The Omega Sanction

by Tomas Black

  Abramov froze. He let go of Fabio’s chin.

  “Thank you, Fabio. You have been most helpful. Cut him down.”

  “Thank God,” croaked Fabio, his voice reduced to a hoarse whisper. “Where are you taking me?”

  “On a little boat ride. Not far from here. Then you can have as much water as you can drink.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  House Full of Russians

  It was Friday morning when Drum and Fern landed at Heathrow. They had caught the last flight out of New York after wrapping up with Hammond and Delaney. Fern had hardly spoken to him during the flight. Once they cleared customs, she made her excuses and caught a separate car service back into town. She was still pissed at him for wanting Misha back in London.

  The driver took him back via central London and the Embankment. He was dog-tired and dozed most of the way. He woke as they passed Old Billingsgate Market and headed up Lower Thames Street towards Tower Bridge. The driver deposited him outside his favourite coffee shop beside Butler’s Wharf.

  He was surprised to see William manning reception.

  “Morning, son.”

  “Morning. Didn’t think I’d see you here. Where’s Alice?”

  “Gone to get the coffees. Thought you might be tired after your flight. I’ve come to give you a hand.”

  Drum took a step past the reception area and looked into what had been his office. It looked like a bomb had hit it.

  “Good grief …” He dropped his bag behind the reception desk and examined the carnage.

  “Yeah, the bastards. Alice said they took great delight in wrecking the place.”

  “William, I’m sorry. If I’d known they were going to do this … Alice not too upset, is she?”

  “One thing I’ve learnt about Alice is that she’s as ’ard as nails.”

  Drum sat down on one of the seats in the small reception area and stared up at the ceiling. He was tired.

  “Sorry about Raj,” said William. “He was a nice bloke.”

  “He was – a nice bloke,” echoed Drum.

  “And he still is,” said Alice as she bustled her way through the door, balancing a cardboard tray of three coffees. “Don’t you two go all maudlin on me. We have work to do.”

  Drum smiled. “You’re right.” How did he manage before Alice?

  They spent the rest of the morning clearing up the mess. As promised, McKay had removed all material related to the RBI case. Whatever evidence was on the two laptops was now in the hands of MI5 – or at least in the large hams of McKay.

  Alice poked her head around the door.

  “Got a minute?”

  “Sure, Alice.”

  She looked behind her then slipped in, gently closing the door.

  “I’ve got William tidying up the kitchen.” She looked behind her again. “I cleared out the safe before the raid, just as a precaution.”

  “You did? Well done,” said Drum.

  Alice unbuttoned her jacket and proudly displayed the Sig Sauer secured in a leather holster.

  “I thought we might be needing this. Things are going to get worse before they get better.”

  “Crumbs, Alice …”

  “Just don’t tell William. He’d faint if he knew I was carrying a gun.”

  “Is there something we need to talk about?”

  She tilted her head to one side and pursed her lips.

  “You mean about William and me?”

  “No, Alice. I mean about your past career in the Foreign Office.” He frowned. “Wait, what about you and William?”

  “Good Lord,” exclaimed Alice, buttoning her jacket. “That man is impossible –”

  “Alice,” said Drum. “Victor Renkov and Anna Koblihova have just walked in. Better show them in.”

  “Do you want me to stick around,” said Alice looking over her shoulder.

  “Just keep William busy out back. Not sure how this is going to play.” Victor is not your friend.

  “Right you are,” said Alice, patting the side of her jacket as she left the office.

  Victor came in wearing his best corporate smile and his coat over his shoulders. Anna remained outside talking to Alice.

  “Benjamin, how are you!”

  “Hi, Victor,” said Drum, offering Victor the couch. “You’re looking better.”

  Victor looked around and raised an eyebrow. He winced, automatically touching the tender side of his brow. Battered and bloodied, but not out.

  “Having a tidy up?”

  “Something like that,” said Drum, noticing Anna and Alice having another animated conversation. “I see you still have your minder.”

