by Dirk Patton
“That is how I know this,” he said stiffly.
“Moving on,” Brillard said, unfazed by the prickly German. “Daily cleaning service.”
He produced another photo of several women standing outside a van as it was inspected by Russian guards.
“Arrives daily at ten-hundred hours and departs at sixteen-hundred. The women are thoroughly searched at the outer perimeter and required to completely disrobe upon entering the building. They then dress in disposable clothing provided by the Russians. All cleaning materials are maintained on site and they are not allowed to bring anything in or out.”
“These are local women?” Lucas asked.
Brillard nodded.
“Have you spoken with any of them? If they’re cleaning, they must be in every part of the building.”
“They have provided the intel we have,” Inspector Tanner said.
“Do they ever see Barinov? Get close to him?” I asked, feeling a little optimism.
“No,” he shook his head. “They have never seen him. They are not allowed access to the penthouse level. We are assuming Barinov’s personal residence is maintained solely by Russian personnel.”
“Have you sent one of your people in, posing as part of the crew?” Lucas asked.
“Tried, mate,” Wellington said. “Got her hired by the company so she was legit, but they turned her away at the perimeter because she couldn’t be vetted.”
“Vetted?” I asked. “They’re backgrounding people at the outer ring?”
“Hadn’t gotten to that part, yet,” Brillard said. “But yes, they are. Under the orders of the PM, they were allowed access to police and defense force databases. They can check any person who presents him or herself for entry.”
I leaned back in my chair, feeling frustrated as it seemed all these guys were doing was telling us what wouldn’t work, not what would.
“Okay,” I said. “Don’t mean to be the rude Yank in the room, but how about telling us what will work instead. Anything?”
It was quiet for a moment, then Wellington looked at Lucas and chuckled.
“Can’t say you didn’t warn me about him, mate.”
Lucas smiled and shrugged his shoulders.
“I did,” he said. “And I appreciate all the work you’ve obviously done, but he has a point. How do we get in?”
Wellington was still for a second, then looked at Brillard and nodded.
“We’ve identified one possibility. The men in residence have what is apparently a voracious appetite for prostitutes. There are daily visits, primarily in the evening hours.”
He laid a stack of photos on the table. Lucas picked it up and flipped through before handing it to me. Each was of a different woman being cleared through perimeter security. All were young, tall, beautiful and dressed in expensive clothing that revealed more than it covered.
“Any success in turning one of them or sending someone in?” Lucas asked.
“Here’s the problem,” Inspector Tanner interjected before Brillard could answer. “All of them work for the Russian mafia, which has a rather strong presence in Sydney. Most were brought here from Europe, with a few from Asia. It’s impossible to speak to one of them without alerting the Russians, nor can we simply insert an agent.”
“They’re trusted because they’re coming from a Russian pimp, who brought them in from out of the country. Right?” I asked.
“That sums it up rather nicely,” Brillard said. “They are, in actuality, nothing more than slaves to the mafia. They are guarded at all times and escorted to and from the building.”
“I don’t understand,” I said. “You said this was a possibility. How?”
Tanner looked at me and smiled.
“What if the police were to crack down on the mafia and shut down their operations? The Russians aren’t going to wait long to start looking for an alternate purveyor to supply them with women.”
29
“Are you fucking kidding me? That’s your plan?” I asked sarcastically, earning a frown from Tanner and a calming hand from Rachel on my arm.
Lucas and I exchanged glances, then he leaned forward and placed his forearms on the table.
“My friend here isn’t the most patient Yank you’ll ever meet,” he said. “But I have to agree with him, again. There are more problems with that suggestion than we have time to discuss. The biggest one is, where are we going to find women to pose as prostitutes? Whoever we send in is going to be expected to perform the services for which she is being paid, and if she doesn’t, I don’t imagine it would be conducive to her continued good health.”
Tanner glared at him and started to open his mouth to argue, but Wellington leaned in and cut him off.
“Easy, mate,” he said to Lucas. “You should know me better. Allow the Chief Inspector to continue.”
After a moment, Lucas leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest. I could tell he wasn’t any happier than I was, and I was having a hard time keeping my mouth shut. But I followed his lead. For the moment.
“Right,” Tanner said, making a production of clearing his throat before continuing. “As I was saying, the police shut down the Russian mafia’s operation. Arrest everyone, including the girls, and rotate them through the system to slow down the legal process and keep them from seeing a judge.”
“How long can you make that work?” Lucas asked.
“Normally, three or four days. But under the circumstances, there are people who will help and I can probably stretch it out to at least a week before some bleeding heart gets wind of what’s happening.”
“So, we should count on five days,” I said.
He looked at me for a moment before nodding.
“That would be the safer estimate,” he said.
