by Tim Heath
“It soon won’t matter if they do, the main damage has already been done. What could they do?”
“I won’t try and guess that one, besides, you seem to have us well covered. I’ll send over where I’ve got so far with my target business, and we can swap notes.”
“No need, I know where you are up to,” Matvey said, only now giving a hint of how deep he had men watching everything going on, reporting back to him the progress of all the men in the T10, especially his own teammates. Valery said nothing.
“Thanks for the help.”
“Don’t mention it.” Matvey needed them for the moment as much as they needed him. Once this stage was all done, once operation Vlast was fully realised, he’d close down this whole event. Russia wasn’t the place for rogue oligarchs left in secret and doing their own thing. He hoped he’d be able to offer them a new role in a rejuvenated Russia––a vital role in a nation that he believed could rise from the ashes and be great once more. And if they couldn’t work with him then they would have to be removed. A time would come when they would have to decide once and for all––were they with him or were they against him? Then, there would be no middle ground.
“Anissa, it’s me.” It was the third call that the MI6 agent had received from Josée––a former Contestant within the Games––that month. It was the call she’d been waiting for.
“It’s good to hear from you Josée. How are you doing?” Anissa had been working with a lawyer to try and build a case that would allow this Frenchwoman to bring a legal case against another former Contestant, Leona Chase.
“I’m so-so,” she said, her English coming on well, her choice of phrase bringing a brief smile to Anissa’s face. Josée was anything but so-so. She’d seen a man’s throat slit right in front of her, while the guy was having sex with her in fact. She’d only herself escaped at the time because the attacker––Leona, who was able to claim the millions herself––had gone for the lottery ticket instead of the now traumatised French national. Josée had been having nightmares ever since. She’d not been able to work again since the incident, and she’d let herself get out of shape somewhat, which for a former fitness freak, was a huge deal.
“It’s good to hear from you again. Have you made a decision?” Over the last few weeks, with the help of a French lawyer, Anissa had been able to put together a charge that she felt would stand up in court. As well as dealing with an actual crime––murder was murder after all––she hoped this was their big chance to bring the world of the Games out into the open for everyone to see what had been going on. Forced to answer questions before a judge, the defendant––and the same could be said for Josée also––would inevitably open up about those behind the event. Why she’d suddenly gone to Russia in the first place. How she’d obtained the papers to travel. When had she been approached and by whom to be deemed suitable for the event?
“I want to proceed as you have suggested, yes.” Anissa let out a breath, unaware she had been holding it from the moment she saw Josée’s number displayed on her screen.
“That’s great news.”
“I just need there to be some closure to all this. I need the nightmares to be over. I need to know why this all happened.”
“I’ve said before, we can’t promise all these things will be answered, but what I can promise is we’ll do everything that is available to us to see that justice is served on all those involved. This isn’t just about you or Leona––I want the men behind it all.”
“I know, but this is still about what she did to that man, right? I mean, they’re going to ask me about the murder? Why I was there myself, why I was having sex with him as he was murdered? They’re all going to know about that, aren’t they?”
“Yes, and again I’m sorry, there is no way around that.”
Josée composed herself again, taking a few seconds before continuing, “I know what you said before, but I need you with me on this one. I want you there as I share this.”
“I can’t Josée, and we’ve gone over that.” She’d been quite clear about that given her role within MI6. Not to mention the fact she wasn’t officially in Russia at the time of the incident, shouldn’t have been anywhere near the Armoury at the Peter and Paul Fortress in the centre of St Petersburg. She just couldn’t be involved in her legal case.
“I just don’t think I can do it on my own.”
“You won’t be on your own. The lawyer is a good lawyer, and she’ll fight for you. She lives in Paris; I made sure it would be someone local to you so that you would be able to meet with her whenever you need to. Do you want me to put you in touch with her? I know you haven’t been able to meet her yet in person, but I think you’d like her, and she is someone you can come to trust.”
“I’m not sure I trust anyone anymore, Anissa.” Anissa couldn’t help but see how this had all nearly destroyed the young Frenchwoman’s life.
“Time will heal,” but as soon as she said it, she knew how empty and pointless it sounded. Josée seemed to brush it to one side, regardless.
“Will the trial be here?” Anissa had discussed this for a long time with the lawyer. Undoubtedly a trial in France, under French law, would be ideal for Josée. But the culprit––who’d yet to be charged, though now they had a witness prepared to testify, that would inevitably happen soon––was British, and the crime had been committed in Russia, the victim himself a Russian. The lawyer felt that the trial would most likely be held in Russia. Russia didn’t have a good record of trying Brits on murder charges, but that was the least of her concerns. Right now it was the witness about whom she most cared. Anissa had taken her under her motherly wing, wanting to be involved as far as she could personally. Now, with yet more pleas for her to be present at the trial, Anissa did wonder if she’d been too hands-on, if she should have handed this onto someone else a lot sooner.
“I don’t know,” is all Anissa said after a long pause, before adding; “I’ll have to consult with the lawyer about that, now that a charge can be brought against the accused.”
