A Killing Place in the Sun

by Robert F Barker

  As Ivan pulled into the slip, stopping behind the car in front, Marianna saw the woman sergeant wagging a finger at Max, motioning him to follow her original direction. She did it in a way that made clear she would stand no arguing. Max must have got the message as he began to move forward. As he drove slowly past them he shouted across.

  'We’ll pick you up the other side.'

  Ivan nodded. 'Police wankers.'

  An officer with a clip board appeared at Ivan’s window.

  'Good evening sir. Is this your car?' He spoke in perfect English.

  'No. It belongs to my employer.'

  'I see.' He peered into the back, spotted Marianna, Sasha on her lap, beginning to stir. 'Is that you madam?’.

  'No, my husband.'

  'Please wait one moment.' He turned away to speak into his radio. Marianna heard a babble of static but could not make out what was being said.

  Turning back to the car, the officer spoke to Ivan. 'Have you been drinking at all tonight sir?'

  'No. Can’t you just let us on our way? It’s late, and the kid needs her bed.'

  Marianna shook her head. Having never practised, Ivan’s attempt at paternal concern bordered on the pathetic.

  'We won’t keep you sir.' The policeman sounded like he was reading from a script. Marianna noticed that the car in front hadn’t moved, though the officers who’d been standing next to it were no longer there.

  'Do you have your driving licence with you sir?'

  'Driving Licence? No I don’t have my driving licence. No one told me I need to carry it.'

  'In that case I am going to have to ask you to take a breath test. Would you mind stepping out of the car?'

  Marianna started. Though she was aware the local police often carried out stop-checks she had never come across anything on this scale before. All those letters to the press must have struck a nerve. Nevertheless, she was surprised the police had the manpower to mount an operation this size on Festival night. As she could have predicted, Ivan began to rile.

  'Why do I have to give a breath test? I haven’t had a drink all night.'

  'It is just routine sir. If you haven’t been drinking there will not be a problem.'

  Ivan glanced across at Sergei who raised his hands and shook his head in silent warning to his volatile partner. Don’t argue.

  'Ach,' Ivan cursed. 'Fucking politsiya.' He got out and followed the policeman around the front of the car to the pavement.

  To her right, Marianna noticed that the traffic seemed be flowing past her window more freely now. As the policeman spoke with Ivan – showing him the device Marianna assumed was the breathalyser, explaining its operation – she twisted round. Another police 4x4 had pulled up behind them. The driver got out, coming over to the driver’s side of the car. He stopped at the window and looked in. She recognised him at once. One of the oglers from the harbour.

  'Good evening Madam. Is everything alright?'

  Marianna was surprised. She had expected a smarmy look, instead he was entirely professional. Sergei wasn’t.

  'We will be when your colleague lets us go.' He gestured to where his partner looked like he and the police officer were getting into an argument. At that moment Ivan glanced over at them. Marianna could see he was fuming. The policeman seemed to be trying to direct him towards another police car parked in the side street to their left. Given Ivan’s attitude, she thought the young officer was keeping remarkably cool.

  To her surprise, the policeman at the window flashed Marianna a smile, before moving to join his colleague. The woman sergeant arrived to join them. Then a fourth officer appeared.

  Sergei sat up, becoming agitated. 'What the fuck’s going on?'

  'Language, Sergei,' Marianna reminded him. Sasha was awake now. He paid her no attention. As the officers started shepherding a protesting Ivan towards the police car, he looked across at them in helpless appeal.

  'Where are they taking him?' Sergei said. 'What is happening?' He got out of the car to shout across. 'What is wrong?'

  Ivan shook his head as he was led, two in front two behind, clearly struggling to contain his annoyance. 'They want to check my fucking details.' Still protesting, he let himself be man-handled into the back of the police car. Marianna was surprised to see the officer from the harbour get in beside him.

  'Ach. Fucking bastards,' Sergei muttered. 'We’ll be here all night if we’re not careful.' Pausing to light a cigarette, he started pacing up and down the pavement next to the car.

  Sasha looked up at her mother. 'What is it Mummy? What is happening?'

