True Colours ss-10

by Stephen Leather

‘Leo can go with you.’

  ‘I’ll move faster on my own,’ said Shepherd, taking off his jacket and tossing it on to a chair. ‘My memory’s pretty good, even in the dark. But it’ll slow me down if I have to worry about Leo. But see if you can find another phone for him and send him down after me.’ He stood up and headed for the door.

  Monotok walked quickly down the corridor. Ahead of him was the door to the pool room. He took the severed thumb from his pocket, pressed it against the scanner and tapped in the four-digit code.

  He pushed the door open and stepped inside, the tang of chlorine stinging his nose. Grechko was at the far end of the pool, sitting on a lounger with a towel around him. ‘Is someone there?’ Grechko shouted. ‘Who is it? Dmitry?’ His voice echoed off the walls.

  Monotok walked slowly towards him. ‘No, it’s not Dmitry,’ he said. ‘It’s just you and me.’

  Grechko drew his legs up against his chest. ‘Who is it? Who’s there?’

  ‘My name is Kirill Luchenko, does that name mean anything to you?’

  Monotok could see Grechko frowning as he peered into the darkness. Monotok stopped next to a lounger. He put down the gun then took off his night vision goggles, blinking in the darkness.

  ‘Who are you? What do you want?’

  ‘I told you. My name is Kirill Luchenko, but my friends call me Monotok. And I’m here to kill you.’ He took his knife out of his pocket and placed it next to the goggles.

  Grechko stood up and the towel fell from his shoulders. Grechko stood there naked, his hands out in front of him as he moved his head from side to side in a futile attempt to improve his vision. ‘You are an assassin, is that it? Someone paid you to kill me and you skulk in the dark like the coward that you are?’ He jutted his chin up, his hands still moving through the air.

  Monotok reached into his pocket and took out a small Magnalite torch. ‘No one paid me, Grechko. This isn’t about money.’ He switched on the torch and shone it at Grechko. The light was blinding and Grechko threw up his hands to shield his face. Monotok bent down and picked up the gun. He wasn’t planning to shoot Grechko — he was going to use the knife to end the pig’s life — but he wanted him to know that he had a gun and that he would use it if Grechko came at him. He shone the torch at the gun, and then back to Grechko’s face. ‘If you take one step towards me I’ll shoot you in your shrivelled-up nuts.’

  Grechko stayed where he was, squinting into the light. ‘You don’t have to do this,’ he said. ‘I’ll pay you whatever you want. Anything.’

  ‘You’re not listening to me, are you?’ said Monotok. ‘This isn’t about money. This was never about money.’ He stopped and stared at Grechko. ‘Actually, that’s wrong, isn’t it? This is all about money. It always has been.’

  Shepherd hurried down the stairs, two at a time, keeping his left hand against the wall for balance, The light from the phone was barely enough to see by but his memory stood him in good stead and he knew exactly where he was. He saw the glow of the thumb scanner and keypad at the door to Basement Two but hurried on by.

  He put his hand up to his earpiece. ‘How’s it going, Dmitry?’ he asked.

  ‘I can’t make sense of the wiring,’ said Popov. ‘I’m not an electrician.’

  ‘We really need lights down here, Dmitry.’

  ‘I’m doing my best, Tony.’

  Shepherd’s foot caught on something and he pitched forward. His left hand slammed against the wall and he twisted as he fell, his right hip slamming against the stairs. The fall knocked the breath out of him and he lay against the wall, gasping for air. He pointed his mobile at whatever had caused him to stumble and winced when he saw Koshechkin’s pale face, his eyes wide and staring. Shepherd panned the light down the bodyguard’s body and winced again at the glistening blood all over the chest. He pushed himself to his feet, then took the last few steps to the door that led to Basement Three.

  ‘There he is,’ said Harper. ‘There’s the bastard now.’ They had parked the Transit van next to Khan’s CRV behind the supermarket where he worked. Khan had just turned around the corner. He had a carrier bag in each hand and had his head down, deep in thought, as he walked.

  ‘Get the tape ready, Jock,’ said Jimbo. He was holding a large spanner in his gloved hands. They didn’t want to use the guns in the city, even with suppressors fitted. McIntyre reached for a roll of duct tape and pulled off a piece.

