Nordic Bound

by Henry Morgan

  Another weight brought forth a scream, as Sabrina was tortured from her shoulders to her sex. ‘Please,’ she begged. ‘Listen to me.’

  ‘Perhaps you should have listened to me,’ Vasili interrupted. ‘You asked me to explain the meaning in Uncle Vanya. I said it was devotion. You thought only of human devotion, of love between people. Devotion takes many forms. You will find that more than anything I am devoted to my country. To Russia.’

  The sound of Vasili searching the container for more weights brought absolute terror to Sabrina. Her pleas became desperate and she began to tremble with abject fear. The captain ignored her appeals, and she felt the weights lift as he held them to attach yet more.

  ‘That’s enough!’ The voice echoed around the dank cell.

  ‘But, Major Bokov,’ Vasili protested, straightening up indignantly, ‘I have not yet finished my interrogation.’

  ‘I have seen enough,’ insisted the major.

  ‘But she has yet to tell us where her accomplice is.’

  Major Sergei Bokov stepped out of the shadows and into the circle of light. ‘I said, enough.’

  Captain Vasili Leskov snapped to attention and saluted with evident resentment. ‘Yes sir!’

  ‘You are dismissed,’ the major continued, and as the captain marched slowly from the room he added, ‘Perhaps you are too personally involved with this prisoner. Clearly your irregular loan of the army vehicle has clouded your judgement.’ He stepped closer to the suspended Sabrina and took up the weights dangling from her sex lips. ‘I shall take over from here.’

  Vasili stopped for a moment at the door. ‘As you wish,’ he said, and left the room.

  The major barked more orders and the gaoler lowered Sabrina to the chilled floor. ‘Release her and take her to Cheka 3.’ The brute removed the bar and bulldog clips, then took Sabrina by the arm and dragged her from the cell, and as she neared the door she called out her thanks to the major several times. He responded by ordering the other two men out of his sight as well, and when the heavy door closed behind them the fifty-year-old major lifted the clips to his nose and breathed in the sweet aroma of the girl.

  A black Trabant pulled up outside Catherine’s flat and the driver tooted the horn impatiently.

  ‘Cool,’ Catherine hissed between gritted teeth. ‘Let all of Russia know we have a wanted man in the place.’ She smoothed down her stockings and turned her back to Justin, then pulled up her black knee length skirt. ‘Okay, good?’ Justin followed the lines of her seamed nylons to the top of her thighs, where just a glimpse of beautiful white flesh was visible before the black silk of her French knickers hid her charms once more.

  ‘Perfect,’ he answered, and stretched out with searching fingers, but another toot sounded from outside and Catherine slapped away his hand.

  ‘No time for that,’ she scolded. ‘We must hurry before everyone is out looking at what that fool is doing.’ She slipped a long black woollen coat over her deep blue satin blouse and swept out of the apartment. Justin cursed the driver and followed her through the fresh fall of snow. The two climbed into the car and Catherine exchanged angry words with the driver, who retaliated by waving his arms and gesticulating his displeasure at being kept waiting. When the car finally pulled away Justin looked anxiously out of the rear window and was glad to see nothing but the flurry of snow churned up by the chains on the Trabant’s wheels.

  ‘I don’t like this,’ he said nervously. ‘Why does Viktor want to see me?’

  ‘Don’t be frightened.’

  ‘I’m not frightened. I just want to know why he wants to see us.’

  Catherine lit a cigarette and blew the smoke purposely at the driver. ‘You said me,’ she pointed out to Justin. ‘I think he…’ she searched for the word, ‘…I think he intimidates you.’

  ‘Nonsense,’ Justin scoffed, unconvincingly. ‘I just don’t like being summoned like a dog.’

  ‘Like your Sabrina would call you?’

  Justin stared out of the window in silence.

  ‘I am sorry,’ said Catherine. She pushed her arm through his and cuddled into him. ‘I was cruel.’

  The car pulled up suddenly but the driver said nothing.

  ‘Is this it?’ Catherine asked, and then got out of the car and threw her cigarette into the snow, where it looked dirty and out of place upon the pristine white blanket.

