The Makarov File

by Peter Kozmar

  “Good. I’d like to see the footage of the night the Americans were abducted.”

  “Very well, but they cannot leave this office,” Petrovich said, weakly, like he wasn’t sure he could enforce his instruction. He left the office with Andy watching him through the meeting room window as he opened a fire safe. Petrovich retrieved and looked through a log, then searched the safe to find the external hard drive he needed. When he found the one he was looking for, he removed it, made a note in the log, before closing and locking the safe.

  Through the wall, Andy heard Petrovich address the six security guards. “Okay, Gents, can we clear the floor for ten minutes, go do a sweep of the building and check that the emergency exits are unlocked and their clear.” Andy watched as the security guards left. Petrovich then gestured for Gamzova and Andy to join him in front of the wall of screens. As they came out of the room, Petrovich spoke to the two guards viewing the video feeds, telling them to take a break. They laughed briefly as they stood and counted their good fortune to be given an extra break as they left the room.

  Once he was sure they were alone, Petrovich plugged the USB hard drive into a computer and typed in his administrator level password. The wall of screens went blank for a moment and resumed with views from all the cameras. “We are looking at footage from the start of that week. I’ll now fast forward to the evening they went missing.” Petrovich keyed in a date and time into the search field and then pressed enter. Again, the screens went blank before returning with the historical feeds back on line. Andy could see from the screens, the kidnap happened at night. Everything looked normal at the hotel, nothing out of place. Petrovich fast forwarded the footage which gave a comical effect as staff and guests moved rapidly around the screens.

  “Stop there!” Andy called out. He’d seen something change in the view from one of the cameras. “Top right, can you bring that onto the main screen?”

  Petrovich brought the top right image onto the main screen. It showed the street at the front of the hotel where three police cars and two police vans were clearly visible. Officers dressed in riot gear, and their faces obscured by balaclava face masks, climbed from the vehicles and entered the hotel. Multiple cameras captured their movement into the hotel and to the reception area. One officer briefly spoke with the receptionist, seconds later she handed over two electronic key cards.

  The police officers split into three groups: one stayed in the reception area to ensure the receptionist didn’t make any phone calls; the second made for the stairs; and, the third waited for the lift to arrive. The cameras tracked the group heading up the stairs and the group in the lift. Both groups converged on the fifth floor and took up positions outside two rooms.

  Andy looked at the time stamps on the feeds, five-past-two in the morning. The first man on each snatch team held the electronic access card, the second team member held a battering ram at the ready. Numbers three, four, five and six had their weapons in hand focussed on the doors, however, Andy wasn’t expecting them to use lethal force in the hotel. Standing behind number six were four more officers, carrying large batons with their service pistols secure in their holsters.

  Andy pointed at the corridor feed. “Put this on the main screen.” The view changed on the main screen as they watched the scene unfold. The senior officer, positioned between the two snatch teams, appeared to issue a command and the two lead officers simultaneously entered the key cards. They pushed at the doors which swung open, with entry made, the snatch team stormed into the rooms. Less than a minute later the main screen showed four men wearing only their underwear being dragged from the rooms. Their hands secured behind their backs and black sacks placed on their heads. Andy watched as the police officers manhandled the four men down the stairs.

  “Get the reception view onto the main screen,” he demanded. The police team in the reception area formed a cordon to keep staff and guests clear. One of them held the main door open as the four Vectron employees came into view and were then pushed out of the hotel.

  “Outside camera.” The view changed on the main screen. The four Vectron employees were led into rear of the second police van. With the cargo in place, its doors closed. The senior officer appeared to be directing his men. Andy watched as the police officers returned to their vehicles. The senior officer, took a pack of cigarettes from his jacket, reached into his trouser pocket for a lighter and removed his balaclava before placing a cigarette in his mouth and lighting it.

  “Sergeant Medyedov!” Gamzova exclaimed, “We need a copy of these tapes.”

  “I can’t give you these. These are our only record of what happened.” Petrovich pleaded. Andy stepped forward.