  Shortt opened the passenger door and climbed out.

  Harper wound down the driver’s-side window as Khan got closer. ‘Hey, mate, you got the time on you?’

  Khan looked up as if his mind was elsewhere. ‘What?’

  ‘The time, mate? What’s the time?’

  Khan looked at him, frowned, then twisted his left wrist to get a look at his watch. He opened his mouth to speak but Shortt came up behind him and slammed the spanner just behind his right temple and Khan dropped like a stone. His carrier bags fell to the ground and one burst open, scattering oranges across the tarmac.

  McIntyre kicked the rear doors open and helped Shortt drag the unconscious man into the back. As McIntyre slapped duct tape across Khan’s mouth, Shortt picked up the bags and spilled fruit and threw them into the van before slamming the door shut. McIntyre pulled a sack down over Khan’s head.

  ‘Nicely done, lads,’ said Harper as Shortt climbed back into the van and put the spanner into the glove compartment. He started the engine and drove slowly on to the main road as McIntyre wound duct tape around Khan’s arms and legs.

  ‘I was too young to know what was going on when the Soviet Union imploded,’ said Monotok. ‘My father tried to explain, but I was a kid. He was excited, though. He thought Russia was going to change for the good. He thought it would make his life easier and the lives of the men who worked for him.’ He shook his head sadly. ‘He had no idea.’

  He jabbed the knife towards Grechko and Grechko flinched.

  ‘During Gorbachev’s perestroika it was every man for himself. But when Yeltsin took over, everything changed. The rules changed. You had only two ways of getting rich. Yeltsin handed it to you, or you took it. He gave whole industries to his friends, lock, stock and barrel. But you, you were never a friend of Yeltsin. You had to take what you wanted, didn’t you? You had to grab it with both hands and you didn’t give a fuck who you hurt in the process.’

  ‘You don’t know what it was like back then,’ said Grechko. ‘If you weren’t in with Yeltsin or his cronies you got nothing. It was a closed club.’

  ‘So you and Zakharov and Buryakov and Czernik formed your own club, didn’t you? You decided to take what you wanted. To kill for it.’

  ‘You weren’t there. You don’t understand.’

  ‘I was there!’ shouted Monotok. ‘That’s the point! I was there!’

  He took a step forward. The hand holding the torch was shaking and the beam swept back and forth over Grechko’s pale body.

  ‘I was in bed when you came to our house. It was the day before my birthday and I couldn’t sleep. Do you remember the house, Grechko? The house of Mark Luchenko? Do you remember him? And what about my mother? Misha? Do you remember Misha Luchenko? You should do because you raped and killed her.’

  Shepherd moved as quickly as he could in the darkness. He was coming up to a junction in the hallway, he knew that much. The pool room was to the right. Storage rooms to the left. The light from his phone was next to useless and didn’t even reach his feet but it allowed him to see part of the wall, which was enough to keep him moving in a straight line. He wanted to talk to Popov to see what was happening upstairs but he couldn’t now that he knew that the killer had a transceiver. He didn’t want him to know that he was heading for the pool room.

  Monotok took a deep breath. He knew that the longer he spent talking the harder it would be for him to escape, but he didn’t care any more. He had devoted the last four years of his life to getting his revenge, and Grechko was the final piece of the puzzle. He wanted Grechko to know why
he was dying and who was killing him. ‘I heard you and Zakharov and Czernik and Buryakov come into the house. I heard you shouting at my father, telling him to sign the papers that would transfer the steel plant over to you. I crept out of my bedroom and looked down from the top of the stairs. Do you remember now, Grechko? Mark and Misha Luchenko?’

  Grechko had begun to shiver, either through fear or the cold. Either way, Monotok didn’t care.

  ‘At first my father refused. He said it wasn’t his to give away, but you knew how it worked, back then. Nobody really knew who owned what. Before 1990, the state owned everything. And the local party officials and the police could be paid off. If you had the right paperwork, it was yours. That’s what the four of you were doing, back then. You stole steel plants, trucking companies, ships, buildings, factories. You took by force and you killed if you had to.’

  Monotok waved the knife in front of him. ‘Look at me, Grechko. Look at me now or I swear to God I’ll slice off your balls and shove them in your mouth.’

