Viktor calmly held up his hands. ‘What’s all this about?’
As the gunman stepped forward, Connor spotted three bright yellow letters emblazoned on his back: ФСБ.
The contact lens’s heads-up-display translated the Russian letters into the forbidding acronym: FSB.
‘You’re being arrested under suspicion of tax evasion, money-laundering and embezzlement,’ declared the Secret Service officer, seizing Viktor’s wrists and binding them behind his back.
Dmitry rose from his chair in fury. ‘Those are ridiculous accusations!’ he cried.
Another FSB agent hammered the adviser in the small of the back with the butt of his rifle. Dmitry collapsed, sprawling across the table, knocking over the glasses of vodka and scattering the plates.
‘Stay down!’ warned the agent. ‘Unless you want to be arrested too.’
Groaning feebly, Dmitry lay where he fell, his wife weeping beside his prone body, his daughter still too shocked to move.
The FSB officer shoved Viktor Malkov out through the lobby doors. Connor caught a glimpse of Lazar and Timur held at gunpoint, powerless to stop the FSB task force taking their boss.
‘Papa?’ cried Feliks, frightened and bewildered at his father’s dramatic arrest.
As Viktor was dragged away, the billionaire shouted to Lazar, ‘Protect my son at all costs!’
None of the FSB officers noticed the man standing in the doorway opposite as they bundled Viktor Malkov out of the fancy restaurant. Nor did the pack of photographers who eagerly snapped away as the disgraced billionaire was dragged through the slush of dirty snow and thrown into the waiting police van. Nor did any bystanders as they watched the van doors being slammed shut and the FSB task force drive off, sirens blaring.
No one noticed him.
Like a concrete chameleon, his ashen skin blended into the dull grey of the office building’s bricks. His absolute stillness attracted zero attention, his body seemingly as much a permanent part of the street scene as the surrounding buildings, street lamps and pavement. A pedestrian could walk past within a few feet of the doorway and remain completely oblivious to his being there.
Mr Grey was all but a ghost. An assassin without presence.
He waited until he was convinced all the FSB agents had departed. Then he took out his phone and silently dialled the memorized number. It was answered on its second ring.
‘He was arrested before I could get to him,’ he informed his contact.
There was a pause on the line.
‘Too much depends on Malkov. Deal with the situation.’
Mr Grey observed a silver Mercedes with blacked-out windows drive up to the restaurant and stop beside the kerb. The restaurant’s doors opened and two heavies in suits stepped out, surveyed the street, then beckoned to a dark-haired boy waiting in the lobby.
‘What about the son?’ asked Mr Grey.
‘Ensure he is taken care of too,’ ordered his contact. ‘This is a prime opportunity. The boy is vulnerable without his father.’
Mr Grey’s eyes turned to shards of ice as he watched Feliks being escorted to the Mercedes by a lean boy with spiky brown hair. Mr Grey recognized the assured gait with which the boy walked, the hyper-alert manner in which he scanned his surroundings and the protective body position he maintained with his charge. Mr Grey had encountered the boy before. In Somalia. In Burundi. And now in Russia.
Mr Grey knew Connor Reeves wasn’t any ordinary boy.
‘Malkov’s son might not be as vulnerable as you think,’ he informed his contact.
Connor was showering in the changing room after basketball practice when he heard a familiar and unwelcome voice call out, ‘Hey, traitor boy! I hear your father’s been arrested.’
‘You know he’s been arrested,’ Feliks snapped back. ‘Your father at the FSB ordered it!’
‘Of course he did,’ said Stas. ‘He was handed evidence of your father’s illegal business dealings. So much for Viktor Malkov’s campaign against corruption. He’s as corrupt as the Bratva themselves!’
‘It’s lies! All lies!’ cried Feliks. Connor heard the distress in his voice and wondered where Jason was. He should have been guarding their Principal.
‘Perhaps we should arrest you and put you on trial too?’ said Stas.
‘Get your hands off me!’
Connor grabbed his towel, wrapped it round himself and rushed out of the showers. He found Feliks surrounded by Stas, Vadik and two other members of the gang: the mop-haired Alexei and the sumo-shaped Gleb, both of them meatheads. Jason was nowhere to be seen. Connor barged his way through the gang.
