by Kenneth Eade
As Slava, Seth and Natasha burst through the corridor, a security detail was running toward the secret room with their guns drawn. They yelled at Slava, asking him if he knew the code to open the room, and questioning what they were doing there.
“What’s going on in there?” screamed a lieutenant guard.
“FSB double agent – killed one of our security men. This woman has been badly injured and we need to get her to a hospital!”
“The code – do you know it?”
“No.”
The ruse worked, at least temporarily, and the guards struggled with the door code in an attempt to open the door.
As the three turned the corner, Slava pulled on the fire alarm, which blared a siren and activated the overhead sprinklers. The people who were on duty poured out of their offices and ran, panicking, for the nearest exit.
Once in the parking lot, they jumped into Victor’s Mercedes and took off, with Slava in the driver’s seat. Slava wiped the drying blood from his eye and floored the Mercedes.
Seth, looking out the back window, noticed that there was a Germinat security vehicle and another unmarked car in pursuit.
“Slava, they’re following us!”
“Don’t worry, Victor’s car fast, we will lose them!”
Slava careened through the streets of Kiev, using evasive maneuvers to escape their pursuers.
“Get GPS blocker out of bag,” said Slava. Plug into cigarette lighter.”
Natasha rummaged through Slava’s bag and pulled out a black and yellow device that looked like a hard disk or web router.
“Vot eto?”
“Da, Da.”
She plugged the device into the cigarette lighter in the back and it blinked to life.
“Throw out all phones with GPS. No iPhones.”
“None here,” said Seth.
“Good, but once we are out of city, we will not be able to hide from helicopters,” said Slava. “I call Bondarenko, he get us different car.”
Slava was right. A black Mercedes 600 would not exactly “blend in” to the Ukrainian countryside, where Mercedes were about as rare as berries in a pumpkin patch.
“Slava, where are we going?”
“About 10 hours to Crimea, 11 hours to Luhansk Have to make decision.”
“To Luhansk, we would be going through heavy fighting,” said Natasha.
“You will like Crimea,” said Slava. “Nice place to take vacation.”
“Just what we need right now, Slav.”
Slava smiled and threw himself back into evasive driving, as he made a course out of the city for Crimea.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
A little more than an hour from Kiev, in the outskirts of Bila Tserkva, they reached a family farm that Bondarenko had directed them to change the cars. Upon entering the farm, they were guided to a garage, where they left the Mercedes. Pavel Vynnychenko, their host, greeted them, with his wife, Lyudmila, who invited them into their home.
Slava, Seth and Natasha were ushered into the small farmhouse, where Pavel’s 14 year old daughter, Anna, ventured out of her room, full of curiosity, to take a peek at the their guests.
While the three accepted Pavel’s offer to use the restroom to quickly clean up, they had to decline his invitation for a home cooked meal. Instead, they opted for a generous meal to go, and were sent off in Pavel’s green Toyota Corolla under cover of darkness.
***
Seth took over the drive with Natasha as his copilot, as Slava took a nap in the back seat. Despite her best intentions, Natasha also dozed off, as Seth drove on until the wee hours of the morning. No helicopters, no tails. It seemed as if they were out of danger.
In Nova Odessa, Slava took the wheel and Seth got some much needed rest. The sun had just risen, and stung Seth’s pasted open eyes. They had gone a little more than halfway.
Outside of the outskirts of town, a lone policeman sat at a control point alongside the road. He had a long day ahead of him and, for no particular reason, decided to flag down the Toyota. He held a red stick in front of the car and directed Slava to pull over.
“What’s going on?” asked Seth from the back seat.
“Police stop us. I think routine,” Slava replied as he brought the car to a stop.
The policeman asked Slava for his license and the papers for the car. He handed over his license, but, of course, they had no papers for the car. The policeman directed him to wait, and went back to his vehicle with Sasha’s driver’s license.
“Should we just take off?” asked Seth.
“That would arouse suspicion.”
“He’s right. Let’s wait,” said Natasha, now completely on alert.
The policeman returned, gave Slava back his license, and told him he had been speeding. Slava asked how much the fine would be, and explained that he was from Kiev, which was a long way to come to pay a fine. He asked if perhaps he could see the judge now, showed a handful of hryvnia, indicating that he was able to pay the fine.
The cop opened his ticket book in front of Slava and told him the fine would be 1,000 hryvnia, which Slava placed in the officer’s ticket book and smiled. The policeman closed the ticket book and told Slava to drive safely.
As Slava pulled out, Seth exclaimed, “That was close,” and they all breathed a collective sigh of relief.
As the cop walked back to his car, satisfied with the first pickings of the day, he received a call on his police radio. The check on Slava’s license had come back with a warrant to locate and detain Slava and his two companions, who were believed to be armed and dangerous, and to notify the Ukrainian Security Serice immediately. The cop fired up his police car and took off in pursuit, as the pictures of the three appeared on his onboard computer.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Natasha called her counterparts in Crimea, who would be waiting for them at the border checkpoint, in case there was any trouble. They were about four hours away, and feeling as if the worse was behind them. That sentiment did not last for long when Slava noticed the police car in the rear view mirror.