  “You’ve got a computer, you can make a copy for us to take with us, you can keep your originals, then everyone is happy.” Petrovich removed a memory stick from a drawer in the desk and plugged it into the computer. Moments later the files were being copied across from the external hard drive.

  “I’ve given you the feeds from the time they arrived until the point they drive away.” He unplugged the memory stick and handed it to Gamzova. Then removed the external hard drive and returned the monitoring system to show the live feed. “The guards will be back soon. I’d like you out of here, simply showing you this is very risky for me, you just don’t know who you can trust.”

  Petrovich opened the fire safe, returned the external hard drive, briefly glanced at his watch before he made a note in the file and locked the safe. The screens showed the two security guards who had been operating the camera system were returning to their watch. Petrovich opened the door allowing the two guards to enter. “I’m going to show my guests out,” Petrovich said to the guards as they took their seats in front of the bank of screens. He led Gamzova and Andy back through reception and continued to lead them outside onto the main street.

  Andy looked up to confirm the camera position which captured the main street scene. Petrovich turned to Gamzova. “Be careful with that memory stick, it holds a secret someone wanted to hide … permanently.”

  “We will and thanks for your assistance,” Gamzova replied as she turned to Andy, “let’s grab a cab.” Petrovich nodded at the concierge who had been hovering near the door. The concierge stepped forward and waved to a taxi parked a short distance from the entrance. The taxi cruised towards them. Once stopped, the concierge opened the rear door for Gamzova. With Gamzova seated, he stepped around the taxi and opened the rear door for Andy.

  “Thank you,” Andy said, as he climbed in and palmed a ten-dollar bill into his gloved hand.

  “Where to?” the driver asked.

  “Moskovsky Avenue near Basseynaya Ulitsa,” Andy replied. The city traffic moved surprisingly freely and twenty minutes later they were standing on the sidewalk collecting their bearings.

  “This way,” Andy pointed towards the park where the carriageway from the airport ran beside it. “This is where the Embassy team were gunned down.”

  They crossed the street and walked along the sidewalk of Moskovsky Avenue in the direction of the city. Andy looked at the road and saw tyre skid marks leading to a gap in the hedge which looked a recent addition to an otherwise pristine hedge. “I think they came to a halt here.” He pointed to the spot with his right hand.

  “The gunfire tore holes into the grass and I can see bullet holes in the sidewalk,” Gamzova observed. “Their attackers selected a good ambush position, the victims stood no chance.”

  Andy stopped and took in a three-sixty view. “Close to the city. On a busy highway. Apartments overlooking the area. These guys either had balls or knew they would get away with it,” he said as he noticed a police car pull up on the opposite carriageway, its occupants watching them.

  “Where are the police when you really need them?” Andy said, casually nodded in their direction to point them out to Gamzova.

  “Is there anything else you need to see while we are here?”

  “No. I’m done.”

  They walked a short
distance to the metro station and caught a tram. Andy watched the police car cross the highway. It followed a discreet distance behind the tram as they trundled back into the city.

  “When we’re back in the city we’ll follow the leads which Vladim gave and see where we end up.”

  “What were the clues?” Gamzova asked.

  “Vladim said that he missed his wife’s birthday and would take her to where they first met and then onto their favourite Italian restaurant, La Belle Italiano. Then, something about the show, Les Miserables.”

  “Do you know where they met?”

  “No.”

  “We don’t have a starting point from which to follow clues. I think we should go back to our hotel. You phone Mrs Martirossian to get some answers, after that, we do research and then we hit the streets.”

  Andy felt disappointed for a moment that his instinct to walk the streets near Bella Italiano to find Vladim had been overruled by Gamzova with her logical approach. Andy watched as the police car continued to tail them.

  CHAPTER 34

  On the third ring he answered the call.

  “Dortman.”

  “Hi Tomas, Andy Flint.”

  “Mr Flint, it’s good to hear from you. Do you have an update for us? I hope you have good news to report.”

  “May I speak with Ana? I have a few questions regarding the last call from Vladim.”

  “I’ll call you back. This number okay?”

  “Yes.” The line went dead.

