by Paul Blake
Todor Kochanov? Olegovich thought as he searched his memory for the name. ‘The Bulgarian assassin? Built like a weight-lifter, ex-KGB?’
‘That’s the one, Sir. Well remembered. I had to look him up.’
Thanks for the brown-nosing. You’ll go far. ‘Where was he?’
‘He was picked up heading towards the MI6 safe-house on Thrasoltstraße. He had a bag of groceries and was limping. One of the team recognised him, and they approached him to see why he was there. He took down two of them, delivering a broken nose and a broken arm, before the third managed to taser him into submission. They managed to manhandle him into their van, and they are on their way here now.’
‘Did he say why he was in Berlin?’
‘No, he attacked them as soon as they approached. He didn’t give them any warning.’
‘That’s interesting. I wonder what he’s doing here. Have him brought into the interrogation room when they get here.’
‘Yes, sir. Oh, by the way, they tell me he already had a bullet wound in his thigh. I don’t know if they are saying that just to cover themselves.’
I wonder what this is about. Olegovich turned on the computer on his desk, and after waiting for it to start up, he searched the records for Kochanov.
◆◆◆
Olegovich pushed open the interrogation room door with force. It slammed into the wall leaving a dent. The two officers in the room jumped at the sound. Olegovich noticed that Kochanov, sitting in handcuffs chained to the wide table and legs chained to the floor, didn’t. A tough cookie, as the Americans say. We’ll see.
‘Out,’ he ordered.
The two officers left the room, and Olegovich sat down opposite Kochanov, his hands in his lap. He didn’t say anything, just looked at the man. He certainly paid for harming the two team members. Kochanov’s wide, ugly face was already beginning to swell. The lips, the right eye, forehead knotting up. Hmmm, he has a scar on the left side too. Olegovich resisted the urge to rub his. They sat in silence looking at each other. Five… Ten minutes. Waiting for the other to blink first. KGB trained: he’ll know all the tricks. Time to mix it up a little, try to put him off balance. Under the table, Olegovich took the extendable metal baton from his pocket, and in one fluid motion he brought his hand up and whipped it towards Kochanov. The baton extended at the apex of the strike and came down with a hard slap across Kochanov’s left cheek. Olegovich followed the blow instantly with another to the right cheek. He motioned another strike to the left cheek and noted with satisfaction that Kochanov flinched at the expected blow. Olegovich stopped the motion before it hit the cheek and quickly reversed his action striking the right cheek harder. Kochanov rocked in his chair and struggled to raise his chained hands. Deep, narrow welts showed on both cheeks, blood was showing through parts of the right cheek. Olegovich retracted the baton, and placed it on the desk, his hand beside it.
‘Why did you attack my men?’
Silence.
‘I want an answer.’ He placed his hand on the baton.
‘I thought they were after me.’ Yes! Kochanov’s eyes didn’t leave the baton.
‘Why would they be after you?’
Silence.
Olegovich swung the baton, this time coming down on the man’s hands. He heard the crunch as a knuckle broke. Kochanov screamed in pain. Blood started dripping on the tabletop.
‘Why would they be after you?’ Again silence.
Kochanov’s breathing had become heavy and ragged. Olegovich leant across the table and, with his thumb, pressed down firmly on the broken knuckle like he was putting out a cigarette. Kochanov’s body shook rigid as though he was being tasered. He tried head-butting Olegovich, but the chains restricted him, stopped him getting close. Olegovich paused.
‘Why would they be after you?’
Deep gulping breaths, then, ‘Polyakov.’ What?
‘Polyakov?’
‘I killed him in a bar.’
Impossible, it was Foster. I know what that man is capable of. ‘Tell me what happened and why. Do not lie to me. It’ll be worse if you do.’
◆◆◆
Olegovich left the room, after a final look at the unconscious Kochanov slumped in the chair. His hands mangled, his right tree trunk of an arm bent inwards at an impossible angle, his face a bloody mush. Olegovich closed the door behind him and ordered the white-faced guard outside the room to call a doctor for the prisoner.