“We have cops,” he said.
“Maybe they’re not for us. Let’s see if they pass us,” said Seth.
“Has to be same. Not many cops out here in middle of nowhere.”
Slava floored the Toyota. They would need a change of cars, and quickly, but first he had to get away from the pursuing police car. Time was of the essence, as it would not be long before the nearest helicopter joined the chase, and then there would be no escape.
Slava took the Toyota to its maximum speed, passing Ladas and Jigulis like it was a Formula 1 racecar. At that point, he could no longer see his pursuer in the rear view.
“We take next road,” he called out to the others.
Slava hooked a screeching left at the next crossroad, and the peeling tires left a small plume of smoke behind them.
“Look for car,” he said. “Any car!”
The first car they spotted was an old pickup truck, with half a load of hay in the bed. They exited the Toyota, and Seth and Natasha transferred their things to the truck as Slava got in and looked for the keys. Finding none, he quickly hot-wired the truck and it came to life with a choke of exhaust.
“We are good. Seth, you drive, I take care of Toyota.”
Slava grabbed a stone from the side of the road, ran back to the Toyota, started it, and placed the stone against the gas pedal. Leaving the door open, he pushed his foot on the brake, put the car in drive, and it took off down the road.
“Drive!” Slava called to Seth, as Seth accelerated back to the main road, and Slava jumped in the back of the truck, concealing himself with stacks of hay. The Toyota careened off the road and into a nearby field.
They could hear the sounds of an approaching helicopter in the distance, but they couldn’t see it yet. As Seth hung a left onto the main highway, all appeared to be normal. Morning traffic had begun to smatter the road and there was no sign of the pursuing police car.
; ***
There was now one short hour between them and the Ukrainian/Russian border in Kherson. Slava was driving, and would take them through the checkpoint. Natasha called ahead to the Russian side with a description of their truck and an estimate of when they would be at the border.
“Seth, if we don’t make it…”
“Baby, don’t say things like if we don’t make it. Of course we’re going to make it.”
“I mean, I just wanted you to know. What sustained me when I was held prisoner. What kept me sane…was knowing that you were coming for me. I was certain of it.
“Of course. It couldn’t be any other way.”
“And I just wanted you to know that I love you.”
“And I love you. Don’t worry, there will be plenty more times to say it.”
Natasha smiled as Slava turned to them and said, “Vso! No more love talk. There are children here.”
They all laughed nervously, as they realized that the most precarious part of their trip lay just ahead.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
The Kherson checkpoint was just ahead of them. They queued up the pickup in a line of about twenty cars and waited as the cars inched toward the new Russian border of Crimea. Seth could see red and white striped concrete blocks in the middle of the road, with two hand-opening red and white gate arms, and a small stop sign between them, in front of the concrete blocks. In front of them stood two guards in military fatigues, holding machine guns. Behind them, a long line of trucks and a makeshift guard shack. It appeared that the border checkpoint, having moved several hundred meters, was in the process of reconstruction.
“Looks like fun,” said Slava, as he approached the checkpoint.
“Dokumenti,” demanded the guard, looked at all three passports, and instructed them to wait. Two men in western attire emerged from the guard shack. As they approached, Seth could see that they looked familiar.
“Mr. Rogan!” the young, brown haired CIA agent declared as he approached the pickup. “Did you think we wouldn’t figure out who you were?”
“Now that you have, you must know that I haven’t committed any crime, so back off.”
“On the contrary, you kidnapped three of our officers, and one was murdered in the process. I think they call that murder back home.”
“This is a political situation. You have to let us pass.”
“We’re checking on that now,” said the gruff speaking agent, leaning through the window. “Seems there’s a warrant out for your buddy here.”
“And I think it would be better if you stayed with us, Seth,” said the young one. “I know, I know, we can’t extradite you from Russia. But, if you get manage to get across that border, we’ll just have Interpol pick you up the next time you get on a plane.”
“Step back and let us pass. Everybody knows Interpol is just an information agency. It doesn’t pick up anyone.”
“Tell that to the next border guard when he sees a red notice on you,” said the agent, smiling.
The agents backed away.
“Vyyty v mashini!” the guard ordered them out of the car.
“Slava, go!” yelled Seth, and Slava punched the pickup, which crashed through the makeshift gate arm. Both guards began to fire, and they could hear bullets pinging off the back bumper and lodging in the hay. They could hear the back tires exploding, and Slava continued to press the truck forward on flat rubber and bare steel wheels.
Two military helicopters rose above the Russian checkpoint and the Ukrainian guards stopped firing. They had made it across.
“Nobody shot?” asked Seth.
“Watch next time I drink,” said Slava.
“Speaking of drink, I think one may be in order,” said Natasha.
As they were helped out of the truck by the Russian guards, Seth realized that he was shaking so badly that his legs wouldn’t support him, and he almost fell.
This was Russia, a part of it he had never seen, but he felt like he was home. Natasha put her arm around him and his legs found their balance. Suddenly, Seth realized that he was home. Home was wherever they were together, and it felt good.