  Andy paused for a moment then placed his cell on the desk where Gamzova sat using Andy’s laptop. “There are over forty Italian restaurants in Saint Petersburg but no Bella Italiano. I have found a production of Les Miserables at the Marinsky Theatre.”

  “They said they found traces of flour on Bruce Chester, what about bakeries?”

  Gamzova typed ‘bakeries’ into the search engine. “There are seventy-six bakeries!” The cell rang. Gamzova picked up and handed it to Andy.

  “Hi, Andy Flint.”

  “Hello Mr Flint, this is Ana Martirossian. You wanted to speak with me. Have you found Vladim? Tell me you have news.”

  “We are still looking for him Ana, but I need to ask you about the clues Vladim gave.”

  “Is Ms Gamzova with you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Before I answer your questions let me speak with her,” Andy handed the phone to Gamzova with a ‘I have no idea what this is about’ shrug.

  “Luba Gamzova … no, he’s not had any alcohol while I’ve been working with him … I disagree, I trust him, I find him reliable ... I believe he is the best person to find your husband ... I disagree, he has made progress. We are definitely shaking a few cages, they have attempted to murder both Mr Flint and myself while he has been working for you ... the work for you is dangerous ... no we don’t need your people to assist, but thank you for offering … we will find your husband … no wait …,” Gamzova stood up and continued her conversation with Mrs Martirossian in the relative privacy of Andy’s bedroom. Andy could still hear Gamzova’s side of the conversation through the closed door. “That is very generous of you … I understand ... I understand ... Yes ... Yes ...” Gamzova returned from the bedroom and handed the phone back to Andy.

  “How can I help?” Ana asked.

  “Where did you meet first meet Vladim?” Andy asked.

  “We first met at the airport in Moscow. I was going on holiday to Italy and Vladim was headed to England. We exchanged phone numbers and the rest, as they say, is history.”

  “Is your favourite restaurant La Belle Italiano?”

  “No, not La Belle Italiano, my favourite restaurant is Del Posto in New York.”

  “Is Les Miserables your favourite show?”

  “No. It’s Hamilton. I’m really surprised he got that wrong, it’s very odd.”

  “I think we have enough, thank you. I’ll call you when we have more news.”

  “Just bring him back to me,” Ana ended the call.

  “Let’s use the information to narrow down our search,” Gamzova said as she typed ‘Moscow in Saint Petersburg’ into the search engine. “It could be the Moskovsky District, the Moscow Railway Sor the Moscow Victory Park. We have quite an area to cover.”

  “How many Italian restaurants in the Moskovsy District?”

  “There are two, the Mozzarella Bar and the Toscana Grill.”

  “Same question, but in the areas of the Moscow Railway Station and Moscow Victory Park?” Andy asked.

  “We have the Il Patio, two Mama Roma, Gusti Giusti and Michelangelo near the station.” Gamzova typed again. “Nar Moscow Victory Park we have another Mama Roma, Italy on the Moscow and a Mozzarella Bar.”

  “What about bakeries near Moscow Victory Park?”

  Gamzova typed again, “Bakery Number Fourteen on Basseynaya Ulista and Grandma’s Pies near Park Probedi Station, that’s near where we were earlier today.”

  “Okay, humor me, how many bakeries are within five hundred meters of the Hotel Russia?”

  “Two. Grandma’s Pies and Bakery Number Fourteen.”

  “Why would he be calling a bakery he’d never been to or had a business interest in?”

  “It follows the trail he led, but what about the theatre reference?” Gamzova asked.

  “We’ll see when we’re on the ground. That clue might mean something when we’re in the area. Let’s go and check out the two bakeries,” Andy stood and went to grab his overcoat.

  “It’s getting late. I think it would be safer if we go into the city in daylight when the streets are busier.”

  Andy stopped and turned towards Gamzova, “Even with pistols to defend ourselves?”

  “This hotel is the safest place for us. They have reasonable security, lots of guests and staff to act as witnesses.”

  “That didn’t help the Vectron team.”

  “We have pistols to defend ourselves,” Gamzova smiled as she countered, “they were unarmed and not expecting a knock at the door at two in the morning. I’ll be awake and ready for them.”

