by J M Dolan
“Things change, plans change,” said Volkov, mildly. “Veronika had a new mission – turned out to be her last mission. Now, she’s on her way to becoming worm dung.”
Mstislav snorted out a laugh and moved towards the coffee table to scrutinize the photos. “I’m not likely to mourn,” he said, pushing at the pictures with a nicotine-stained, index finger. “She was a nasty woman, once beautiful, but black and cold inside. Hag’s cackle was like a stab to the heart. Freeze your dick off if you stick it in. No loss. Bigger question, is where does that leaves us?”
Mstislav lowered his massive frame into an over-stuffed chair across the table from Volkov. It allowed him to keep an eye on Volkov and gave him a view of the entrance to the suite. It gave Volkov the creeps. Though they were countrymen, there was no trust between the two.
“As you can see.” Volkov motioned to the photos. “It’s definitely, The Stone. She was working on her new assignment when she died. The coroner ruled her death the result of the fall. As for the package — it’s missing.”
“What was she doing dressed in that outfit?” Mstislav’s comment was casual as he glanced at the pictures. Volkov knew the man was far from casual. He would already be running the risk to his operation this turn of events may have created.
“The Stone was on special, long term assignment for the State,” confided Volkov. “Delivering the woman to you was not relevant to her mission. It was her little perk. No secret she liked to abuse the other women. That was her high, her adrenaline rush. Watching hope fade from their eyes as the realization of their situation kicked in was something she particularly enjoyed. I shouldn’t have allowed it. She was too valuable an asset to risk, but domination was something she lived for. She likely would have gone rogue, if I hadn’t made allowances to feed her addiction. She liked acting the mule.”
“You realize of course,” said Mstislav, “her death means nothing to me. I don’t give a crap about your shit operation. The merchandise, on the other hand, has already been sold. My buyer will be greatly disappointed, which in turns means, I’m greatly disappointed. I do not like disappointment, Alek.” The look he shot Volkov was murderous. “The buyer will not accept a substitute, and I don’t do refunds.”
Mstislav pulled a second shot from the bar. Dumping the contents into a glass he added some ice. Pursing his lips, he took a steady sip, looking thoughtfully at Volkov over the rim of his glass. Aleksey seethed under the scrutiny and did his best to hide it as he studied the small cut on the side of his hand.
“Just how much do the police know? How do you plan to tie up this loose end, Alek?” The voice was cold and hard as the ice in his drink.
Volkov kept his expression neutral under Mstislav’s gaze. He could guess where the other man’s thoughts were leading. Mstislav would scent operational jeopardy, like a hound to trail. If the leap to thinking that he, and the missing girl, were liabilities was made, Mstislav would use the muscle in the hall to solve the problem. Volkov contemplated killing the porker in the hotel room, but then he’d have more mopping up to do. Not to mention the women and the goons outside. It just didn’t seem worth the effort.
“You can put your mind at ease, Mstislav,” he said. “I have audio and visual surveillance of the police investigation. Every move they make is within my knowledge. I have planted listening devices at the residences Odessa Koval is likely to try and contact and bugged the vehicles of the relevant players. Koval’s been trying to make contact with a Canadian associate, and recently left a note, which I was able to confiscate. The girl will reveal herself very soon now. And, when she does I have a trap laid for her. Within a couple of days this ugly business will be behind us and we will meet again to drink the good vodka, yeh Comrade.”
Volkov, pushed the pictures back into the file and tucked it back into his brief case before crossing to the door. He was closing his hand around the doorknob when Mstislav spoke.
“In Russia you have a reputation as a smooth-talking lawyer and a man that gets things done, a fixer.”
Volkov turned to look at the man. Mstislav downed the last of his drink and tossed the glass into the sink.
“Fixer, I don’t think it’s likely you’ll get your hands dirty today, but don’t come back unless you can do the deal.”
Volkov paused in the tense space between them.
“I can see we understand each other,” he said, then walked out.
