by Beth Abbott
“The Russians never admit to things like this, let alone call for help sorting out their messes.” JT frowned. “And why aren’t they dealing with it themselves? Why call in help?”
“Well, technically, they are dealing with it themselves really, aren’t they?” Zach reasoned. “Drago and Abram are their men, and they already have the General’s daughter on Lebedev’s payroll. It makes sense to use what you’ve already got in play.”
“I just have a feeling…” Hannah frowned.
“What’s your gut telling you?” JT prompted her.
“We’re getting all of this information through back-channels, right? Very hush-hush?” She guessed.
“You could say that.” JT nodded. “Why?”
“What if there’s someone they suspect of collusion?” Hannah suggested. “Maybe someone high up in the Kremlin who’s been tipping off Lebedev as to the supply routes for the weapons? What if they’re using this as a way of finding out who the mole is?”
“Ok, let’s take it down a notch, Sherlock!” JT grinned at Hannah. “This is all getting into the realms of guesswork and supposition now. If anything like that is going on, the Russians can take that up with Lebedev after our mission is over. Let’s just stick to what we know until we find out anything different.”
“I might do some digging once the guys are on the plane.” Hannah shrugged, but Kellen could already see that the cogs were turning.
“So, anyway, the plane is scheduled to leave at six on Friday morning, and you’ll meet up with Drago and Abram at the airport when you land. They’ll fly directly from Moscow.” JT confirmed. “From there you’ll be taken to the docks by helicopter, where we understand you’ll go through minimal checks before being allowed to board the ship. The schedule that Drago’s been given says that you’ll then have the afternoon to settle in and rest before the first round of fights starts in the evening.”
“Do we know when we’ll be fighting?” Kellen asked.
“Apparently, the teams will be presented to Lebedev and his business associates before dinner. There’ll be a drawing of lots to see who fights whom, and then the betting can start.” Hannah explained. “According to Drago, Orlov hinted that there would be special rewards for the winning teams as a bit of an incentive.”
“Oh yeah?” Kris snorted. “A couple of AK-47’s?”
“No, I got the impression Drago thought he was talking about women.” Hannah frowned. “And I don’t mean the willing sort.”
“He’s trafficking women on this trip as well?” Zach clarified.
“It looks like it.” JT nodded. “Which makes sense if you think of the destination. Russian and Eastern European women will fetch a good price in West Africa if they’re put to work in the brothels.”
“Christ, so we have to fight our way through three rounds of ass-kicking to get hold of Lebedev’s weapons and get the bank account numbers. Added to that, we have to find out what else is in the current shipment, help Micky Kozlova escape, and presumably, try and rescue God knows how many trafficked women.” Kris ticked them off on his fingers. “Have I missed anything?”
“Yeah, you have to try not to get killed, asshole!” Yuri growled at him. “Do you think you can remember all that?”
“Hang on…” Kris began patting down his pockets. “Maybe I’d better write it all down, so I don’t forget anything. Anyone got a pen?”
“Don’t worry about writing it down.” Hannah smiled. “I’m sure we’ll remind you once or twice before the mission is over.”
“What are we supposed to do for weapons when we board the ship?” Zach asked. “Presumably we won’t be able to take them with us.”
“Orlov told Drago that Lebedev allows them to take weapons like sidearms on the ship as long as the number isn’t excessive.” Kellen confirmed. “Drago reckoned that he could supply all the small arms ready for when you arrive.”
“That’s fine, except that every man and his dog will also have taken small arms on board.” Zach pointed out. “We’ll be no better off, and if anything, worse, as there are three other teams plus Lebedev’s men. If it comes to a shoot-out, bullets will be flying from every angle.”
“Ok, let’s put this into perspective.” Hannah was obviously intent on calming everyone down. “Firstly, who says it’s going to come to a shoot-out? Lebedev sells this to his business associates as a weekend of entertainment. He’s not going to be encouraging anyone to turn into Rambo and start shooting shit up. All the rough stuff should take place in the ring.”
