One Damn Thing After Another

by Dan Latus

Without waiting for an answer, he turned and departed. I shrugged and glanced around before sinking onto the inviting bed. The truth was that I was too tired to care very much about the posh surroundings, and I hurt in various places more than I had noticed until now. The adrenaline was long gone from my system, and the aches and pains from the fight were catching up on me.

  I couldn’t believe Leon hurt less than me, and I have to say I admired his fortitude and durability. Whatever he had gone off to do must be very important, I thought, before I closed my eyes and dozed off.

  I woke up feeling a bit better, and glanced at my watch. Just after eleven. I shook my head and got to my feet. What the hell was I doing here? I should have been well on the way home by now.

  I wandered back to the main room, and stared with astonishment through the big window. The snow hadn’t stopped. It was coming down heavily still, and already the world had been transformed. The walls across the street were cloaked in white, while down below the street itself was deep in cotton wool. The parked vehicles that lined the sides of the roadway were no more than suggestive humps and bulges.

  I watched a taxi creeping along until it could go no further and stalled in the middle of the road. After a few moments, the driver climbed out, slammed the door and walked off, abandoning his vehicle. He had my sympathy. I suspected nothing was going to be moving far or fast in this city for some time.

  That thought made me wonder when, or if, I would see Leon again. I grimaced. I shouldn’t be here. It was a mistake. I would have been better off bedding down at the airport. But how could I have got there?

  I shrugged and decided to take a look around the apartment. Fancy furniture and artwork on the walls were all very well, but I was getting hungry. A cup of coffee would be welcome, too.

  It was a big bachelor pad, I soon decided. Certainly not a home. Plenty of expensive sound equipment, home cinema stuff and artwork, but nothing to suggest anyone lived here on a continuing basis. There were a few suits and coats in a wardrobe in the master bedroom. There was even women’s clothing in one wardrobe, some of it brand new, still in wrappers. I smiled and wondered if Leon had a wife or a partner. If he did, she didn’t live here.

  I found a galley kitchen with well-stocked cupboards and fridge, and realized I wasn’t going to starve for a long time. First, though, I needed coffee. I put some water in a jug kettle and switched it on. The thing was hi-tech and high-powered. I watched with amusement as it emitted a changing range of colours as water heating proceeded. The water was bubbling long before I found a jar of instant coffee.

  Perhaps because of the noise the kettle made, I didn’t become aware that I was no longer alone until too late. The voice was a woman’s. The words she spoke were unintelligible to me, but their meaning was quite clear. I froze for a moment, and then slowly raised my hands above my head and turned around to face the gun the woman was holding.

  She was quite small and slim, and athletic looking. The expression on her face was grim as she barked a question or instruction at me. The gun she held in both hands didn’t waver. She was serious, and she meant business.

  I grimaced and tried to convey my lack of understanding. Another crisp demand followed.

  I shrugged now and smiled, to try to reduce the tension. ‘I don’t understand,’ I said as calmly as I could manage.

  That seemed to disconcert her for a moment. Then she stared even harder, as if she suspected me of lying.

  ‘I don’t understand,’ I repeated. ‘I don’t speak Russian.’

  ‘Český?’ she demanded.

  I shook my head. ‘British.’

  ‘Britský?’

  I nodded.

  She mulled that over, but while she did so the gun didn’t move.

  ‘I am a guest here,’ I said gently.

  She understood that. Maybe she didn’t believe me, but at least she understood. ‘Where is passport?’ she demanded.

  ‘In my coat pocket, in the big room. On the sofa, I think.’

  ‘Show me.’

  She stood well clear as I moved carefully towards the doorway. Then she followed me along the corridor and across the lounge to where my jacket lay on the sofa.

  ‘Stop!’ she snapped.

  I stood still and watched as she scooped up the jacket and began to search the pockets with one hand, the other keeping firm hold of the pointing gun.

  ‘The top pocket,’ I advised her, patting the left side of my chest.

