by Tim Heath
“No, not at all. It was just one of those things.”
“So you didn’t hold a grudge for what he did?”
“Ma’am, I’m just not that type of person. I’m happy, I am. My beautiful children are all doing so well. I’ve put money aside for them, and I’m working to make the planet a safer, equal place for all. I’ve not got a grudge against anyone, let alone Anthony. Just ask those who know me.”
They had, and all were saying similar things. They might have got to Charlie, but for Zoe, the evidence was pretty much conclusive.
“Do you understand that the Russians are here to seek your extradition for trial in St Petersburg under Russian law?” She waved in the general direction of Anya, but Bill knew full well why she was there. “So unless you give us reason to question that, we are in no place to stop it from happening.” Charlie shot her a stern look, and she knew she was in no place to make such a statement. Anya picked up on the politics on display as well. He let her continue anyway. “Do you know what it will be like for you in a Russian prison?”
“You do not need to be like that with me, ma’am.”
“Oh, you think I'm hard on you, do you? Have you any idea what these Russians will do to you once they get you back?” She slammed the desk with her hand, sending the gun to the floor. Charlie jumped in.
“Zoe, can we have a word outside.” It wasn’t a question. He led her to the door. “You too, Anya.” He wasn’t going to leave the FSB alone with their man, even if it was the charming, sweet-looking, Anya Lubova. Once outside, he turned to face them both but addressed his comments to Zoe.
“You’ve got to calm yourself down in there. You’ll end up saying something that will come back to bite you. Can’t you see he’s frightened? He’s confused. And for what it’s worth, I believe him.”
“You what? You believe him? What, that he didn’t do it? Or what?” She shook her head in clear disbelief. “I don’t understand what you are saying, Charlie,” Zoe said.
“Yes, Charlie, what are you implying?” Anya said.
“I believe his character. No one has a bad thing to say about him. Look at the way he’s answering our questions. Look how he’s dealing with your interrogation.”
“I’m only interrogating him because you don’t have the balls to, Charlie,” Zoe said. Anya was starting to enjoy this. “We have a ton of evidence on him, we have prints that match the murder weapon, more evidence than ten normal murder cases have, and you stand there saying you, what? Think he’s innocent?”
“I didn’t say that. I just don’t think we have to rough him up. He’s fragile.”
“Fragile my arse. He killed a man in cold blood. Fragile people don’t go to Russia to do that, Charlie. You chew on that one.” She had a point, and he couldn’t deny that. The truth was, he didn’t know what to believe. The evidence was clear; it just didn’t seem to fit the character sitting in that room opposite him. None of it added up. “If you aren’t going to ask the tough questions, Charlie, someone has to.” They turned to go back in.
“I think I’m starting to like you,” Anya said, quietly into Zoe’s ear. Charlie opened the door for them both, and they all walked in. He couldn’t help but smell Anya’s fragrance as she breezed past him. Some things never changed. They returned to their seats. Bill had finished his glass of water.
“Who are you covering for?” Zoe said.
“I’m sorry?”
“Is there someone you are afraid of, someone that asked you to kill Anthony? Is anyone making you do this, blackmailing you in some way? We can protect you.”
“No, nothing like that. Nothing at all.” Charlie took over.
“Bill, she’s asking you these questions because we have to try and work out what is happening here. We have to find out why Anthony Fernandes was shot in St Petersburg and by whom. We have to bring that person before a judge and have them held to account for the crime. And all that we have to go on points to you, Bill. There is no one else under suspicion. It’s only you. The evidence we have is rather conclusive. We have physical evidence linking you to the crime scene. We have a gun with your fingerprints on. Bill, this is as serious as it gets. So, if you are protecting someone, or afraid of someone that is making you deny all this, now is your time to speak. In these four walls, you are safe. You won’t have many more chances. So, if anyone is blackmailing you, threatening you, anything really, now really is the time to say that. You can trust me.”
The room fell silent for a moment. Bill rested back in his chair, looked from face to face––all eyes were on him. He wondered if anyone else was watching from behind the large mirror, who else might be lurking behind the glass.
“There’s no one threatening me. No one is blackmailing me or anything. I didn’t do what you think I did, but I have no idea why all these things point to me. I’m sorry.”
“Interview terminated at three sixteen,” Charlie said, switching the recorder off. Both ladies looked a little surprised. Charlie led Bill to the door, and once opened, handed him to the guard who would return him to his cell.
“Why did you cut it short?” Zoe said once it was just the three of them.
“Cause we aren’t getting anywhere as things stand,” he said. “He needs time with a doctor, and maybe his lawyer. If there is anything, he’ll most likely share it with them. I don’t think we’re going to get anywhere continuing as we are. We’ll just tire him into a breakdown.”
“And that’s a bad thing?” Zoe said.
“Yes, if we want the truth. If we want the clarity that’s needed to pass the checks for the Crown Court.”
“The clock is ticking, Charlie. We need him soon, and you know that,” Anya said. “My government have a strong case against this man, as Zoe here sees. It’ll take more than your hunches and your protection to deny us our right. Don't you forget the rights of the victim and his widow? Don’t they deserve justice?”
