Corruption!

by Elizabeth Ducie

  Her bemused friend muttered a few words to the driver who did as asked, and as soon as the car had fully stopped, Charlie jumped out. “Come on,” she said, “over there, to that café.” And she ran across the street, leaving her friend to follow in her own time.

  Charlie skidded to a halt in front of a small table on the pavement. Seated at the table was a large African man who looked up at first in surprise but then with dawning realisation on his face.

  “Mrs Charlie! What a surprise. How wonderful to see you!” He jumped up and grabbed her hand in both of his, pumping it vigorously up and down.

  “Dr Mukooyo,” said Charlie, “it’s great to see you! What on earth are you doing here?”

  Francine coughed gently, and Charlie turned to her with a grin on her face.

  “Francine, may I introduce to you Dr Walter Mukooyo, Minister of Health in Kenya. Dr Mukooyo, this is Francine Matheson, former Member of Parliament and Permanent Under-Secretary in the Department for International Development.”

  “Mrs Matheson, it’s a pleasure,” he said, taking her hand, as though they were at an embassy dinner party in London or Nairobi, rather than a pavement café in St Petersburg. “I’ve heard much about you and the great work you did for Africa during your time in government. I was sorry to hear of the election defeat.” He pulled out a couple of seats and clicked his fingers to a waiter who had been observing the meeting from the doorway of the café. “Here, sit, sit. Let’s me get you some coffee.”

  Chapter 17

  As they waited for the coffee to arrive, Charlie sat patiently through Walter Mukooyo’s barrage of questions.

  “How is Mrs Suzanne?”

  “She’s fine, thank you, Dr Mukooyo.”

  “I’d love to see her again. Is she here in Russia with you?”

  “No, Dr Mukooyo, she’s in South America.”

  “South America, eh? You have a project in that part of the world?” He paused and then looked at her with the familiar twinkle in his eye. “And I think we can dispense with the Dr Mukooyo, don’t you? Call me Walter.”

  “No, Dr Muk… er Walter, not this time, although we did have one three years ago. This time she’s on honeymoon in the Galapagos Islands.”

  “Honeymoon? How delightful. Do give her my best wishes for a happy and prosperous marriage, when you talk to her.”

  “Thank you, Walter.”

  “And you, Mrs Charlie; how are you?”

  “I’m fine, too, thank you, Walter.”

  “Well, you’re certainly looking well. Is there a honeymoon on the horizon for you?”

  “No, Walter, I don’t think so at the moment.” She decided against telling him she’d skipped the honeymoon stage and was moving rapidly towards parenthood—but that she wasn’t the one carrying the child. She wasn’t sure how the Kenyan would take that particular piece of news.

  “And, Mrs Matheson, what are you doing since your services are no longer required by the Great British public?” Charlie winced at the bluntness of his words, but Francine just grinned at him.

  “Oh, I’m finding ways to keep myself busy.” She didn’t mention the death of her husband or meeting the Dimitriovs, and Charlie guessed she didn’t feel comfortable opening up completely to this man either.

  Finally, she could bear it no longer.

  “And you, Walter, what about you? What on earth are you doing sitting in a pavement café in St Petersburg? Is this a business trip or just for pleasure?”

  “Oh, very definitely business,” he replied. “But like Mrs Matheson, I’ve left the world of politics behind me.”

  “Really? I didn’t know,” said Charlie, although she realised there was no reason why she should have known.

  “Yes, we had an election a couple of years back and I took the opportunity to step down. There are a lot of bright young things rising through the ranks of the party and I couldn’t see myself lasting in my ministerial position much longer. And African politics is not a very forgiving place to be these days.”

  “And what are you doing now?” asked Francine.

  “Well, it so happens the World Health Organisation was looking to recruit some high-level ambassadors and a friend of mine was on the recruitment panel.” He grinned wolfishly, and Charlie was reminded of the time a few years back when Walter had managed to talk his way into a conference run in London by the International Health Forum, simply so he could attend a softball championship being held at the same time. It looked like the former politician was still keeping his eye on the main chance.