  Marianna brushed hair off her face. 'Nothing, little one. It is just some policemen. Nothing to worry about.' Nevertheless, she was conscious of a nagging feeling that something didn’t feel right. Peering ahead, she could see no sign of Max’s car. The lines of traffic seemed to have cleared. Looking about her, she realised the road block seemed to be gearing down.

  A shout made Sergei turn. 'What?'

  Another shout, which Marianna couldn’t make out. She turned to look behind. The second harbour-policeman was leaning out of the window of the police car behind, beckoning Sergei over.

  'Now what?' He flicked his butt away, leaned through the window. 'I’ll see what he wants.'

  As Sergei reached the car, the policeman got out. They exchanged a few words and she saw Sergei reach into his pocket, pulling out his cigarettes. The policeman took one and lit up. As they spoke, two more officers emerged from the back of the car and sauntered round to join them. Suddenly Sergei was surrounded by uniforms.

  What happened next so surprised Marianna, she actually let out a squeal of alarm. There was a blur of movement, a brief scuffle, and then the policemen all seemed to pile into the police car. When the doors shut, Sergei was gone.

  Marianna froze, hand to her mouth, unable to digest what she had just seen. Suddenly the police car leaped forward and, with a squeal of tyres, roared off past her window. As it flashed by she glimpsed a melee of bodies in the back. Confused, and suddenly very frightened, she swung round - just in time to see the car containing Ivan also taking off. At the bottom of the street it veered right and disappeared.

  Panic rising, Marianna spun round, trying to make sense of what was happening. All the police cars seemed to have disappeared, the road block completely gone, traffic flowing freely again. For the first time since arriving in Cyprus she was alone on the streets with Sasha, without any minders. She waited, terrified what might happen next. Sasha must have felt her anxiety.

  'What is it Mummy?'

  A figure appeared at her side of the car. The driver’s door opened. A thick-set man she had never seen before got in. He had the battered look of a boxer.

  As he slipped into the seat he looked at her in the mirror, and winked. 'Alright love?' English. His hand appeared over his shoulder. 'This is for you.'

  He was holding something out to her. A package. She took it. It was a bar of Indian Coconut-Soap. She opened it. The writing was familiar. The words read, 'Go with them. Do as they say. P.'

  About to say something, she stopped as the passenger door opened and the woman police sergeant got in.

  Sasha was taking it all in. 'Where are Ivan and Sergei Mummy?'

  The sergeant twisted round in her seat. There was something motherly in the way she gazed at the little girl. 'It is all right little one. Ivan and Sergei are gone.' She looked into Marianna’s frightened face. 'My name is Andri. Do not worry Mrs Podruznig. You are safe now.'

  CHAPTER 53

  Valerik Podruznig paced the living room floor, punching numbers into his mobile, listening for a connection, cancelling when there wasn’t any, trying others. Where the fuck were they?

  As the doors swung open and Uri came back in, Podruznig spun round.

  'Well?'

  Uri shook his head. 'We cannot raise any of them.'

  'Radio?'

  Again the Siberian shook his head. Podruznig stared.

  'They should have been home an
hour ago, at the latest.' For once he was unsure of himself. 'What do you think, Uri?'

  Uri took a moment to frame his reply. 'We’ve checked the road all the way back to the harbour. There are no signs of anything. I rang the main hospital, but there are no reports of anything there either. It could still be an accident and they might have been taken somewhere else.'

  'I don’t want to know about could or might. I asked what you think.'

  Uri didn’t hesitate. 'I think something is going on.'

  'You mean they’ve been taken?'

  'Possibly. Probably.'

  Podruznig swung away to face the window. 'Fuck.'

  Uri waited. If he was tempted to play 'Told you so,' he decided against, wisely. When Podruznig turned back, he could barely contain himself.

  'Who?' he barked.

  The question Uri had anticipated. 'How many enemies have you got?' It was as close as he dared to letting his frustration show. If he’d learned to listen to him….

  'Gaponenko?'

  Uri shook his head again. 'You have too much on him. And the way things are with his lot right now, that Government Investigation…. It wouldn’t be the right time.'

  Podruznig pondered. He swept his arm round, indicating their surroundings. 'What about all this business? The house? The Englishman?'

  Uri looked doubtful. 'He wouldn’t have the resources to pull something like this, and besides, we still are not sure if he is alive.'

