by Peter Kozmar
“You hurt?” Gamzova asked.
“No. What about you?”
“I’m fine. Let’s move!” They ran further down the alley, carried on through the next alley intersection and then another right. They slowed to a walk tucking the pistols under their own jackets. In the distance, they could hear the sirens of approaching police cars. Gamzova stopped as the alley joined the main road leading to their hotel. She slowly peered around the corner and looked for signs of any would be assailants.
The street appeared quiet with light traffic flowing relatively quickly, everything appeared normal despite the fracas they had been involved in somewhere behind them. “All clear, let’s get back to the hotel, we can report the attack from there in relative safety.” Andy just dipped his head slightly, to show his agreement, and once again they became just another couple out for a walk.
Less than ten minutes later, the concierge welcomed them at the entrance to the hotel. “I hope you had a good evening,” he said as he opened the door for them to enter.
“Yes, we had a lovely meal and a nice walk, thank you,” Andy replied. Once inside, they quickly headed for the elevators and made their way to Andy’s room. Andy sat on one of the ornate chairs in the casual seating area, Gamzova sat opposite. As the adrenalin wore off he could feel a throbbing pain in his right hand across the knuckles and wrist.
Gamzova spoke first, “You did very good.”
“Thanks. You didn’t mess around either!” Andy gently massaged his hand and continued, “Do you think they’ll come here?”
“No I don’t think so. The hotel is too public and has security cameras everywhere, which they’ll want to avoid. They were a snatch squad, so they will look for opportunities to lift us without running into too much trouble. However, should their orders change, and I sense we may have ruffled some feathers, nowhere will be safe.”
Gamzova removed the pistol from her belt removed the magazine and ejected the chambered round. Andy watched as she quickly emptied the magazine onto the table, added the ejected round and started to refill the empty magazine. He was learning to respect Gamzova more and more as they worked closely together. You are definitely professional about your work. Being prepared for whatever happened next, was the sign of a good field agent; knowing how many rounds you had, demonstrated a higher level of skill.
Andy removed the pistol from his belt and placed it on the table, together with the four full spare magazines he’d pocketed. Gamzova picked up two of the spare magazines, felt their weight and loaded her pistol with one of them. She placed the second full magazine in her left jacket pocket, the partially full magazine in her right and the pistol in her handbag.
“Tomorrow we’ll go back to the alley in daylight and see what we can find. We could get lucky if they dropped something, then we’ll visit the local police and hear what they know about our assailants who should be in custody, hospital or the morgue,” Gamzova had already thought through their next moves and, with her at his side, they would get access to much more information than he would if he were on his own.
“Great, sounds like a plan. After that, we’ll carry on with our investigations into the murders of the CIA team and the kidnapping of Martirossian. I think they’re all linked.” Andy felt tired as he started to crash from the adrenaline-fuelled high, stifling a yawn, which he covered with the palm of his right hand, he said, “I’m tired after all the excitement tonight, I need to get my head down and grab a few hours’ sleep. I’ll see you in the morning, say eight? We can have breakfast in the hotel and then head out.”
Gamzova nodded in agreement and, pointing to the pistol he’d been handling moments earlier, said, “Make sure you bring that with you.” They stood and headed for the door. Gamzova opened it before turning to face Andy, “Lock this. Don’t open it for anyone but me, and keep that weapon with you at all times.” She stepped out and closed the door.
Andy yawned again, this time without covering his mouth, and locked the door, then, as an extra measure, he slid the chain across. He knew the chain would only slow them down a determined attacker by a few seconds, but those seconds would be vital if he needed to react to the threat. He picked up the pistol and made his way into the bathroom where he placed it next to the sink and began brushing his teeth. When finished, he picked up the pistol and carried it with him into the bedroom.