  The pair stood in front of a single-storey building that looked like one of Corbusier’s modernist designs. It was surrounded by a high metal fence, which closed behind the leaving Trabant.

  ‘He could have sent his other car,’ Justin said, with a nod at a sleek black limousine in the garage by the side of the house. They both smiled, pulled up the collar on their coats, and stepped up to the front door to be greeted by a pleasant looking middle-aged woman in a black and white maid’s uniform, as worn by Victorian servants.

  The inside complemented the exterior to perfection. It was very art deco, quite sparse and open-plan. A burnished teak floor was kept warm by two rugs; one a Siberian tiger, the other a polar bear, replete with smiling heads. At the perpendicular to the flat-faced white marble fireplace ran two Biedermeier sofas upholstered in black leather.

  ‘Hello, Catherine.’ It was Viktor in a smart, thinly lapelled jacket and trousers. In his hands were two small schooners of sherry, which he offered to them. Catherine took hers and thanked him in Russian, but Viktor replied by saying, ‘Let us speak English tonight. You are not the only guests.’ Behind him a short middle-aged man entered, attired in similar fashion to Viktor.

  ‘This is Snejana Radoslavov,’ announced the Russian. ‘An associate from Burgas, in Bulgaria.’ There were polite how-do-you-dos from all, and after the maid took Catherine and Justin’s coats they sat down, two on each side, on the Biedermeiers.

  When they were comfortable Viktor called for Irina, the maid, who brought in a tray of rolled spicy meats and sweet cakes, which she placed on the coffee table between them. She then removed the Chinoiserie fire screen and lit the fire, revealing that she was wearing stockings as she did so.

  ‘Beautiful view, Justin, don’t you think?’

  Justin pulled his eyes away from Irina’s legs to answer Viktor. ‘It is, yes. It must be marvellous in the summer.’

  Viktor leant forward and poured everyone a cup of tea. Handing one to Justin he continued their conversation. ‘The winter is much better. Too many mosquitoes when the weather is warm. They are such a bother.’

  Justin scanned the room and noted that despite its formality and sparse decoration it was expensive, tasteful, and classy. ‘Still,’ he said. ‘You’ve got your comforts.’

  Sabrina leant across Justin with a hand on his chest and spoke almost directly into his mouth. ‘Oh yes, Viktor likes his comforts.’ She crossed her stockinged legs, which Snejana observed in appreciative silence.

  ‘Try one of these, Justin. They are good. Irina bakes them herself.’ Viktor held out a small china plate. Justin picked up a small slice of cake, took a bite and put it on a spare plate. He saw Viktor awaiting a comment and stated that the cake was indeed very nice.

  ‘Almonds?’

  ‘And sesame,’ answered Viktor. ‘Irina is very good in the kitchen. She keeps everything simple – the way I like it.’ His comments brought a smile from the demure Irina, who gave something akin to a curtsey and left the room. Justin followed her exit with interest and wondered about the relationship between Viktor and his Victorian servant.

  ‘Well,’ said Catherine to Snejana, ‘how is Burgas?’

  ‘Grimy and full of money,’ he replied. ‘But I have a lovely little house near Pomorie. You can see the sea from my balcony. It is all very beautiful – as you are. Maybe you would like to see it?’

  ‘I would love to,’ Catherine gushed, then Snejana added that he would like to get Viktor’s decorator to come to Bulgaria and make
his place as wonderful as Viktor’s house.

  ‘Have you seen it all?’ Catherine asked.

  ‘No, I haven’t,’ Snejana replied. ‘I arrived just a moment before you.’

  ‘Can I show Snejana around, Viktor?’

  The Russian gangster smiled and nodded, so Catherine stood up, smoothed down her skirt, and took the Bulgarian by the arm and out of the room. Justin’s eyes followed them, and Viktor answered the unasked question.

  ‘She has been here before. Many times.’

  Justin’s stomach churned with emotion, which Viktor recognised. ‘I see you two have a deep friendship.’ Justin nodded. ‘But you cannot stay here, in Russia. You know that?’ Justin nodded again, and Viktor continued. ‘Catherine is taking a great personal risk by helping you. Do not put her in any more danger than she already is.’

