by Peter Kozmar
“I know after the Babushka sunk Ana wired Luba five million dollars from her private account.”
Andy looked out of the window at the views of the surrounding mountains while in his mind he replayed the scene from the night of the sinking. He recalled Amanda jumping into the sea from the Babushka. He felt certain Luba also saw Amanda jump before she gave him the thumbs up signal and slipped away in the direction where he had seen Amanda disappear. He wondered whether she had thought his thumbs up was confirmation for her to go and kill Amanda, not that he was okay. Shit! For the first time in many months’ doubt crept over him. Could he have been responsible for Amanda’s death? Did he inadvertently give the kill order to Luba, allowing her to earn her bounty?
Andy’s thoughts were interrupted bringing him back to the present when Vladim asked a question, “How do you feel about not being invited back to the Agency?”
“It’s taken some adjustment. I’ll not lie to you, it’s been difficult for me, but I’ve finally come to terms knowing that I can’t go back. The money I earned working the case for just a few weeks has set me up for life. I’ve gained the financial security I needed and, more importantly, I’m sober.”
“That’s good to know.”
“Plus, they suspect I framed Chuck Boston.”
“Why? What happened to Chuck Boston?” Vladim asked curiously.
“I last met Chuck at his local swimming pool. I knew he swam there regularly and he liked to show off. It’s a busy place there are always lots of kids with their moms using the place. Anyway, depending on how my conversation went, would determine what would happen to Chuck. I slipped a lifeguard twenty bucks and if it wasn’t going my way I’d give the lifeguard a signal, like this.” Andy leaned back and scratched his head.
“The Lifeguard would approach and said he had a call. I knew this would make Chuck leave the table.”
“What did you do while he was away?”
“I opened his bottle of water and slipped in several tablets of ground Viagra. He returned a little bemused that he had no call. We carry on our conversation for a few minutes and he keeps drinking the bottled water. He finished the conversation and headed back to the water. On the way out, I told the manager I’d seen a middle-aged guy in tight swimwear in the swim lanes watching the young boys.
“I saw them get him out of the pool. He looked flustered and embarrassed as he had a huge erection, which I could see all the way from the reception desk.” They both started to laugh even Dortman chuckled to himself up in the front. “I left as the police arrived. He couldn’t explain how the kiddie porn found its way into his locker at the pool either, he claimed it had been planted. I’d also arranged for more images to be downloaded onto his home computer via a cyber-hack. The Agency quietly dropped him while the police investigated.”
The two of them laughed loudly as they joked about a bewildered Chuck being led away in handcuffs with a huge erection showing from beneath the towel wrapped around his waist. They were high on the friendship that had been re-kindled in adversity and, now they could enjoy it at their leisure.
The Range Rover made good time to Te Anau where it skirted around the town and then onwards the extra twenty minutes to the jetty at Te Anau Downs. From there they would catch the ferry to take them over Lake Te Anau to the start of the Milford Track. The small car park had a few cars and a lone touring camper van. As soon as the Range Rover was parked, Dortman got out and moved to the rear of their vehicle where he popped open the tailgate.
Andy got out of his side of the car and stretched. He allowed the warmth of the early afternoon sun wash over him while taking in the amazing scenery. He faced a crystal-clear lake and, in the distance, mountains reached up like fingers pointing into the clear blue sky. Andy breathed deeply, the air smelt crisp and clean. Vladim stepped out of the Range Rover and approached Dortman.
“Mr Martirossian, everything is organised. Mr Flint has all the paperwork. All you need do is pack these items between the two of you,” he said, pointed to the kit he’d mentioned earlier.
Andy joined Vladim and within minutes the job was done. With it being a sunny day, they packed their waterproof jackets in the top of their packs. They slipped out of their regular shoes, put on two pairs of thick socks before getting into their sturdy walking boots. Andy’s last task, before he donned his pack, was to spray himself with a generous amount of insect repellent. Vladim took the repellent and copied Andy.
“Make sure you keep using it,” Dortman advised, “your last day finishes at a place called Sandfly Point. I guess it got its name because of the sandflies, tiny little bloodsuckers that bite and make you itch like crazy.” As if on cue, he bent down and slapped the back of his leg leaving a little smear of blood behind.
The two friends were ready. They lifted their heavy packs onto their backs and walked the short distance down the jetty to their waiting ferry. They dumped their packs in the luggage area and made their way up onto the top deck so they could take in the views for the next hour.
The ferry’s engines fired up, the mooring lines were cast off and the ferry slowly motored away from the jetty. Once clear of the shoreline, its powerful engines opened up with a roar. Andy smiled at the thought of the next four days trekking through rugged mountains, crossing icy streams and witnessing some of the most beautiful scenery on the planet. He was pleased they had both lived through their recent trials so they could share the beauty of the landscape and the adventure to come.