He returned to his office and sat in the chair and placed his hands on the desktop. They were still and calm like his heart. Ilyich turned to him and asked, ‘How did it—’ he stopped his mouth opened wide, his jaw slack. ‘Sir, can I suggest you visit the bathroom to clean up?’
‘Huh?’
‘Sir, your face… it needs cleaning.’
Olegovich looked down at his hands, they were covered in gore.
‘Thank you, Likhachyov.’ His voice emotionless. He stood up.
◆◆◆
The running water from the tap faded the dark red blood into a light pink as it swirled down the plughole. Steam rose covering the mirror with a fog of tiny droplets. Olegovich was glad. It meant he couldn’t see his eyes. He rubbed his hands with a thin bar of soap oblivious to the heat of the water. He scrubbed them until they were raw and then cupped them together and splashed water onto his lowered face. Again, and again. He then started with the soap rubbing it deep into his skin, relishing the sting as it penetrated his closed eyes. Streams of pink water cascaded down his bare muscular back to the floor and to the waistband of his trousers, darkening the material.
Foster didn’t kill Polyakov.
23
Alec reacted without thought; he threw the heavy cognac glass at the waiter and followed it up with a hard punch to the man’s face and then a second, and a third. The waiter fell backwards to the floor, the door closing behind him. Alec fell on him and heard the gun cough and a second later heard a thud as it hit the wooden panelling behind him. He sat astride the waiter, pinning him to the floor. One punch, another, and then another. The waiter’s bandage had come off, and blood was flowing steadily from his nostrils, his eyes glazed.
‘Where is she? You bastard. Where is she?’
‘That’s enough of that,’ Newbury said and lifted Alec to his feet from behind. He held him in a full nelson hold. Newbury grabbed Alec’s left hand and twisted it tightly behind him and pressed down on his neck with his free arm. The waiter struggled to his feet, spat blood on to the carpet and punched Alec in the gut. Alec felt the air go from his lungs. He struggled for breath. The waiter followed up the punch with another to the face. Alec felt his cheek shudder, and his head snapped back, the neck held in place by Newbury’s forearm.
‘I said that was enough!’ Newbury threw Alec to the floor and stood in front of the waiter, his hands on the smaller man’s chest. ‘Stop.’
The waiter spat again. Newbury winced, ‘Do you have to do that? It’s impossible to get blood out of the fibres.’
‘It’s just a carpet.’ The waiter looked down and picked up the bandage. He straightened it up and reapplied it to his face.
‘Put him in the chair, Mihael.’
Alec was slowly getting to his feet, breathing deeply. He launched himself at Mihael, the waiter, with a roar, knocking his chair out of the way. His fist landed on the man’s chin sending him reeling. Alec fell to his knees and felt Newbury lift him up and then slammed him on to Claudia’s chair. What the hell?
‘You stay there Alec.’ Newbury commanded.
‘Like hell I will.’ Alec countered, lifting himself back up.
Newbury swung a heavy fist into Alec’s temple. Alec’s world went black and then dimmed.
Alec felt the world swimming into focus, the side of his face was screaming at him. He could hear murmuring voices in the distance, slowly getting closer. He opened his eyes slowly and saw Newbury sitting at his desk.
‘Arthur? What’s going on?’
‘Good, you’re awake. I was going to hav
e Mihael slap you in a minute or two to wake you up.’
At the mention of the waiter’s name, Alec’s body jerked up. He found his lower body was secured to a chair. A voice to the right of Newbury said, ‘I don’t think he likes me.’
Alec turned and saw the man next to Newbury, his face was a mess, the bandage across his nose was askew, and blood had seeped through. His eyes were bloodshot and starting to show bruising. There was a hard lump on his forehead. That must have been from the glass. Alec felt the warmth of satisfaction.
‘Where is she?’
‘She’s safe,’ Newbury said. ‘I wouldn’t hurt her… unless it was completely necessary.’
‘Why are you doing this? You’ve known her since she was a little girl.’
‘Well, that’s your fault, I’m afraid. If you had just died at the bar like you were supposed to she wouldn’t be in this situation.’