The bed had been made up for the night with a small luxury chocolate along with a hand-written note from the manager. Andy placed the pistol on the bedside table and, after reading the note which welcomed him to the hotel and wished him a sound nights’ sleep, he popped the chocolate into his mouth, then remembered he’d just brushed his teeth. So what! I’m tired. The sugar hit was just what he needed. After undressing, he climbed into the bed, the pressed luxurious cotton sheets felt good; the rest of the bedding heavy and warming. Within minutes, he fell into a deep, peaceful sleep.
CHAPTER 31
Chimes from the door disturbed Andy’s sleep. He realized he’d slept late as the daylight streamed in through the gaps in the curtains. Shit! His wrist watch said eight o’clock and he figured it was Gamzova at the door. Andy got out of bed and picked up the pistol from the bedside table. At that moment, he was reminded of the struggle from the night before, as both hands ached from the previous nights’ fight, though he found his right hand hurt more!
He held the pistol by the grip to be certain he could use the weapon. He pointed the weapon at the door, and stopped himself just as he touched the trigger with his index finger. The doorbell chimed again. He noticed his hands trembled slightly as he made his way to the door. Andy peered through the peephole and saw Gamzova reaching for the doorbell again. Lucky I didn’t squeeze the trigger. “Yeah, okay, I’m here!” he called out before she pressed the doorbell. Andy removed the chain, unlocked the door and opened it.
From the expression on her face it wouldn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out she wasn’t impressed with him: “You’re not dressed.”
“I’ve only just woken up ... come in while I get ready. I’ll be quick. I promise.” Gamzova followed him into the living area where she sat while Andy headed back into the bedroom and called out, “How did you sleep?”
“Good. You?”
“I fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow, the bed was very comfortable.” He started to dress trying to figure out what he should wear given he might have to run again or participate in another round of ‘Snatch me if you can’. “Was there any news coverage on last night’s incident?” he called out.
“There was nothing about it. I looked at the main television channels and the local news. I expected to see something, but there wasn’t a mention of a shooting in any report.”
Andy reappeared fully dressed, though unshaven, his jacket concealed the pistol tucked in the back of his pants. “Let’s go grab breakfast, all this sleeping has made me hungry.”
***
He washed down his Continental breakfast with two large cups of very strong black coffee before they headed out into the bitterness of the Saint Petersburg winter. They took a circuitous route back to the scene of the previous night’s fight. Gamzova led the way along the sidewalk and, after several left and right turns, they found themselves at the start of the alleyway where they had fought. This can’t be right. Where the hell is the police cordon? The place was spotless!
“Where are the cops?” he asked.
“Maybe they cleared the scene last night,” Gamzova shrugged as if it wasn’t unusual.
They turned into the alley. Where’s the forensic team?
Gamzova led the way and after a short distance stopped. She scanned the ground, stepped forward a few paces and knelt, “This is where one of the men fell last night. I’m certain of it.”
“Do you think someone has cleaned up?”
“Yes, they have,” Gamzova stood and moved forward. After a few paces she stopped and pointed to the ground again saying, “The other one went down here. He took a head shot.
There should be blood here but it’s clean.” Gamzova walked to the alley intersection and turned right.
There were a few locals in the alley, one had just emptied garbage into a dumpster, very much like the one they had hidden behind the previous night, while others talked and smoked amongst themselves a few meters away. Andy watched as they shuffled their feet to keep warm. Gamzova moved to where she had fought using the iron bar and where the blood had pooled in the gutter. Today there were no signs of blood. She approached the woman who had used the dumpster, and asked, “Did you see anything here last night?”
“No. Nothing. I wasn’t even outside it was too cold for my old bones!” came the terse reply. Andy approached and stood close to the dumpster so as not to be seen by the others in the alleyway. He removed a fifty-dollar bill from his wallet and pressed it into the palm of her free hand. By the look of her rotten teeth and threadbare clothes the money would make a big difference to her. She looked surprised, pleased and finally suspicious.
“That’s for you, now, how about telling us what you saw here last night?”
