed her bag from the chauffeur and walked to the gatehouse without glancing over her shoulder. The chauffeur pulled into the busy traffic and headed for Andy’s apartment. It felt odd being on his own for the first time in several days.
Andy switched on his cell phone and waited for it to slowly start up. Once up and running it beeped to indicate he had messages waiting for him. He thumbed through the menu to see there were six from Dortman and one from Hobbs. He flicked on to the message from Hobbs.
‘Call me’. He did.
CHAPTER 27
Hobbs answered on the second ring. “Andy thanks for calling. Where are you?” she asked.
“I’ve just landed in DC and now heading into the city.”
“Okay. I’ll meet you at ‘The Golden Dragon’ restaurant just off Florida Avenue. Say, seven?” Andy remembered Hobbs lived nearby and the restaurant was her favorite. She probably wanted to eat on the way home.
“Sure, I’ll see you at seven,” Andy hung up. Next he checked Dortman’s messages, these were longer and some spelt out in capital letters.
‘Where are you? What’s your update?’
‘What’s your update for Mrs Martirossian? You must have made some progress by now.’
‘UPDATE NOW!!!’
‘What are you doing? Where are you? Why won’t you reply?’
‘O’Rourke needs to meet you. It’s urgent.’
‘Court case tomorrow and you’re missing. WHERE ARE YOU?’
Andy scrolled through his phone’s menu in readiness to call Dortman when it rang. The display showed, ‘Unknown Number’, he answered the call. “Mr Flint. It’s Gerry O’Rourke. I asked Mr Dortman to request a meeting with you as you’re a difficult man to get hold of, can you meet with me now?”
“Yes. I’m back in town and heading home.”
“Good. Good.” O’Rourke fell silent for a few seconds. “Meet me at Joe’s Café on Dumbarton Street just off Winsconsin Avenue. I’m just around the corner so I’ll be waiting. What can I get you?”
“A very strong, Long Black, please.”
“Good. I’ll see you shortly,” and with that O’Rourke ended the call.
Andy tapped the glass partition and the chauffeur lowered the glass. He gave the new destination and the driver nodded then raised the partition again. Andy thumbed through his cell phone menu and called Dortman. The call went straight through to voicemail.
“Tomas, it’s Andy Flint. I’ve received your messages. I’m back in DC and I’m about to meet with O’Rourke. Once the case is over, I’ll be travelling with Ms Gamzova to Saint Petersburg. I need you to arrange our flight to Saint Petersburg. Thanks.” Andy hung up and pocketed his cell.
Ten minutes later the Mercedes pulled up outside the café. The chauffeur popped the trunk and climbed out of the car to open Andy’s door, then went to recover Andy’s bag, before handing it to Andy. Andy thanked the him, slung his backpack over his shoulder and headed to the café.
He paused at the door to the café, turning to watch the Mercedes drive away. Stepping inside, he saw O’Rourke waiting in a corner booth with the coffees. Andy placed his bags down and sat opposite O’Rourke.
“How do things look for tomorrow?” he asked optimistically as he took his first sip of the coffee and savored the effect of the strong black liquid as it washed over his taste buds and jolted him back to life.
“I’ve gathered evidence on the gambling at the club; the violent streak of the bouncer; and, the cop taking back-handers from the club.”
Andy held his coffee up, “Thanks for the coffee. It’s good. Just what I needed,” he put his cup down. “So what happens next?” he asked.
“All the information I’ve collected has gone to my client.” Andy looked puzzled for a moment as he tried to remember O’Rourke’s client. “The law firm, Halifax, Oldham and Matlock, they’ll decide how it’s handled,” O’Rourke sipped his coffee and looked at Andy. “I know they’ve already made some calls to set the scene for tomorrow, but don’t get your hopes too high, the case is going ahead.”
The reality of having a criminal record, with the possibility of jail time, started to sink in. “Any advice for me?”
“Wear a suit and tie and make sure your shirt is clean. Arrive half an hour early. Be polite. Make sure your apartment is locked and pack a tooth brush.” O’Rourke looked at his watch and drained his cup, “Look, I’ve got to go. I’d planned this quick catch up to make sure you were in the country and going to turn up.” O’Rourke stood then he turned to Andy and pointed at him with his right index finger, “My best advice for you.”
“Yes?” Andy hung on each word.
“Stay off the booze!” and with that O’Rourke turned and left, his arm already raised hailing a cab as he strode along the sidewalk.