  Grechko raised his eyes and stared at him. There was no fear in his eyes, just hatred.

  ‘I saw you rape my mother, Grechko. And only then did my father sign your papers. Then you killed him. And then you killed her. And I had to crawl away and hide under my bed until you’d gone.’ He gritted his teeth and shook his head angrily. ‘You took my father’s plant. You killed his deputy, too. You gave it to Czernik and within five years how many plants did he have? Ten? Twelve? All of them stolen. That’s how you got your start, all of you. You threatened and you killed and you stole and by the time the millennium rolled around you were all billionaires. Did it make you happy, Grechko? All that money? Knowing how you got it? Knowing that it’s going to be the death of you?’

  Grechko said nothing. His shivering had intensified.

  Monotok stepped towards Grechko, holding the knife low. He didn’t want the first blow to be a killing one. Or the second. Or the third. He wanted him to bleed out slowly. And painfully.

  Shepherd pressed his thumb against the scanner and tapped out his four-digit security code. The door clicked and he gently pushed it open, just an inch or two. The only sound was the hum of an air-conditioning unit and the gentle lap of the water against the side of the pool. He pushed the door open a little more. The darkness was absolute. He pushed the door further and stepped inside.

  As soon as he heard the lock click, Monotok switched off his flashlight and put it and the knife on the lounger. He pushed the night vision goggles on and turned to look at the door, just as the man stepped into the room. He was in his late thirties and wearing a shoulder holster. In his right hand he was holding a mobile phone and the screen glowed weakly.

  Monotok picked up his gun and pointed it at the man, his finger tightening on the trigger.

  ‘He’s got a gun!’ screamed Grechko in the darkness.

  The man crouched, dropped the phone and reached for the gun in the holster but Monotok had all the time in the world to aim and pull the trigger twice.

  The man staggered to the side and fell into the pool with a loud splash.

  Monotok grinned. He took off the night vision goggles and put them and the gun back on the lounger. He picked up the flashlight and switched it on. He panned the beam around and found Grechko, crouched like a frightened animal with his back to the wall, as naked as the day he was born.

  He bent down and picked up the knife. ‘Now where was I?’ he said. ‘Before we were so rudely interrupted.’ He smiled. ‘Ah yes, now I remember. I was about to kill you.’

  Shepherd’s eyes were stinging from the chlorine in the pool and he blinked several times. The pool wasn’t much more than six feet deep and his feet brushed the bottom. The vest had done its job but he still patted his chest with both hands to make sure that neither of the bullets had penetrated.

  The Glock was still in its holster, his fingers hadn’t even touched it before the rounds had hit him. They had been two good shots. One just above the heart, one below it. If it hadn’t been for Amar Singh’s vest, Shepherd would have died instantly.

  He wafted his arms up to drive himself down to the floor of the pool, then pulled the Glock out with his right hand. The gun would still fire, he knew that there was no way that water could get into the cartridge. The only danger was if the barrel was full of water when he pulled the trigger. He kept the barrel of the gun pointed down as he braced his feet against the bottom. He would only get one chance at this so he had to get it right. He moved his left hand across to support his right around the butt of the Glock, then pushed down hard with his legs.

  His mind was totally focused on what he needed to do. He had to keep the barrel down until it was in the air. He had to aim in the general direction of the killer. If the torch was back on he could make the first shot a killing shot. If the pool room was still in darkness then the first shot would have to go high and in the light from the gun he’d see the target and his memory would have to help him go for the kill with the second.

  He powered up through the water and burst through the surface, his eyes wide open. He brought up the gun. The torch was on, illuminating Grechko, who was curled up against the wall, covering his face with his hands. The killer had his back to Shepherd, outlined by the light from the torch.

  The killer started to turn at the sound of cascading water but Shepherd had already started to pull the trigger. The first shot hit the man right between the shoulder blades. The second was a few inches lower. Shepherd managed to get off a third shot, catching the man at the base of his spine, before he crashed back into the water.

  He kicked with his legs and swam to the ladder to climb out. He crawled over to the torch and picked it up. The man he’d shot was lying face down on the floor, blood pooling around his chest.

