The Makarov File

by Peter Kozmar

  “I’m here on official business. I’m based in Moscow, but the dynamic nature of our investigation meant we travelled at short notice. I didn’t have time to contact the local FSB office to brief them on our arrival or investigation. As a result, we didn’t follow your protocols. I apologise for this. As for the American, he’s investigating the deaths of Americans here in Saint Petersburg. My orders from Moscow are to give him our full co-operation.”

  “Tell me about your investigation. Why are you here?” Dutchka asked.

  Andy decided it was time to make himself heard so, rather than let Gamzova do all the talking, he spoke out, “There are two parts to this, the first, is why we are in your city and, the second, is why we are in your office. There have been a several murders involving Americans, starting with the CIA Head of Station in Moscow, his colleague has disappeared, and we believe is probably dead. Four Embassy staff were gunned down as they drove into the city from the airport to investigate and, finally, four citizens, employed by a private security company, were kidnapped and murdered.”

  “Yes, I am aware of this,” Dutchka responded, “but why are you in sitting in my office?”

  Andy continued, “Last night, as we were walking back to our hotel from dinner, we were followed and then attacked. We fought back and escaped. During the fight we believe we seriously injured at least two of our assailants. We heard approaching police sirens and, as there were more attackers in the immediate area, we moved to a safe location. Today we returned to the scene and were told no police had arrived. Our attackers were given the opportunity to leave and have the area cleared of evidence. We’re curious as to why the police were not on the scene as we expected.”

  “That is quite a story you tell. I’ve not been briefed on any unusual incidents in the city last night, just the usual domestics, drunks and vehicle accidents.”

  “Our story is true,” Gamzova replied indignantly.

  “Interesting,” Dutchka said thoughtfully as he stood, moved to his desk, picked up his desk phone and keyed in a four-digit extension. He didn’t have to wait long for the call to be answered. “Sergeant Medyedov, I need you in my office and bring the logs of all last night’s call-outs.” Dutchka hung up and returned to his seat at the meeting table.

  “What can you tell us about the murder of Bruce Chester and the disappearance of his colleague Amanda Lightfoot?” Gamzova asked.

  “Firstly, please accept our sincere condolences. Our city is not a dangerous place. Statistically it’s less dangerous than any cosmopolitan city such as Paris, London or Madrid. We’ve searched widely for Miss Lightfoot and not found any trace of her. We even dredged the river. The murder of Mr Chester revealed few clues. All we had to go on was he’d been missing for two days before his body washed up on the riverbank. Our detectives believe they dumped the body with his ID to make identification easy, however, the other murders in my opinion, were more of a warning for the Americans to stay away or suffer the same fate. You were lucky that you had an FSB agent with you last night, or you would have been another … how do you say … statistic!”

  “Did the autopsy of Mr Chester reveal anything of note?” Andy asked.

  “He died of a heart attack,” Dutchka stated succinctly.

  “What?” Andy wasn’t expecting ‘natural causes’ to be the answer.

  Seeing Andy’s look of surprise Dutchka spoke again, “Of course, he had been tortured, but that didn’t kill him. I think, maybe, the pain of what they had done, together with the fear of what they would do next, probably precipitated the heart attack. Either way, he was already dead when they dumped him in the river.” Andy relaxed slightly at Dutchka’s explanation as it sounded credible. Dutchka continued, “If you want to know what they did to him, I can get the file for you.”

  “No, I don’t need the details, but thank you,” Andy said as he shook his head.

  “What I can tell you is, he suffered for many hours, and it would have been clear to him he was not going to leave his situation alive. In my opinion, a massive heart attack was probably the kindest thing to happen to him.”

  Andy pressed further, “Was there anything else?”

  “The river water had contaminated most of the forensics. There were tiny traces of flour and carpet fibres on him. His stomach was empty, so he hadn’t eaten in the hours immediately before his death.”