***
Excerpt from Dead Secret
To the outside world, the frosted glass walls near the lifts on the twenty second floor of Plimmer Towers in Wellington, New Zealand, looked just like any other anonymous corporate. For the small team of technicians and analysists who worked there, it was another routine day as they viewed their screens of data which they had intercepted from various global networks and harvested from some of the world’s most secure data bases. The staff occupied only a small section of the office while row upon row of racks filled with high performance servers which quietly hummed twenty-four hours a day, filled the rest of the floor. The servers were the heart of their operation as they stored, filtered, processed, decrypted and sorted the captured data for prioritization and analysis.
Mark Flint had already been at work in Plimmer Towers for an hour before he’d stepped out to grab a coffee from a local café on Lambton Quay when he received the call on his cell phone. At nine thirty-five, Mark smiled as he ended the call with his father. He looked forward to the weekend in Queenstown when he’d meet up with his old man. Refreshed and ready to dive back into the day’s activities, at the last moment he changed his mind and decided to use the bathroom located off the stairwell on the floor below. Once comfortable inside his cubicle, he got out his cell phone to check his social media feeds and personal e-mails as he’d not have access to the device while in the office. Time passed quickly as he browsed, responded to e-mails from friends and watched an amusing music video from Korea which featured dancing cats which had gone viral and was a global phenomenon. With the addictive tune and the images of the dancing cats stuck in his head, Mark powered down his cell phone. He left the cubicle and washed his hands before climbing the flight of concrete stairs to the office. He swiped his access card in the card reader and entered the office when the lock gave a gentle electronic buzz.
He immediately sensed something wrong, very wrong. The office didn’t feel right. As he stepped further inside, a body sprawled untidily on the floor in the small kitchen unit caught his attention. A large pool of blood had oozed from a large chest wound and part of the head was missing. Blood and brain matter covered the kitchen wall. The gruesome sight and stench were too much as Mark quickly turned away. He couldn’t stop himself from puking on the carpet outside the kitchen. His throat and mouth burnt from his bile. He knew the body belonged to Greg Darcey his Canadian colleague and a keen sportsman. They’d known each other for just a few months and became good friends as Greg had a great se
nse of humor and fun to be around. Greg had joined Mark on Thursday evenings for indoor netball down by the stadium where Greg played as an effective Centre.
Mark slowly walked further into the office. To the right, two more bodies lay in a small meeting room. Fiona Armstrong lay to one side, the other body on the floor behind the grey office table. Fiona had a look of terror fixed on her face and two dark entry wounds in her chest. Fiona had been the longest serving member in the office having been posted to Wellington five years earlier and had declined all subsequent postings. The body with Fiona but behind the table belonged to Murray McDonald from Scotland, the youngest member of the office. Mark used Murray as a guru of all things technical and he had a young wife. Murray had been back at the office for two days after the birth of their first child some two weeks earlier. With most of Murray’s head missing, Mark could see it covering the walls and floor. Mark started to tremble and felt his legs go week from under him, the room started to spin. He used the table to steady himself for a moment. Confident he wasn’t going to collapse, he moved out of the meeting room and breathed deeply to clear the stench of death from his lungs. Mark continued deeper into the office and looked behind the second row of desks where the bodies of Jose Fernando and John Hunter lay. Both had identical gunshot patterns, two to the chest and one to the head. Jose came from the Philippines, and he’d been with the team for two years. He’d received news about his next posting, New York with a promotion and extra benefits. The whole team were excited and to celebrate, today the office had bought a cake to eat with their morning tea. The cake sat unwrapped, still untouched in its box on Jose’s desk. John a New Zealander who loved his rugby, deer hunting in the local wilderness and deep-sea fishing in the Cook Strait from his large boat. The third row of desks still had Tom Evan’s laptop, notepad, a chipped Royal Marines coffee mug and a framed photo of his wife. The team hadn’t yet felt ready to pack it away.
Mark made his way into the server farm. Goose bumps quickly formed on his arms as the chilled air from the air conditioning kept the servers cool. The sweat on his back felt cold and uncomfortable to his skin. The gentle hum of the servers gave a false feeling of re-assurance and familiarity. Mark stepped further into the server farm and could see nothing out of order, but as he turned the corner he saw the body of Ivan Rubtsov sprawled near the second exit. Ivan had nearly made it to the exit door and the relative safety of the lifts beyond before he’d been gunned down. Mark looked down on Ivan who lay face down in a large pool of blood having taken two rounds in the back and one to the back of the head. Ivan, their Russian team member, never shared details about his private life and didn’t mix socially with the team. Ivan arrived unannounced from HQ almost twelve months earlier, a few weeks after Mark’s arrival. Ivan claimed that he didn’t like the Russian Government and had joined the UN to get away from Russia and shine a spotlight on Russian criminal activities. Mark and the rest of the Wellington team didn’t believe Ivan’s claims, privately they believed he worked for the Russian Foreign Intelligence Service.