Chapter Eighteen
Jamee said he could find her at Abi’s house. Time to check on the place, she’d said. Sam spotted her on a cozy padded bench in the backyard taking advantage of the exceptional Indian summer weather. The crimson berries of the mountain ash trees hung in clusters like grapes in the autumn leaves.
She was stretched out dozing, the dog Tess quietly at her side. He suspected they were both sleeping, though he couldn’t see Jamee’s eyes behind the tortoise shell sunglasses. She looked relaxed and sexy, and hopefully recovered from yesterday’s harrowing experience. He was a little in awe of how she’d handled being run off the road. They’d reported the incidence to the police, but so far no word on Volkov’s whereabouts.
The weather was still warm enough for bare arms and toes, and she’d opted for both. The black top was draped and the turquoise Capri’s skinny fitting, hugging each and every curve. She’d painted her toes a flaming red and for one crazy second he fought to keep from running his hand up the shapely calf.
The dog sensed his presence and opened a wary eye. Tess, recognizing a friend, rolled over to expose her belly, eager for a tummy rub.
“Some guard dog,” muttered Jamee drowsily. “Girls are such pushovers.”
“What are you guys up to?” Sam obligingly stroked the Springer’s soft belly. The dog waved her feet in the air and playfully mouthed at his hand.
“She’s recharging, I’m recharging,” responded Jamee. “People tend to suck a lot of energy. I needed quiet and solitude to reboot, and this weather is simply brilliant. Tess and I are taking advantage of the dog days of autumn.”
Jamee had been lying with one slender arm up over her head. The other covered the delicate locket she habitually wore. Now she reached to remove her sunglasses and looked deeply into Sam’s dark, golden-flecked eyes.
“Much later, “she continued in a slow drawl allowing her gaze to be captivated by their chocolaty depth, “I will complete my ritual of relaxation with a demagnetizing soak in the hot tub. I’m a Pisces, and Pisces require water to energize. Or on the flipside, to lull and soothe fatigue, whichever is needed.” She covered her mouth with the back of her hand in a big lazy yawn.
“It all sounds fascinating,” said Sam, intrigued by the rounded shape her mouth formed as she yawned. He leaned over the dog, to bring his lips to her ear.
“Feel like a walk on the river trails?” he whispered. Sam switched his caress from the dog’s smooth coat to the silky soft skin on the inside of Jamee’s arm. He felt the little shiver and the delicate rise of goose bumps under his fingers.
“Hmmm,” her reply was husky and slumberous. “I think it might rain,” The slight tremble of her voice told him, that try as she might she wasn’t immune to his touch.
“It will stay sunny for a while.” A smile played around his lips. “We’ll take Tess. It’s always a good day to walk in the park, when it’s sunny. Later we can talk — hot tub.”
It felt much too good his body above hers. He could sense his heat awakening her own as she responded to his nearness. He wondered if they contrived to create the tension between them, or if it was just happening. Placing one hand against his chest she nudged him back to sit up. With the other she gave the dog a gentle shove off the bench.
“Okay cowboy, let’s walk. If I lie here any longer, even in this weakened sun I’ll burn,” she complained. “Tess is always up for it, so off to the park it is.”
The dog heard the word walk and in true Springer fashion was already bouncing like a coiled mechanism and dashing about in quick bursts. Jamee sighe
d.
“I love that little dog but, it’s hard to keep all that energy harnessed. It would be nice if sometimes a walk, meant a simple amble, rather than Tess’s Christmas-morning reaction.”
Jamee turned to stroll back to the house, the dog at her side, doing four-foot layups.
“Yep, that would be a pleasant change.” He heard her grumble as she retrieved the harness and leash. Nevertheless, it was hard not to give into the little dog’s excitement. Sam watched as the dog broke into running a series of doughnuts. He picked up a broken twig.
When Jamee returned, Sam had the speckled pup running circles around him. The little dog sprinted for the sheer joy of it, whipping up the air in a cyclone effect that caused the hair on top of Tess’s head, to stand up in riotous fashion. She looked every so much like a canine clown. The effect seemed to brighten Jamee’s mood and brought a smile to her face. Boy with dog was a difficult image to resist.