Kellen guessed Hannah had a point.
“Secondly, how exactly do you think you’re going to get all the women off the ship?” She continued. “Hidden in your kit bags on the return helicopter flight?”
“Well, we’re sure as hell not leaving them behind.” Zach said quietly. “I don’t care how we do it, or how many favours you have to call in, Hannah, but if we’re getting on a ship that’s carrying hostages, then I’m sure as hell not getting off without them.”
Kellen nodded his agreement.
“Zach’s right.” He said determinedly. “I don’t think I could ever sleep at night knowing we’d left them to their fate. We have to find a way of getting them out.”
“I wasn’t suggesting we let them suffer.” Hannah pointed out. “But it would be easier to wait until after you were off the ship and let the Royal Navy and maybe the Coastguard handle the rescue.”
“Easier for whom?” Kellen asked. “What’s to stop Lebedev from killing the women if he thinks the Navy is chasing him down? Or locking them in a container and dropping it overboard?”
He watched Hannah glance at JT.
“We could try and come up with a rescue plan.” She suggested. “Once the guys are onboard and can feed information back to us, we can see what could be done.”
JT nodded.
“I agree. We’ll speak to David and see what backup can be provided.” He glanced around at the faces of the Guardians. “But when it comes right down to it, if we’re not in a position to rescue the women before you’re due to disembark, I want all of you to give me your word that you’ll get the hell off the ship and let the authorities handle the rescue their way. Understood?”
He waited for the Guardians to confirm their understanding, and with some reluctance, each of them nodded their head.
“Good.” Hannah sighed. “Now that you assholes have given me yet another thing to worry about, you can all go and finish running through the schematics of the ship. It’s more important than ever that you know the layout of the holds, so you don’t get lost while you’re trying to rescue everyone.”
Kellen pushed his chair back from the table and stood up.
“Do you want me to let Drago know what’s going on?” He asked. “I was going to check in with him later anyway.”
“Yeah, that would be a good idea.” Hannah nodded. “He might have some thoughts as to how we can actually pull this off.”
“Are you going in to see Niko later?” JT asked.
“Yeah, I’m collecting Roman from the creche and taking him to visit his mom.” Kellen nodded. “Hollywood and I are going to take him for something to eat on the way home.”
“Sounds good.” JT smiled. “Then could you call at my office in Alpha Company before you leave? We were told that we couldn’t send Niko fresh flowers, so Alice managed to find a lovely display of silk flowers. If you could deliver them and send her our best wishes, we’d be very grateful. We’re all thinking of her and keeping her in our prayers.”
“I can drop by when I’m finished here.” Kellen nodded, heading for the door.
“And Kellen?” JT stopped him before he could leave.
“Yes, boss?” Kellen turned back.
“Don’t think it’s gone unnoticed how much help you’ve been to Hollywood and Niko, giving up your free time to look after Roman.” JT nodded. “I’m sure they appreciate everything you’ve done.”
Kellen could feel his cheeks heat up.
&n
bsp; “It’s no trouble at all.” He brushed it off. “Where else am I gonna come up with an excuse to watch Lego Batman every other night?”
Chapter 20 – Micky
As she glanced through the open doorway at the two-hundred-foot drop to the ground, Micky was calling Sergei Lebedev every cock-sucking, rat-bastard, fucking asshole name she could think of.
The miserable fuckwit knew damn well that heights were her worst damn nightmare, so not only had he arranged for her to be picked up from the airport by helicopter, he’d made damn sure it was one of those military types with no doors, and only one seatbelt and the grace of God to stop you plummeting to the ground, every time the pilot made a sharp turn.
Micky knew it wasn’t her imagination that they also seemed to be making far more sharp turns than was absolutely necessary, the pilot obviously following Sergei’s instruction to scare her half to death to the letter.
They rolled to the left again and Micky stuck her foot out to brace herself as her stomach churned in protest.