  “And that’s why you’re here in Russia?” she prompted.

  “Correct. There’s a growing problem with desomorphine, the so-called crocodile drug, over here.”

  “Crocodile drug? What on earth is that?” asked Francine.

  “It’s a very nasty home-made injectable. Also known as the flesh-eating drug. It’s made with a lethal mix of codeine, iodine, lighter fuel and industrial cleaning oil. But codeine is a legal, over-the-counter product here in Russia, and it’s quite difficult for the authorities to do anything about it. So up to now, they’ve tended to ignore the problem, rather hoping it would go away.”

  “I take it, it hasn’t gone away?” asked Francine.

  “On the contrary; there are a growing number of deaths linked to use of this particular drug cocktail. It kills much faster than heroin. And the problem is swelling out of all proportion. In the past two years, the level of seizures has grown more than twenty-fold. But for every krokodil user the police arrest, another ten or twenty are created. And it’s spread right across the country. The Russian authorities asked the World Health Organisation for help and they asked me to come and look into it.”

  “Okay, that makes sense. But it still doesn’t explain why you happen to be sitting in this very street, just as we leave after a tour of…oh!” Charlie’s voice faded as she recognised the significance of this meeting at last. “You’re investigating Petrovpharm, aren’t you?”

  Francine looked startled and opened her mouth to interject, but Walter was nodding his head and she closed it again without saying anything.

  “That’s right. Although most of the krokodil is made by junkies for their own use, it looks like one or two of them are starting to expand their operations and supply others as well. And where they’re setting up these factories, they need more codeine phosphate tablets than can be easily bought from local pharmacies. Someone is supplying them in greater quantities.

  “The police have had some success recently, seizing manufacturing sites in some of the major cities, Moscow and St Petersburg of course, but also Yekaterinburg, Novosibirsk and Vladivostok. It appears to be a huge operation. And in each case, they found large quantities of codeine phosphate tablets. We sent samples to Geneva for detailed analysis in the WHO laboratory, together with retained samples from the government laboratories in Moscow. And we found they all came from the same source.”

  “Retained samples? How did they come to have those if this is an illegal operation?”

  “This may be a powerful opiate, but don’t forget, it’s also is a perfectly legal drug, used as a painkiller and a cough suppressant. And it so happens one of the customers for this drug is the Russian government. They have retained samples from all the batches bought, going back several years.”

  “And the results of the tests…?” asked Francine in a quiet voice.

  “The source of both the more recent legal supplies and the drugs seized at the krokodil factories is Petrovpharm. The company you’ve just been visiting.” He stopped speaking and his affable smile faded, to be replaced by an icy look, reminding Charlie of the stories her sister had told her of her early encounters with this man, back in Swaziland six years ago. Suzanne had been trying to fight the growing problem of counterfeit drugs in Africa and he was trying to get enough drugs into Kenya to supply the needs of the population. That was back in the days before he realised how useful it could be to have an ally in international pharmaceutical regulation.
“So, I think the question I should ask you ladies,” he went on, “is just what are you doing visiting Petrovpharm?”

  Chapter 18

  The two women stared at each other for a few seconds and then Charlie nodded at her friend.

  “I think you need to tell him, Francine.”

  “But there has to be a mistake. Anton wouldn’t be involved in something like that. He just wouldn’t!”

  “I think the point is, Francine,” Charlie said, reaching over and taking her friend’s hand, “we really don’t know what Anton’s capable of being involved in. After all, you’ve known him for little more than six months.” She paused and then went on. “Let’s face it; if you weren’t concerned about his activities, you wouldn’t have asked for our help when you were over in London.”

  Francine exhaled sharply.