Buried deep in his thoughts, Andy slowly finished his coffee, then sat for a further five minutes savoring what could be his last evening of freedom, when his mind switched to Hobbs, wondering what she wanted to discuss. Has she found new information on the murder of the Americans? Has the incident at the Embassy in Moscow stirred something up? Or did she just want to wish him best of luck for his court appearance? His mind raced, what can I tell her? She could be simply wanting an update.
He used his cell phone to summon an Uber to take him home as it was still too early to meet up with Hobbs. The app indicated his ride would be along in two minutes. He gathered his belongings, headed for the door and smiled at the waitress. He caught her eye, but only briefly, as she focussed her attention on the tables which hadn’t yet paid.
***
Something struck him about the street: there were no trade vehicles cluttering up the area while the tradesmen worked on his apartment.
He unlocked his front door and stepped inside, the alarm system started to chirp its high-pitched warning to be disarmed. Andy keyed in his easy to remember code followed by the hash key. The chirping stopped. He closed the door behind him.
His apartment had that new smell: new carpets; newly painted walls and ceilings; even the electrical appliances emitted a new smell. For the first time since before he’d owned the place, everything was new and clean. He headed into his bedroom placing his overnight bag and backpack onto his bed, freshly made-up with new bedding, that matched the room’s co-ordinated color scheme.
Andy unpacked his bag and threw his dirty clothes into his new laundry basket, in the knowledge that, sometime tomorrow, he’d either be headed to Saint Petersburg or a prison cell. He re-packed his bag with an assortment of clothes, both warm and casual, his toothbrush, tooth paste and razor. May as well be optimistic! With his bag packed, he headed out of the bedroom and into the kitchen where he took a moment to admire the new appliances.
Andy whistled. This must have cost a small fortune. Now he felt guilty that he’d not invested more effort into finding Vladim. He checked his watch, he still had two hours before meeting up with Hobbs. He filled his new kettle with tap water and switched it on. He saw a new coffee machine but didn’t want to spend hours working out how to operate it so he opened a cupboard to find it stocked with a variety of teas and, to his relief, some decent instant coffee. At that moment a thought that they had thrown everything old out crossed him mind, but opening the next cupboard revealed his trusted, but chipped, ‘America is Great!’ mug. The workmen must have recognised it as a keepsake.
He found the drawer with the teaspoons on the second attempt and shovelled a large spoon of coffee into his mug. With the kettle on and his favorite mug at the ready, Andy went back into the bedroom and recovered his backpack. He unpacked it onto his new writing desk and fired up his laptop. He wanted to see what Insights had uncovered about Vladim and go through his plan of action while in Saint Petersburg.
By the time his laptop had booted up, the kettle had boiled, so he poured the boiling water into the mug, gave it a stir and carried it back into the lounge. He looked around and found some coasters, picked one up and placed the mug carefully next to his laptop. No point marking the new desk top. Andy unlocked his laptop and clicked on the Insights logo.
Moments later it started prompting him for his various user credentials and passwords. Once authenticated, the application displayed a large pair of animated eyes in the top right corner of the screen. The system had come back with search results. Hopefully more information about Vladim’s activities prior to his abduction. He felt optimistic.
Andy looked at the results starting with the employees. Only one threw up a red flag. A woman had a drugs conviction when a minor in New York. This looks promising. Andy looked at the employee’s HR file and found she held a position at Vladim’s London house as the chef-in-residence. She had declared the conviction. Not so good! He continued to read about her extensive qualifications and experience; her references were faultless. She’s really turned her life around. With her no longer being a suspect, he moved on reading through other employee files.
With the scrutiny of the employees out of the way, Andy started the report regarding Vladim. His movements were obtained from his cell phone data and were plotted onto various maps. Andy zoomed into the mapping data for the last day, which had a few data points on Moscow and then more in Saint Petersburg. Andy wound the time forward and watched as many of the red dots on the map of Saint Petersburg disappeared. The last five markers from his cell phone were from a restaurant located on the embankment of the Moyka river. Vladim’s last credit card transaction was from the same restaurant for two thousand eight hundred and twenty dollars. Andy studied the receipt. It showed Vladim had paid for five other diners who were with him. So the trail stops at the restaurant. He scratched his chin and spoke to himself, “Okay. Let’s move onto the other oligarchs. Let’s see if there are any correlations with Vladim?” Andy selected the correlation report.
“What the heck?” he said out loud to the room. Andy’s eyes remained fixed on the report as he absorbed its relevance: Vladim had dined with five of the oligarchs on his list just before he disappeared.