  “Let’s take a break and meet for dinner here in the hotel.”

  Gamzova closed Andy’s laptop and brushed past him as she headed for the door, “I’ll call for you at eight,” she said over her shoulder and, before he could reply, Luba had slipped through the door leaving him alone with his thoughts.

  Andy looked at his watch. Not even five. I don’t want to be cooped up in here for a few hours. It had been an unwelcome revelation, over the past several days, as how out of condition he’d become. He picked up the desk phone and called reception with a request.

  ***

  He didn’t have to wait long for the gentle knock at his door. Andy peered through the spyhole and saw a housekeeper waiting patiently holding a small package. Andy opened the door, took the package as he thanked the housekeeper and closed the door. He opened the package and retrieved a pair of swim shorts which he’d asked reception to provide. He put his passport, wallet, watch and pistol in the room safe and locked it using the combination zero nine one one. He heard the locking mechanism engage and the front panel displayed ‘Locked’. Andy gathered a bathrobe from the wardrobe, a pair of slippers and a towel. He grabbed the card key out of the wall unit before heading out of the room for the elevators and the health spa in the hotel basement.

  ***

  As the lift doors opened, a wall of humid heat struck him accompanied by a strong smell of chlorine. He stepped out into the entrance of the health spa. Immediately to his front were two doors, Andy headed for the one marked for men and entered.

  Inside, was an airy marbled room. One wall had shelves stacked with neatly rolled white towels ready for use. A wall to wall photograph of a sandy beach, the white sand being washed by crystal clear blue seas framed by a cloudless blue sky, took up the entire wall opposite the shelves. He smiled as it reminded him of his time on the Babushka with Gamzova. To the right were two high backed wicker chairs, separated by a small wicker coffee table.
Next to the chairs, a water cooler with a stack of paper cups. Soothing music played quietly in the background to project a peaceful atmosphere, creating a private oasis. Andy felt excited at his first visit to a health spa in many years. The swimming pool, spa pool and steam room would be a good starter for him.

  “Best to start with small steps!” he announced to the empty room. Grabbing a second towel he headed through another door marked ‘Male Changing Room’ where he found another empty room, but here there were signs of previous use, as the bin for used towels had a small number of discarded towels within it.

  Andy changed out of his day clothes, arranging them neatly in a pile, before putting on the swim shorts and slipping his feet into the comfortable complimentary white slippers. Wrapping himself in the bathrobe he grabbed one of the two towels before heading to the pool area. As Andy opened the door the humidity went up yet another notch.

  Stepping onto the poolside he smiled to himself at choosing to wear the bathrobe to absorb his perspiration. The pool area looked clear of other guests and staff. He draped his towel over a chair, kicked off his slippers and removed his bathrobe before moving to a shower at one end of the pool. He washed himself only briefly as the powerful jets of cold water were an unexpected shock to his system. He moved to the water’s edge. Questions bounced around his head. Was the pool water warm or cold? Was it shallow or deep? Should I dive or climb in?

  Andy headed to a set of metal ladders which descended into the water. Andy paused. The sound of the water lapping against the side of the pool could be heard over the soothing piped music which played in the background. His hands still felt sore with the bruising from the previous night as he gripped the ladder. Andy hoped the warm water would help reduce the dull pain. He slowly climbed down the ladder and found the water temperature just right for him. This might get too hot if I go hard out up and down the pool.

  He kicked off from the wall and slowly swam breaststroke. He’d not been in a pool for many years and smiled, as remembering how to swim returned to him like a natural response. After a few lengths and now warmed up, he switched to freestyle and kicked furiously, his head bobbing side to side. His technique wasn’t good, or pretty, but he moved quickly through the water. Andy felt his heart beating in his chest. At each end of the pool his turns were touch, turn and kick-off, not like the pro’s you see at the Olympics. He didn’t know how to execute a tumble turn, but then he didn’t care either. After a few minutes of freestyle Andy returned to breaststroke to cool down and stop his heart from racing. Andy counted twenty further lengths before stopping by the ladder. He waited a good minute to catch his breath, pleased with the effort he’d made.