  “I guess you’re right, Charlie,” she said, “but if he’s innocent in all this, I don’t want him to know about our suspicions. He would be really insulted, not to mention how upsetting it would be for Mama D and Lydia.” She took a deep breath and turned towards Walter. “Dr Mukooyo, the owner of this company is Anatoly Vladimirovich Dimitriov. His friends call him Anton. I met him and his family while on holiday at Christmas, we became friends and I’m currently staying at their apartment here in St Petersburg.”

  “Mrs Charlie said you were concerned,” said Walter. “Might I ask what those concerns are?” The icy look had melted somewhat, but this was still a much more serious Walter than the one Charlie had met in London years before, or indeed than just a few minutes ago offering them coffee on this pavement café.

  “Well, it all began a couple of months back when we met a friend of Anton’s one evening.” Francine went on to tell Walter all about Boris Lechkov; his apparent hold over Anton, who introduced Boris as a friend, but seemed afraid of him; and the wariness that had crept into his business dealings ever since.

  “And we think there’s a possibility of some sort of fraudulent trading going on,” she concluded, “but I still don’t think Anton would have anything to do with selling drugs illegally to teenagers or causing fatalities. I just do not believe it!” She stopped speaking and stared at Walter with a fierce look on her face.

  “We’d better tell Walter the rest, Francine,” said Charlie, and when her friend gave a barely perceptible nod, she went on. “Before I arrived in Russia, Francine did some snooping around Anton’s office.” He looked at Francine in surprise and she coloured slightly.

  “It’s not as daring as it sounds,” she said. “For a while now, Anton’s been consulting me in the project management side of his business, as he expands his overseas contracts. And recently, while he was away on business, I went into the office to get something finished off and found reference to a government tender he’d not mentioned to me. It was for the supply of large quantities of codeine phosphate tablets to a number of countries in Africa.” Francine had told Charlie the whole story of the green folder; how she’d worked on the photos of the three pages, using a translation app on her computer and had painstakingly worked out the meaning of the content. But she obviously didn’t feel like sharing that with Walter Mukooyo.

  “But the thing is, Walter,” Charlie carried on with the story, “Anton’s company doesn’t actually make the drug here at all.”

  Walter looked at her in surprise.

  “I thought he did?”

  “No, he wholesales it, but it’s one of the products he buys from elsewhere.”

  “And do we know where the tablets come from?”

  “As a matter of fact, we do. He buys them from a little company in Kharkiv.”

  “He’s importing them from Ukraine? And then re-exporting them to Africa?”

  “Yes. Seems like a strange route, doesn’t it? Tell me, Walter,” said Charlie, “how would the World Health Organisation react to the thought of you joining forces with a couple of amateurs in order to pursue this investigation of yours? After all, it looks as though we’re all working towards the same aims.” She began counting off on her fingers as she talked. “You want to stop the illegal use of these drugs; and we do too. We need to find out what Boris Lechkov is up to, and it looks like that’s going to help your investigations as well. And if Anton really is mixed up in all this in one way or another, we’re as interested as you in finding out why.”

  Walter looked at the women for a moment or two, and then grinned.

  “I’m really not sure what the answer to that question is, Mrs Charlie, but as far as I’m concerned, Geneva is a long way away and what my masters don’t know about can’t possibly hurt them. And after your involvement in the investigation in Africa, I would hardly call you an amateur.” He reached across the table and shook their hands in turn. “Welcome to the team, ladies. Let’s get to work. Now, when did you say Mrs Suzanne would be returning from South America?”

  Part 2

  Chapter 19

  “The more I think about it, the surer I become that Anton is a pawn in all of this.” It was the third time Francine had made the same statement in less than an hour and even to her own ears it must sound a bit desperate. But Charlie could see her friend would keep hanging on to this hope, even in the face of apparent evidence to the contrary. She’d become very close to this man and his family. She really couldn’t afford for him to be seriously implicated in any of this.

  Francine’s translation work had revealed that Petrovpharm had won a large government contract to export codeine phosphate tablets to countries in Africa as part of Russia’s overseas aid programme. But financially, it didn’t make any sense. Why import the tablets from Ukraine to Russia, only to re-export them? That had to be an expensive way to do things. And simultaneously, large quantities of the same drug, the same batches even, were turning up across Russia at the illicit krokodil manufacturing units.