  The knife was by his side and Shepherd kicked it away and then put his Glock back in its holster.

  The emergency light by the door flickered into life. Popov must have fixed the circuit, but the main lights stayed off.

  Grechko got to his feet and wrapped his towel around his shoulders. ‘You killed him,’ he said quietly.

  He was in shock, Shepherd knew. But there was nothing he could do for him, right now. He put his hand to his earpiece but realised it was missing.

  Grechko walked over to Monotok’s body and sneered at it. ‘Call yourself a killer?’ he said. ‘Look who’s laughing now. I’m here and you’re dead so fuck you and fuck your mother.’ He hawked up saliva and spat on the body.

  ‘We need to get upstairs,’ said Shepherd. ‘We’ll have to use the stairs, the lifts aren’t working.’

  Grechko pointed at the door to the changing rooms. ‘I need to get dressed,’ he said.

  Shepherd nodded and they went together to the changing rooms. There was another emergency light there with just enough glow to see by. There was a pile of towels on a shelf and Shepherd grabbed one and patted himself down, but his shirt and trousers were still soaking wet and his shoes squelched as he walked. Grechko pulled on his trousers and shirt but didn’t bother with his shoes and socks. They went to the stairwell. Before Shepherd opened the door, he warned Grechko about Koshechkin’s body. The emergency lighting illuminated the stairwell and the Russian stared in horror as he stepped over the corpse.

  ‘What happened?’ he asked Shepherd.

  ‘Knife,’ said Shepherd.

  Grechko shivered, knowing how close he had come to meeting the same fate. ‘You saved my life, Tony,’ he said as they headed up the stairs.

  ‘Don’t worry about it,’ said Shepherd.

  ‘Anything you want,’ said Grechko.

  Shepherd stopped and turned to look at the Russian. ‘Anything?’ he said.

  The Russian nodded. ‘Money. Women. A car. Anything. Just name it.’

  Shepherd stared at Grechko, his face a blank mask. ‘You know what I want, Mr Grechko?’

  ‘Just name it,’ repeated Grechko.

  Shepherd nodded slowly. ‘I want to know why he wanted to kill y
ou so badly.’

  Grechko said nothing.

  ‘I want to know what you did to him that made him hate you so much. I want to know what drove him to kill Zakharov, Buryakov and Czernik and to go to such lengths to get to you.’

  Grechko remained silent but stared at Shepherd.

  ‘Must have been something pretty important, yeah?’ Shepherd met Grechko’s gaze and the two men stared at each other for several seconds. When it became clear that Grechko wasn’t going to say anything, Shepherd smiled thinly. ‘That’s what I thought.’ He turned and carried on up the stairs, with Grechko following.

  When they reached the ground floor, Shepherd used his thumb and code to open the door. He held it open for Grechko, who walked out into the hallway and headed for the study. ‘Where is Dmitry?’ Grechko said over his shoulder.

  ‘The security centre,’ said Shepherd.

  ‘Send him to me.’

  Shepherd scowled at the retreating figure. ‘Yes, your majesty,’ he muttered. He went back down the stairs to Basement One.

  He heard footsteps below him. ‘Who’s that?’ he shouted.

  ‘Leo,’ shouted Tarasov.

  ‘Is Dmitry still in the control centre?’

  ‘Yes,’ replied Tarasov, coming back up the stairs. ‘He managed to get the emergency lights on. Mr Grechko is OK?’

  ‘He’s fine.’

  ‘And the killer?’

  ‘Not so OK,’ said Shepherd. ‘No longer a threat.’

  ‘I’ll check downstairs,’ said Tarasov.

  ‘Be careful, Ivan’s down there,’ said Shepherd. ‘He didn’t make it.’

  Shepherd pushed open the door to Basement One and made his way over to the security centre. Dmitry was in the briefing room, peering into a large metal panel. He looked over when Shepherd came in. ‘What the hell happened?’ he asked, frowning at Shepherd’s wet clothes.

  ‘I went for a swim,’ said Shepherd. He grabbed his jacket and slipped it on over his wet shirt.

  ‘What about Mr Grechko?’

  ‘He’s OK. He’s in the study. He wants to see you.’ He gestured at the fuses and wiring. ‘What’s the story?’