  ‘I wouldn’t dream of it,’ said Justin, before Viktor added,

  ‘There are special agents all over Murmansk looking for you. It is only a matter of time before someone notices Catherine buying more food than usual, or a light come on in her flat when they know she is out. People talk, especially when the KGB is asking the questions.’

  ‘But what can I do? I feel like a trapped animal. I can’t go out, I can’t stay in.’

  ‘Relax,’ Viktor advised. ‘We must work fast and take the hunters by surprise.’

  Justin looked bemused. ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘Take a cigarette,’ said Viktor, and he pushed a silver box across the coffee table. Justin patted his jacket pockets, thanked the Russian and said he had some on him.

  ‘I think you will find this brand more interesting,’ Viktor insisted, Justin got the message, and opened the silver lid. Inside was a small handgun.

  ‘What the…?’

  ‘Walther PPK,’ smiled Viktor. ‘Just like your James Bond.’ He pulled a slim cigarette case from inside his jacket and flicked it open. ‘You can be James Bond now.’

  Justin took a cigarette with a trembling hand. ‘I don’t understand,’ he said.

  Viktor offered him a light and reclined with his own cigarette. ‘Your Sabrina is in Cheka 3,’ he informed Justin. ‘So we may have a chance of a rescue.’

  ‘I thought she was in Lubyanka.’

  ‘Cheka 3 is a department of Lubyanka.’

  ‘How do you know all this?’ said a stunned Justin, before adding, ‘What is Cheka 3, anyway?’

  Viktor smiled and took another cake from the plate. ‘Ah,’ he grinned between bites, ‘Cheka 3 is the KGB’s entertainment section. A certain group of the disappeared, used for the pleasure of top politburo officials and high-ranking officers in the military. Mostly women, though there are some men.’

  ‘So, she is safe?’

  ‘Not an adjective I would use,’ Viktor said, displaying a greater command of the English language than Justin had given him credit for. ‘She is safe for as long as she is required. I know she has been tortured and they are happy with what she has told them. They are still searching for you and apparently they know where your other friend is.’

  ‘Where?’ Justin asked.

  ‘I don’t know. I have a contact but he cannot ask too many questions without causing suspicion.’

  Justin’s stomach had settled now, after the shock of the gun and hearing about Sabrina, and he felt a little more relaxed. He took a cake for himself and asked Viktor to disclose his source, fully expecting to be rebuked, but Viktor gave one of his confident smiles just as Catherine guided Snejana to one of the bedrooms that ran off from the open-plan living room. He followed Justin’s gaze and smiled again. ‘Snejana is my contact,’ he said, and waved gently to the man, who waved back as Catherine opened the bedroom door.

  Justin’s emotions were again in turmoil. He was desperate to hear about Sabrina, but his familiar jealousy over Catherine returned. ‘How do you know he’s telling the truth?’ he hissed, rather ungratefully as beyond Viktor he watched Snejana place his hands on Catherine’s hips.

  ‘Let’s just say we have an ongoing contract with some people in the military,’ said Viktor, but his words failed to regain Justin’s attention. He was watching Snejana kiss Catherine fully on the mouth, but proud of his underworld operations Viktor continued. ‘You see, Snejana has a haulage fleet in Burgas.’ The middle-aged Bulgarian was caressing Catherine’s bottom. ‘We get our people to contaminate the oil, then we get paid to take it away and dispose of it.’ Snejana was now on his knees and gathering up Catherine’s skirt, exposing her suspenders and the bottom of her knickers. ‘The clever bit is that the oil is only contaminated with water. We just leave the trucks on a hill and wait for the oil and water to separate out.’ Catherine’s knickers were gathered in a wet knot around her knees. ‘Then we transfer the oil to our tankers and sell it on the market.’ Viktor stubbed out his cigarette. ‘We even sell to the military.’ When he sat back his smile was broader than ever. ‘That’s how Snejana knows about the girl.’

  He stood up and walked across to the bedroom. Catherine was naked from the waist down and the Bulgarian was fucking her over the foot of the bed. Justin looked on impotently as the older man screwed his young Russian love, and then Viktor calmly closed the door and returned to his seat. ‘There is always a price to pay,’ he told Justin. ‘Even for information.’