The pilot turned and grinned at her.
“You think that’s funny?” She spoke into the microphone on her headset. “It’ll be worth risking taking my seatbelt off just to see how funny you still think it is when I puke in your face, you fucking asshole!”
The helicopter rolled back the other way.
“Do that one more time and I’ll shoot your fucking balls off and let your co-pilot land this fucking junk-bucket!” She snarled. “Do you hear me? Quit it!”
The chopper levelled off, and for a split second, Micky thanked her lucky stars that the pilot had taken her threat seriously.
Then they plummeted out of the sky in an almost vertical drop.
“What the fuck?” She screamed into the microphone.
“We’re landing!” The co-pilot pointed to the ground rapidly rising to greet them, and in the distance, Micky could make out several ships docked in what was obviously a port.
The closer they got to the ground, their airspeed seemed to reduce, and when they finally touched down there was the mildest of bumps.
Micky unfastened her belt with trembling fingers, her stomach still not giving her any reassurance that it wasn’t going to evacuate the contents at any moment.
“Hey guys?” She pulled an automatic pistol from beneath her jacket and leaned over the seat into the cockpit, pressing the muzzle into the pilot’s groin. “Just to let you know… if you’re flying me back to the airport in a couple of days, you’ll be flying with a live grenade in your shorts, with a very short string attached to my finger. And if you pull another stunt, flying like you just did, with me in the back ever again, I’ll make damn sure you’re pissing sitting down for the rest of your life.”
She tapped the gun against his ball-sac for good measure, almost grinning when the asshole started to pale.
“Did I make myself clear enough, or would you like me to repeat myself?” She asked pleasantly.
“N-no!” The pilot shook his head wildly. “No, I got it.”
“Great.” Micky smiled. “Then I look forward to seeing you later.”
She jumped down out of the helicopter, grabbed her rucksack, and ducked down low as she ran to where four of Sergei’s men were waiting for her.
“Hi Micky.” Stan grinned at her. “Good flight?”
Stan was one of Sergei’s fixers, a team of half a dozen men who could get you just about anything you wanted, anywhere you wanted it.
As assholes went, he wasn’t as high up the totem-pole as the pilot or Sergei when it came to pissing her off, but he wasn’t necessarily someone she wanted to spend much time with.
Stan was one of those men who used his position of power to get people to do whatever he wanted them to.
And by people, she meant young women. The younger the better.
“Fantastic.” She glared at him. “Where’s the car?”
“No need for a car, sweetheart.” He smiled at her. “The customs office is just over there, and the ship is about three hundred metres further on.”
“What sort of checks are they doing?” She asked, realising that she still had her gun in her hand.
“Basic.” Stan grinned at her. “A glance at your passport, so that they’re seen on CCTV looking as though they’re performing regular checks, but when you go through the metal detector, someone will have accidentally pulled the plug out.”
Micky tucked the gun into the waistband of her jeans at the back, and untucked her shirt to provide additional cover, in case they were asked to remove their coats.
She needn’t have worried.
She stood behind Stan in the queue to be checked and noticed that Stan’s passport was filled with banknotes.
With a quick sleight of hand, the notes were out of sight, and within just a few minutes they were all walking towards the ship.
The closer they got, the more obvious it became that the freight ship was massive. Ok, maybe it wasn’t as big as the oil tankers, but it must have been carrying hundreds of containers.
“Good afternoon, miss.” A man wearing a uniform was waiting on the dock for them. “We’ve been expecting you. Come aboard. Welcome to the Atlantic Carousel.”
The man’s uniform was similar to what you’d find on a naval officer, with a white shirt and gold braid on his epaulettes.
“Thank you, Captain.” She gave him a polite nod.
“Alas, I’ve not risen to such a lofty height.” The man smiled at her. “I’m the Second Officer on board. As you’ve arrived while I’m on shift, I’d be delighted to give you a tour, and show you to your cabin.”
