by Jo Black
Mikhail feigned anger and dragged him to one side. ‘You fucking idiot! I should fire you, or feed you to the fish! You let him take my fucking daughter! Why did you not keep an eye on her? You fucked me!’
‘Do you want me to take care of him?’
‘Take care of him?!? Who the fuck are you to take care of The Dragon! You could not take care of an old woman slapping you with a wet fish! There will be consequences, now I have to fix your mess!’ Mikhail stormed over to sit down at the table. ‘What is it you want from me?’
‘The weapons shipment was transferred to the Chechens prior to seizure. We’ll be keeping those to cover our expedition expenses in lieu of payment. The money recovered belongs to David Smythe. We’ll be keeping that as well. You have outstanding markers to The Company to fulfil. I expect them to be honoured. As per the terms of our contract, I expect fourteen days notice of termination.’
‘Very well. You will have fourteen days before your status is revoked. We do not want a lawsuit.’
‘The markers.’
‘What is it you need?’ Alex took out a piece of paper. He pushed it across the desk. Mikhail shook his head. ‘This is too expensive; your markers don’t cover this kind of equipment. It’s not possible.’
‘We’ll pay. We just need authority.’
‘You can afford it? I’m afraid you won’t get a credit line, given the situation.’
‘Payment on delivery.’
‘Very well.’ Mikhail’s head of security coughed. He walked over and spoke in Mikhail’s ear. Mikhail looked at Alex. ‘He says I cannot give you these things. I do not have authority.’
‘Then tell him he better come down to Libya to collect your daughter. He won’t need a very big box to bring her back in. We’ll make sure of that,’ Alex responded coldly. The head of security whispered in Mikhail’s ear again.
‘That is my problem, unfortunately.’
‘Is it now? Well, we better make it his problem as well...’ Alex took out a stack of Polaroid photos; he threw one across the table. ‘Now it’s your problem.’ Alex looked at each of the guards in turn and flicked a Polaroid at each of them. ‘And yours, and yours, and yours.’ He turned back to the head of security. ‘Now does anybody else want to fuck with me today or am I going to have to keep going all the way to the fucking Kremlin?’
The head of security nervously whispered in Mikhail’s ear then retreated to a safe distance. ‘We have a deal. You will get what you need. Payment to the usual account,’ Mikhail said. Mikhail took a large book; he filled out three or four square bills of agreement, signed them, stamped them with the official seal of the Russian President and then passed them across to Alex. ‘You have fourteen days.’
‘Fourteen days it is. Anyone from our side fucks with me, they all come back in parts. You have my word on that. Honour your agreement. Nobody will be touched. Now give me my fucking gun back...’
19
Alex’s BMW convoy sped through the front gate of the Russian naval base in Sevastopol. He stopped outside the officers’ quarters. A portly red-faced Russian naval officer came out to greet him. ‘Aleksei, what a delightful pleasure to see you!’
‘Hello Uncle Pavlo. You are looking in rude health.’
‘I’m getting fat!’
‘You need to get a younger wife who cannot cook. And a mistress who cannot fuck.’ Pavlo roared with laughter and bear-hugged Alex, kissing him on each cheek.
‘Come, lunch is ready. Tell me of your adventures.’
‘We can’t stay long, we have a plane to catch.’
‘Then tell of your adventures quickly. Or are you here on business?’
‘Business is always a pleasure with you Uncle. You know that. I’m here to help fund your retirement.’
‘Retirement? Pah! I would kill your aunt within seven days spent on shore. I go to sea to escape the bitch; I have no dream of retirement, only terrible, terrible, nightmares. Come.’ Alex followed Pavlo inside.
Nish got out of the car and lit a cigarette. He offered one to Sooty. ‘What do you think we’re here for?’ Sooty asked.
‘Well fortunately the nuclear missile fleet is kept up in Murmansk, so he’s not planning to start World War Three just yet.’
‘Maybe next week eh?’ Sooty said with a smirk.
‘Don’t joke. Anything is possible...’
