by Paul Blake
‘My CO ordered me to shoot the child. I raised my rifle, the boy was about fifty metres away from us, and I looked at him through the scope,’ Peter mimed the action as he spoke, ‘I couldn’t see into the basket, but I saw his eyes. There was no malice there in those wide, dark eyes. No fear. I’ve seen suicide attacks, I know the difference. With the suiciders, there’s either hatred in their eyes, or they’re so nervous they look like they are going to pass out. This kid had none of these signs. I told my CO this, and he just told me to shoot anyway just to make sure. I refused; I wasn’t going to murder an innocent child. He ordered me again and again I refused. He then ordered one of the other guys on the patrol, and they casually gunned the child down, no thought, no hesitation. The child cried out and fell; he dropped the basket he was holding.
‘I saw the shock and confusion on his face and watched it turn from pain to nothing, his eyes glazed over, and he went still. I looked at the basket and saw the pomegranates, apricots and figs spread around the boy.’ Peter wiped a tear from his eye.
‘When we returned to base, I was court-martialled and dishonourably discharged for disobeying a direct order. I was lucky I could have been sentenced to a ten-year prison sentence. Simon pulled a few strings and got me a job at his firm. And here I am.’ He took a deep breath and exhaled loudly.
‘I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to pry.’ Alec said.
‘It’s okay. It’s good to talk about it. As far as I’m concerned I didn’t do anything wrong. I wish I could have saved the boy though, his face still haunts my dreams sometimes.’ He shook his head, as if to clear out the thoughts, and drank some of his beer.
Alec stayed quiet for a moment.
‘I’m sorry Stefan, that was a bit heavy for a strip club chat with a stranger.’
‘Don’t apologise.’ Alec said. ‘Thank you for sharing that with me. It’s good to know there are still men like you… with a conscience… you don’t see that very much these days. The newspapers and television are full of scandal and corruption. It seems that everywhere people are treating each other like animals.’
‘Ain’t that the truth. Another drink?’
As Peter spoke the music changed and another dancer came out on to the stage, dressed in a long sequined red dress, split at the thigh, she looked at the group with disgust.
‘Keep to your seats, fellas,’ Peter warned. ‘Stefan, I think your mate wants you.’
Alec looked over, and Makary was waving at him. Alec stood up and walked behind the booth to the DJ stand keeping the row of booths between him and the stage to set the dancer’s mind at ease. She inclined her head slightly at him in appreciation of the gesture and started her dance.
‘Stefan, making friends I see,’ Makary smiled.
‘They’re alright, just a young boisterous group of guys. We were like them once, I’m sure.’
‘I don’t remember you wearing a dress.’ He laughed.
‘Well, not exactly like them I admit.’ Alec laughed too, come on Makary have you got the stuff? He thought impatiently.
‘I got what you asked for,’ Makary said. Yes! Makary handed over a small parcel. Alec tucked it into his waistband.
‘That’s great, Makary, thank you.’
‘For you, not a problem. Here is the number for the phone.’ He gave Alec a strip of paper. Alec looked at it and memorised the numbers. He was taught long ago a method for memorising telephone numbers based on assigning images to numbers based on their shape. Zero is an egg; two is a swan and so on. When he was sure he had the numbers in his memory, he went to screw up the paper but thought twice about it and decided to slip it inside his suit jacket pocket.
‘I’m sure I’ve said this before,’ Makary said, ‘but one of these days you are going to have to show me how you do that.’
‘I promise.’ said Alec, ‘thank you for this, how much do I owe you?’
Makary smiled, ‘You can repay me with a drink together soon.’
‘Are you sure?’ Alec asked. ‘It seems like I’m forever in your debt.’
‘You’re my friend, you’ve helped me out in the past, and I’m sure you’ll help again if I need you.’
‘Without question.’ Alec said.
‘So, we have a drink together, and we’ll be all square. What is it the Russians say? “Druz'ya poznayutsya v bede, a ne v radosti”, Friends show their love in times of trouble, not in happiness,’ Makary said with a wink.
