It was around half past two when we arrived at the Buchko compound. I say “compound” because that’s exactly what it looked like. A fifteen-foot gray wall surrounded the entire property. The entrance was secured by a single, heavy, steel door that mechanically rolled back to allow us access. Once inside, I saw a two-story, colonial-style mansion with a roundabout in front. A water fountain was the centerpiece. Can we say “opulence”?
More and more I realized the power this man wielded. I also wondered why he was even bothering with bringing these men to justice. Surely a man of his stature and power could have this street gang disposed of in some other way. Say there was an unfortunate accident or someone took some time off in the countryside, indefinitely. But maybe Mr. Buchko was an honest man. An honest politician in the former Soviet Union? Line up, folks. See the unexpected. Tickets are only two bucks a pop.
The first to welcome me was Natasha. She was standing outside on the steps. No sooner had I stepped out of the car, when she threw her arms around me, giving me the biggest Siberian bear hug she could manage. “Darby, I so happy to see you again.”
“It’s good to see you, too.” I was a little taken aback by the greeting considering we only knew each other for a couple of hours and she was under some serious duress. But I liked it. It was cute. I reached into my pocket and took out the bracelet, dangling it from my fingers.
Natasha’s eyes widen and she let out a squeal. “My bracelet. I thought I lost it forever.” Natasha gave me another fantastic hug. “Thank you for coming. It means so much to me.”
Gee, I wish Mr. Buchko had told me that. It might have made the decision process a bit easier.
“Come. I show you where you sleep.”
Natasha led me into what had do be the largest foyer ever. A Picasso, or at least something resembling his work, hung front and center above a marble table—the blue period perhaps. On each side were sweeping twin staircases that led to the second floor. Hanging high above us was a chandelier with hundreds of sparkling crystal droplets.
Natasha grabbed my hand and pulled me up the left staircase. At the top, we turned left and headed down a hall where Renaissance paintings hung and Asian carpeting lay. We turned left at the end and headed down an even longer and much more regal hallway. Near the end, she stopped in front of a set of double doors.
She opened the doors and revealed a spacious room with vaulted ceilings, French doors that led to an outdoor terrace, Victorian sitting chairs, and the centerpiece: an immaculate king size bed, with what appeared to be a hand-stitched canopy. Mental note. Do not fart in this room.
“This is where you sleep. Is okay?”
“Yes, this is amazing,” I said, grinning ear to ear.
She pointed to another door. “In here is your bathroom.” She opened the door a bit and I could just make out a claw-foot bathtub against the wall.
Natasha pushed open the French doors and walked out onto the terrace.
“This is my favorite part of the room. I begged Mama and Papa to let you stay here.”
“They did not want me in here?”
“No. Usually it’s reserved for dignitaries but you are special, Darby. From here you can see my room.” She pointed across the courtyard to the other wing. The house, if you can imagine it, was shaped like the letter U. “See the open windows? That’s my room.” She smiled happily.
“Darby, I have to leave now. I have my piano lessons, but in two hours I will come and get you. I will take you on a short walk and show you my town. Then we will have a dinner with Mama and Papa and the rest of my family. The cook is making my favorite: galumpkis.
“What about beef stroganov?”
Natasha’s eyes popped open. “You know stroganov?”
“Yeah, I eat it all the time.”
“Is another favorite of me. I have the cook prepare it as well.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
She giggled. “Your English is funny. A plan doesn’t make a noise.” With that, Natasha spun around and left.
Chapter 32
Later in the evening, I was treated to a traditional Ukrainian dinner. From what I could remember, we stuffed ourselves with borscht soup, galumpkis, pork cutlets, beef stroganov, Russian salad, pickles, sliced tomatoes and cucumbers, freshly baked black bread, and a bucket load of caviar. Of course the vodka I drank generously in New York was on ice here and flowing freely.
I also had a chance to meet the rest of the family starting with Irina Buchko, the hardened matriarch of the family. It was clear that she wore the pants in the house and everyone paid her the attention and respect that she commanded. She was a blond like her daughter and still held a figure that showed no signs of giving birth to three children.
“I hear much about you, Darby, from Natasha and Valery. They say you are man of honor and integrity. It is important for me if you are to be near my family.”
“Thank you. Natasha is a very brave little woman. Now I know where she gets her character…and her beauty.”
A smile and the tiniest hint of blushing appeared on Irina’s face. I knew then I was on her good side.
Natasha’s older brother, Denis, had just turned eighteen and was getting ready to join the Ukrainian military. All men in Ukraine are required to serve two years of duty. With Denis’ status and the military training he’d already received in school, he said he would be entering as an officer. “Every man in the Buchko family has served as an officer in the Ukrainian military. I’m proud to add to family legacy,” he said.
Mr. Buchko raised a glass of vodka. “Na Zdorovie. To tradition.”
Everyone but little Oksana raised their glass and toasted Denis. The little girl was only four—either a mistake or mom had panicked with the house going empty and cranked out another one. She was adorable and spoiled rotten.
Eventually Mr. Buchko brought the conversation around to the trial. “Darby, tomorrow you will go to court proceedings.”
“Already?”