  Podruznig glowered. 'There seems to be a lot you do not know these days, Uri.' The Siberian let it go. 'What about the woman? Has he got anything out of her yet?'

  'Not the last time I checked.'

  'Where is he?'

  'Sleeping, I imagine.'

  Podruznig flared crimson. 'SLEEPING? My family is missing and he’s SLEEPING?' Uri didn’t point out that the man had been going to bed at nine o’clock every night since he arrived. Keeping regular hours, he called it. Good for the system. All the men thought he was a prick, albeit a dangerous one. And despite Podruznig’s words, Uri doubted his concern really had anything to do with his wife and daughter.

  'Wake him up Uri. Now. I want to know if she knows anything. Anything at all, you understand?' Uri nodded. 'I need to know what the fuck is going on.' Uri left, keeping any frustrations he might have been feeling to himself.

  When he’d gone, Podruznig returned to his pacing. Whatever was happening, he needed to know what action to take next. He lived by being prepared, ready for anything, not by letting himself be caught out. Not that he was particularly bothered about Marianna, but Sasha… Even so, if someone thought they could get at him through them, they would soon realise their mistake. But he was beginning to think that maybe Uri’s recent pleas for caution were right.

  His Head of Security had been moaning for some time about the risks they’d been taking of late. Pointing out that things were becoming too complicated. Perhaps he was right. There was enough to take care of with normal business. Maybe all these distractions with the Englishman, the Police and everything had stretched them too thinly. Led him into taking his eye off things. Perhaps it was time to take Uri’s advice and rein in. Get back to basics. Start afresh. He’d done it before. Whenever life got too complicated, he’d always found a way to simplify things. Usually by means of a plan aimed at getting rid of the distraction.

  He stopped pacing to look up at the ceiling, as if he was looking through it. Well he could think of one complication he could get rid of right now.

  He headed for the door.

  Deep within the banana plantation that lay on the house’s northern side, Red pressed a finger to his ear-piece, double checking to make sure he had heard right. He had. His heart pumped and the adrenalin began to flow. They had been waiting over two hours. Finally, the time had come. He gave the others a double thumbs-up. As one, they moved forward.

  Two minutes later they were at the edge of the field, surveying the perimeter on that side of the house. There were still lights on inside, but they knew that was normal. Red nodded to Ryan. Unslinging the carrier round his shoulder, the young Irishman laid it on the ground, unzipped the nylon cover and took out Cyclops.

  About the length of a carbine, but with what looked like some sort of complicated sighting attachment, the device was the latest thing in CCTV-disabling technology. Unlike the previous generation of such devices, it worked not by blinding the camera with a laser beam, but by sending a pulse of magnetic energy that piggy-backed on whatever transmission system was being used - radio or cable - to knock out the monitor at the surveillance end. Developed by the US specifically for covert intrusion and insertion ops, Cyclops’s main benefit - which would last only as long as it took for most operators to become familiar with it - was that it made it look as though the problem was monitor malfunction as opposed to camera interference - nearly always a sure sign of attack.

  Having worked out that Podruznig’s men would not miss a shot-out camera twice, Red had reckoned that for this op, a more sophisticated technique was called for. And he’d had to call in a lot of favours at Episkopi garrison to get his hands on this piece of kit – as he hadn’t stopped telling Ryan.

  Snaking forward on his belly, Ryan made his way through the grass and low vegetation to the spot, thirty yards from the perimeter wall, they’d decided gave the best shot at the target. Set under the house’s eaves, the camera was the middle of three covering this side of the house and grounds, the other two being on the corners. After several days’ surveillance, they’d worked out that the middle one covered a seventy-degree sweep that overlapped with the two corner cameras. Lifting the device to his shoulder, Ryan sighted on the lens and pressed the fire button. There was a low, high-pitched whine followed by a click. A red light glowed in the sight. Bullseye.

  Slithering backwards, Ryan rejoined the others and gave the thumbs-up. They waited.

  CHAPTER 54

  In the basement control room, monitor No.3 blinked once, then clicked off. Bohdan Pugach, one of the pair of Ukranians on duty that night glanced up from the classic-car magazine he was reading and waited. When the screen didn’t come back on the way they usually did when the malfunction was caused by overheating, he swung his feet off the desk and leaned over to the monitor’s on/off button. He pressed it several times. Nothing happened.