‘Leave him alone!’ he ordered, breaking their grip on his Principal’s arm.
With a dismissive snort at Connor’s demand, Stas squared up to him. ‘It’s time I taught you a lesson in respect.’
With lightning speed, he caught hold of Connor by the throat and slammed him against the lockers. A galaxy of stars burst before Connor’s eyes as his head cracked against the metal frame.
‘Here’s lesson number one,’ said Stas, raising his fist.
‘Respect this!’ said Jason, coming up behind them from the direction of the toilet block.
Vadik moved to intercept him and Jason flung open a locker door, smashing Vadik in the face. There was a clang and a crunch as the Russian’s nose crumpled under the impact. Vadik dropped to his knees and clasped a hand to his face, blood dripping through his fingers.
‘You’re making a habit of that!’ smirked Jason.
With Stas distracted by the downfall of his right-hand man, Connor brought a forearm down on to Stas’s elbow joint. His arm crumpled and Connor broke free from his grip. Then, with a sharp snap-kick to the stomach, he sent the bully toppling over a bench.
In the mayhem that followed, Alexei swung a wild punch at Jason as Gleb shoved Feliks to the floor and went to kick him. Snatching a can of deodorant from his open locker, Connor sprayed it in the boy’s eyes. Half-blinded, Gleb screamed and staggered away. Meanwhile Jason had blocked Alexei’s punch, then one-inch-pushed the boy in the chest. Struck with brutal force in the solar plexus, Alexei flew backwards and crashed into a stack of lockers, the impact sounding like a head-on collision with a truck. The boy slid down to the floor in a wheezing heap.
Connor yanked Feliks back to his feet. Then he and Jason stood shoulder to shoulder, fists raised, shielding Feliks behind them as an enraged Stas advanced.
‘Hey, what’s going on in here?’ said their basketball coach, storming into the changing room.
Connor and Jason lowered their fists. The winded Alexei slunk off to his locker. Stas neatly turned on his heel and helped Vadik stand up.
‘He slipped on a wet tile,’ Stas explained.
The coach shot him a dubious frown. Then he nodded at Gleb, who was rubbing his eyes as if they were on fire. ‘And what happened to him?’
‘Soap in his eyes,’ said Connor.
The coach’s face twisted into a livid scowl at their pathetic lies. ‘My office, all of you, now!’
After five minutes of awkward silence where no one admitted to anything, they escaped the coach’s office with a severe reprimand and a detention each. Back in the changing rooms, there was an uneasy stand-off between the two groups.
Feliks, cocky with Connor and Jason’s combat skills, goaded them. ‘Hey, Vadik, I can see your big nose in this.’ He pointed to the rounded dent in the door of Jason’s locker. ‘That’ll teach you to mess with me.’
Glowering, Vadik made a step towards him, but Stas held his friend back.
‘You’d better watch out, traitor boy,’ warned Stas. ‘You won’t have your guardian angels with you all the time!’
‘Hey, where have you been?’ Anastasia called, tramping across the snowy playground. School was long since over and the pale wintry sun was dipping below the horizon.
‘Detention,’ Feliks replied glumly, his breath frosting in the frigid air.
‘Oh yeah, I heard about that.’ She looked at Jason and
raised an eyebrow. ‘You face-planted Vadik into a locker?’
Jason held up his gloved hands. ‘Guilty as charged.’
‘We’re all guilty in Russia,’ she said, a half-smile on her lips, ‘whether we’re innocent or not.’
‘Unless, of course, your father is the Director of the FSB,’ Feliks muttered sourly.
Connor explained, ‘Stas got out of his detention with one phone call to his father. So did Vadik.’
‘There’s Russian justice for you,’ said Anastasia with a shrug. ‘Speaking of which –’ she glanced at Feliks – ‘how’s your father getting on?’
Feliks kicked at a pile of snow. ‘He’s still being held in jail. Dmitry supposedly has the best lawyers working on his case and hopes to have him released on bail by the weekend. But who knows?’
‘Let’s hope he is, for your sake,’ said Anastasia, gently touching his arm. Connor noticed the gesture of affection. So did Jason.
As they traipsed over to the main gate, Connor asked, ‘Why are you still here this late?’
‘Music lesson,’ Anastasia replied, holding up her violin case.