Alec laughed, ‘I’ll have to take your word for it.’ and returned the wink.
Makary clapped Alec’s back in joy.
‘How about we meet back here on Saturday, say around ten o’clock?’ Alec suggested, ‘I should be sorted by then.’ And the Minister, whoever he is, could be dead... As he thought it the nagging voice in his head started up.
‘Are you ok?’ Makary asked, looking at Alec carefully.
‘What? Oh yes,’ Alec replied, pausing the voice for the moment, I’ll come back to that in a minute, ‘just thought of something… work related. It’ll keep for a while.’
‘You looked like you had seen a ghost.’
Alec’s eyes narrowed as he thought for a second, ‘No, I’m alright, Makary, something just flashed in my,’ he poked the side of his head with his forefinger a couple of times, ‘in here. It’s ok, nothing to worry about. So, Saturday then?’ He asked changing the subject.
‘Sure, that’ll be great. We’re not going to meet here though are we? I do work here, you know. I’m not sure they’d want to see me in the state we usually get into.’
‘No, of course not. I know, as I’ve been out of the country for so long, you can take me to any new spots that have opened up that are worth going to. I’ll even bring you a dress to wear.’ Alec laughed, this time clapping Makary on the back.
‘As long as you don’t get horny for me as you drink, you old lech, I know what you’re like after a few drinks.’
‘I don’t think there’s enough drink in the world to make me hit on you, my ugly old friend.’
Makary lifted his fists in an old-fashioned boxing pugilist style, ‘You take that back.’ He said laughing, ‘God, I’ve missed you.’ He changed his stance and opened his arms, ‘give me a hug for old times and get on your way. I’ve got to get on with work.’
Alec hugged him, their hands slapped each other’s back in the way men do when they are showing emotion but wish to maintain their masculinity.
‘Thank you Makary, I will repay you, I promise.’
‘See you Saturday, Stefan.’
‘Bye, Makary.’
Alec returned to the booth with Peter and his friends, he adjusted the parcel in the small of his back before sitting down, I don’t want that falling out anytime soon.
‘You guys seem pretty friendly.’ Peter said.
‘Yeah, we’ve known each other for a long time, I haven’t seen him for a while though.’ Alec replied, looking at the beers on the table, ‘which one is mine?’
Peter pointed out one, ‘That one I think.’
‘Danke,’ Alec lifted the glass to his lips and drank about half of it, ‘I’m going to have to make a move soon.’ An idea came to him. He liked Peter and was starting to feel like his old gregarious self like he was before his promotion and the death of Mark and Sophie, this mess should be sorted by then, I need to let loose a bit. ‘You guys are here for two more nights, you said?’
‘That’s right.’ Peter confirmed.
‘How about on Thursday night I take you and the guys out to the best bars in Berlin—’ he stopped as he saw the doubt in Peter’s eyes, ‘It’s ok, I’m not an old German pervert, I’m not trying to get my wicked way with you guys,’ he laughed, ‘my niece, Sara, is coming into town on Thursday, we normally go out drinking on her first night here. I thought you guys might like to join us, see some of the decent bars Berlin has to offer rather than the typical bar crawl bars tourists go to. We’ll even go for a proper German kebab, I know a great place, not like the greasy, tasteless elephant legged mo
nstrosities you get in England.’
‘Ok, you’ve sold it. Sounds like a great idea. Why not tomorrow?’ Peter looked at his watch, ‘Well, tonight, I mean?’
‘Do you think John will be up to another drinking session that quickly?’ Alec gestured towards John, now slumped forward, head on the table.
‘I guess you’re right.’ Peter admitted.
‘Give me your number, and I’ll call you with directions on Thursday.’
Peter pulled out his wallet from his jacket, retrieved a business card and handed it to Alec. Alec looked at it and noted the number in his memory. He took out his own wallet and slipped the card in one of the card holder compartments. He reached into his suit jacket pocket and took out the piece of paper Makary gave him with the number for his phone.