Pavlo poured out shot glasses of vodka and sat down at the wooden table. ‘To family!’
‘To family.’ They necked the vodka shots in one.
‘So what brings you to my door?’ Pavlo asked. Alex took out the pile of agreement bills, he produced one and counter signed it then handed it to Pavlo.
‘You want an adventure Uncle, I want a boat.’
Pavlo looked at the bill and nodded. ‘You are planning some mischief I think!’ He wagged with his finger. ‘How soon?’
‘As soon as you can provision her and put to sea.’
‘Is this official?’
‘It’s a family matter.’ Pavlo’s smile evaporated, he looked serious. ‘Zara.’
‘My dear boy...’
‘Someone took her, someone very capable.’
‘Are you expecting a lot of trouble getting her back?’
‘It’s ensign flagged.’
‘You want to start a fucking war!’ Pavlo laughed. ‘Correction, you want Uncle Pavlo to start a fucking war!’
‘Just a show of force...’
‘And if the show does not work? And what of Moscow, they have agreed to it?’
‘What do you think?’
‘I think this girl makes you crazy my dear boy. Now you want to drag poor Uncle Pavlo into it.’
‘Not so poor Uncle Pavlo. At that price you could buy your own submarine.’
‘Not a nuclear one. They’re a little more expensive than this I think...’ Pavlo waved the paper. ‘But fuck. The crew, they are poor boys. They haven’t been paid in three months. Fed shit for bread and piss for vodka. This would help put good bread on their tables for a long time.’
‘A good captain looks after his crew.’
‘And his family. You really love her don’t you Aleksei?’ Alex nodded. Pavlo smiled. ‘She is a lucky woman. A man who will start a fucking war to protect her, that is a rare man in this age. You will have your boat. Fuck the consequences. What is fate if we try and control it? I will take your money for my boys. Maybe after this they need find new jobs. You understand?’ Alex nodded. ‘You sure you will not stay for lunch?’
‘We’ll have lunch soon.’
‘So what fish are we hunting?’
Alex took out a scrap of paper, he wrote down the information and passed it to Pavlo. ‘You have my number.’
‘Of course, but you never answer!’
‘Stop ringing me in the middle of the night when you are drunk to tell me about your fishing trips then.’
‘We will go fishing together. Then you promise you will tell me of your adventures.’
‘I promise.’
Alex got up and hugged Pavlo. ‘God be with you Alex, if only to keep the Devil from going too far.’
‘I’ll see you soon.’
Alex departed. Pavlo sighed. ‘Too soon I fear...’
Alex returned to Nish and Max. ‘All done?’ Nish asked.
‘Done. Let’s go.’
20
Nish returned from the complimentary bar in the Turkish Airlines’ business class lounge with two glasses of lager and sat down at the table. ‘So what did Mikhail say in the rose garden? I assume you weren’t discussing horticultural matters.’
‘Something big is going down.’
‘No shit.’
‘No, I mean big-big. Even Mikhail doesn’t know.’
‘So it wasn’t Radic?’
‘He’s involved. They want him back so he’s got his grubby little Serb mittens in the pot somewhere, but it seems Zara’s involvement is their principal concern. We’ve been warned off.’
‘Have we now? And are we warned off?
’
‘I don’t know.’
‘I think you do. Otherwise you wouldn’t be booking an aquatic adventure at the home of the Black Sea Fleet.’
‘Maybe I want to go fishing.’
‘Must be a big fish.’
‘We’ve been given a choice. To make things right.’
‘Which involves...?’
‘Getting Radic back. Leaving Zara to sleep in the bed she’s made.’
‘The first isn’t happening. You know how long I spent pursuing him. I’m certainly not about to get him off the hook having put him on it.’
‘Which makes the choice somewhat academic.’ Nish smiled to himself and shook his head. ‘Something amusing?’
‘I give you all that shit about not going after Zara for the greater good, and now it seems you’ve got me over the same barrel. I don’t know how you do it you Machiavellian bastard.’
‘I didn’t deal the cards, I just play them.’
‘So who has the nut flush?’