  Victor scowled. “That woman will be the death of me.” He calmed himself. “But I guess I’m stuck with her – at least for a while.” He looked outside into the reception area. “What do those two have to talk about?”

  “What do you want, Victor?”

  “We were wondering if you had any information on Harvey Pinkman?”

  “We? Are you working for Vlad now?”

  “We’re all working for Vlad, one way or another. Even you, Benjamin. Only you haven’t realised it yet.” He glanced behind him. “I thought you might want to know that Misha is back.”

  Drum shrugged.

  “I only mention it because the New York side of the operation told us he was arrested. Vlad is wondering why he was allowed to return to London.”

  Before Drum could reply Anna walked into the office. She was wearing a smart suit and matching heels. She looked all business.

  Alice came in behind her. “Can I get you some tea, Mr Renkov?”

  Victor replied smoothly in his native Russian. Alice smiled politely and left the office.

  “Such a charming woman,” said Victor, stealing a sideways glance at Anna.

  “Are we still playing at Victor’s PA, Anna?”

  Anna sank back into the couch and placed her small leather purse beside her. She smiled.

  “I think the time for pretence is over, don’t you Benjamin? Vladimir wants the two laptops you have in your possession.”

  “If we’re talking about the two laptops from the raid at RBI, I can’t help you.”

  Anna scrutinised him. “It is best not to lie to me. Vlad wants those laptops.”

  “I wish I could help, but the security services have them now. That particular case has been closed down.”

  Anna frowned. “What security services?”

  “I’m assuming MI5. An old army friend stopped by and picked them up. I really don’t have them.”

  Victor grinned. “Oh, well. A wasted trip then, Anna.”

  Anna stared at Drum, her eyes narrowing. “I don’t think Vlad will believe that.”

  “Vlad can believe what he wants. I gather Mr Pinkman hasn’t turned up.”

  Anna didn’t answer. She suddenly stood up.

  “If you have any information on Harvey Pinkman, it would be best if you let us know.” She walked out of the door and out of the office.

  “Well, thanks for everything Benjamin. Be seeing you.”

  “Victor,” said Drum standing. “How deep are you in?”

  “One metric ton of gold bullion. You do the math. If that gold doesn’t turn up, I’m a dead man walking.”

  He followed Anna out of the office.

  Drum sat back down in his chair and sighed. He had a feeling he’d not seen the last of Victor and Anna. He wondered if Misha was looking at the wrong end of a pulley.

  Alice walked in. “Anna looked like she left in a huff,” she said.

  “Wanted the laptops from the raid,” said Drum.

  “What did you tell her?”

  “The truth. The security services have them.”

  “Did she believe you?”

  “Not in the slightest.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  Before Drum could answer, William poked his head around the door.

  “Alice, gotta go. Problem with one of my rentals. See you lat
er – at bowls.”

  “William –”, said Alice, but William had made a swift exit giving Drum a wave as he left the office.

  Drum laughed. “Ok, what am I missing here?”

  “That man,” said Alice, letting out a large sigh. “He’s bloody impossible.”

  “It seems you have the measure of my father.”

  “He was supposed to tell you.”

  “Tell me what, Alice?”

  “Oh, sod it. William has moved in with me. There, I’ve said it!”

  Drum looked on in stunned silence. Then a smile spread across his face. He got up from behind his desk and walked over to Alice. He bent down and enveloped her tiny frame in a giant hug.

  “Oh, Alice. That’s wonderful news.”

  She pulled back from his embrace. “It is?”

  “Of course it is. I’ve never seen William so happy.”

  Her eyes began to well with tears. She reached inside her jacket pocket for a tissue.

  “He is, isn’t he. Happy I mean.”

  Drum sat Alice down on the couch.

  “I’ve been so worried,” she said, her voice wavering. “We didn’t know what you would think. We haven’t known each other long.”

  “I’ve been a complete idiot for not realising the obvious,” said Drum. “I haven’t been the best of sons.”