“Who are you? Why do you want to know?” she retorted, steam rising from her breath in the cold morning air.
“We were attacked here last night, we just want to know what happened after we got away, can you help?”
“I’ve lived here for many years and lead a quiet life. I don’t want to invite trouble into my home.”
“No-one will know you’ve helped us. Once we hear what you have to say we’ll leave and I promise you’ll never see us again,” he slowly removed a second fifty-dollar bill. Her eyes looked hungrily at the note in his hand and she licked her lips, he could see her wavering at the temptation before her. “This,” he said, wafting the money in front of her, “could be yours, but you need to make up your mind quickly before I ask your neighbours.” He nodded in the direction of the other people, “I’m sure they’ll help … maybe for less.” He shrugged and started to move, she quickly grabbed his arm to stop him moving away.
“Last night? I heard running and looked out of the window. I saw two dark figures, a man and a woman, I think, take cover here,” she said, pointed to the dumpster. “You said that was you?” Andy nodded. “I heard shouting and two men appeared. It looked like they were chasing you. I saw a fight,” she looked at Gamzova, “You put up a good fight, you have trained yourself well.”
“Yes, I know, what happened next?” Gamzova asked with an air of urgency, aware they had been standing there for longer than desirable.
“There was some shooting, the two men you were fighting fell to the ground and you left,” she paused, unwilling to speak. Andy slowly waved the note to encourage her to find a way to continue. “Three more men arrived, on foot, soon after you ran, they didn’t know which way you had gone. I could hear police sirens getting louder and thought they were going to arrive just after you left. Then, one of the men made a call and the sirens fell quiet. No police arrived. Instead, more men in dark clothes came, the two injured men were helped into a car with tinted glass and driven away.
“Another group placed rolls of plastic on the floor of the alleyway. I couldn’t see what they were doing, I think they placed something on it, wrapped it up before dumping it in the trunk of a big car. They searched the area with torches, picking things up and left when the city cleaners arrived. The cleaners, washed the alleyway, this one and that one,” she pointed to the alleyway they had approached from. “I can’t remember the last time they cleaned this place, but this morning, when we came out for our usual chat, it was very clean, you could almost eat off the floor!”
“Did you get any number plates?” Gamzova pressed.
“No,” the woman said, “why would I? I wasn’t going to get involved.”
“Tell me everything you can remember about both vehicles,” Gamzova continued.
“I think we’re done,” Andy interrupted. He felt they’d got as much help as they could and handed over the second fifty-dollar bill which was quickly snatched from his hand and pocketed.
“Wait! Yes, yes, there was something I remember,” she became animated, “They had red flashing lights attached to their roofs, not police, different, you know … like official cars. That’s it, not police, no, but official cars.”
Gamzova and Andy tried not to react to this news and thanked the woman before leaving deep in thought.
“Where next?” Andy asked, as they made their way out of the alleyway.
“I’d like to know why the police didn’t show up,” Gamzova replied, “We know they were on the way. If they had been here we were going to talk to them so we may as we’ll follow this lead.” Andy felt a serious degree of admiration for Gamzova, she was focussed and direct, which made things a whole lot easier. They stepped onto the main street and hailed a cab.
“Where to?” the driver asked.
“Central Police Station,” Gamzova instructed.
“Okay!” the driver pulled his vehicle into the heavy morning traffic. After a few minutes of slow progress, the driver got impatient and started to weave in and out of the lanes, whichever was moving fastest, eventually he pulled to a halt, right outside the main police station. Gamzova paid and they made their way up the grey stone steps to the imposing marble entrance with its solid wooden doors.
CHAPTER 32
Andy opened the door for Gamzova and followed behind, they walked across the marble flooring to a window set into the grey marble wall with ‘Reception’ on a sign above it. Their footsteps echoed around the large bare room. Behind the small elevated window, the duty officer peered down at them through the thick ballistic glass.
“What do you want?” the officer asked.
“I want to see your senior officer,” Gamzova demanded.