‘Sorry, I’ve just got a new phone, here’s the number.’
‘Thanks,’ Peter took out his phone, pressed a few buttons on the screen and gave the paper back to Alec, ‘I’ve added you to my contacts, so you can keep the paper.’ He showed the screen to Alec. The entry read ‘Stefan, Not an old pervert.’
Alec laughed, ‘Well you got that right. I’m going to head off now,’ He stood up, picking up his coat, he swayed slightly as all the drinks he’d had that night caught up with him, ‘I’ll call you on Thursday, enjoy the sights of Berlin, you can tell me all about it.’
The group waved at him, Peter said, ‘See you on Thursday.’
Alec moved away from the booth and headed towards the exit. He saw the hostess that had served him and the group behind the bar and made a beeline towards her.
‘Can you send the table another round from me? And what do I owe?’
She said she would and tapped a few buttons on the bar’s electronic till and told him the amount. He removed his wallet and opened it. He saw that he didn’t have enough cash in there.
‘I’ll just get some more from the machine. Hold on.’ He told her.
He went to the ATM next to the bar and inserted his company card, the writing on the screen was blurred. Alec squinted to focus his eyes and entered the PIN when prompted. He mulled over the amount for a few seconds, the machine beeping at him incessantly, before selecting the maximum, one thousand Euros. The machine whirred, and the cash dropped into the tray below the keypad. Alec removed the card and collected the money. He returned to the bar and paid his bill. He added an extra fifty Euros as a tip for the hostess, ‘For your charming hospitality.’ He said with a straight face.
The hostess looked at him properly, for the first time since he snubbed her company, ‘Just a trick of the trade, sir.’ She smiled, ‘Would you have been so generous if I had continued to hassle you all night?’
He thought for a moment. ‘No, I suppose you’re right, well done.’ Alec admitted. ‘I may come back another night and take you up on your offer of company.’ He winked and pulled on his coat. ‘Goodnight, my dear.’ He said and walked out of the club into the cold night.
8
‘S ir, we may have a hit on Foster,’ Likhachyov Ilyich, Junior Lieutenant said, the excitement in his voice noticeable, as he looked up from his computer screen and turned towards the Captain.
‘Where is he?’ Captain Lukin Olegovich asked, sitting up in his chair, his attention focused on the junior officer. Olegovich looked older than his true age of thirty-two, which had aided his rapid promotion in the SVR. A narrow, but deep scar along his left cheek, a result of a childhood accident, was accentuated by piercing, cold blue eyes, that gave him a menacing appearance,
‘In the Mitte District, Potsdamer Straße 8,’ the officer replied reading the Cyrillic text on the screen. ‘He used his MI6 account card at an ATM.’
‘That’s strange, he must know we’d be monitoring the accounts he uses.’ Olegovich said to himself. Is he mocking me? Taunting me with his arrogance? We should have picked the old man up hours ago; he shouldn’t have been able to get that far from Polyakov without us finding him.
‘Sir?’
‘Nothing,’ Olegovich said. ‘Ensure the collection party is ready and wake my driver. I’ll go with them to pick him up.’
‘Yes, sir.’ He picked up the telephone receiver next to his computer screen and spoke instructions into it.
Olegovich stood up from his desk and collected his coat from the stand in the corner of the operations room. He was wearing a grey suit, tailored to hide the shoulder holster he always wore. He returned to his desk and opened the long, narrow drawer beneath it. He removed a gun and ammunition clip, checked there wasn’t a round in the chamber and inserted the magazine. He put the gun in the holster and left the room.
◆◆◆
‘Andrei, How much longer?’ Olegovich asked the driver of the black Mercedes, a hint of impatience showing through.
‘We’re about four minutes out, sir,’ the driver replied politely. Olegovich only knew him as Andrei, he hadn’t bothered trying to find out any more.