Mark retraced his steps out of the server farm and back to his desk where he sat in the deafening silence. He buried his head in his hands. Tears slowly streaked down his cheeks and dripped onto his notepad causing the ink to blot. He tried to comprehend what had happened. Only a short time ago the team were alive and celebrating Jose’s promotion and move to New York, now they were dead.
Thoughts flooded his mind. The killer would still be in the area. The killer could be looking for him to finish the job. He needed to act. Doing nothing wasn’t an option. He picked up the desk phone and dialed ‘111’. Within three rings the agent answered his call.
“Emergency Services. Which Service do you require?”
“They’re dead. They’re all dead.”
***
Dead Secret is scheduled for release at the end of May 2020.
***
Other Titles from the same Author
Defector
His first month in the job and the Russian’s want him dead…
Moscow 1993 and CIA agent Andy Flint lands an important mission, secure the immediate defection of a high value asset. Flint soon finds himself facing a ruthless opponent, Oleg Malchik, a dynamic FSB agent who’s closing down Western intelligence networks one after another.
With Malchik closing in, Flint has his own problems with the local Mafia. But things turn for the worse when Malchik wants Flint dead. With the FSB and the Mafia in hot pursuit, Flint believes there’s a mole helping Malchik.
Who can Flint trust? Can he complete his mission? Who will get to him first, the Mafia or Malchik?
Defector is the first stand-alone novella in the ‘Beginning Series’, part of the series of international thrillers based around CIA agent, Andy Flint. If you like action, a page turning roller-coaster of a read and plot which keeps you on the edge of your seat, you’ll love Peter Kozmar’s gripping thriller.
Click here to get your copy of Defecto
Double Cross
There are eight armed men outside and Flint’s just discovered he’s been double crossed. They’re now moving in to kill him.
Following the brutal murder of the Luhansk Station Chief, CIA agent Andy Flint is ordered to the CIA Field Station in the Ukraine. But as more intelligence assets are murdered, Flint finds a connection to a mysterious figure seen at the border. With the body count rising and witnessing the murder of those closest to him leaves Flint burning for revenge.
Flint has a choice, follow Langley’s orders or find the mystery man he believes is responsible.
In the pursuit of answers, Flint lights the fuse and follows the trail to its explosive conclusion.
Double Cross is the second stand-alone book in the ‘Beginning Series’, part of the series of international thrillers based around CIA agent, Andy Flint. If you like action, a page turning roller-coaster of a read and plot which keeps you on the edge of your seat, you’ll love Peter Kozmar’s gripping thriller.
Click here to get your copy of Double Cross
***
If you’d like to sign up to my newsletter where I discuss what I’m up to with my writing, life in New Zealand and what my two mischievous black Labradors are up to, then please click on the link below and enter your email details. I’ll respect your privacy and not share your details with others and you can unsubscribe at any time by either clicking on the ‘Unsubscribe’ link on the newsletter or emailing me and placing ‘Unsubscribe’ in the subject field.
https://www.subscribepage.com/peter-kozmar.com
Alternatively you can also follow me on social media @peter.kozmar or for those using LinkedIn or Instagram, look out for Peter Kozmar.
***
About the Author
Peter was born near Manchester in the North West of England into a working class family. He studied Engineering at University where he joined the British Army.
During his service he worked in Russia, Ukraine, Belarus, Kazakhstan and Uzbekistan. He spent significant time in South Africa before the election of Nelson Mandela. He also spent time briefly in Colombia and Mexico. After reaching the rank of Major, he resigned his Commission and moved with his family to New Zealand where he led an active, outdoors life. However, a skiing accident meant he wasn’t able to run, hike or ski. With time on his hands, that’s how the writing started and allowed him to refocus and develop another skill rather than dwell on what he could no longer do.
With the positive support of those around him, Peter has written about Andy Flint, starting with The Beginning Series.
Peter lives in Wellington, New Zealand. His kids have now left home leaving him with his wife and two mischievous Labrador's, Brecon and Pembroke.
lter: grayscale(100%); -moz-filter: grayscale(100%); -o-filter: grayscale(100%); -ms-filter: grayscale(100%); filter: grayscale(100%); " class="sharethis-inline-share-buttons">share