  “It can’t be a coincidence;” said Charlie, “the same product turning up in two places at the same time, and both leading to the same company.”

  Walter Mukooyo obviously agreed with her. The three had met up the day after the visit to Petrovpharm to swap notes. But he, like the two women, was uncertain where they went from here.

  “We really need to get a look inside that factory in Kharkiv,” he said. “But you, Mrs Francine, your background is in politics, in international development. My background is in health, but again from a political standpoint rather than the practical side. Mrs Charlie, your expertise is in undercover work and computer skills in particular.” He paused and sighed deeply. “The thing we all lack is expertise in the manufacturing of drugs, and I’m convinced that’s the key to this investigation.”

  “I agree,” said Francine. “We desperately need Suzanne’s input in this.”

  “Well, she’s coming home this weekend,” said Charlie. “They fly into Heathrow early on Sunday morning. Annie and I were planning on going out there to surprise them and drive them home. Bit difficult though, as I’m over here. I don’t know whether Annie will be up to driving out there on her own.” She paused. “Or whether she even wants to talk to either Jones sister at the moment, for that matter.”

  “Walter, do you think you can find a reason to visit the factory in Kharkiv if we can get Suzanne to accompany you?” asked Francine.

  “Oh yes, that’ll be easy. They’re one of the approved suppliers of anti-malarial drugs on the World Health Organisation lists. They have to accept regular inspections as one of the prerequisites of remaining a preferred supplier.”

  “Right, well in that case, I think you ought to keep that airport appointment, Charlie,” Francine continued. “You’ve been here for nearly a week and it was only supposed to be a short visit. We don’t want Anton getting suspicious about your real reasons for being here, now do we? There’s a plane at four o’clock each afternoon. Go home, talk to Annie and make up with her. Meet Suzanne and Steve on Sunday morning, and when the time’s right, brief Suzanne on this whole investigation and persuade her to meet up with Walter in Ukraine a
nd make that factory inspection.”

  Charlie didn’t really want to go home with so little resolved. But Francine and Walter persuaded her that in order to move forward with either investigation, they had to get into that factory in Kharkiv. And they promised to carry on with research in Russia in her absence. Reluctantly she agreed they’d probably got as far as they could without her sister’s help. After saying goodbye to Mama D and a tearful Lydia, and promising to return very soon for a longer visit, she climbed into the back of Anton’s Mercedes as he and Francine accompanied her on the journey to the airport the following day.

  In Anton’s presence there was no possibility of further plotting, and the conversation consisted mostly of standard tourist talk. Which bit did she most enjoy? The Hermitage, obviously. Had they managed to visit the Summer Palace? Yes, they’d been out there the previous day. This was a lie, and Charlie hoped Anton wouldn’t ask her too many questions, but Francine knew the spectacular old building on the Gulf of Finland well enough to hopefully allay any suspicions their host might have. And had they spent any time in the cemetery of the Nevsky Monastery, where Tchaikovsky, Pushkin, Borodin and many other cultural greats were buried? When Charlie said she hadn’t been there, Anton enthused about the old gardens behind the huge brick walls at the opposite end of Nevsky Prospekt from the Winter Palace.

  “You really must come back soon, if only to see that,” he said “plus there’s the Peter Paul Fortress, where the last czar and his family are buried; a tour on the Neva River...” He threw up his hands. “There are just so many other things to do here!”

  Francine and Charlie laughed at his enthusiasm.

  “If ever your business fails,” said Francine, stroking his arm, “you’ll make a wonderful tour guide.” At her words, his face fell, and he remained silent for the rest of the journey, although he seemed fine by the time they arrived at Pulkovo, giving Charlie a quick hug before joining his driver, Viktor, in the Mercedes, leaving the two friends to say goodbye in private.