  “Oh, nonsense. So much has been happening …”

  “About that,” said Drum. “I think things could start becoming a little too hot around here. It might be best if you and William stayed away from the office – until things blow over.”

  Alice gave him a hard look. “Oh, tsk, tsk, that won’t be necessary. I can take care of myself – and you have that nice Commander Fern to help you.”

  Drum thought about Fern. She hadn’t checked in since leaving him at the airport. He really should give her a call.

  “We should get cracking,” said Alice.

  “Oh, no you don’t. We’re going for a drink. It’s Friday.”

  Alice beamed. “Great idea. I’ll get my bag.”

  “And Alice.”

  “Yes, Ben.”

  “Lose the gun.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  A Russian Cruise

  Drum said goodbye to Alice after spending an enjoyable afternoon over gin and tonics at a local bar on the wharf. He’d brought her up to speed on events in New York. She agreed with Fern: it was a mistake letting Misha back in the country.

  She told him she wouldn’t be in on Saturday. She was helping William pack his things. He was pleased that she and William had hit it off and the thought of them living together made him smile. He wondered what William really knew about Alice. Whatever she did at the Foreign Office, it wasn’t merely typing. She was comfortable around firearms, spoke fluent Russian and seemed unfazed by the fact that the Russian Mafia might want to kill him. Whatever Alice was hiding, he trusted her to tell him in her own good time. I know how to keep a secret.

  There wasn’t anything more he could do that night so he sauntered back towards the office. The weather was mild for the time of year and the sun was sitting low over the rooftops of the converted warehouses, casting long shadows across the narrow cobbled street of the wharf. He should really call Fern. Perhaps she would consider dinner?

  He had just entered the gloom of a small arched alley that led back to the office when a large man stepped out from the shadows, blocking his path. He heard footsteps behind him and quickly turned. Too late. He felt a crushing blow to the back of his head before blackness took him.

  He woke briefly, his head spinning. He felt sick. Two men were holding him up, one on each arm. They were dragging him down the steps of a small landing where a dinghy was moored. The last thing he remembered was being man-handled into the boat before nausea and blackness consumed him once more.

  He came to staring up at a darkening sky. A sharp pain lanced through the back of his head and the world seemed to be slowly rolling from side to side. He heard a Russian voice.

  “Benjamin, are you awake?”

  He heard the voice again, this time speaking angrily in Russian. Someone grabbed him and tried to sit him up. He slumped forward, unconsciousness threatening to take him. He was roughly thrust into a sitting position once more. He smelt a woman’s perfume: lemon and a hint of jasmine. He felt something cold on the back of his head.

  “Were you trying to kill him?” said the woman. It sounded like Anna.

  He looked around and saw the City skyline moving up and down. He immediately felt nauseous. He was on a large motor launch, swaying and rolling in the middle of the Thames. He lifted his head and fought back the bile in his throat that threatened to overwhelm him. He reached for the back of his head and felt a small hand holding a cold compress to his scalp.

  “Take your time”, said Anna. “They were supposed to bring you to the boat, not kill you.”

  “Don’t make fuss of him, Anna.” Drum looked up and saw the dark-suited shape of Vlad looming over him. He was grinning. “He is one tough soldier. I think so.”

  He appeared to be on a soft leather couch with his back to the stern of the boat. More seating surrounded a large central table on the deck where drinks had been placed. He cautiously moved his head. Misha was standing off to one side, looking bored. Three of Vlad’s henchmen were situated about the deck, hands folded, looking on. They were grinning like hyenas at their bosses’ interrogation.

  “You only had to pick up the phone,” said Drum, trying not to throw up.

  “You see, Anna,” said Vlad. “He’s fine. Englishmen have thick heads, dull brains.” He repeated his joke in Russian to the amusement of his men.

  “Take it easy,” said Anna. She left him and walked over and sat on a couch near the table.