AFTERWORD
Of course, the story of Seth Rogan is fictional, but it is based on solid historical contemporary research. If you care to read on, I have summarized some of that research. If not, I would like to ask you now to please leave a review. If you scroll to the last page, you will be prompted to do so and also to share the fact that you have read this book with your social networks. I would greatly appreciate it if you would do both. Also, there are excerpts of my other novels which you are free to check out or just scroll through them to leave your review.
In late 2013, the then president of Ukraine, Viktor Yanukovych, rejected a European Union association agreement tied to the $17 billion IMF loan, whose terms are only now being revealed. Instead, Yanukovych chose a Russian aid package worth $15 billion plus a discount on Russian natural gas. His decision was a major factor in the ensuing deadly protests that led to his ouster from office in February 2014 and the ongoing crisis. The current government of the Ukraine pursued the IMF loan and a European Union Association Agreement.
On July 28, 2014, the California-based Oakland Institute released a report entitled, “Walking on the West Side: the World Bank and the IMF in the Ukraine Conflict,” which revealed that the World Bank and the International Monetary Fund (IMF), under terms of their $17 billion loan to Ukraine, would open the country to genetically-modified (GM) crops in agriculture.
According to the Oakland Institute, “Whereas Ukraine does not allow the use of genetically modified organisms (GMOs) in agriculture, Article 404 of the EU agreement, which relates to agriculture, includes a clause that has generally gone unnoticed: it indicates, among other things, that both parties will cooperate to extend the use of biotechnologies. There is no doubt that this provision meets the expectations of the agribusiness industry. As observed by Michael Cox, research director at the investment bank Piper Jaffray, ‘Ukraine and, to a wider extent, Eastern Europe, are among the most promising growth markets for farm-equipment giant Deere, as well as seed producers Monsanto and DuPont’.”
The Oakland Institute also revealed that the terms of the World Bank/IMF loan to Ukraine have already led to “an increase in foreign investment, which is likely to result in further expansion of large-scale acquisitions of agricultural land by foreign companies and further corporatization of agriculture in the country.”
Ukrainian law bars farmers from growing GM crops. Long considered “the bread basket of Europe,” Ukraine’s rich black soil is ideal for growing grains, and in 2012 Ukrainian farmers harvested more than 20 million tons of corn.
In May 2013, Monsanto announced plans to invest $140 million in a non-GMO corn seed plant in Ukraine, with Monsanto Ukraine spokesman Vitally Fechuk confirming that ‘We will be working with conventional seeds only” because “in Ukraine only conventional seeds are allowed for production and importation.”
However, by November 2013, six large Ukrainian agriculture associations had prepared draft amendments to the law, pushing for “creating, testing, transportation and use of GMOs regarding the legalization of GM seeds.” The president of the Ukrainian Grain Association, Volodymyr Klymenko, said in a November 5, 2013 press conference that, “We could mull over this issue for a long time, but we, jointly with the [agricultural] associations, have signed two letters to change the law on biosecurity, in which we proposed the legalization of the use of GM seeds, which had been tested in the United States for a long time, for our producers.” The truth is, of course, that GMOs have never undergone independent long term testing in the United States, which accepts the testing of the industry and considers them GRAS, or “generally recognized as safe.”
The agricultural associations’ draft amendments coincided with the terms of the EU Association Agreement and IMF/World Bank loan. The website sustainablepulse.com – which tracks GMO news worldwide – immediately criticized the agricultural asso
ciations’ proposal, and its director Henry Rowlands stated: “Ukraine agriculture will be seriously damaged if the Ukrainian government legally allows GM seeds in the country. Their farmers will find their export markets reduced due to consumers’ anti-GMO sentiments both in Russia and the EU.” Rowlands predicted that Monsanto’s investment in Ukraine “could rise to $300 million within several years. Does Ukrainian agriculture want to totally rely on the success or failure of one U.S.-based company?”
On December 13, 2013, Monsanto’s Vice President of Corporate Engagement, Jesus Madrazo, told the U.S.-Ukraine Conference in Washington, D.C. that the company sees “the importance of creating a favorable environment [in Ukraine] that encourages innovation and fosters the continued development of agriculture. Ukraine has the opportunity to further develop the potential of conventional crops, which is where we are currently concentrating our efforts. We also hope that at some point biotechnology is a tool that will be available to Ukrainian farmers in the future.”
Just a few days before Madrazo’s remarks in Washington, Monsanto Ukraine had launched its “social development” program for the country, which it called “Grain Basket of the Future.” It provides grants to rural villagers so they can “start feeling that they can improve their situation themselves as opposed to waiting for a handout.”
Actually, the real “handout” is the one going to big U.S. Agribusiness through the terms of the IMF/World Bank loan, which, besides opening the country to GM crops, will also further lift the ban on the sale of Ukraine’s rich agricultural lands to the private sector.
As Morgan Williams, president and CEO of the U.S.-Ukraine Business Council, told International Business Times in March, “Ukraine’s agriculture could be a real gold mine.” But he added that there are “many aspects of the business climate that need to be changed. The major item would center around getting the government out of business.”