***
The path through the trees along the river bank was peppered with sunshine. The shady parts cool, the sunny parts infra-red warm. It was exhilarating, and just what Jamee needed to clear away the last of the cobwebs. She’d been a little off her stride since the dive into the ditch. The investigative parts of her nature were tugging to surge forward and find answers. The righteous part was still damn mad and made her want to get that son of a bitch. Her sense of responsibility and family spoke of caution. But damn, the other side was winning the argument. She was pissed.
“So, any leads, lingering proof from the bad guys or premonitions. In other words, what’s new with the case?” she inquired as they feel into step.
“Can’t you ever just live in the moment? Enjoy the scenery. It’s not all work, work, work. You drive yourself too hard, Jamee.”
“The hell I do”
Sam glanced over to her one eyebrow raised in enquiry. “Yeah? I can see you’ve heard that one before.
“I suppose so,” she agreed with the vaguest shrug of her shoulders. “It’s not always that I want to. I just can’t seem to shut it off. My mind keeps playing things over and over until I find resolution. Exercising helps, I get antsy with inactivity. Yoga and hot tub, it’s the best thing I’ve found yet. Well and probably sex, but I’ve sworn off sex.”
“I could make you change your mind,” he said solemnly.
“Nope. But why is it a man’s interest is only piqued when it means he can rise to a challenge?” she said with candor. “I’m thinking it must be an evolutionary thing, involving two heads and a tongue.”
Sam laughed “I’m just trying to flirt with you, but I get the impression your question goes beyond that.” He put out his hand to encircle her shoulders and pulled her close. “I’m willing to give you a serious answer, if you want,” he said with unflagging patience. “Or just keep up the teasing,” his smile was genuine, “if that’s how you want to play it.”
“Not sure,” she countered. He had a point. Was she testing him? “I’ll let you know.”
Sam’s voice held a note of intensity. “I keep it light Jamee, because I don’t want you to doubt my sincerity.” He gave a short laugh. “I’m too old for quick flings. Look, I just don’t want to scare you off. I think somewhere along the road you must have learned the hard way that trusts are sometimes broken.”
He stopped and turned her towards him. She had her hand over the locket. He studied her face as he knew she was studying his, trying to see what truth lay in his heart. He willed her to see it.
“You can trust me, Jamee,” he said simply.
Jamee continued to consider him. “A part of me wants to,” she finally said softly. “We’ll see.”
His thought was to seal it with a kiss. He leaned forward lowering his head to place his lips, feather light on hers. She seemed to teeter on indecision. A moment, a blink. Then a small sigh escaped her throat and she eased gently into the kiss. He realized she would be cautious and kept the kiss brief.
He leaned back, keeping his arms loosely about her back and waist. Still studying her face he reached for her hand and started walking.
“Okay, back to business.”
The dog had lain down the minute they’d stopped moving. Tess was used to waiting patiently whenever the walk was interrupted. Now she let out a joyful bark as the pace picked up again, her plume of a tail flagging merrily.
“Results from the CSIS, Interpol collaboration started coming back today,” said Sam. “To begin with, it definitely looks like you’ve somehow stumbled onto a human trafficking ring.”
“Nice trick.” Even though she’d been expecting it, the statement still caught her by surprise. “How do you figure?”
“Recently, the United Nations rated Russia among the world leaders in homicide and human trafficking. They’re a one-stop shop for the trafficking of men, women and children.” Sam’s expression was grim.
“The trafficking is multi-facetted involving both commercial sexual exploitation and labour exploitation. Russia has proven to be a significant source of women trafficked from, by last count, over fifty nations.” Sam offered the information in a flat voice, his anger at the injustice a slow banked fire.
Jamee shook her head in dismay. “It’s tricky to detect and prove.”
“It’s a crime against humanity,” said Sam, “and debt bondage is a major driver, and a frequent way to force compliance.”
