The Makarov File

by Peter Kozmar

  “Thanks Chuck. I know you’ve always had my back. But I don’t think the Middle East Desk is for me.” Andy sipped his coffee.

  “Let’s talk about me for a moment. I’ve got a promotion and a significant raise with an enhanced benefits package, so, it’s not all bad news!” Boston smiled and thirstily drank more from the bottle.

  “Congratulations!” Andy said leaning forward to shake Boston’s hand and, trying to sound sincere, “Well done!”

  “Hobbs pinned all the failures of oversight on Bruce Chester since he wasn’t around to defend himself. Luckily his wife will never know that he took the fall for it. She still gets his insurance pay out and widow’s pension. We had quite a turnout for his funeral. I found it a moving ceremony, lots of kind words spoken. You knew him, didn’t you?”

  “Only briefly.”

  “Well Hobbs looks like she is up for a big promotion too. Rumour mill has it she’ll be heading off to Europe. I heard Brussels, something to do with Interpol and liaising with the European Commission.”

  A look of concern crossed Boston’s face, “Hey, I think we should wrap this up. I need to get a few more lengths in before I head to the office.” He stood and draped his towel around his lap as he offered his hand again to Andy. “It’s great to see you. We must keep in touch and don’t leave it so long next time,” Boston flashed a brief, insincere smile, shook hands and walked back to the pool.

  Andy finished his coffee before he stood, picked his overcoat off the back of the chair and made his way towards the reception desk and away from Boston. He turned to see Boston near the pool, his towel still wrapped loosely around his waist.

  Reaching the front desk, he saw it staffed by a middle aged blonde woman wearing a sports tee shirt. She smiled as Andy spoke with her. Twenty minutes later Andy climbed into his Uber ride and headed home. He smiled to himself.

  ***

  3 months later.

  Vladim Martirossian’s sleek Gulfstream weaved its way through the jagged New Zealand South Island mountains as it made its descent into Queenstown airport. Andy looked out of the window as the mountains towered above them and the ground looked uncomfortably close as they banked left, then right through the steep sided valleys.

  Queenstown sold itself as ‘The Adventure Capital of the World’. The city where A.J. Hackett invented Bungee Jumping back in ‘79. Even the approach to the airport had been an adrenaline thrill ride with twists, turns and the occasional bump of turbulence. All Andy could see were mountains and valleys, no houses, factories, warehouses, roads, urban sprawl or people.

  “Please buckle up, we’ll be on the ground in two minutes,” the captain announced.

  Andy fastened his seatbelt and continued to absorb the amazing landscape through his window. The aircraft levelled its wings and continued its descent as it passed over the still waters of Lake Wakatipu. He listened to the mechanical whirring’s as the undercarriage engaged and locked into place just as the airfield perimeter came into view. The ground rushed up to meet them and they touched down. The airbrakes decelerated the Gulfstream, gently pushing Andy forward in his seat.

  The jet taxied across the airfield passing a large number of heli-tour operators. Their helicopters lined-up and waiting for business as the jet made its way to the VIP terminal. Andy watched as a helicopter slowly climbed and accelerated away from the airfield gaining height as it floated into the distance. He could see the usual hangars and freight warehouses which accompanied any commercial airfield, but was surprised at the large number of hire cars and motor homes parked up in rows on the grass outside the airfield’s perimeter. Must be a big tourist destination.

  They glided by a small passenger terminal which serviced aircraft from Air New Zealand, Qantas and JetStar, and he concluded the small terminal would be busy. He had time to see passengers walking from the terminal across the tarmac to the steps leading up to their waiting Air New Zealand Airbus. He noticed the passengers were a wide mix of ages, races, gender and families. He struggled to spot any business travellers carrying laptop bags amongst them. The Gulfstream continued to taxi and moments later slowed and turned to the right before coming to a stop in front of a compact, modern low rise building which, Andy read on the sign, provided VIP facilities.