  She found the passport and my airline ticket. She opened the passport and studied it, comparing the photograph with what she could see standing in front of her.

  ‘So. You are Franklin Doy,’ she said eventually.

  ‘Frank,’ I said, trying to make it friendlier.

  The gun didn’t move an inch. It was still trained on me.

  She dropped the passport and ticket onto the sofa and demanded, ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘I came here with Mr Podolsky. He asked me to make myself at home, and to wait for him.’

  ‘How do you know Mr Podolsky?’

  ‘I was a guest in his hotel. I met him there.’

  ‘And he brought you here?’ she said scornfully. ‘To his private residence?’

  ‘Yes, he did,’ I said with a shrug.

  ‘I will ask him,’ she responded. ‘Sit down in that chair.’

  She pointed with her free hand, the gun in her other hand remaining focussed on me. I sat down. She wanted me unable to move quickly while she used her phone. I could almost admire her systematic caution, but that damned gun was still bothering me a lot.

  She fiddled with her phone but something was wrong. I watched, and waited. She tried several times before she gave up.

  ‘He is not answering,’ she said, putting the phone away.

  All I could do was shrug once more.

  ‘I have much to do,’ she said then. ‘It will be best if I just shoot you now.’

  Chapter Six

  I GOT LUCKY. She didn’t do it.

  ‘Phone the hotel,’ I said quickly, when I saw her hesitating over whether to pull the trigger. ‘Speak to Charles in reception. Ask him about me.’

  ‘You know Charles?’ she asked, looking puzzled.

  ‘Tall, short fair hair, dark suit,’ I said, desperately trying to recall anything else about him. ‘Oh, yes! He’s very serious. No laughing.’

  She looked at me as if I wasn’t right in the head. I shrugged and held my breath, and assessed my chances of getting away with it if I just rushed her. Not good, I decided.

  ‘That is Charles,’ she said eventually. She stared at me a moment longer and then reached for her phone again.

  I listened as she launched into a series of interrogatory remarks to whoever answered. None of them made any sense to me. I assumed the language was Russian, but it could have been any one of a dozen east European languages, for all I knew.

  I knew I was safe when her gun arm was lowered at last. I began to relax. For the first time in many minutes I was not looking down a barrel.

  ‘So,’ she said, ‘Charles knows you, and he says you left with Leon.’

  I nodded.

  ‘So where is Leon now?’

  ‘I wish I knew. He left me here, saying he would be back shortly. That was …’ I squinted at my watch, and added, ‘… quite a while ago.’

  That worried her. It did me, too.

  ‘So who are you?’ I dared to ask.

  ‘That is no concern of yours.’

  ‘I think it is,’ I said with a forced smile. ‘I would like to know the identity of the person who was going to shoot me – and who may still do so.’

  She shook her head impatiently. ‘What were you doing when I arrived?’

  ‘Making a cup of coffee, and thinking about getting something to eat.’

  ‘Get on with it,’ she said dismissively. ‘I have calls to make.’

  So I had a lot more to think about now. Who was she? Someone close to Leon, obviously. His mistress, girlfriend? I
had no idea. All I knew was that she was here in his apartment, she knew Charles and … well, she was a tough lady. That added up to quite enough for me.

  She was worried about Leon, too. That gave me some concern. Where the hell was he? What had been so important that he’d had to dump me and scoot out into a blizzard? For that matter, how had he been able to travel anywhere at all this evening?

  And what about this place? What was it?

  I had plenty of questions, but no answers.

  At least I had coffee now, though, and poking through the contents of the fridge, I found cheese and ham to make a sandwich to go with it. For a few minutes, I occupied myself sensibly in the kitchen. All the while I could hear the woman on the phone in the lounge.

  I couldn’t understand exactly what she was saying, but I had a good idea. She was phoning around the people in her contacts book to try to find where Leon was. That she kept it up suggested he was proving hard to find, and that something unusual had happened. I wondered if Leon was in trouble. Did his absence have anything to do with the attack on his hotel that afternoon? It seemed entirely possible, likely even. One way or another, things didn’t look good for him.