Olegovich, sitting in the back, looked at his watch, an ornate golden face on a plain brown leather band, a gift from his father for graduating fifth in his class and joining the SVR. Over the past eleven years, he had already eclipsed his father’s rank. His father had to retire early, when he was four years old, due to an injury that occurred on duty, and although it was touch and go whether he would survive at first, he beat the odds and lasted another seventeen years, albeit with severe health problems. Olegovich was his father’s main carer from the age of ten until the end as his mother had been killed in a road accident. His father survived until he was twenty-one, three months after he had graduated. Olegovich always felt as if his father carried on by sheer force of will, to see him join the SVR and let go once his task was done. He always tried to emulate his father’s drive and determination, which was one of the reasons he was picked for this job. His superior officers believed he was headed for great things, a two-week mourning period after his father’s death the only blot on his copybook when he went off the rails, getting excessively drunk and violent, ranting about the British influence on Russia and Russia’s interests. He soon cleared his head and resumed his search for perfection. He swore off alcohol and emerged from that period even more focused. He went from a man who was quick to smile and laugh, to someone much darker and more serious.
‘Sir, we’re two minutes out.’ The driver advised.
Olegovich’s mobile vibrated in his pocket, against his leg. He retrieved it and looked at the caller ID. It was from the office.
‘Sir, I thought I should call you to let you know I have identified the address Foster was at,’ Ilyich said. ‘It is a place called the Golden Dolls. A strip club.’
‘Thank you.’ Replied Olegovich.
‘You’re welcome, sir.’
Olegovich terminated the call.
‘Andrei, contact the other vehicle and tell them to pull up where they can, we need to go over the approach. There may be a complication.’
‘Yes, sir.’
Olegovich saw Andrei pick up the hand-held two-way radio from the centre console of the car. He tuned the driver out, knowing his instructions would be carried out. A strip club? The balls of the man! Kills someone he has known for twenty years, who mistakenly considered him, if not a friend, a worthy ally or adversary, then heads off to the nearest brothel to get his rocks off. I look forward to cutting those balls off. Olegovich’s face reddened, apart from the scar on his cheek that burned white in contrast. He felt the car slow and then stop. He looked down to his lap and saw that his fists were clenched tight, the nails pressing deep into his palms. He forced them to open and waited for Andrei to open the door to the leader of the four-man team that made up the collection party for the SVR. The men were part of the SVR special operations arm, also known as the Zaslon.
Lieutenant Sivakov entered Olegovich’s vehicle. He was out of uniform, wearing a loose-fitting charcoal coloured suit, that didn’t hide his muscular physique.
‘Lieutenant, I have been informed that the target is inside the Go
lden Dolls strip club,’ Olegovich said.
‘A strip club? The randy old goat.’
‘There may be other patrons in the establishment,’ Olegovich said, ‘so it might be prudent to use discretion. We don’t want the Berlin Police to be any more involved in this mess than they are already.’
‘That’s understandable, sir. We can ambush him outside when he leaves,’ Sivakov offered, checking his watch, ‘It’s four-thirty now, these places close at five o’clock—’
Olegovich raised an eyebrow.
‘—or so I’ve been told, anyway,’ Sivakov continued. ‘One man either side of the entrance, our SUV parked outside. The sick pervert leaves the club. We can have him in the vehicle in less than thirty seconds.’
‘Your men know what he looks like?’
‘Yes sir, each of us was issued his photograph before leaving the embassy.’
‘I approve the plan,’ Olegovich said.’ Oh, by the way, Lieutenant, if he makes a fuss or resists feel free to inflict some retribution.’
‘Of course, Sir, that goes without question. We all worked with Polyakov in the past, he was a great man. We’ll make sure this Englishman regrets his actions.’
‘Good,’ Olegovich said, looking at his watch as a dismissal.
Sivakov understood the gesture and exited the car and returned to his vehicle.
‘Andrei, continue,’ Olegovich said.
‘Yes, sir.’ He started the vehicle and pulled out.
◆◆◆
‘Sir, we’re here, where do you want me to stop?’ Andrei asked.
Olegovich looked out at the window, the contrast between the dark interior of the car and the blazing orange lights of the club dazzled him, and he blinked to clear the afterimage.