  For the first time Justin picked up the gun and weighed it thoughtfully in his hands. He had never held one before and was surprised how good if felt. As he toyed with the weapon he heard the distinct cries of Catherine’s orgasm.

  ‘Bullets?’

  ‘They are elsewhere,’ said Viktor. ‘Can you use it?’

  ‘I don’t know. I suppose I’ll have to.’

  ‘Come with me,’ Viktor instructed. ‘I will show you.’

  When the two men passed the bedroom in which the Bulgarian was riding Catherine, moans of sexual ecstasy were reaching a crescendo. Justin paused for a brief moment before Viktor’s guiding hand directed him to the rear of the house, where he collected some clips for the gun from a biscuit tin. ‘Not very original,’ Viktor admitted.

  Outside the cold air bit into their faces and began attacking their bare hands. Viktor snapped the clip into the gun, made a brief gesture of showing Justin how to release the safety, and let off three shots into a water butt. Three perfectly round holes spouted water and Viktor handed the gun to Justin. He did like they do in the movies, raised the gun with arms outstretched and emptied the clip into the same water container. The recoil was minimal, as was the report, and Justin felt the rush of excitement from handling the weapon; it was small and yet heavy. He raised the empty gun and trained it once more on the barrel and made the same pretend shooting sounds as he did as a child with the cowboy guns his mother would buy him for Christmas.

  ‘I think you’ve got the idea,’ Viktor told him, and gestured to the house. Justin’s face was flushed and the cold was no longer felt.

  ‘How many more clips do you have?’

  Viktor reached into the biscuit tin and pulled out another four. ‘One thing,’ he said, ‘if you go around shooting at people, don’t be surprised if they shoot back. Russia is not the Wild West. It is not that sophisticated.’

  When they returned to the living room Snejana and Catherine were sitting next to each other. She was smoking a cigarette and he had the smile of a cat that had got the cream, which was exactly what he had.

  ‘Everything okay?’ Catherine asked.

  Justin’s feelings slumped at the sight of his girl and the reminder that she’d been with the other man, and he couldn’t answer her.

  ‘He will be fine,’ Viktor announced as he sat down. ‘Now it’s time to go over the plan.’

  Justin joined him on the settee. ‘What plan?’

  Snejana leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees in a conspiratorial fashion, and the others did the same. ‘In two days Sabrina
will be accompanying Major Sergei Bokov to the theatre. They are to see Uncle Vanya.’

  ‘She’s seen it,’ Justin put in rather stupidly.

  ‘At the Theatre Minsk,’ continued the Bulgarian, ignoring the remark. ‘It is a new theatre on the outskirts of the city. Cheka 3 has a recreation club in the woods not far from the theatre. There is only one road between the theatre and the club, and it has trees sheltering each side. We have a chance of getting her there. Bokov will be driving so there should not be any bodyguards to worry about.’ He leant back, satisfied with his basic plan.

  ‘What about transport, fuel, money?’ asked Justin.

  A huge wad of roubles landed on the table. ‘That will get you to Odessa with few questions,’ answered Viktor. ‘Then you will have to arrange a boat to Turkey. You are on your own then.’

  Justin fondled the gun in his pocket and felt his confidence swell. He turned to Snejana. ‘What about your contacts in Burgas? Can’t they get me out?’

  Snejana laughed. ‘And risk my whole operation for two westerners who don’t even have any money for insurance?’

  ‘Then just why are you doing this?’ Justin asked, with a steely tone to his voice.

  Catherine placed a hand on his shoulder. ‘Please,’ she said, in an attempt to stop the line of conversation, ‘they are trying to help you.’

  ‘It’s business,’ Snejana answered him, then patted Catherine on the inside of her thigh and added, ‘for which I have already been partly paid.’

  There was no hiding the look of anguish on Justin’s face, and he turned away. ‘How do I get to Moscow?’ he asked.

  ‘Tonight,’ said Viktor, ‘Snejana is to take you and Catherine.’

  ‘Not Catherine!’ Justin gasped. ‘What if something goes wrong?’