Alex shrugged. ‘Right now I think everyone is mostly winging it on off-suit flyers. So if we’re not letting Radic go...’
‘Then we’re pot committed. All-in on getting Zara back. Maybe she’s got a ace or two up her sleeve.’
‘I wouldn’t doubt it. But I don’t like getting into a situation with no exit clause without knowing exactly how deep the rabbit hole goes.’
‘Sometimes you just have to go on instinct Alex. What does your instinct tell you?’
‘That we’re out of our depth. We’re about to get royally fucked from several directions at once. By the time we find out then it’ll be too late.’
‘We’ll do what we do, think on our feet. More pressing matters, how we are going to deal with Uncle Fruitcake?’
‘How we always deal with him. Flatter his ego, mind you; all those fucking conspiracy theories might actually have some substance. Maybe we should pay some attention to him this time and not just nod for effect. He might have some useful intel. But as you say, more pressing matters. You going to support this expedition on The Company vote?’
‘We’re not letting Radic out. If we’re getting hung for that, we might as well have a fucking party while we’re at it. Aye, I’ll support the vote.’
21
The Turkish Airline’s flight touched down at Tripoli Airport. The local security services were waiting for Alex and Nish as soon as they got off their plane. ‘Welcome to Libya, Mister Green. The Colonel extends you his hospitality. He requests you’ll join him for an early dinner tomorrow evening at five p.m. sharp. He will send transport to your camp.’
‘Thank The Colonel for his hospitality and extend our gratitude for accommodating us at such short notice. Tell him we’ll look forward to the meeting.’
‘We have a helicopter waiting for you to take you to your camp with our compliments.’
‘That’s very generous of you.’
‘If you’d like to follow me.’ Alex and Nish followed the security detail out of the terminal building onto the apron.
‘At least someone’s pleased to see us,’ Nish said.
‘He probably just wants the rent,’ Alex responded. They got in the back of the waiting S-Class which sped across the tarmac with an armed escort to the military secure compound, it circled around a military helicopter waiting on the pad before coming to a stop nearby. Alex and Nish got out. The soldiers unloaded their baggage from the S-Class and loaded it onto the helicopter.
‘Until tomorrow Mister Green, I wish you a pleasant flight and evening.’
‘Thank you,’ Alex replied. ‘The foreign press assume they’re a bunch of bloodthirsty head bangers, I’ve always found the Libyans very polite.’
‘I wonder what accounts for the discrepancy. I’m sure the residents of Lockerbie don’t share your opinion,’ Nish said with a smile.
‘False flag operation.’
‘Is that what he told you? Did you get the fake moon landings and J.F.K tale as well?’
‘He’s pretty convincing.’
‘He’s a fucking loon-pot.’
‘He’s also the only landlord that’ll rent to us right now. I thought you liked Libya. Spiritual home of the S.A.S and all that Regiment heritage shit you love.’
‘Aye I love Libya. As a place. I’m less certain of the sanity of the current tenants however.’
The helicopter took off and headed into the black inky sky out over the desert. Some ninety minutes later it touched down on the pad adjacent to the large military tent encampment in the middle of absolute nowhere. The soldiers unloaded Nish and Alex’s luggage, saluted them smartly, boarded the helicopter before it took off again returning to Tripoli. Alex and Nish made their way into the small village of tents where The Company was camped, rowdy drunken singing and noise from the mess tent competing with a fierce nocturnal wind picking up off the open desert plains.
22
Nish and Alex walked into the accounts and stores tent where The Quartermaster: Merriweather, was busy working on a laptop behind a desk. ‘How are we doing?’ Alex asked.
‘At least your complimentary lift out will save charter fees,’ Merriweather replied.
‘That bad?’
‘I’m not sure you want to know.’ Alex and Nish pulled up a pair of collapsible chairs.
‘Come on Merriweather. We can’t be that broke can we?’ Nish said.