  “Any idea on where he’d been held or how he ended up in the river?”

  “No witnesses have come forward. We have drawn a blank with our enquiries.”

  “What about the Embassy staff?”

  “They had been on a commercial flight from Moscow. The American Consulate arranged a hire car for them when they arrive. As they approached the city, they were ambushed and killed. Eye witnesses reported two vehicles carrying eight assailants using automatic weapons. Forensics showed that seven-point-six-two armour-piercing rounds were used. Very effective on an armoured-vehicle so to use them on a civilian vehicle …,” he paused to let the words sink in, ‘I believe the four men died almost instantly. There were no fingerprints on any of the empty cases, so a professional hit. We did manage to trace the batch of ammunition to its source. It came from the Barnaul cartridge plant, and it appears it was issued to our military, a parachute battalion in Syria. We have no information as to how it ended up here.”

  “Did you find the vehicles used in the attack?” Andy asked.

  “An hour after the attack, we received a report of a vehicle fire and, on investigation, my officers came across two burnt out vans which we believe were used in the attack. The fire destroyed all forensic evidence. The vans had been reported stolen from a courier firm a few hours before the attack. Their gate had been prized open, their offices broken into and the keys taken. There were no CCTV cameras so another dead end.”

  “Any suspects?”

  “I’m sorry, we don’t have much to go on. We thought the killings could have been a case of mistaken identity, with the real targets being gang members caught up in some sort of drugs turf war.”

  As Andy was about to ask another question, there was a knock on the door. Dutchka responded with a direct, “Come.” A tall uniformed sergeant entered the office carrying a thick, well used book, which Andy assumed to be the station’s log book. “Sergeant Medyedov, please join us.” Medyedov didn’t bother to look at either Andy or Gamzova as he took his seat next to Dutchka. “Did we receive any calls about a shooting incident last night?” Dutchka asked.

  “At around eleven,” Gamzova added to narrow the search. Medyedov opened the book and searched for the previous night. Andy could see the layout with sequential reference numbers, the date, time, a description, an entry for action and a comments section.

  “Here it is. Twenty-three-fourteen we received the first call. The entry says the caller heard gunshots around the Kempinski Hotel. Another call came in thirty seconds later reporting the same thing. We despatched vehicle units eight-six-eight, eight-six-nine and nine-zero-zero to the area.” Medyedov worked through the log book entries. Andy watched closely to see if he strayed from the official record. “Another three calls came in about the gunshots.”

  Medyedov suddenly stopped at a specific entry with his index finger. “We have an entry at twenty-three-nineteen from a soldier, Corporal Petrov, calling to say that he was leading an urban security patrol on the Moyka River Embankment and had just received a message telling him he was now a father to a son. To celebrate he fired his weapon into the air. After a few minutes he heard the police sirens and, realizing his mistake, called in to explain what had happened. He apologised for the disturbance. At twenty-three- twenty the three units were stood down and re-tasked.”

  “Did Corporal Petrov give his Unit or Army Identity Number?” Gamzova asked.

  Medyedov studied the log book again, turned the page and then returned to the twenty-three- nineteen entry. “There are no further details of Corporal Petrov in the record. The dispatcher may have accepted the caller for who they cla
imed to be and closed the incident.”

  Dutchka raised his left hand to end the conversation, “Thank you Sergeant Medyedov, you may leave.” Medyedov closed the log book, stood and picked up the log book and left the room.

  Once the sergeant had closed the door behind him, Andy spoke, “Is it normal to recall units after a reported shooting incident?”

  “From the records we can reasonably assume the dispatcher believed the Corporal had fired his weapon and then stood the units down. The units need to be available for other call-outs. Does that explain what happened?”

  “Yes, I think we have our explanation, thank you Major,” Gamzova replied.

  “What can you tell us about organised crime in the city?” Andy asked.

