by Albert Able
Henshaw seemed to glide away as Alex passed the fax to the Boss.
The Boss didn’t ask, it wasn’t his way. “Sorry about this business in St Petersburg, Alex, but there is only one thing to do here and that is to meet Yuri Drumenco in person and to ascertain properly what his problem is - and you are the only one who can do it.”
The Boss studied the flight details in his hand. “Seems there is one direct flight and that’s from Heathrow with BA at 0940 in the morning. It takes three hours twenty-five minutes. All the others mean stops and take much longer.” He looked challengingly at Alex.
Alex smiled understanding, he would have loved to say ‘you can’t change the habit of a lifetime’ as he accepted his orders and flight details.
“Oh and I sent this to Fielding or Thornton’s old boss.” The Boss handed Alex the last sheet of paper.
The second paragraph read.
‘Understand Thornton retired and working with SKY-SEC California. A little problem came up over there and we may need help. Can we rely on him?’
At that moment Henshaw appeared with yet another sheet of folded paper and passed it silently to the Boss.
“Thank you,” the Boss murmured and studied the piece of paper.
The message was simple: ‘Thornton one of our best; operational or retired. Once CIA always CIA. Any thing else I can help with?’
“CIA. Not surprising that he tried to confide in you, eh?” The Boss passed Alex the note.
“No wonder he knew me and it’s good to know he’s on our side. But right now, what about this ‘Tactical Nuclear Weapon’ story? Because if the Syndicate really has re-surfaced and if it has these weapons, you hardy dare think of the possibilities!” Ales shuddered.
“I know exactly what you mean. So, Alex, first priority in my book is to establish whether this Russian thing is associated with our problem over here or not, because if it’s strictly a local affair I want you back right away, this other situation is far to important for any distractions.”
The Boss puffed and then swallowed some of his gin and tonic.
“Oh and by the way give Sophie my love,” he added, looking up and sporting a genial smile.
“Understood,” Alex gave a one finger salute. “And now I better get some sleep. I’ll fax you just as soon as I have a feel for things in Mother Russia.”
Alex left the club; he hadn’t touched his orange juice.
***
Rudi Peterson had spent several hours sitting in front of his computer. In that time he had built up a complete picture and profile of several ‘threat’ characters and their locations. These he had prioritised in order of considered danger. The most urgent attention file contained several names. The first was that of retired Director of SONIC Sir Adrian Jordan together with his home address. A mobile and the landline number of the Chelsea Arts Club’s were also recorded, followed by a list of Sir Adrian’s most recent calls.
The second file was headed ‘Alexander Scott retired senior SONIC operative’. Only one mobile number and an address in London had been logged for him so far.
Graham Watkins’s details had been filed as ‘completed’ but now a new contact at GCHQ had been flagged: Lydia Watkins Head of Archives.
The most recent name to appear was Yuri Drumenco Chief of Police St Petersburg. The rest of the names were recorded alphabetically for further reference, if required.
Rudy addressed the list on the computer screen “I think you are the only dangerous ones for the moment. So let’s see what we do with you.” He picked up the telephone and dialled his father.
***
With his flight booked at the very last moment, it was just like the old days as Alex Scott duly reported to the check in desk for the BA878 to St Petersburg, where a ticket on departure had been organised.
At the start of the sheep pen walk to the check-in desks, a smartly dressed young man standing a few feet away approached. “Good Morning Mr Scott, sorry I’m a little late. I think you’ll find everything is in order.” He passed over a British Airways ticket wallet.
“Thank you.” Alex accepted the wallet, the man raised a finger in salute turned and left without any further word.
The BA official controlling access to the desks politely advised “Make sure you have your passport and visa ready for the check in please, sir.”
Alex smiled and waved the wallet containing the hastily arranged visa.
The flight arrived on time at St Petersburg’s International airport and Alex proceeded patiently through the laborious entry formalities and was eventually met at the exit by a tall, smartly dressed middle aged woman holding a piece of card with ALEX SCOTT stencilled neatly on it.
“That’s me,” Alex approached the elegant figure with a smile. She did not return the gesture, just signalled for him to follow and headed towards the black Mercedes limousine parked by the ‘No Waiting’ sign.
The young man standing casually by the car held out his hand as Alex approached. “I’m Igor Pulaski.” The grip was firm. “Good to meet you. I’ve been hearing quite a lot about you.”
Alex smiled. “Sophie’s grandfather no doubt?”
Nodding agreement Igor returned the smile as he opened the rear door and invited Alex to get in. “Is this your first visit to St Petersburg?” Igor started the conversation, while the smartly dressed chauffeuse guided them out of the sprawling airport.
“Yes it is,” Alex replied, choosing not to be drawn into a complicated explanation, “and I’m sorry that this particular trip will leave me without any time to appreciate the city’s fabulous culture.”
He looked towards Igor. “First, I think perhaps I better explain the problem. Are we okay?” Alex pointed at the back of the chauffeuse.
“No problem. ‘Pulaski Dames’ are one hundred percent loyal and in this case doesn’t speak English!”