“She’s not just accused, Anissa, Leona killed him in cold blood. You were there, and you saw what she did.”
“I know, Josée, it was just a figure of speech. I know she is guilty, which is why I came to you. I want you to tell your story. I want there to be justice for the man who she killed, who no doubt has relatives of his own, desperate for answers.”
“Oh God, his relatives are going to be there, aren’t they? I’m going to have to sit there and look them in the faces as I tell them all what I did to that man––what I let him do to me. And all for what? For a bloody lottery ticket? Am I that cheap?” She was crying again, and Anissa didn’t know what to say, deciding to remain silent until the sobbing subsided enough for the conversation to continue.
“You aren’t the person on trial here, she is. If it is easier for you, you’ll be able to give your evidence via a video screen. They don’t even need to know your identity, or see your face.”
“Look, I said I’d do it, so whatever it takes, let’s just get it done shall we?” She’d been living the nightmare for too long. It was time to face up to what she’d done, and then, when the dust settled, to try and somehow move on.
“Josée, we can sort out the practicalities later. You don’t need to put yourself through anything too severe if you don’t want to. The most important thing is that justice gets done. It’s not about exposing you; it’s about getting to the truth, bringing to justice a woman who has done a horrible crime, for the sake of some money.”
“Millions, in fact.”
“Exactly, and she’s been living the good life ever since, as if nothing happened.”
“And condemned me to a life of misery in the process.”
“Which is why you are going to testify. It’s time the world knew where the money came from.”
“I still want you there with me.”
“I can’t; you know that.”
“Please, Anissa, please.” It was break
ing her heart to deny this one little request, but it would expose Anissa if she were to be involved in the trial, it would open her up to a whole world of people––the Russians and their Games––who she didn’t want knowing of her involvement.
“I need to go. Your lawyer will be in touch. You’ve made the right decision. We’ll speak again soon,” and she ended the call before she said anything more, anything she might later come to regret. She couldn’t grant Josée her request to be involved. It was too dangerous.
Anissa speed-dialled the law firm she’d been working with that was based in Paris, and after getting put through to the lady in question confirmed that Josée was prepared to come forward.
“Very good, and thanks for letting me know,” the lawyer said. Anissa agreed to send over details regarding Josée’s address––she’d suggested the lawyer meet her that coming week to build a relationship with her client, someone that had been kept at arm’s length from her up until then. Anissa had looked to protect Josée until it was clear what her decision was going to be.
Anissa ended the call, using the few words of French she remembered from secondary school in the process. She then went looking for Alex, wanting to fill him in on all that had just taken place over the last twenty minutes.
4
Happy Valentine’s Day, my handsome boyfriend,” Maggie said, more vibrant and elated than he’d seen in a while. She landed a tray of various breakfast goodies onto his lap, jumping back onto the top of the duvet next to where he was now sitting up in bed, his face surprised. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten!” He had.
“You just startled me, that’s all.” He thought of his wife, thousands of miles away, waking up in about eight hours, not with him on a day married folks were meant to share together. He thought of his boys––who he’d only seen in snatched Skype calls over the last two months, made when Maggie was at work, and always from a public cafe or coffee shop. He couldn’t bring himself to call from Maggie’s home.
“You forgot!” she said again, teasing him now, kissing him on the lips anyway. “I’ve got plenty already just with you being here, so don’t you go worrying about forgetting a card or not buying a nice bunch of flowers. Mind you, there’s still time.”
“I’ll take you out for dinner, later, anyway.” He’d have to find somewhere that had space. He couldn’t stand the thought of an overly romantic dinner. It was all she would be expecting, however.
“That’ll be lovely. Eat up; I need to get into the office early today. There’s a bit of a crisis going on around Europe, London mainly. Many businesses have been suddenly going bankrupt.” He’d heard a bit of the news, headlines she’d turned the TV on to watch, Phelan barely taking much notice, just noise in the background. But the headlines had been regular enough for him to pick up that something had been going on. He had no idea what it was, though.
“That’s nice,” he said, half heartedly, as he sipped the coffee.
“No it’s not,” she said, throwing a pillow at his head, which missed. “Hundreds of people are losing their jobs, tens of thousands affected by pensions and share prices. You have no clue about business, do you?”
“Not really,” he lied. It had been the role he’d always had with her, the simple Irishman, a character that had sprung back on him––almost subconsciously––when he’d re-entered her life just before New Year.
It was gone seven that evening before Maggie left the office, Phelan waiting outside the main doors with a bunch of her favourite flowers, dressed up himself and a table booked at a nearby Italian. She kissed him, having run into his arms the moment she saw him there, oblivious to anyone else around her at the time. This was her man, and he’d come to meet her from work when she finished.
As always, not far away, a car with men working for Matvey sat watching, recording and tracking what was taking place. It seemed Phelan was very much in flavour with Maggie, which was an excellent thing. Because soon it would be time to move the plan forward, and Matvey knew he’d need Phelan’s help to make Maggie do what he needed her to do––otherwise all he’d been working towards for months would have been for nothing. One way or the other, they’d get her to do what she had to do.