  The ground crew wearing high visibility vests, large orange ear protectors and sunglasses approached the Gulfstream as the captain shut down the engines. One member of the ground crew dragged the heavy wheel chocks into place. A second member of the ground crew wheeled the metal stairs for the main cabin door. The captain stepped out of the cockpit, “I hope you had a pleasant flight and enjoyed the spectacular views as we came in to land.”

  “We had a smooth flight. Thanks Chris,” Vladim replied.

  “We’ll have the jet ready for you in five days unless you call with new instructions.”

  The captain opened the main cabin door and stepped backwards half a step leaving the doorway clear. Andy got to his feet and reached for his travel bag and rain jacket. He watched Vladim help Ana with her jacket and then retrieve her handbag before he shook hands with the captain at the door and made his way down the stairs to the tarmac. Ana followed behind. Andy made his way to the doorway and squinted in the bright autumn sunlight and quickly donned his sunglasses. By the time Andy reached the bottom of the stairs, his cell phone had beeped with a roaming welcome message from a local cell provider.

  Vladim shouted across to Andy, “Hey we’re here and we’re really doing this. I can’t believe it.”

  “I’m looking forward to the next few days. I’ve not done anything like this since I was a kid.” Andy replied excitedly.

  Ana held Vadim’s hand as they walked towards the VIP terminal with Andy trailing a few paces behind. Andy turned back towards the aircraft and saw the ground crew removing their heavy hiking packs and Ana’s luggage from the aircraft hold and place it onto a trolley cart. As he walked he watched as one of the ground crew pushed the trolley to one side of the VIP terminal and placed their items onto a conveyor belt which ran to an x-ray machine where a bio security officer studied the images.

  The automatic doors opened for them to enter the terminal with its polished wooden floors, stone walls and large exposed wooden beams holding onto the roof. Two large, three-seater couches were angled around an open fire which roared away, making the room pleasantly warm. An ornate Persian rug covered the space between the fire and the couches, with small glass coffee tables positioned on either side. A hostess wearing a dark business suit and white shirt appeared and gestured for them to all sit as she addressed them.

  “Good morning Mr and Mrs Martirossian, Mr Flint, I’m Jane. Welcome to New Zealand. I hope you have a wonderful stay in our beautiful country.”

  “Thank you for your warm welcome,” Vladim replied.

  “We have a few minutes while we wait for the Immigration and Customs officials to arrive. I’ve already spoken with them they won’t be long. While we wait, may I pour you one of our fine wines or would you prefer tea or coffee?”

  Vladim smiled as he spoke, “English breakfast tea with milk, no sugar, please.” Jane turned to Ana

  “A Pinot Noir, please.”

  Jane smiled, “Certainly, Madam, an excellent choice. We are surrounded by some fine wineries which produce some of the world’s best wines.”

  “What about you Mr Flint? What can I get for you?”

  “I’ll just have a strong black coffee, please.”

  “Great. I’ll bring them shortly.” Jane smiled and excused herself while she went to prepare their drinks.

  Andy turned to Vladim and Ana, “Do you mind if I make a call. I promised Mark I’d call when we landed.”

  “Sure, no problem,” Vladim replied.

  Andy stood and walked to the far side of the room with his phone and dialled Mark’s number.

  After a few minutes Jane returned and placed a small tray with a glass of red wine and a fine China tea service comprising a teapot, a cup and saucer, a milk
jug and sugar bowl. “Mr Martirossian, your cars have arrived and are waiting for you.”

  “Thank you for letting me know,” Vladim replied. Jane moved to where Andy had been seated and placed the coffee on the closest table.

  Andy pocketed his phone and returned to Vladim and Ana.

  “How’s your son?” Ana enquired.

  “He sounded pleased to hear from me. Says he’s busy with work and looking forward to meeting up with us here in Queenstown when we’ve finished the Great Walk.”

  “It’s good to know that you’re getting to know him and building bridges,” Vladim said, “I hope you’re not too upset he couldn’t join us on the trail.”