“I’m inclined to believe that’s what happened here. I’ve spoken with Odessa Koval,” said Jamee, “and I’m confident she was sincere in her desire to work for Abi. But, there is obviously more to the story. You could be right, Sam. She may have been told the only way to repay her debt was to help get Veronika Koval into Canada. Bastards.”
They continued to walk. He still held her hand. It felt warm and comforting.
“Here’s the bombshell. In Kaminski’s military record there was a reference to a nickname. In Russian it means “The Stone”. Interpol got a hit on the nickname in their database, and we’ve now determined that Veronika Kaminski, The Stone was also Veronika Koval.”
“No shit!” Jamee’s reaction was stunned surprise.
She stopped walking. “So, our dead body was using two identities. Seriously?” Jamee’s brain was on fire. “Veronika was both Kaminski and Koval? That’s huge.”
“They’re running the DNA from the body with DNA on record for The Stone, but it looks positive,” said Sam.
“So what else does Interpol know about Veronika Kaminski?” She’d started walking again, but headed for a bench beside the trail.
“Well, it ties into our theory about human trafficking, and adds another significant element,” revealed Sam.
“Interpol says The Stone was a known mule for a Russian trafficking organization. They have enough information about her background to put together a psychological profile and pegged her a bullying narcissist. Her military file had her coded a loose cannon. Unacceptable for promotion. She apparently had a reputation for habitual cruelty and arrogance. On more than one occasion she was reprimanded for intimidating and abusing personal under her. There’s some murky stuff that links her to terrorizing and hazing new recruits. Her methods ranged from threats or coercion, to verbal abuse, and occasionally to the use of force. A real piece of work,” concluded Sam.
“From what I’ve studied,” added Jamee, “that behaviour applied repeatedly and habitually, usually breaks whatever resistance a victim of trafficking might have.”
“I know you’ve speculated Kaminski may have been Odessa Koval’s handler. I’m beginning to side with you on that. You might be right,” concluded Sam.
Jamee leaned back on the bench with Sam beside her. Tess settled herself for the wait.
“That explains how it appeared as if Kaminski was guiding Odessa through the airport on that CCTV tape. Odessa might have entered the country as a result of trafficking, but it doesn’t explain the whole live-in caregiver switcheroo,” said Jamee.
“We have evidence for the human trafficking angle,” rep
lied Sam, “and we probably have a valid reason for the live-in caregiver theory as well.”
“I think I see where you’re going with this,” said Jamee. “It’s somehow related to Veronika Kaminski posing as a caregiver in Canada under the name Veronika Koval, three years ago.”
“CSIS has already linked the names,” said Sam, “and an eager investigator in their department is looking into the death of the elderly man Kaminski was caring for. It is possibly a suspicious death. Something the investigators are being careful not to share with the family, just yet. Kaminski likely realized coming back into Canada as a care-giver was risky. Once was easy, twice maybe not so much so. Odessa may have helped her with her first application, inventing the alias Veronika Koval. Maybe they promised Odessa, Permanent Residency in Canada. Then, instructed Kaminski to step into the position Odessa intended for herself.”
“Doesn’t tell us why she came back,” said Jamee, “though I do believe your theory. I was thinking along those same lines myself. What’s Kaminski’s end game?”
“The why is in the Interpol investigation. Veronika Kaminski, The Stone, has a military record and she’s a member of the Russian Main Intelligence Directorate, abbreviated GRU.
“Refresh my memory on the GRU,” said Jamee. “And, correct me if I’m wrong, but the GRU isn’t an international organization.”
“No, it’s the military affairs espionage counterpart. But it’s strongly linked to the Russian Foreign Intelligence Service, with the GRU being the more active of the two. Interpol has reason to believe Kaminski has been coming to Canada to spy for the Russian government.” Sam dropped the bombshell.
“Omigod! Why Abi? What would she have that would be worth spying on?” Jamee exclaimed.
“Well, your sister works for a pharmaceutical company, and with that first family, the old guy’s son is a chemical engineer. The son lived in his father’s guesthouse, though they had very little contact, they did share the same Wi-Fi. It’s looking like access to their computers might be the answer,” stated Sam.