The Italian restaurant was packed mostly with couples––as you’d expect on Valentine’s Day––red roses very much the order of the day, bunches standing all over the place. Phelan had opted for something different––roses were his wife’s favourite.
As their tiramisu came, their second bottle of wine finished before the desserts were even ordered, both were in light spirits––Maggie especially, who never held her drink as well as Phelan could.
“I’ve been thinking a lot about us, Phelan, you know; where things are going.”
“Where are they going?” She smiled at him, unable to pick up on the nervousness in his voice at that moment, misreading the vacant look in his eyes, a lost soul.
“I’d like us to get married.”
“What?”
“Come on, Phelan, I think it’s time we took things forward. I’m not getting any younger. I turned forty last month, and one day soon I would love to start a family with you.”
“Maggie, this is awfully fast. We’ve only just got together…”
“Rubbish. We’ve been together for years. There was just a long gap before we could continue where we left off the last time.”
“I’m not ready.”
“Not ready? What’s stopping you? We already live together. Financially, I’m in a position that could support a family. I’d love to have two children, a boy and a girl would be perfect.”
“Hold on right there, Maggie Thompson! We’ve not even talked about the future, and you already have me changing nappies. I’ve done all that before!”
“But I haven’t! We haven’t.” She was speaking louder than was comfortable for Phelan now, a few heads noticeably turning, but people knew to keep their noses out of someone else’s business.
“I just think it’s all too soon.”
“I knew you’d say that!”
“Say what?”
“I knew you’d be resistant at first, that you would act this way. It’s so typical. You just need to see it happen, that’s all. It’s why I stopped taking the pill on my birthday. I could be pregnant already, and there would be nothing you could do.”
“You stupid bitch!” Phelan screamed, standing up from his chair, pushing it back and away from him as he grabbed his coat, the restaurant in shocked silence, all faces momentarily turned their way, as the Irishman departed, Maggie just bursting into tears. She buried her head in her hands, too upset and too embarrassed to move from where she was.
In Paris, the last few weeks had seen multiple appointments between Josée and the lawyer which Anissa had put her in touch with. Josée had given her evidence, and a legal case was put forward. As February had come around, Interpol had been notified of the arrest warrant made out for Leona Chase. She was taken into custody in Spain––where she now lived––on the fifteenth of the month. The British embassy in Madrid had been notified. The case was already looking to be a complicated one.
In France’s highest court, the material was put forward––including the video footage taken from outside the Armoury. While it wasn’t explicitly Leona, with the other supporting evidence, including a copy of her migration card as well as the visa in her passport proving Leona was there during the reported crime, not to mention a first-hand witness, there was more than enough to detain her.
It took a week of hard talks, but in the end, it was clear the trial and case had to be taken up and made in St Petersburg, where the crime had taken place, and where the witness had herself been at the time.
An initial hearing was to be held in a month’s time, where the lawyers for both women would put forward their case. Based on that, a full trial would or would not be called for, and if it were, only then would Leona and Josée be required to attend in person.
The challenge for Anissa––and she’d in
itially sat back and allowed developments to get as far as they had––was that Josée had not backed down from her demands. Should the trial be held in Russia, Anissa had to attend the event with her in person; otherwise, she wouldn’t go through with it. Coming at a time when the lawyer was pushing for results, Anissa had agreed to that demand then, unclear as it had been if anything would get moved at all. Now she was tied to her word. If Anissa were to back out now, the whole case would collapse. Without a witness––who it could be proved was in Russia at the time of the crime, and was the one with the most to say, as she had nothing to lose by speaking up––there was no trial. It all hinged on Josée’s involvement.
If there was no trial, then Anissa knew there would be no way to reveal how the Games and the oligarchs were behind the actions of both women in the first place. This had been the whole goal all along. She knew she couldn’t back down now. So she’d agreed, much to Alex’s dismay and repeated attempts to get her to change her decision. She said she couldn’t now turn her back on Josée, not after giving Josée her word that she would be there.
Alex had relayed the situation to Sasha, who also didn’t like the fact this was all taking place. Both men would appear in the video too––and while it wasn’t clear who they were on camera, it would only put them more in the spotlight within their various authorities. That was a situation neither man wanted to happen––Sasha in particular. How the FSB would want to get their hands on an agent who had so blatantly broken the rules to work with MI6 as he had been doing for far longer than anyone knew. How long he could keep that all secret now, he did not know. And that thought troubled him deeply.
For now, it was just the French lawyer who would travel to St Petersburg for the middle of March pre-trial assessment which would happen before a Russian judge in St Petersburg. The lawyer for Leona Chase would also be present, but few––if any––others would be there at that point. Once the evidence had been assessed, the judge would make a call as to whether a trial would even be possible. There were now plenty of people who hoped it would never come to that.