‘You should play for us some time,’ suggested Jason. ‘I like Mozart and … all that sort of stuff.’
Connor almost laughed out loud. He knew Jason hated any sort of classical music.
Anastasia suddenly came over all shy, a flush to her cheeks. ‘I’m … really not that good.’
Connor was surprised by her modesty. ‘But you’re on a music scholarship,’ he remarked.
‘I know, but –’
‘My father loves the violin,’ said Feliks to no one in particular.
On hearing this, Anastasia’s resistance appeared to weaken. ‘Well … perhaps when he’s out of jail, I can play a short piece for you all?’
‘Really?’ said Feliks, brightening at the idea. ‘He’d love that.’
‘Sure. It’d be my pleasure.’ Anastasia smiled. Then the smile froze on her lips. ‘Who’s that?’
Connor spun, following the line of her gaze. In the darkening twilight a figure appeared at the gate, triggering the security light. Tall, broad and imposing, with cropped black hair, the hardened ridge of a boxer’s nose and a dagger tattoo visible on his neck, Connor could understand why Anastasia was so alarmed by the bodyguard’s sudden presence. His appearance was meant to deter attackers far more threatening and dangerous than a schoolgirl.
‘That’s only Lazar, my father’s bodyguard,’ said Feliks with a laugh.
‘Are you all right? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,’ said Jason.
Anastasia’s already snow-white face had paled to the colour of bone. ‘I was just startled, that’s all,’ she explained, quickly recovering. ‘You know, after yesterday, I’m a little bit jumpy.’ She turned to Feliks. ‘So where’s your other bodyguard?’
‘You mean Timur? He’s probably in the car.’
‘And does Lazar go with you everywhere now?’ asked Anastasia.
‘Pretty much,’ Feliks replied with a resigned shrug. ‘My father’s worried for my safety.’
‘Considering what happened at the restaurant, I can understand why. To be honest, I’m surprised you don’t have bodyguards following you round the school!’
Connor and Jason exchanged a glance and tried not to grin.
Stopping short of the gate, Anastasia checked her violin case. ‘Sorry, I’ve just realized I forgot my bow.’ She turned back towards the music block.
‘We’ll wait for you,’ said Jason.
‘No need, I’ll be fine,’ she called back. ‘By the way, I’m thinking of going to the Red Square at the weekend. To see the ice sculptures. Would you like to join me?’
‘Sure thing,’ said Jason, a little too eagerly.
‘That depends on Feliks,’ said Connor, reminding Jason of his duty. ‘And Lazar.’
Feliks frowned and studied the snow on his boot before kicking it off. ‘Well … I don’t know … after the ice rink and now my father’s arrest …’
‘Could take your mind off things?’ suggested Anastasia. ‘Unless your bodyguard won’t allow it, of course.’
This seemed to make up Feliks’s mind. ‘My bodyguard doesn’t tell me what to do! He’s just supposed to take a bullet for me. So I’ll be there.’
‘Great!’ said Anastasia, and headed off into the darkness. ‘See you all Saturday morning at ten.’
‘I guess diplomacy is over,’ said Charley after Connor had updated her on the locker-room brawl with Stas and Vadik.
‘You could say that war has been declared!’ Connor agreed with a hollow laugh. Smartphone in hand, he sat cross-legged in one of the high-back leather chairs in the mansion’s oak-panelled library. Quiet and seldom used, the library was the ideal location from which to report in without being disturbed or overheard. In the black granite hearth of the library’s fireplace, a fresh log crackled and spluttered, occasionally spitting out a glowing ember like a lone shooting star.
‘Vadik won’t let Jason get away with smashing his nose twice,’ Connor continued. ‘And Feliks is stirring the pot any chance he gets now that we’re around to back him up.’
‘Have you spoken with him about that?’ asked Charley.
Connor nodded. ‘I tried on the drive back from school. Feliks barely listened to me. To be honest, I think he likes having the upper hand over Stas and Vadik.’
‘Can’t blame him really,’ said Charley. ‘Given they’ve bullied him so much, it’s only natural he wants to get his own back.’
‘True. But we’re his bodyguards, not bullies for hire.’
Through the leaded windows he could see snow falling in silent waves, covering the garden with a deep blanket of white.