  'Shizer,' he said.

  He checked the other screens. Everything seemed normal. Bohdan scratched his head and thought about it. He was certain it was monitor failure - it was completely dead - but after what he’d been told had happened to the pair he and Vasyl replaced, he wasn’t about to take any chances. He reached for the radio.

  'Vasyl?'

  'Yes Bohdan?' Vasyl’s voice came back, tinny but clear. For some reason they hadn’t worked out, the Motorolas worked better at night than during the day.

  'Monitor three is down. Go and make sure camera twelve is okay will you?'

  'Have you tried switching it back on?'

  'Oh, thank you. I would never have thought of that.' He followed it up with a curt, 'Just do it. You want Uri to drag you out of bed in the morning?'

  'Okay, okay. Give me a minute.'

  Lounging on one of the poolside steamers, having a smoke while he looked up at the stars, Vasyl Shapko cursed under his breath. 'Always something.'

  He took a last drag then stubbed it out in one of the planters, remembering to pocket the butt. The last man to leave one lying around had been docked three days’ wages. He checked over his shoulder before rising. The lights were still on in the glass-fronted living area, but there was now no sign of the Big Boss. Earlier, he had been pacing up and down, making phone calls, and Uri had been in and out like a dog on a bitch in heat. But he hadn’t seen either for a while now. He wondered if the wife and daughter had turned up and no one had bothered to tell them. It wouldn’t surprise him. Soon after their arrival, he and Vasyl realised that as far as Uri was concerned, Ukrainians merited no better treatment than mushrooms - to be kept in the dark and fed on s
hit.

  Putting his cap back on, he headed round to the north side of the house. As he passed camera eleven, high on the north-west corner, he made an open fist and tossed Bohdan the usual, obscene gesture. He walked down the side until he was directly below camera twelve. The garden-spots lit up the side of the house and he could see the camera clearly. It looked okay. He checked the ground beneath his feet. No glass or anything to suggest something was amiss. He spoke into the radio. 'It all looks okay here, Bohdan.'

  'Can you see the lens?'

  Vasyl looked up. 'Wait a moment.' Stepping back onto the lawn he moved back almost as far as the outer wall, broadening the angle. He shone his torch up. Light reflected in the glass.

  'The lens is fine Bohdan. It must be the monitor.'

  'Great,' Bohdan said, sarcastically. 'In that case you are going to have to cover that side of the house. And don’t forget to fill the damn log in.'

  'Okay, okay. Stop being an old woman.'

  'In fact you’d better come in and start it now. That’s what we’re supposed to do.'

  As he came off the radio, Vasyl cursed his partner’s pernickety ways. Bohdan always liked to do things by the book. Still, it was probably as well. The monitor failure meant he now had to check the north side every fifteen minutes. And while he could just wait until the end of the shift and make all the log entries then, it was risky. For all they knew, Uri might have sabotaged the monitor just to test them. If he caught them with the logs incomplete - worse, if he was monitoring the whole thing live somewhere - he and Bohdan would be in big trouble.

  'Bastard.'

  About to make his way to the back of the house, Vasyl thought he heard a noise behind. Starting to turn, he just caught a blur of movement before something hit him, hard and low on the base of his skull, and everything turned black.

  As the wiry guard folded, Ryan and Red broke his fall. They couldn’t risk an inadvertent radio transmission when it hit the ground, or worse, for the Uzi to fire off a few rounds if the safety was off. Leaving Ryan to get the unconscious guard out of sight, Red wasted no time putting on the man’s jacket and cap, stuffing his hair underneath. Slinging the Uzi over his shoulder, he headed back to the pool, timing it so he came into range of the corner camera about when he should have done. He didn’t look up but gestured as he’d seen the guard do, before heading for the steps the other side of the garden. They led under the pool to the shuttered doors to the utility and pump rooms. Ignoring them, he carried on down the concrete corridor leading back towards the house. At the end was another, stouter-looking door with a camera above it. Keeping his head down, he pressed the buzzer, at the same time reaching, casually, for the door handle as if expecting it to be opened at once. As a loud click echoed in the narrow space, Red pulled the door open, readying himself for what would follow.