  “Up until a few years ago, we had three or four Mafia organisations who ran things across the city. Each organisation had deep family bonds. Below the families were a large number of street gangs who controlled the distribution and dealing of drugs across their clearly defined areas including their associated activities. They paid their dues to the relevant families … call it a payment to operate a franchise.”

  “What are the associated activities?”

  “Prostitution, street crime, extortion and robberies along with a few gang-related murders. Then it changed and we saw an increase in street fights and shoot-outs every night. Every morning we were picking up dead bodies dumped around the city. The funeral homes were the only ones benefitting from the chaos, it was like a war zone. Then, just as suddenly as it started, it all died down and, now, we are only picking up one or two bodies per month.”

  “Do you know why?” Andy asked.

  “Yes, a powerful group appeared, wiped out the families and took over the street gangs. The murders stopped because they had no opposition.”

  “What about today?”

  “Aside from the one mafia group I’ve just described, there are always new entrants in organised crime. Today, these itinerants are young and have dropped out from university. They’re hackers and cyber-criminals and commit crimes across the globe from the comfort of their bedrooms. One day they are sharing a one-bedroom apartment with their family, and the next they have a ten-bedroom mansion and a fleet of luxury cars. And people say crime doesn’t pay!”

  “What do you know of the Makarov Corporation?”

  Dutchka paused for a moment. A look of concern spread across his face. He looked conflicted, “My advice for you is for you to keep your head down and your time here short and leave. Don’t meddle with things, or I’ll be pulling your bodies from the river!”

  “Are you afraid of them?” Gamzova interrupted.

  “Before the reforms, when we were the militia, we had crap pay and widespread corruption. There used to be an old joke, if ever you were being robbed, don’t call the cops because they were already there.” Dutchka laughed at his own joke, then continued, “For a few years we cleaned up our house and, I’d say, we did a pretty good job, but then the Makarov Corporation appeared … and they were more brutal than anything before.” Dutchka’s voice tailed off as if he was reflecting on the circumstances.

  “Can’t you kick their doors down and arrest them?” Andy asked.

  “Each time we plan a raid, they’re tipped off in advance and we find nothing. There are police officers in this station who drive cars I can only dream of owning. I know of others who have luxury apartments or an overseas holiday home. This is well beyond the purchasing power of our pay, but trying to prove it is difficult because they are very good and covering their tracks and, in most cases, it looks like the officers won the Lottery. However, if this was the case, why do they need to work?

  “They are good men, effective officers and I would have trusted them with my life, but not now. The Makarov Corporation has something on each of them and now they own them … and, through them, they own the police force. I’ve not taken any bribes, but I’m also guilty because I didn’t put a stop to it. If I did try and stamp it out, the station would lose many good officers, and I may not live to finish the job,” Dutchka briefly looked out of the window, “besides which we would be replaced by others also tainted by corruption.”

  “Why didn’t you call in other authorities, like the Department of Internal Affairs?” Gamzova asked.

  Dutchka started to laugh. “One of my senior officers tried. He called Moscow and reported his concerns. Two days later, they posted him to Krasnoyarsk in Siberia on a one-way ticket … let me tell you, it’s a real hell hole. His wife left him and returned to Saint Petersburg with his children. Right, I’ve told you all I can, I’ll show you out, take my advice and leave the city for your own safety.”

  Dutchka stood and opened the door. He paused and turned facing them, “I’ll show you out of the of the building via the rear exit. Walk at least two blocks before you hail a cab.” At the rear door, Dutchka buzzed it open, wished them well, and again urged them to leave the city for their own safety as he couldn’t guarantee it. Andy and Gamzova found themselves standing on a quiet side street surrounded by tall drab concrete buildings.

  As they walked away, Andy broke the silence, “What did you make of that?”

  “He is an honorable man and he’s angry at what he’s witnessing in his station. He is powerless to act and knows that, if he rocks the boat, he could be posted to Siberia or receive two nine-millimetre rounds to the back of his head. He is afraid for the safety of his wife and family, he would hate something to happen to them because he took the moral high ground and reported the corruption.”