“Yes. The sooner the better. You will testify in the afternoon if all goes well. You will tell the judge what you saw, how the men chased you and my daughter and threatened your lives.”
“But they didn’t exactly threaten my life. Had they caught us then I probably would have been threatened. I would say they were threatening looking though.”
The entire Buchko family had blank looks on their faces. Mr. Buchko continued. “Then you tell judge about the attempt on your life.”
Natasha perked up.
“Your life?”
“They went after Darby the next night at his hotel.”
I waved at Mr. Buchko to play it down. “But I wasn’t there. I was at Tatiana’s.”
“What did they do?”
“Well, they shot up my suitcase and clothes. I left them on my bed. They probably thought it was me sleeping.”
“Oh, Darby, I did not know…”
“Neither did I. Your father put two and two together when I was joking about the tiny holes in my clothes and luggage after staying at the hotel.”
“Darby, I am sorry you are in this mess,” Natasha said.
“Please. You needed help. I helped. What we need to do now is to put these guys away so that we can all move on with our lives.” I raised my glass and said. “Na Zdorovie.”
Chapter 33
Wake up. It’s time to face the reaper.
Early the next morning, the Buchko family and I started our journey to the courthouse in three cars. Mr. Buchko and his son had the first black Mercedes Benz S600, Irina and the girls were in the second and I had one to myself. The whole setup seemed unnecessary. What kind of cloak and dagger life did this family live? Add the thin layer of fog that the Black Sea was feeding into the city that morning and it felt like the beginning of a horror flick. Maybe it was.
Why we had to be at the courts so early was beyond me. But I went along with the program. The sooner I testified, the sooner I could go home I was told.
When we reached the court b
uilding, the first thing I noticed was that it was nothing special—gray and utilitarian. No surprises there. A large metal sculpture of two soldiers on horses each flanked by a farmer preceded the entrance of the building.
Inside, the décor was even less impressive. Nondescript hallways and nameless rooms sat behind closed doors. The sound of them opening and closing echoed throughout the building as government employees and citizens shuffled in and out. The waiting area consisted of a few mismatched chairs. Most people found an empty spot along side a wall and leaned. A picture of the President of Ukraine was the only artwork that hung in the building from what I could tell.
I looked at my watch and saw the time was eight on the nose. Natasha had already been led away by a couple of suits, lawyers perhaps. Irina was right on her tail. About ten minutes later, a door next to us opened and a guard motioned for the rest of the family and me to enter.
The courtroom itself was one large room sectioned off into little areas enclosed by glass. I guessed that the small opening was where witnesses speak if need be. Mr. Buchko said the various areas are for visitors, defendants, witnesses, and plaintiffs. The lawyers were the only ones free to roam. I noticed that none of the holding areas had bars, only the same see-through plastic that enclosed us. As more people filed into the courtroom, I wondered how strong the plastic was and if two guards were enough to handle an entire gang.
I sat next to Mr. Buchko behind the protection of the glass window. He leaned toward me and said, “Normally not so many people, just lawyers and judges, but this is special case. Everyone wants to be here to ensure no corruption.”
“Will he be here? The leader?”
“Yes. Over there.”
I looked to where his head motioned and saw a small holding area, really a cell with a few chairs inside.
Another closed door finally opened and a man walked out and sat down at the head of the room.
“The judge,” Mr. Buchko whispered.
And then the door to the cell opened and in walked six men wearing white jumpsuits. They were all handcuffed. He was the last one to enter the cell. The fluorescent lighting ricocheted off of his bald head. I caught a glimpse of his icy blue eyes. They were still cold, and very much dead.
A guard stood outside the cell and read names, waiting for each man to respond. His name was Viktor Kazapov.
For the next hour or so, I understood very little of what was happening even though Mr. Buchko tried to keep me informed. The same two men took turns speaking with the judge. I doubted that anybody in the courtroom knew what was going on or was really paying attention. I looked over at Natasha. Poor thing, she was shivering just as she had done before. But this time I knew it was from seeing the monster.
Viktor had yet to notice me, thank God. Eventually he would know I was here but I wanted to postpone that moment of realization until the last possible moment. Never sounded pretty good.
Then one of the lawyers approached our window and said something and then repeated the same thing to the group of people in the enclosed box next to us. In that box were the families and the other girls who were kidnapped with Natasha.
Irina motioned for her daughter to go. She and the other girls exited their respective boxes. I watched as the girls then filed into a new box closer to the judge. It wasn’t completely enclosed with glass so they could address the court better.
When I turned back to the cell to check on Viktor, I found him staring right at me. It caught me off guard. I quickly looked away, trying to pretend I didn’t notice him. Real stupid—of course he knows I saw him. I wondered if there was such a thing as criminal etiquette. Am I to look at him or not? I honestly wasn’t sure. If I turned away, I looked like a scared little boy. He wins. Stare him down and I become someone who challenged him. Neither option was ideal.
Viktor smiled at me; he knew exactly who I was. He leaned back on the metal chair, his broad chest sticking out like a proud bull’s. He was enjoying this. He knew I was fearful of him. I didn’t know what else to do so I smiled back. He smiled even more and then dragged a finger across his neck slowly. I looked away; I couldn’t help it. He laughed out loud.