‘Like I was supposed to?’ Alec’s head felt foggy. Must be because of the punch. God, he hits hard.
‘I thought you were smarter than this. Maybe you’re concussed. As soon as Polyakov requested the meeting and told you to take precautions I knew he knew about the plot. You should have listened to him. If you hadn’t told me about the call, he’d be alive, and Sara would be safe. You failed them, Alec.’
Alec looked around the room and saw that his chair had been righted next to him, his jacket hung from the back of it. He realised his throat was dry, he was having trouble swallowing. ‘May I have a drink?’
‘Certainly. Mihael, get a plastic cup from the cupboard over there.’ Mihael stood up. Newbury resumed talking to Alec, ‘You seem to enjoy throwing glasses at my friend, so a little precaution is in order.’
‘Why are you doing this?’ Alec repeated the question.
Mihael returned to the desk with a clear plastic cup. Newbury opened his drawer and removed the Remy Martin. ‘I can’t believe you wasted this by throwing it. That’s very disrespectful of you, Alec.’ He poured Alec a generous measure, stood and placed the cup in front of Alec. Newbury sat back down.
Alec lifted the cup with his free hand and took a gulp of the drink. He paused and then threw the remainder at Newbury. The amber liquid splashed his face and suit. The plastic cup bounced off his shoulder and onto the floor.
‘I should have expected that I suppose. You always were so uncouth,’ Newbury said calmly. ‘Roger and I used to joke about how common you were.’ He removed a napkin from his pocket and dabbed at his face. He picked up the piece of paper Alec had been writing on and looked at the map, ‘You figured this out? I’m impressed. I thought you had left your brains in a bottle years ago.’ He turned the paper over, ‘That is really good work, you know. I agree if a terrorist was to kill the Prime Minister that would be the best way to proceed. Unfortunately, it’s not about terrorism.’ He turned on the shredder next to his desk and placed the piece of paper in it. The machine caught it and chewed it into multiple tiny pieces.
‘So, what’s it about then, arsehole?’
‘I suppose there’s no harm in telling you, seeing as you are going to be part of it.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘We’ll get to that, later,’ Newbury paused, framing his argument. ‘We’ve had this discussion many times. I know you agree with me. It’s to do with Russia.’
With those words, Alec knew what Newbury meant, what the purpose of this was. Newbury was proposing a return to the days of the Cold War, the clash of capitalism versus communism, fighting proxy wars against each other through third party countries around the globe, the days of open suspicion between the West and East. A return to the war that Russia never quit, they just changed their methods.
‘And assassinating the Prime Minister? That’s not a return to the Cold War, that’s the opening salvo of world war.’
‘It won’t get that far. No one wants that. The Americans and Chinese will step in and stop that from happening.’
‘You’re wrong. The Americans are politically at their weakest since Watergate, and the Chinese, who knows, you can never tell what they are going to do. They could always side with Russia. You’re gambling with the world. You’re going all-in with a pair of eights.’
‘It’s better than watching Russia tear the West apart, turning us against each other: Brexit, the far-right against the far-left, their puppet in the White House. I’m not wrong, you just don’t have the vision to see our political masters are so weak, so focused on the short-term, the current election cycle, the next week’s headlines, that they don’t look to the bigger picture, see what is happening around them.’
‘They just need to see—’
‘— And how will they do that? Who will they listen to? We cannot influence them enough for them to act. We’re not one of their party donors. We work for them and have to follow their misguided and ill-informed decisions.’
Alec shook his head, ‘It’ll never work, you’ll start a war.’
‘I’m protecting our way of life.’
‘No, Arthur, you can’t do this.’
Arthur smiled, and Alec felt a chill down his spine. ‘I won’t be doing it, Alec, you will.’
‘Like hell I will.’
‘Oh, you will. Mihael’s friend, the one you shot in the leg, was going to take the shot, but, he’s been taken by the Russians. Luckily, I hadn’t got round to telling him where and when. Information compartmentalised until necessary. You’re taking his place.’
‘There’s no way, Arthur. I won’t do it.’