  “Well, we know a lot more than before we went inside and, also, that the police are not to be trusted!” He changed tack, “The river where they found Bruce isn’t far from here. Let’s walk.” They walked briskly in the general direction of the Blue Bridge and Bruce’s final resting place, regularly checking in case someone had decided to follow them.

  CHAPTER 33

  Andy was surprised at the number of people walking in the area around the Blue Bridge, even in the extreme cold. “I can understand why they chose this place to dump the body and why they did it at night, with so many people around during the day, they knew the body would be found as soon as day broke.” Andy looked at the scene immediately around him, then turned and studied the buildings, “Can you see any closed-circuit television cameras?”

  Gamzova looked around, “That’s odd. There are no cameras. Our cities have a lot of cameras, but this area is a blind spot, a surveillance black hole.”

  “Another reason to dump the body here ... who’s responsible for the positioning of the cameras?” he asked.

  “Mainly the police, they get approval from the city’s officials, it’s a rubberstamp exercise.”

  “I think we’ve seen all we’re going to see here, also, any forensics would have been compromised almost immediately. Let’s grab a cab and head to the Radisson Royal Hotel where the Vectron team were lifted,” Andy suggested, “it’ll be warmer inside at least!”

  Gamzova stepped to the sidewalk and hailed a passing cab. Andy checked the road behind them several times during their journey to spot any tails. As they pulled in at the kerb outside the Radisson Royal Hotel, Andy handed over a fist full of Roubles to the driver. Gamzova quickly exited the cab and, by the time Andy stood on the sidewalk, she had already entered the hotel. He caught up with her at the reception desk in time to hear the receptionist confirm the manager would be present shortly. Gamzova put away her FSB credentials.

  After a few minutes, the manager appeared by their side and politely introduced himself to them. “Hello, I’m Victor Petrovich, the duty manager. You asked for me?”

  “I am Luba Gamzova of the FSB. I’m here on official business. This is Andrew Flint, an American, here to observe.”

  “I see. How may I help you today?”

  “You had four Americans staying here who were murdered in the city a few weeks ago.”

  “Yes I remember, a terrible affair, I can assure you we provided our full co-operation with t
he police at the time of the murders.”

  “Can we go somewhere more private to talk? Do you have a security room?” Gamzova asked knowing the hotel would have a security room manned twenty-four-seven.

  “Yes, please follow me.” He led the two of them through a door marked ‘Staff only’ which led into another parallel corridor. He stopped at the first door to the left marked ‘Private’. The manager placed his electronic card into the reader. The door gave an electronic buzz, at which point the manager pulled the handle down, pushed the heavy door open and removed his card.

  “This is our security room,” he announced proudly as they stepped inside. They were greeted by a wall of screens which displayed various views from outside and inside the hotel. The roads around the hotel were covered as were all entrances, the lobby, lifts and each floor. Two security staff wearing dark suits and matching red ties scanned the screens and occasionally changed camera views.

  Petrovich led them into one of two offices at the rear of the security room. The other room had six security guards relaxing as they took a break or waited to be tasked. He gestured for Andy and Gamzova to sit in chairs on one side of the desk while he sat in the seat opposite. “About the Americans, how can I help?”

  “Do you have the video footage from when the Vectron employees were abducted? Gamzova asked.

  “The recordings were taken away by the police.” Petrovich replied.

  “Do you keep back-ups?”

  Petrovich looked uncomfortable and fiddled nervously with his cufflinks, “This is highly irregular. Why don’t you view the police copy?”

  Gamzova slapped the table with the palm of her hand and stood up leaning over the table and towered over him. “Answer my question, do you keep back-ups?” she growled.

  Petrovich had gone white and looked like he wanted to be anywhere but in a room with Gamzova, “Okay, yes, for insurance purposes you understand, we do keep back-ups.”