Alex sat back and relaxed. “The Boss tells me that you are a close friend of Yuri Drumenco and, as we say in England, one of us?”
“That is correct. I am a close friend and so I hope you will be able to talk in confidence.”
“OK. Well, first, I don’t know how far you have been exposed to the Boss’s clandestine world. So what I’m going to tell you may seem like a fairy story but, believe me, it is not - and it could very well lead you into considerable danger.”
Whether or not the threat of possible danger was fully understood, Alex noted with interest that Igor’s expression did not change.
“Have you ever heard of the Syndicate?”
“No I have never heard of the Syndicate.” Igor’s English was slightly accented but precise, “and I know little about Sir Adrian’s professional life, other than what Sophie has told me and that is basically that he was in charge of some kind of Government security force.” It was Igor’s turn to settle back into the corner of the limousine and study Alex.
“I see,” Alex paused. “In that case and as I hinted before, I must warn you that if I tell you the full reason for my visit you will almost certainly become involved in a highly dangerous, possibly even life threatening situation. How do you feel about that?” Alex returned the stare.
“I was warned by Yuri that you and the Boss, as you call him, were pretty dangerous operators. So if I had not wanted to take the risk, I wouldn’t have bothered to be here today. The only condition of my help, though, is that Sophie remains outside the deal.”
Alex looked ahead. “Yuri Drumenco - I remember him as a rather wild young man,” he pursed his lips, “and now he’s the Chief of Police. I think we are fortunate to have such a man in charge at this time.”
He looked at Igor: “As far as Sophie is concerned, both the Boss and I naturally want to keep her out of this. But let me warn you, if I am right - and I really do suspect that I am - getting involved with the Syndicate means that th
ere is absolutely no guarantee that we can keep our families and friends safe. The Boss understands the possible risk and issued me with a similar warning - but there are no guarantees!”
Igor was silent and looked out at the rolling countryside as the car swept them towards the City. “I just can’t risk Sophie’s safety. I promised her grandfather I would do everything in my power to protect her!”
“Let’s start by looking at what we have here. You may still be able to help without becoming too involved.”
Alex was anxious not to deter Igor completely. “We have a number of common denominators: first, we cannot communicate directly with the Boss because the enemy have found a way of bugging all our phones. Then we have four mysterious murders, a security company in California called SKY-SEC and the Government Communication Headquarters GCHQ in England. Now I don’t know how or even if your lost ‘Tactical Nuclear Weapon’ situation is connected, but that’s the main reason for me being here.”
Alex smiled at the frowning young Russian who remained silent for a moment, then after a resigned sigh - apparently having finally decided to commit himself - started to tell Alex the long and detailed story of the lost nuclear devices, finishing just as they pulled up outside Igor’s office.
He concluded: “So you can see why Yuri is so anxious to try and resolve the problem without creating a major international incident. He could have any help we wants locally but he thinks that there is a huge risk of such a situation getting completely out of hand; especially if the secret police get on to it. And should it turn out to be just some kind of hoax, it could cost him his job. In my opinion he is taking a huge unnecessary risk in not ‘passing the buck’ as I believe you say?” Igor cocked his head for agreement, “anyway, he prefers to keep it unofficial for the moment!”
The chauffeuse opened the limousine door. Alex nodded his thanks and followed Igor into the modern office building and into the elevator.
“I would like to meet your dispatcher friend, is that possible?” Alex asked as the lift took them to the third floor.
“That’s easy to organise,” Igor replied.
“Great. And then I’ll also need to go to Moscow. I was just wondering if he’d be able to travel with me, or is he too ill?” Alex said as they entered the office.
“First, you must meet Sophie.” Igor gestured towards the tall and stunningly attractive fair-haired young lady already rising from her chair.
“Mr Scott, my grandfather warned me about you!” Her eyes seemed to twinkle mischief.
“Alex,” he corrected her, “and your grandfather also warned me about you!” Alex took her hand, it was soft and warm; he was briefly reminded of his wife, Rosie.
“How is he, bossy as ever?” Sophie adored her grandfather. It wasn’t that her parents didn’t love her or any of those things, just that ‘Gramps’ was often so much easier to talk to, and had always (or at least given the impression) that he had understood her outlandish ways.
“I’m afraid so, which is also why I’m here.” Alex decided that he did not need to disguise his real intentions to this young lady.
“Sophie,” Alex faced her, his expression deadly serious, “as you know, I’m in the same business as your grandfather and there may be a serious crisis developing here in Russia which may have implications for us all. Now, I’m not going to beat about the bush because there isn’t time for such niceties and you may all be in great danger.”
Alex looked back at Igor. “Igor has already agreed to assist me so he cannot be distracted by looking after you at the same time. Therefore, Sophie, I would be truly grateful if you could move away somewhere safe, just for a few days.” Alex held Sophie’s piercing eyes.
“I suppose it’s just because I’m a woman?” she replied testily. “Well, over here woman are truly equal to men, you know.”
Alex sighed and ignored the feminist remark. “I must warn you that your grandfather is also in great danger, so your cooperation will make everything easier for us all. Can you do that for me or perhaps for your grandfather?”