‘Have you any concept of how much cash burn it costs to maintain an operation of this size? Of course you don’t. You just gallivant around the place ordering bottles of vintage champagne, staying in five star hotels, and leaving damage repairable bills wherever you go.’ Merriweather held up the stack of faxed invoices. ‘Not to mention landing fees, jet fuel, clearances, and now nuclear-fucking-submarines.’
‘Ah, yes, I can explain that...’ Alex said scratching his head.
‘Seriously? You can explain that? The lease fee, the bribes, and let’s not get started on the sundry stores requirements. You know why nuclear submarines are operated by large petrochemical-funded states, and not private military companies? Because they cost millions of fucking dollars to run. On what operational basis could we possibly need a Russian nuclear powered attack submarine?’
‘Fishing wasn’t it Alex?’ Nish replied.
‘Yes. A Fishing trip.’
‘This is no time for humour. I’m not the one who is going to go out there to explain to that drunken rabble that you’ve spent the month’s payroll to go tuna fishing with nuclear tipped torpedoes. You are. Tell me you got something out of The Sponsor.’
‘We’re keeping the weapons, and the bonds.’
‘All of them?’
‘All of them. Don’t tell me you can’t balance the books with a hundred million.’
‘Well firstly, it’s not a hundred million. The arms shipment is still sat out there in crates under canvas tents. We don’t have any end-user certificates for them, but that’s fine because we don’t have a customer for them either.’
‘That’s not a problem, we’re seeing the big man tomorrow, we’ll get a stand at the terrorist bazaar, they’ll sell like hotcakes,’ Nish said.
‘Well, firstly, the only people there will be on our sanctions list, which means we can’t sell to them.’
‘Forget about the sanctions list. The Kremlin fucked us,’ Alex interrupted.
‘Well that’s fantastic news, but we’ll get to that. Even if we find a buyer amongst the, let’s face it, shitters of the arms buying trade, we’ll have to sell at steep discount to reflect the lack of quality of credit covenants they offer. We’ll likely have to take payment in kind, plus buy new end-user certificates at short notice premiums to ship them, all of which will cut into the margin. Then we’ll take another hit to liquidate whatever shit they pay us in quickly to cover these expenses. We’re looking at twenty-five. Thirty at most.’
‘I can live with that. We didn’t pay for them. What about the bonds?’
‘Without a Russian buyer we’re onto the bla
ck market. We’ll be lucky to see thirty cents on the dollar.’
‘Gadaffi will buy them. He’s got mountains of cash from his oil. He’ll fence them through London at full market value,’ Alex replied.
‘Well, assuming he does, we’re looking at seventy-five million total. And we still have the air support to pay off.’
‘Fuck the Azi’s. They double-crossed us.’
‘If you don’t pay them then you’ll never get air there again, word will go round then we won’t get air anywhere. They have to be paid.’
‘So what we are looking at?’ Alex asked.
“After contractual prize distributions, payroll, the rent due on this place, new operating certificates for The Company, your little submarine charter, we’ve got four weeks overheads maximum. Then we’re into the emergency fund, which according to company rules we can only spend in times of war to cover repatriation and legal expenses.’
‘And if we have to fund an expedition?’ Alex asked.
‘How big?’ Merriweather asked.
‘We need to make a plan.’ Nish shrugged.
‘Then make it a cheap plan. So if the Russians are cutting us loose then we’re out of business.’
‘Sales are working on something with the Turks,’ Alex replied.
‘Gentlemen, if you just want someone to file your receipts get a bent accountant. I’m a Quartermaster. You need to actually listen to me and take some responsibility for your budget decisions. You can’t just buy expensive shiny shit because you like big explosions. Your affection for mayhem is going to bankrupt this company.’
‘Point taken. We’ll try and buy less shiny things,’ Alex said.
‘I’ve drawn up a list of cost-cutting measures. Starting with the complimentary fuck tent.’
‘Do you want mutiny? Take the boys fuck tent then that is what you will get,’ Nish said shaking his head.
‘Have you seen the costs involved? They’re taking fucking Viagra by the bottle.’ Merriweather handed over a ledger sheet. Nish looked at it and handed it to Alex.