“About that, Anya. Where is the body?” Charlie said.
“You know full well, Charlie Boon, that it was cremated at the request of the victim’s will. His estate, too, is being divided up as per his wishes. You’d be honour-bound to do the same for his UK assets.”
“His widow knew nothing of it.”
“So? It’s hardly the first time this type of thing has happened. People put all sorts of things in their will.”
“Can you get me a copy of this will, Anya?”
“I’ll see what I can do, but I can’t promise anything, Charlie.” These last few days had been the first they’d talked in two years. It was still awkward.
“Do you know what’s being done to the Russian-based businesses Fernandes owned?”
“They are being sold,” Anya said.
“All of them?” Charlie said.
“Yes, all of them. In the event of his death, his estate is to be sold off and the proceeds divided among his living relatives. His wife is set to inherit half of everything. She’ll be a very wealthy widow.”
“And the company they were set to launch this new product through? They are just going to sell it?”
“It’s probate; it’s just what has to happen. Breakthrough product or not, the guy is dead, and his will states that everything is to be sold. It’ll take some months to process. Russian authorities take their time to comply with the law fully; I’ll have you know. But this side of New Year, it could all be settled.”
“So no one profits from his death, besides his wife and children?” Zoe said.
“No, no one. The wealth was in the family anyway, regardless of how he died. Assets are now liquidised, but they were there already. It’s not really that they have become any richer, the wealth has just changed form. It’s no real consolation for the loss of their father and the loss of her husband.”
“Okay, well, I’d appreciate a copy of his will, when you can manage it. We need to take a look at his tablet together. Our team have been working hard to gain access.”
“Give me some time. I’ll let you know when it’s available. A
nd yes, I’d like to look at the tablet we recovered with you. Our guys couldn’t get anything to work.”
8
The room was as full as it could be. Joining Charlie and Zoe was Anya, once again, and another Russian technician she’d wanted to be brought in. He’d flown in from St Petersburg late last night. The final two people present were from the new MI6 cyber task force, and it was their computer skills that were most needed today. Charlie placed the tablet in the middle of the table so they could all see it. Nothing was striking about it. It looked a cross between many of the tablets on the market.
“This is what RusCom had been working on. Anthony had been using the only prototype at the time of his murder,” Charlie said, reminding most of them of what they already knew. The tech guys were catching up fast. RusCom was the computer giant Anthony now controlled, a purely Russian business, with offices throughout the Moscow region as well as St Petersburg in the north. Little was known about their flagship project, though rumours were spreading about the breadth of what it could do. This was the first time the British had managed to get their hands on it. Charlie looked up at Anya.
“As you’ve had a little more time with this, maybe you would be kind enough to bring the room up to speed.” She didn’t hesitate to respond.
“In Russia, this device is big news. A tablet to rival even the biggest American or Japanese brand and it’s Russian-made, Russian-based,” she said, pride showing there. No one had come for a show of Russian power; they were there for answers. “It was found with Mr Fernandes’ other possessions following his murder last week. It was on his lap, open at the screen he was working on, though the machine had switched itself off by the time anyone reached him. We’ve all used tablets before, so we all know the general setup. This one from RusCom is meant to have some advances in processing, but it’s their uDecide application that they placed most faith in. We have no idea why.” She handed the device to the two British technicians. “Maybe you can give us some answers.”
They each examined it. It weighed about the standard weight, but maybe slightly lighter. Nothing noticeable, however. The screen was fifteen inches, back-lit retina display, from what they could tell at first glance. There were no visible plug-in points. That meant it charged itself, usually through natural movement. Nothing new in theory, but a first for the tablet market. It switched on to their touch. Seconds later they were on the main menu.
“Impressive,” the first guy said. There were very few icons on the screen, but that didn’t surprise them. It was pre-launch. Most applications would be developed and added later.
“Word is,” Anya said, “that applications are held on the mainframe at RusCom, and each device constantly synchs to that for any program used, each action instantly processed by the mainframe. The device connects via Wifi, 3G and 4G with satellite connection reportedly just a few months away. No need for large downloads and no storage issues for the device owners. Standard cloud centre capacity is one hundred and twenty-eight gigabytes.” That sounded way too high, but it didn’t matter to them. No one would need such capacity though, if correct, it was a remarkable amount.
The one application on the device was the uDecide application she’d mentioned earlier. The MI6 technician pressed to launch the app. Several entries were showing, but only the first was readable to them at that moment. It read:
Entry 1 - October 2009
Purchase of computer company
I become its chairman
Market leader in five years
Offices in Moscow and London
Building friendship and connections with Russian power brokers inside Putin’s inner circle.
“Wow, they’ve been working on this thing for five years. Have they had the device designed in principle since then?” He turned to Anya.
“I don’t know,” she said.
“When did Apple bring out their first iPad?” Charlie said. The other MI6 technician tapped away in a search engine.
“They announced in January 2010, and it went on sale in April that year.”
They all looked back to the device. So this pre-dated the first iPad, or so it would seem.
“So what do we think of what was written?” Charlie said.
“Is he looking back over key highlights?” Zoe said.
“Notes for a speech?” Anya added.