  “It’s just the way it is. He wanted to be with us, but something last minute cropped up, we know how that can happen, says he’ll tell me about it when we meet.” Andy sat and sipped his coffee. It was strong and at just the right temperature, he felt the much needed caffeine jolt to his system.

  The Immigration and Customs Officers arrived together and were mid-conversation as they stepped into the waiting area via a rear door. The Customs Officer had a brown and white spaniel which appeared right at home in the VIP terminal. The dog was introduced to their packs and luggage, but showed no interest any of them and quickly moved on. The Immigration Officer examined their passports, scanned them into his portable terminal and waited patiently for the response. Seconds later the terminal gave a gentle beep and displayed a green light.

  “Everything’s in order, have a great time in Aotearoa,” he said as he stamped their passports before returning them.

  “Is it okay for us to leave?” Andy asked.

  Jane stepped forward and joined their small group. “Yes. You can leave when ready. Your packs have been loaded in your vehicles. Mrs Martirossian’s luggage has been loaded into the vehicle driven by …,” she glanced at her tablet computer and read her notes, “… ah yes, Hans. He’ll be taking you to the Rees Hotel. Mr Martirossian and Mr Flint your backpacks have been loaded into the vehicle with … err … Mr Dortman. Is there anything else I can help with?

  “No. Thanks Jane. We’re all good,” Andy replied and finished his coffee, “let’s go.”

  They all stood and walked out of the terminal to see two identical black Range Rovers with tinted dark glass. Their drivers kept their engines running. Dortman was waiting beside one SUV and Hans beside the other. The two men were casually dressed, but still impeccably presented. On reaching their vehicles, Vladim turned and embraced Ana, giving her a long, passionate kiss. After saying their goodbyes, they all climbed into their respective vehicles. Dortman climbed into the front passenger seat next to their driver.

  Dortman greeted them from the front passenger seat, “Welcome to New Zealand. Did you have a pleasant flight?”

  “It was good and we’re well rested. It’s great to see you Tomas,” Vladim replied as he watched the SUV in front with Ana pull away from them, “How are things between you and Hans?”

  “The counselling has gone well. Having a few days together on our own before you and Mrs Martirossian arrived has been like a second honeymoon for us. I’m happier and I think he is too.”

  “Good. I’m pleased. I’d hate for you two to split.”

  Their Range Rover moved slowly to the airport exit gate then accelerated quickly onto State Highway Six. Andy stared out of the window at the tall mountain peaks which surrounded the airport. Their beauty captivated him. Dortman disturbed his private thoughts as he held up a large brown envelope and handed it to him.

  “The paperwork for your ferry crossing, hut bookings and water taxi at the end are in this envelope. There’s also a map to help you, but I don’t think you’ll need it as the route is well signposted and easy to follow. They also have regular marker posts telling you how far you’ve covered, so you’ll have an idea how far along the trail you are.”

  “Thanks Tomas, you’ve done all of our research for us,” Andy replied, smiling when he saw Dortman wince at his use of his first name.

  “In the trunk you’ll find food, snacks, drinks, matches, a set of camping pots, pans, plate and a small bowl, plus a few other things you’ll need to split between the two of you before you get on the ferry.”

  “Your military service has made you very organised,” Vladim replied.

  “Thank you,” Dortman replied, “I’ve looked at the weather forecast. You’ve got sunshine for the next two days, then a cold front passes through, this means a temperature drop and heavy rains. At this time of year, you could get snow on the McKinnon Pass.”

  “That’s not good,” Andy sounded anxious as he didn’t like the idea of trekking for a few days in heavy rain or fighting through deep snow.

  “We’re in what’s known as Fiordland and it rains a lot.”

  “How much is a lot?” Vladim asked.

  “About eight metres per year. It rains on average over two hundred days per year. The good news is that you’ll have spectacular views of the waterfalls as you make your way along the track.” The conversation fell silent as they skirted south along Lake Wakatipu, each of them taking in the views. After half-an-hour Vladim turned to Andy.

  “You never told me how you cracked the case.”