‘Think of Sara, Alec. You do this we’ll release her unharmed. Refuse, and she won’t see daylight again. We may pay a visit to the lovely Mrs Hampton as well.’
Alec’s blood went cold, then flash-boiled. He struggled against the bindings that held him. The cords in his neck stood out, his face red from the exertion. He couldn’t free himself. He collapsed, exhausted.
‘Calm down, you’ll have a heart attack.’
‘You hurt them, I’ll tear you apart. I’ll destroy you.’
‘You’ll do as I want. That’s what you’ll do. Your life and the PM’s for theirs. That is the deal.’
‘How do I know you’ll release her?’
‘You’ll have to trust me. You have done all these years; I’m not doing this on a whim. It is for the good of the country.’
‘Trust you? I wouldn’t trust you ever again.’ What choice do I have? She’ll die if I don’t. I can’t live with that. I have to give Claudia time to find her. See if I can find a moment to tell her. Alec stayed silent for the better part of a minute. ‘Ok, I’ll do it.’
‘Good I’m glad you can see sense. I would hate to harm her.’
‘Whatever. What do you need me to do?’
‘Mihael’s friend was going to be the marksman. I know you have had sniper training and excelled at it, so you’re taking his place.’
‘That was a long time ago Arthur.’
‘Well, you better reacquaint yourself quickly.’
‘Where is it going to be? Wait, it’s the cathedral, isn’t it. Building works are going on next to it. That is where I’ll be shooting from.’
‘I’m impressed you’ve figured it out so fast. It’s good to see you almost back to your best. Yes, Mihael will be with you to make sure you go ahead.’
‘And the gun? Where am I getting that from? I can’t really walk around Berlin with a rifle under my arm.’
‘You and Mihael will go and get it from a locker at Zoo station. It’s broken down in a briefcase, so you’ll be fine. It's a Russian model, of course.’
‘I have to go with him? Won’t the Russians be after him now they’ve got his mate?’
‘I don’t particularly want to be your babysitter either,’ Mihael said.
‘You’ll do as you’re told, Alec. Your handy work with the glasses has helped disguise him, so the Russians won’t recognise him.’
‘What about me? Aren’t they looking for me still?’
‘I’ve already put out t
he word that Mihael’s friend was responsible for Polyakov so you should be fine. If you head to the building site after getting the rifle and hold up there for the night, you won’t be around for them to pick you up.’
‘Wait, you want us to sit on a building site all night and wait for the PM in the morning. You do realise its December, we’ll freeze.’
‘Dress up warm. I only care that you have enough movement to pull the trigger when its time.’
‘This is shit. You always were a poor mission planner Arthur.’
‘Ok, Alec, what do you suggest?’
‘How about we check into a nice warm hotel and head out at daybreak?’
‘What a hotel where you have to provide I.D.? The most-wanted man in Berlin, so the Police can pick you up, and you can tell them everything. Nice effort. You’ll do as I say. Mihael undo him. Alec, you better not try anything, remember you’re responsible for Sara’s wellbeing.’
‘I won’t do anything. Cross my heart.’ Alec made the sign of the cross on his chest with his middle finger. He might have me by the balls, but I’m not going to be all sweetness and light.
Mihael undid Alec’s bindings. Alec stood up and stretched. ‘Thanks,’ he said. His voice like sandpaper. ‘So, Arthur, when did you come up with this genius plan? Why now?’
‘I’m retiring next year. I had planned to try and get back with Julia, take her somewhere warm. She’s found someone else, so I decided to leave with a bang.’
‘So, this is all because you can’t stop pining for a woman that you didn’t respect enough to keep your hands to yourself.’
‘You’re one to talk about pining. You’ve been pining over that German woman and Claudia for, what? Twenty years now.’
‘Something like that,’ Alec said. His voice deadly calm, his hands flexed.
‘At least you got a second chance with Claudia, even if has only been a couple of extra days.’
‘You’re pathetic, Arthur. Just pathetic. I hope Julia’s happy with her new man, she can’t do any worse. I hope you die picturing them together, naked, and writhing. I hope the last thing you hear is their moans of pleasure reverberating through your skull.’