“I’ll make an appointment in his busy schedule,” the officer replied sarcastically. He looked to one side at the computer screen and typed a few keys. “You are lucky. I can fit you in on Monday at three pm, in six weeks’ time,” he laughed to himself, “like I said, he has a busy schedule.”
“I’m FSB,” Gamzova said looking directly at him.
“Then show me your identification, please,” he asked, unimpressed. Gamzova reached into her handbag and after a short search handed over her ID card and FSB credentials. The duty officer didn’t react he just indicated towards a solid wooden bench against the wall on their left, “Sit.” They followed his instruction and sat. It was as hard and uncomfortable as it looked.
The duty officer made a phone call. Andy heard him read the details of Gamzova’s FSB credentials to the person on the other end of the line. The exchange lasted a few minutes. He frowned as he hung up and dialled another number. As boredom crept in, Andy studied the reception area, his eye caught something. A grey marble memorial set into the opposite wall to honor the police officers who died serving Mother Russia during The Great Patriotic War.
The memorial took up half of the wall and featured square jawed figures advancing with rifles, machine guns and grenades on their Nazi attackers who appeared to be in retreat. A hammer and sickle were inset within the centre of a large star. To the right of the memorial were four large marble plaques with the names of those who made the ultimate sacrifice for the survival of the motherland. The duty officer ended his call.
“Major Dutchka will be with you shortly. Your papers.” he slid Gamzova’s papers under the ballistic glass and returned to ignoring them. Gamzova stood and made her way to the window to recover her documents. As she turned to face Andy, the side door opened and out stepped a tall, uniformed police officer. The major’s uniform was neatly pressed, his shoes highly polished.
“Ms Gamzova,” he smiled as he extended his hand to her. She shook his hand with a firm grip. “I’m Major Dutchka, please follow me.” Andy stood and approached them. “Who is that?” Dutchka asked looking Andy up and down dismissively.
“He’s with me,” Gamzova informed him. Dutchka sighed as if he was having a bad day at the office and held the do
or open for Andy and Gamzova to pass through.
“My office is on the second floor, please follow me.” He led them to a stairwell and briskly up the concrete stairs. Andy struggled to keep up. Dutchka turned to Andy, “Are you FSB too?”
“No, sir, I’m an American, our Governments are working together,” Andy replied in near perfect Russian.
“Really?” Dutchka sounded sceptical. I don’t blame you either my friend, even I’m finding it difficult to believe.
When they reached the second floor Dutchka pressed his access card onto an electronic reader. A green light blinked, the mechanism buzzed and Dutchka pushed the heavy door and stepped into a large open plan office. Andy felt the buzz of a busy workspace: officers concentrating on their computer screens; speaking on phones; and, talking in small work groups. Whiteboards on the walls were plastered in writing, photos, scribbled diagrams with red arrows linking details. He felt a pang of grief wash over him as he remembered what things had been like at the CIA ... and realized how much he missed it. I was a loner, but the office was always there, and I threw it all away!
Dutchka led them to his office on the far side of the working space. Inside there was work desk and chair. A closed laptop, phone, and a notepad and pen (set precisely at ninety degrees) were positioned on top of the desk. Andy noticed two large silver photo frames on his desk. One had a picture of a woman and two young children – he assumed the wife and kids – but it was the other that caught Andy’s attention. It was of a smiling Dutchka shaking hands with President Putin. Interesting. On the wall behind Dutchka’s desk were two large certificates and an award. In a frame above the award were three medals.
Dutchka pointed to a meeting desk with six high backed swivel chairs. Andy sat and Gamzova sat beside him; Dutchka took a seat on the opposite side of the table, he folded his large arms and leaned back in his chair. “So, what brings an FSB agent from Moscow to my office? You know we have protocols in place with the FSB when they want us to co-operate. Why haven’t the protocols been followed? And, what is this American doing with you?” Dutchka looked at Andy.