  “Well, since you asked, and we have a few minutes to kill, I’ll let you in on what happened. You recall that, when we first met, I was working on the Russian Desk. I joined the Agency towards the end of the cold war when we’d already seen the fall of the Berlin Wall and the demise of the Russian Communist Party. When we met it was during the rise and fall of free, multi-party elections and capitalism. The agency was looking at winding down the Russian Desk and its presence in Russia. Then Nine-Eleven happened and the process was accelerated as the Agency’s centre of gravity moved to Afghanistan and the Middle East. We suffered from a lack of resource, attention and focus. Both the White House and our military stakeholders weren’t interested in our work. With less funding, we had to scale back and we couldn’t run any significant operations. The Russian Desk was no longer the place to be if you wanted a career with promotion prospects at the Agency.”

  “Go on,” Vladim listened intently.

  “To be honest with you, I got bored and had time on my hands so I created ‘The Makarov File’. A work of complete fiction, the file detailed how a mafia organisation, known as ‘Makarov’, had grown in Saint Petersburg by taking over all its criminal competitors. I alleged Makarov was taking Russia’s wealth by stealth and had started to acquire Russia’s biggest businesses via its Mafiosi methods. I took two years to write the file.”

  “With that amount of effort it must have been detailed.”

  “Yes, incredibly detailed. I’d created a perfect blueprint of how to expand a small criminal entity into a global leader in crime and business. The reader would believe it to be real and happening in the darkest shadows of Russia. I provided analysis to extrapolate how the organisation would evolve by adopting a political front. The evolution I suggested would give them incredible power and influence, plus the ability to raid the state treasury of hundreds of billions of dollars. However, our Executives weren’t interested in the file, so they archived it.”

  “Were you still with the Agency when they archived it?”

  “Yes. Once they decided to ignore the file and send it to the archives I knew I would be headed out of the door.”

  “So how did you figure it was Lightfoot behind this?” They paused the conversation as their driver slowed and turned on to State Highway Ninety-Seven towards Te Anau, before hitting the gas again.

  “Only someone within the Agency with the security clearance and access to the file would be able to follow the blueprint. When I heard the murder of Bruce Chester, our agents and the Vectron Security team were all linked to the work of ‘The Makarov Corporation’, I knew where I needed to start looking. There were only had a handful of suspects to investigate.”

  “You didn’t share this with Hobbs?” Vladim asked.

  “Why should I? I d
esperately needed the money and I saw a way to spin this out for a while. The real challenge was finding out who provided the muscle and start-up funding. The clues pointed to Mikhail Chousov and his son, Alexi. Only when I confronted Alexi did he confirm Mikhail wasn’t involved. I found evidence which showed Alexi and Amanda were in a relationship. I’m trained not to believe in coincidences, but there were photographs which showed them in the same locations at the same times. Once I had all the pieces I could act. I asked for the assistance of the FSB and US Coast Guard to bring them to justice. I really wanted to bring in Amanda Lightfoot, she got lots of people killed and relished the social life that came with her new found wealth, so, you can imagine my frustration when I found out she’d drowned.”

  “I’m amazed anyone had time to get off the Babushka. I heard Luba used a lot of explosives, maybe too much.”

  Andy laughed for a moment, “She used way more than I expected. I thought we’d all be killed in the blast. I couldn’t believe how quickly the Babushka sank.”

  “What happened to Alexi?” Vladim asked.

  “He’s got his own personal cell in a Federal Supermax prison in Texas.”

  “Is he co-operating?”

  “Not yet, but if the authorities offer him a deal for a better prison with privileges, he’ll turn.”

  “Since you’ve been open with me, I have some things I can add.”

  Andy was intrigued, “Go on.”

  “I know Ana offered you a bonus to bring me back either dead or alive. She made a similar deal with Luba,” Andy nodded for Vladim to continue, he wanted to know more, “She offered a bounty on the head of the person who kidnapped me, dead, not alive.”

  “That’s news to me,” Andy couldn’t hide his surprise.