CHAPTER 28
The Uber driver dropped Andy right outside the restaurant and three minutes early. He strode inside and immediately saw Hobbs alone at the bar, a large glass of white wine had already been poured for her by the attentive staff. She wore a dark business suit and had placed her laptop bag on the seat next to her to discourage other patrons from bothering her. Hobbs looked tired, though she seemed to cheer up when she saw Andy.
“Helen,” Andy called out. She smiled and stepped down from her barstool as he strode over. He gave her a gentle peck on each cheek which she didn’t appear to mind. Hobbs removed her laptop bag from the chair and gestured for Andy to sit next to her.
“I’m on white. What can I get you? Your usual?” she asked.
“No thanks,” then turning to the bartender he said, “I’ll have a sparkling water with ice and a slice of lemon, please.” The bartender nodded and set about filling a glass with ice cubes.
“Are you serious?” she asked in surprise, though her tone couldn’t hide her scepticism.
“We both know I’ve got a problem. I’ve had it a long time,” Andy broke eye contact and looked down, “I’m an alcoholic.” He let the words sink in for a moment, then looked into her pale blue eyes, “Only I can do something about it. I’ve been dry nearly a week. That’s been the longest week of my life and, believe me, there have been many temptations to have just ‘one for the road’.”
Hobbs squeezed Andy’s arm, she looked concerned, “How do you feel?”
“Like I’m walking along the edge of a cliff face and I could slip and fall at any moment. I have the urge to drink. The urge gets stronger, like now, when I can smell your wine and I can taste the spirits in their bottles on the shelf,” he pointed across to where the spirit bottles were neatly lined up.
The bartender set Andy’s drink on a white coaster in front of him and close to Hobbs’ wine. The Maitré d’ approached to inform them that their table was ready and led them to their seats. Once settled they took their time reading through the menu.
“How’s my godson?” she asked.
“He’s good. Still working at the United Nations. He’s finished in New York and now, he’s in New Zealand, working on an environmental audit or something.”
“Are you two talking regularly?”
“Talking. Just not that regularly. It took a long time for him to pick-up my first call and read my emails. I’m still building bridges with him, but at least we are talking.”
The waiter arrived and took their order.
“Do you hear from Jenny?” Hobbs asked.
“Not spoken to or heard from Jenny in many years. When she walked out and headed off to Vegas that was more or less it.”
“What about Jane and grandchild?”
“Not seen Jane, since she left with Jenny. I’ve never met my granddaughter, Star. Not seen any pictures of her either,” Andy couldn’t hide the emotion in his voice so he changed the subject, “Why are we here?”
As if trying to decide how to answer, Hobbs slowly took a sip of her wine. “The Makarov File appears to have caused problems for you too,” Hobbs placed her glass down, “I heard about the shooting at the Embassy and the bomb in Faro. It looks like you are now in someone’s crosshairs … so I thought we should meet.”
“Whoever we’re up against, has excellent intelligence, funding and resources. They took out the bomber surrounded by cops.”
“I have some background on the bomber,” Hobbs said. Andy leaned forward, his interest hooked. “Shamus Murphy was an experienced, and well-known, bomb-maker. He learnt his trade with the Real IRA before going freelance. Murphy had been off everyone’s radar for years and then he turned up in Faro.”
“Do you know
who hired him or how they hired him?” he probed.
“We know he used the dark web. That’s where the trail ends. Why do you think you were targeted?”
“My investigations are quite complex with multiple lines of inquiry,” Andy mirrored Hobbs earlier action and slowly took a sip of his chilled water, then switched tack. “Has Amanda Lightfoot’s body been recovered?”
Hobbs looked pained, “No, her body hasn’t turned up yet. I think it’s only be a matter of time, and then we can bring her home.”
“How’s Gerald, her fiancé taking it?”
“Okay, I think,” a puzzled expression spread across her face. “Initially, he showed a lot of interest in our investigation and it was getting to be a problem. Then, out of the blue, he called me and gave me his cell number, told me his work required him in Africa for two weeks and left. Haven’t heard from him since. I found it a bit odd, but couldn’t spend too much time dwelling on it as there was so much going on.” They sat in silence for a few moments before Hobbs continued. “What’s the plan from here?”
“I’ve my day in court tomorrow.”
“Ah yes, your day of reckoning, what do you think will happen?”
Andy held both his palms upwards “I honestly don’t know.” He took another sip of water, “Ana Martirossian retained a law firm to defend me. They’ve brought in a private investigator who’s been digging into different aspects of the night of my arrest. I met with him just after I landed and he indicated it could go either way.”