“Good, Anya. Guys, get me every public address Fernandes gave over the last five years. Charity functions, retired police conventions, everything. If these are notes for a talk he gave, we should find it easily enough.” One of the technicians made a note and continued to tap away on the screen he was working on.
“Could these be personal milestones? Looking back on key victories he won?” Zoe repeated.
“Yeah, possibly. They’ll come up in a speech if that’s the case.”
“Unless it’s just for his eyes only?”
“Maybe,” Charlie said, thinking about other things already. “His goal was a market leader within five years. In 2009, that was some ambition, with the world in a financial meltdown. Steve, see where RusCom is trading at today,” he said, looking at the MI6 technician sitting opposite him. Just moments later, he had some stats.
“They are doing well, but in a limited market. Number three in Russia, which is understandably their strongest region. Shares currently suspended following the death of Mr Fernandes, they’ve dropped twelve percent in the last week. The launch of this device was meant to be a brave new era for the company, but everything is up in the air now. They are far from a world player on the global market, that’s for sure. They don’t even register in the top twenty.”
“Okay, thanks. Keep an eye on that situation for a while for me. Let me know if shares start trading again,” Charlie said. He wanted to go over things one more time if only to think aloud. “So, five years ago he writes a list, a reflection of goals, maybe. He wants to purchase a company––which was RusCom. He became their chairman in December 2009. His goal of a market leader, nearly five years on, is way short of reality. He’s got the offices he wanted in the two capitals, and I think we need to do some digging on his political connections in Moscow. Anya, could you help us there?”
“He was a friend of the Duma; I know that much.” The State Duma was the lower house of the Russian national parliament. “As for Putin’s closest comrades, I do not know.” And she was telling the truth. Charlie knew she was a terrible liar. He’d given her too many opportunities to prove it in the past.
“Okay, let me know. It’s probable that these relationships too are not where he’d hoped, but we need to be sure. If Putin himself feels aggrieved by the death of Fernandes, Hackett doesn’t stand a chance of a fair trial.”
William was due for extradition tomorrow. The Home Office had no choice but to grant it in this case, as the evidence and pressure were overwhelming.
“There is nothing that need stop the extradition, Mr Boon,” Anya said. She rarely used his surname. “You can be assured that justice will prevail, that everything will be done within the Russian law and its boundaries and limitations, to bring a fair case in this trial. Mr Hackett will be given the opportunity to prove that he hasn’t done anything wrong to the jury that gathers and the judge who presides.”
“Still, it’ll be good for us to know we had all the facts, either way,” Zoe added. Zoe wasn’t fond of Anya, and she hadn't done much to hide it. This case already had too much input from outside, a case Zoe knew she could have run by herself, given a chance. Zoe had no say on that, however. This was new territory, and she was still finding her feet. Still, Zoe couldn't help see that Anya's history with Charlie only made his role in the case a liability. She also knew he still had feelings for Anya. She hadn’t asked Charlie what had happened between them, but instinct told her it wasn’t him that had ended things.
“Okay everyone, we’ll reconvene in two days, at the same time if that works for you all?” There was a consensus around the table. “Good, then we are done,” Charlie said, and t
he room started to clear. He caught Anya’s arm and spoke in her ear.
“I’d love to do lunch if you have the time?”
“I’m sorry, but I’ve got another meeting to go to.” He'd forgotten how cold she could be when she wanted to be. Anya followed the others out of the room. Zoe stood by the door and didn’t say anything as Charlie left. They all went their separate ways with their own line of enquiry to investigate.
The following day, Zoe joined Charlie and Anya on the flight to St Petersburg. Diplomatic papers had been issued to allow the two into Russia and Anya was to shadow them the whole way. Neither said very much to the other as they boarded the plane and took their seats in business class.
Three hours later they touched down at Pulkovo 2, the international terminal on the outskirts of the city of St Petersburg. Anya got them through the diplomatic channels quickly, and a car was waiting for them in front of the airport. A police car was also part of the convoy. It seemed the Russians were going to take good care of their British visitors. For Charlie, it was a familiar sense that came back now he was once more in Russia. While nowhere near as busy as Moscow, still being in Russia’s second largest city took some getting used to. Zoe found it fascinating and spent the journey looking through the windows, struck by the contrast of life she was passing. It was the first time she’d ever been to Russia. The Cyrillic signs on the front of the vast array of buildings they passed, the crowded streets bustling with people and cars, buses gridlocked yet packed with commuters––truly another world and nothing made much sense to her.
The police escort meant they made good time getting to the city as they sped through busy junctions, the traffic held up just for them. Even ambulances sat in the waiting queues. Zoe couldn’t help feeling a little guilty, while Charlie had seen it all before. They arrived at the FSB headquarters, Anya insisting she needed to fetch something from the office. Charlie was sure it was a show of power, a reminder to him and Zoe that they were in Russia now. They waited downstairs in the main lobby while Anya got into the lift. People looked at them curiously but left them alone. Still, Charlie knew the cameras were there. It was as if they sensed the presence of a British security agent, and just couldn’t help themselves but keep a close eye. Ten minutes later Anya re-emerged from the lift, empty-handed.