‘What does Jason think?’ asked Charley.
Connor shrugged indifferently. ‘Bring it on! was his response.’
‘You two still not seeing eye-to-eye?’
Connor shook his head. ‘Jason followed my lead when there was that potential threat in Gorky Park. But otherwise he’s acting like I’m 2 i/c or else simply ignoring my orders. He may have backed me up in the locker room, but he wasn’t where I’d told him to be – guarding Feliks. Instead he was in the toilet, having a dump!’
Charley tried to suppress a grin. ‘Well, when you’ve got to go, you’ve got to go!’
‘Maybe, but he should’ve waited for me to finish in the shower first. Anyway, he’s always undermining my authority by taking prime position or shirking his duties.’
‘Have you brought up the problem with him?’
Connor snorted. ‘I tried but didn’t get very far. He compared our relationship to an arm-wrestling match! One that we think we’ve both won.’
Charley smiled. ‘Well, I suppose that’s progress. At least you’re combining your strengths in an arm wrestle!’
‘We’d better do, if we’re to stand any chance of protecting Feliks at the winter festival this weekend. We can’t afford to be shoulder-barging each other in a public place!’
Charley’s expression turned grave. ‘If it’s got that bad, perhaps you should mention the issue to the colonel?’
Connor shook his head and sighed. ‘No, that’ll only make matters worse. I can just imagine Jason’s teasing: Aw, the big baby, went running to the colonel! No, I’ll handle it myself.’
His gaze drifted towards the window again as a security guard passed by on his patrol through the garden.
‘You look worried,’ said Charley.
Connor rubbed a hand across his face. ‘I just have a feeling Red Square is a disaster waiting to happen.’
‘How so?’
‘With Viktor still in jail, this trip seems an unnecessary risk. The Bratva have already shown they’ll go to any length simply to deliver a message. And the ice rink proves Feliks is a target. The winter festival is a prime opportunity for the mafia, or any of Malkov’s enemies, to attempt another attack or kidnap.’
‘What’s Lazar’s opinion?’ asked Charley. ‘Isn’t he the one wi
th final say on security matters?’
‘Lazar’s confident Feliks will be safe,’ replied Connor. ‘He says Red Square’s one of the most heavily guarded areas in Moscow.’
‘Well, that’s certainly true,’ said Charley. ‘The square is a stone’s throw from the Kremlin. The area has countless surveillance cameras, plainclothes officers and round-the-clock armed security. If you are going anywhere in Moscow, this is probably the safest location. You’ll just have to trust Lazar’s judgement on this.’
‘I don’t know who to trust,’ said Connor. ‘We both know certain key information isn’t being passed on for this assignment.’
Charley gave a reluctant nod. ‘On that point, the colonel’s working on plugging any gaps in the mission file as soon as our client is released from custody. But, to be honest, getting any reliable information out of Russia is a problem.’
‘How do you mean?’
‘I’ve had real difficulties researching Anastasia’s background. Russian bureaucracy is a nightmare, and the language barrier isn’t any help either. Beyond the information you’ve given me and what I’ve read in her school scholarship application, there appears very little to be found on her.’
Connor smiled. ‘This all sounds very promising,’ he said, realizing Anastasia’s lack of an obvious past made her an even more ideal recruit.
‘She’s not even that active on social media. Another plus,’ remarked Charley. ‘Anyway, I’m going to try the local registry office next. I’ll let you know if I discover anything odd. Otherwise, I think you can recommend your Russian friend to the colonel.’
Red Square was frosted like the icing on a wedding cake. The candy-coloured onion-domes of St Basil’s Cathedral glistened in the bright morning sun in stark contrast to the tall towers and imposing red-brick walls of the Kremlin. In the vast cobbled square itself, row upon row of craft stalls were dusted in snow like sugar-coated gingerbread houses. Fairground rides twinkled and spun like fancy decorations. And, sparkling in the golden sunlight, elaborate ice sculptures of breathtaking size rose up from the ground as if a frozen army had been summoned. Overhead the sky was festooned with streamers, flags and fairy lights, turning the square into a magical winter wonderland through which strolled hundreds of people wrapped in thick coats and woolly scarves, all enjoying the season’s festivities.
Bodyguard (Bodyguard 5) Page 13