  With my sandwich in one hand and a second cup of coffee in the other, I wandered back into the lounge and over to the window. The snow was easing off now, but down on the ground it was deeper than ever. By the look of things on the street, the sky must just about have emptied. One or two cars, in addition to the taxi I had seen earlier, had tried to force their way through but now they were all stranded and abandoned, with the snow halfway up their doors.

  There were no pedestrians in sight. I wondered if Leon had found somewhere warm and dry. It wasn’t a night to be out and about, whatever your business, and however urgent it was. Meanwhile, the woman behind me continued hunting him by phone. It seemed pointless. Either his phone was switched off or he didn’t want to answer. It was as simple as that.

  Except it wasn’t.

  A vehicle came powering along the street, disturbing the serenity of the scene. It was a truck with a big blade up front that was sending waves of snow cascading into the air. I smiled at the unexpectedness of it. A snowplough. Quick off the mark, too. Somebody in this street must have political clout.

  The truck stopped in the middle of the road down below. I watched as several figures emerged from it, bristling with energy and purpose. They headed towards the entrance to our building.

  Strange. That didn’t seem right. I frowned and turned to the woman behind me. ‘Hey! Something’s going on down here.’

  She looked up. I waved her over urgently. She came across the room to join me, and I pointed down below. She looked, and swore. At least, that’s what it sounded like.

  Then she pocketed her phone and dashed for the door.

  I watched her go, and wondered if I should leave too. But she was gone before I could ask her.

  By then, I felt as if I had had enough of Podolsky hospitality. This wasn’t what I had thought I was letting myself in for when I accepted a lift to the airport. I might not be able to get there myself for the moment but surely I could find somewhere more sensible to stay until I could?

  I collected my travel bag, took a last look around the most luxurious accommodation I had ever experienced, and headed for the lift without any regrets at all.

  The lift was already in motion. I could hear it rising behind the stainless steel doors. Any moment now the doors would spring open. I frowned. Who would be coming out of it? Suddenly I was concerned about that, very concerned. There was so much trouble around Leon Podolsky. I didn’t want to be collateral damage.

  I glanced around, looking for an entrance to a stairwell. There didn’t seem to be one. No emergency exit? Not good, Leon. What if there was a fire in the lift shaft?

  The lift pinged, the doors about to open. I stepped into an alcove alongside and stood behind a huge crystal and stainless steel ornament, or sculpture. Whatever it was, it concealed me quite well, which was all I wanted until I knew who was in the lift.

  I heard the doors open. Two men, dressed in black, moved out into the room. They were holding guns in outstretched arms and were moving cautiously, covering each other as they advanced. I grimaced and held my breath, and kept very, very still.

  I didn’t think much of my chances of persuading them not to shoot if they saw me. My guess was that they were intent on completing the business they had started back at the hotel that afternoon. It was Leon they were after, but I would probably do if they couldn’t find him.

  They moved quickly and silently across the room and into the corridor leading to the bedrooms. I couldn’t see them not spotting me when they returned. So it was now or never. I edged out of the alcove.

  The lift doors had been locked in the open position. I stepped inside, pressed the button that released the lock and another button that got the doors closed and the lift moving. The control panel had only two destinations: where I’d just come from, and where I was going next. There were no intermediate stops.

  Within seconds the doors opened again, revealing the corridor Leon had led me along a few hours earlier. I locked the lift in position to prevent the two men in the apartment following me soon. Then I set off down the corridor, which was brightly lit still but ominously quiet. The people I had seen working here had probably all gone home hours ago, but I couldn’t believe the place was empty. Surely there must be somebody still here?

  I was right. Leon’s staff hadn’t all gone home. As I neared the end of the corridor, I spotted the woman in a white coat last seen in reception. She was lying spread-eagled on the floor, a pool of blood from her leaking across the white marble. She wasn’t moving.