It wasn’t the first time Micky had been on this ship, hell, she could probably have told the guy where everything was, but obviously he was new and trying to impress her, so she didn’t want to slap him down.
“I’d be very interested in seeing our cargo, if you’d be so kind.” She gave him a charming smile, laughing inside as the man blushed. “I’d like to be able to reassure Mr Lebedev that it’s arrived safely.”
As the Second Officer led her down some corridors, Stan nudged her, staring at her as though she’d gone nuts. He knew the ship as well as she did.
She put her finger to her lips, telling Stan to be quiet. It wouldn’t hurt to humour the officer for a while.
“The ship has three hold compartments, two of which are full of cargo packed into containers.” He explained. “The third compartment, which has been leased to your employer on a long-term arrangement, has been adapted as per his specific instructions. I only joined the ship less than a month ago, but I believe that the original modifications were done a while ago. There has been some redecoration recently, I understand, and I’m sure you’ll like the refurbished cabins.”
“I’m sure I will.” Micky agreed, following the man down some steep steps.
“Yes, well, as you may know, part of the hold was converted to create the living accommodation, and below that, there’s what I can only describe as an entertainment area.” The man obviously found the whole set-up confusing.
“Entertainment area is probably a good name for it.” Micky smiled. “My employer and his friends enjoy watching a good fight, be it boxing, or MMA. Occasionally, they have these weekend breaks where they get away from their businesses to have some fun, away from prying eyes, and especially away from their wives.”
The officer spluttered a cough, as though he was surprised she would mention something so indelicate.
“Yes, well, I understand that all of the containers, except one, have arrived safely and been loaded on board.” He nodded. “I was informed that the last container would arrive tomorrow morning, and that a specific space was to be left for it. The instructions have been followed precisely.”
Yeah, that would be the container carrying the trafficked women, Micky thought, trying to keep the look of disgust from her face. They needed to arrive last and be loaded in a position where the container could easily be opened in transit. That way the women could be taken out an
d transferred to one of the spare rooms, where they could be fed and washed before they were given as a reward to the fighters.
“Thank you.” She touched his arm. “My employer will be very impressed that you have dealt with everything so exactly.”
And probably won’t feel the need to kill you for fucking anything up.
The man was obviously not used to having a woman flirting with him, especially not one as pretty as Micky. It was almost fun playing with him, making sure she got him eating out of her hand.
She got another eye-roll from Stan for her performance.
The Second Officer showed them the ‘entertainment area’ and the kitchen facilities that had been installed for their use. Sergei would be bringing several chefs with him, and some of the staff from his casino would act as waiters.
When he gave them a tour of the staterooms, Micky inspected several of them to make sure they were finished to a high standard, and the bedding and towels were fresh.
“Some women came in yesterday and brought fresh linens.” The officer confirmed. “Everything was polished, so you can probably see your face in it.”
Eventually they reached a number of less luxuriously furnished cabins, which Micky knew to be set aside for Sergei’s staff and the visiting fighters. There were around a dozen cabins, each one sleeping four men in bunks.
“Do all of the rooms have lockable doors?” She asked, noticing that the doors had all been wide open.
“Yes, miss.” The officer nodded. “Each room has a key-card, which needs to be inserted in the power slot while you’re in the room. They work like the ones you find in hotels. You open the door and put your card in the slot for the lights, TV etc. and take it out when you leave the room. Obviously the larger, multiple-occupancy rooms have additional key-cards.”
The officer pointed to the card already in the little plastic slot.
“I’m surprised you have such energy saving measures on a large ship.” She smiled.
“It’s a recent addition, I understand, because the power supply to this part of the ship is separate from the rest of the vessel.” The officer explained. “These cargo holds wouldn’t normally require a power supply, as they don’t carry refrigerated containers. The generators had to be brought in specially for the purpose, and on previous trips the supply has come perilously close to tripping out altogether. There should be no chance of that on this voyage.”