“Sophie,” Igor interrupted, “if the people we assume we are tangling with were to learn about our relationship and in particular, that Sir Adrian is your grandfather, we could all be in very serious trouble.”
“Exactly,” Alex shook his head. “Your grandfather is also like a father to me and so neither you nor I would want anything to happen to him, would we?”
Sophie relented. “OK, OK, if you put it that way.” She turned to Igor. “Is it alright with you if I vanish for a few days?”
“I’m not sure I can manage for that long,” Igor winked, relieved that she had chosen to cooperate. “But if you insist,” he added, looking forlorn.
“I was thinking,” Igor slipped a comforting arm around Sophie’s waist, “Sacha is on vacation at their summer house with her mother and their boys, why don’t you join them for a few days?”
“I suppose.” Sophie pouted dejectedly while her mind toyed with the excitement of a few girlie shopping days with Sacha.
“Sacha is Yuri’s wife,” Igor explained to Alex.
“Sounds perfect to me.” Alex agreed.
***
Ernst Moiterof spent the morning at the clinic undergoing a multitude of tests; he’d done it all before and went through the routine with little enthusiasm. Finally, he found himself sitting in front of the white-coated specialist philosophically waiting for the inevitable conclusion.
“Don’t feel embarrassed, doctor. I appreciate the time you have spent but I know the situation,” Ernst smiled weakly.
The doctor looked over his half lens reading glasses and put the sheaf of papers on the desk.
“Ernst, I know I don’t have to tell you that you are a very sick man. However, it seems to me that there are still several options open to us. Now, I’m not able to offer guarantees but I truly believe there is reason to have significant hope,” the specialist tapped the sheaf of paper with his index finger, “another month and it would certainly have been too late.”
Ernst sat upright in his chair: “What are you saying exactly?”
“I’m saying that I believe that I may be able to set up a series of procedures which could slow down, even eradicate the leukaemia. I’d need you in here right away though. Is there any reason why you shouldn’t stay?”
Having already bravely accepted that his life was at an end, this sudden life-promising change in his prospects came as a huge emotional shock. “No reason,’ Ernst whispered in a daze of confused emotion.
The doctor smiled and placed a comforting hand on his arm. “Good man. Can you report back here in twenty-four hours?”
Still almost speechless, Ernst nodded: “You bet I can.”
When Ernst returned to the hotel, he found Igor waiting for him in the reception. “Ah there you are, Ernst,” Igor said in Russian. “I’d like you to meet a friend of mine.”
Alex stepped forward. “Hi, my apologies - I don’t speak Russian.”
Ernst focused for a moment on Alex. “If you friend of Igor, you friend of mine.” Ernst said in broken English and shook the offered hand.
“You speak English?” Igor placed his hand lightly on Ernst’s shoulder, “that’s marvellous.”
Then, in Russian: “By the way, how did you get on this morning”
Ernst quickly explained the doctor’s prognosis.
“Why that’s fantastic news!” Igor responded. “When do you have to go in?”
“He wants me in tomorrow.” Ernst looked relieved.
Alex had not understood any of the conversation and politely remained silent.
“In that case, do you mind if Alex asks you a few questions right now? He is over here to try and do something about these missing nuclear bombs.”
Ernst’s good mood evaporated. “Oh God, I’d almost
forgotten about them.” His shoulders slumped.
They moved to a quiet corner of the sprawling lobby. “I understand that this must be quite distressing,” Alex started, “but I’m afraid I must ask you several questions regarding these nuclear devices.”
“It alright but Igor help, my English is no so good,” Ernst smiled weakly.
“That’s fine,” Alex smiled understandingly. “You understand that the most important thing for us is to locate them again; so do you have any idea where they were taken?”
“I have no idea, they come and take away. I no see where they go.” Ernst gestured with his hands.
“I believe that you recognised one of the people, which of course is why your suspicions were aroused?”
Ernst frowned and looked at Igor who explained in rapid Russian.
“Ah yes, I recognise driver, man from old days.” Ernst scratched his head for a moment then turned again toward Igor. “You know, now that I think of it, I realise that guy was the mate of a tanker driver friend of mine, who lives quite close to me in Moscow. I bet he knows where to find him!”
Igor translated.
“That’ll do me.” Alex glanced at his watch. “When’s the next flight to Moscow?”
He reached out to Ernst. “Thank you Ernst.”
As they shook hands, Alex held the grip a little longer. “It took a lot of courage to come to St Petersburg to tell us all this.”
Ernst didn’t quite understand and looked at Igor.
“Igor, please tell him that his courage in reporting all of this to us may have saved an uncountable number of human lives. It’s been a genuine pleasure to meet him and I wish him well with the treatment.”
Igor explained.
Ernst nodded and pursed his lips. “I think I go Moscow, tanker driver no talk to you.”
Igor looked at Alex. “There’s no need for that, I’m sure the tanker driver will remember me so I’ll go to Moscow with Alex.” Igor crossed himself. “Just don’t tell Sophie.”
“I think best all go, maybe I think of more people?” Ernst cocked his head to one side and grinned.