  I grimaced and stopped to consider my options. There weren’t many, and none of them were good. How long had I got before the two guys upstairs used their phones to bring someone in from outside to unlock the lift doors? How many men were waiting outside, between me and freedom?

  Then something else came into the equation. Someone nearby let fly with a subdued burst of automatic gunfire. That got my pulse racing and my head shrinking into my collar.

  But I couldn’t just stand there, out in the open. And I had to know what was going on. A quick glance around the corner into the reception area told me some of it. There was a second unmoving body on the floor, this one clad in black. It had fallen in an untidy heap.

  A man similarly dressed was behind an overturned desk, wielding what looked like an Uzi sub-machine gun fitted with a suppressor. Whoever he was firing at in short bursts was on the far side of the room, behind a pillar in the entrance porch and invisible to me. Stalemate – for the moment.

  Things changed. With a great boom, someone outside the building began pounding the front door with what sounded like a sledgehammer. Then I saw movement in the porch, caught a quick glimpse and realized it was the woman who had wanted to shoot me. She had got this far, but now she was trapped.

  Her situation wasn’t good. The front door wouldn’t hold for long with the hammering it was taking, and when it caved in she would be in full view of whoever was outside wielding the sledgehammer. Then there was the gunman trying to shoot her, and the two more gunmen somewhere behind me. Things didn’t look good for either of us.

  Pragmatism came to the fore. I focused on the lesser of the two threats to me personally. The woman and I were not exactly best mates but at least she hadn’t shot me. Also, she seemed to be on the same side as Leon, whereas the guys in black clearly were not. It was a quick and ready calculation but I came down on her side. By helping her, perhaps I could help myself.

  Another mighty crash against the front door, this one accompanied by the sound of something splintering, spurred me on to do something. There was no time for more thought. Either I acted now or not at all.

  I steeled myself and raced the few strides across the reception hall. The guy sheltering behind the desk heard me coming but he was too late to stop me. His head turned but by then my boot was
swinging. I caught him in the head with a good one. He collapsed, face down, his gun spilling across the floor.

  I straightened up, and looked towards the porch. The woman had seen what had happened and was coming out of cover.

  ‘Quick! We must go!’ she called, breaking into a run.

  I agreed – but where to?

  She hit some wall panelling on the far side of the room with the heel of her hand, and a concealed door slid open. Then she turned and beckoned impatiently. I hesitated for a moment, but another splintering crash told me the front door had just about given way.

  I ran to join her.

  Chapter Seven

  SHE SLAMMED THE DOOR shut after us, turned and ushered me down a spiral wrought-iron staircase that was illuminated by emergency-standard lighting. I went down fast, my feet clattering on the latticed metal steps. At the bottom, in a little vestibule, there were three rusty metal doors, each set in a different wall.

  ‘Which one?’

  She pushed past and opened one of them. Then she stepped sideways into the darkness and pulled down a heavy lever. Suddenly we had light. Weak light, but good enough to see where we were going.

  I followed her through the doorway and paused to stare ahead, thinking, ah! I might have known. We were in a tunnel, an ancient looking, stone-walled escape tunnel. A chain of dim lights set in the wall stretched out ahead of us as far as I could see.

  The woman set off at a fast walking pace, verging on jogging. I struggled to keep up with her.

  ‘Where are we going?’ I demanded.

  ‘We must hurry,’ she snapped over her shoulder, as if that was answer enough.

  I considered stopping in my tracks until I got answers to at least some of my questions – such as who she was, and what the hell was going on. Common sense prevailed. She knew where we were, and where we were going. I didn’t. For the moment, at least, I needed her a lot more than she needed me. She was leading us both away from a sudden, violent death. There wasn’t any doubt about that, none at all.

  We cracked on. There were no sounds of pursuit, which was something to be grateful for but hardly surprising. The concealed exit back in the reception area would be no more obvious to the men in black than it had been to me.