“Don’t show fear. It’s what he wants.”
I looked at Mr. Buchko and he stared at Viktor with the same cold hard stare that I was accustomed to seeing from that madman.
Viktor’s eyes were empty. No soul. No life. But they had a way of piercing right through you.
“Intimidation is how they rule. It’s how corruption thrives. We must stand our ground if we are to win,” Mr. Buchko said.
I turned back to Viktor and never took my eyes off of him. I stared him down. I even mocked him. What did I care? He was going to jail for the rest of his life. Scumbag.
Suddenly Viktor stood up, tucked his shoulder down and ran full speed into the plastic barrier, shattering it. There he stood, free in the courtroom. His eyebrows arched inwards and his nostrils flared.
And then he charged straight at me.
Chapter 34
Oh. My. God. The psychopath is free.
I could not believe what had just happened. Here I was being coached by Mr. Buchko to stand my ground, to show him I wasn’t afraid of him, and now this beast was running full speed at me. There was no confusion there. The shortest point from A to B is a straight line and Viktor was right on course. Holy crap. Why on earth did I listen to Mr. Buchko?
Everyone in our holding bin had the same thought at the same time: Get the hell out. A mad scramble ensued as we all headed to the door. People left their belongings. Metal chairs went flying out of the way. The door flew open. But for some reason I was not any closer to the exit. My foot tangled with my chair, sending me straight to the ground. I kicked and kicked, trying to free it. Why me? No one else got their foot caught in their chairs—not even the old babushka in front of me. You stupid limb. Move!
Finally I was able to free myself and get to my feet. I dared not look back, certain Viktor must be a second away from crashing through the plastic surrounding my cage. I had wasted valuable time.
Then I heard the sound I was dreading. Viktor had broken through. Any second now and I would feel his paws on me. I was toast.
But nothing came. No clawing. No fist in the back of the head. No waist tackle. I stopped. I had to turn around to see why. Getting out of the holding area didn’t matter anymore. I was the last one.
Behind me on the ground lay Viktor. Three guards were scrambling to contain him. I started to breathe a sigh of relief when suddenly Viktor stood up, with the three men still clinging to him, barely. Oh shit! I started kicking my feet in an effort to get moving again. Viktor took a step forward, then another. This guy isn’t human. Just as he took another step, two more guards piled on Viktor sending him to the ground again. Behind them, more guards entered the room. They secured the other gang members and ushered them out of the room.
Viktor was barely conscious, his face having taken the brunt of the impact. He raised his head just enough to make eye contact with me. A mixture of blood and saliva hung from his mouth as he said, “I will get you. You can’t escape.”
The guards picked him up and escorted him out of the room. I figured we were done for the day, that there would be a recess in the trial. But in a matter of twenty minutes the judge was ready to proceed.
Chapter 35
One by one, the girls told their stories of how they and their families were deceived. Most of them had signed up for a work-abroad program either in Greece or Italy. They were all told they would be working in various hotels for six months in exchange for a small salary, room and board, and a cultural learning experience.
Gulia, the smallest of the bunch, recounted her experience first. “I remember waving goodbye to Mama and being led to the back of a van. I thought it was strange but I was so happy to be going. I didn’t think much of it. And then I saw another girl on the floor and she was tied up and tape was on her mouth and before I could scream, they covered my mouth and threw me on
the floor. I remember that man,” she pointed to the cell where Viktor was previously being held, “He waved to my mother like everything was okay.”
Many of the girls broke down and cried during their testimony. It was very difficult for them to recount their ordeal. Realizing their mistake when entering the back of that van was overwhelming.
“It was very easy to be fooled,” another girl said angrily. “These programs exist all over Eastern Europe. It is very popular with young people. I have friends who have done it before. Why would I think it to be any different? They scammed us.”
Where there are desperate people, there are those who take advantage of them. After a few testimonies, it was clear: Viktor’s gang came up with the idea of creating one of these popular work-abroad programs as a way to collect young girls. It was discovered that all boys who applied were turned away with a message to try again next semester. It was an easy and extremely cost-efficient way to continue funneling new girls into the sex trade.
On top of that, each of the girls who signed up for this program had to pay a consulting fee of fifteen hundred dollars, which went straight into the gang’s coffers. Most of their families only made two to three hundred dollars a month. Often the money used was taken from the only savings these families had.
The old ways never die though. Some of the girls, like Natasha, were taken by force, kidnapped right off the streets. None of the girls expected to ever see their families again.
The unplanned stop in Minsk was the window of opportunity. Natasha testified that she had felt that was the time to escape. “That was my chance. I knew if I did not try, I would be doomed,” she said. She described how she tricked a guard to get away. “Normally when we go to the bathroom, they come inside and watch. But I asked him please, not this time. I told him I would take special care of him when I was done. When he closed the door, I climbed out the window. If I didn’t run into Darby, I don’t know what would have happened. They were chasing me. Viktor was chasing me.”
Darby Stansfield Thriller Series (Books 1-3 & Bonus Novella) Page 37