  “Listen, Benjamin. I play nice with you. I offer you work. I send the lovely Anna to reason with you …” He leaned on the corner of the table and took a battered gold case from his jacket pocket. He opened it, one-handed, and extracted a long, black cigarette. One of his minions walked over and lit it for him. He snapped the case shut with practised ease and returned it to his pocket. He sucked deeply, drawing the thick grey smoke into his lungs.

  “And you shit on me,” he continued, exhaling the spent smoke down through his nose.

  “I can’t give you what I don’t have,” said Drum, wincing as he pressed on the cold compress.

  “Don’t fuck with me, Benjamin. That would be a bad idea.”

  “Look, Anna must have told you about the visit I had from the security services. They have the laptops.”

  “Yes, she told me. So I check. I think someone is fucking with you, yes?”

  Drum wondered what contacts Vlad had that could confirm an MI5 operation. If this was true, he had serious influence with someone. A thought occurred to him.

  “Listen, I suspect that we’re both being fucked over. Someone doesn’t want the information stored on those laptops coming to light. It must be someone at the bank.”

  Vlad stood up and moved to the side of the boat next to him. He casually flicked ash over the side of the railings and looked out at City skyline.

  “I think you are right. I have come by information that Damian Rhodes might not be treating his customers fairly.”

  Drum didn’t ask about the source of his information, but he guessed it involved pain and blood loss.

  “I think whoever wanted Pinkman’s laptop, also wanted Pinkman out of the way. Probably Rhodes …”

  Vlad stared down at the end of his cigarette, thinking. “I don’t think Rhodes had anything to do with Pinkman’s disappearance.”

  “What makes you say that.”

  “Because Pinkman was working for me and Rhodes needed him.”

  Now Drum was confused. “So who would want Pinkman out of the way?”

  “Beats me,” said Vlad, dropping the end of his cigarette into the river below. “He was a little shit. Big drug and girl problems.” A grin split his face. “Of course, we help him with
these habits. I would have liked to have killed him myself, but he was useful.” He moved back to the table and poured himself a drink. “Tell me, what were you doing in New York.”

  Drum glanced over at Misha who was standing stock still with his hands folded in front of him. He was looking as stoic as ever. There was no telling what Vlad would do if he knew he was working for ROD, not to mention the DOJ. He decided to steer a course between two half-truths and hoped that Misha wouldn’t contradict him.

  “I was on a date.”

  “A date?” said Vlad. “You expect me to believe that?”

  “You know her. Alex Fern.”

  “You took Alex Fern to New York for –”

  “Romance.”

  Vlad’s face contorted with a lascivious grin. “You’re fucking the policewoman?” He turned to Misha who nodded. He repeated this piece of news in Russian to his henchmen. On cue, they started to laugh.

  Vlad regarded Drum with cold dark eyes. He was thinking, considering his next move. “What am I going to do with you, Benjamin? You don’t have laptops and you don’t have Pinkman. Why don’t I just throw you over the side?”

  Drum thought this was a good question. He needed to buy himself some time and get Vlad off his back. He needed to find Harry and not have to keep looking over his shoulder for a Russian hitman.

  “You need me, Vlad. I know from my contacts that RBI are looking to audit the vault. Apparently, the board doesn’t trust Rhodes either. I’m certain I can get a contract at the bank as part of the audit team. It’ll give me the perfect opportunity to find out what’s going on.” Vlad was still looking sceptical. “I’ll make a deal with you. I’ll find Pinkman, dead or alive, and find your gold – if it is indeed missing.”

  Vlad grinned. “Good choice, Benjamin.” He issued an order in Russian to one of his henchmen. The man went below decks.

  Anna was looking at him. She pursed her lips, then stood and poured herself a drink and sat back down. He wondered who she really was.

  There was a scuffling noise and then what sounded like cursing. Drum’s Russian only amounted to a few dozen words – all of them bad. Whoever was being shoved up from below decks had exhausted his entire vocabulary.