“Fine,” I said when he didn’t continue. “What about Lucas’s question?”
“There is an operation in Sydney, run by a local, using local women. The words pimp, hooker, escort or prostitute are never used to refer to their business model. They are strictly top shelf and arrange for companions to spend time with celebrities, politicians, wealthy businessmen and professional athletes. That type of clientele. If you don’t know the right people, you won’t be able to find them. The proprietor is cozy with the senior levels of the government, and is protected. Untouchable by law enforcement.”
“I don’t understand. I thought prostitution was legal here,” I said.
“It is, in a manner of speaking. In a licensed brothel. But going to the client at the behest of an individual who is profiting from the prostitution is illegal. Now, as I was saying, there are two aides who work for the PM that are in direct contact with the Russians. My expectation is that as soon as the sods realize their mafia pimp and his women are unavailable, there will be a call placed to one of these aides, seeking an alternative. And I am quite confident I know who will be suggested as a replacement.”
“What good does that do us? If this new pimp is tight with the powers that be, why would he help rather than just alert the PM to what we’re doing? Why would the women?”
Tanner looked at me and sighed.
“If I could finish speaking without interruption, your questions will be answered.”
I took a deep breath, resisting the urge to tell him to just get to the fucking point.
“Very well,” he said in a haughty tone. “You are correct about the man in charge. He is well protected at the highest levels, and would immediately betray us. If he were still in charge of the operation.”
He paused and looked at me and Lucas expectantly.
“We take him out?” I asked in surprise.
“Perhaps not in the manner you are used to, but we remove him and take control of his business. The women have no love for the Russians and can be paid to do most anything we ask.”
“They aren’t assassins,” Lucas said. “We’ve already got intel from the cleaning service. I’m failing to see the value in exchange for the effort required to pull this off
.”
“We don’t have people working directly for us that are going inside,” Wellington interjected. “We don’t know who the prostitutes are there to service. We don’t know what intel could be gleaned or opportunity identified. This is the only way to directly place our own eyes and ears within the building.”
“Look, mate,” Brillard said when neither Lucas nor I responded. “We’ve been watching for weeks. Hoping to find a way in. And we haven’t found it. Maybe this will give us what we need. Maybe Barinov likes to climb on top of a young woman, which means we’d have an opportunity to get some intel about the penthouse. Maybe she can spot the nerve gas trigger. We don’t know what we don’t know. But the only other option we have, which isn’t an option, is a frontal assault. And with the protection that is in place, that would be rather noisy and give the bastard more than enough time to press the button.”
The room fell silent as Lucas and I both thought about what had just been presented to us.
“So, who takes over the escort service?” Lucas asked.
“He does.”
Wellington spoke without hesitation, pointing at me.
“Me? Why the hell should it be me?” I asked, caught completely unprepared.
“Because the Russians have access into both police and defense force files, as we’ve already told you,” Schmidt said. “Anyone in Australia that has even had a license to operate a motor vehicle is in at least one of those databases. Photograph included, and in many cases fingerprints as well. You are not.”
“You guys have been watching too many goddamn spy movies,” I said, earning several dirty looks. “The Russian’s pet mafia pimp gets arrested, forcing them to find a new source for hookers. Then, we’re just going to take it on faith that they’ll contact this specific escort agency, which mysteriously has a new owner who just happens to be an American. Russians are many things, but they ain’t stupid. They’re going to smell a rat!”
The room was quiet again as I stared them down. Lucas remained very still for several long moments before speaking.
“I must agree,” he said in a gentle voice. “I understand why you have proposed this course of action, but there are too many opportunities for things to go wrong. There must be another way.”
More silence, then Wellington looked at the three men seated across from me.
“Told you they wouldn’t like it,” he said with a smile before turning to face us. “And I don’t like it either. But as Tony has pointed out, there is no other way inside that does not involve a tactical assault.”
“What about a goddamn JDAM straight down onto the roof of the building?” I asked sarcastically. “Just blow all of them straight to hell.”
“Typical American,” Schmidt said. “Blow everything up with a bomb instead of getting your hands dirty!”
I started to come out of my seat, pausing when Lucas put a restraining hand on my shoulder. The German’s eyes were locked on mine and he had a faint smirk on his face, pleased he’d gotten under my skin.
“Perhaps it’s time for a short break,” Wellington said, standing without waiting for an agreement.
“Wait,” Rachel said, speaking for the first time. “What do they do if something needs repaired?”
“Repaired?” Brillard asked.
“Yes. Like an electrical problem or a plumbing leak or something like that. Have they had to bring in any contractors?”
“No, nothing like that,” he said, digging through a sheaf of papers until he found the one he wanted. He trailed his finger down to the mid-point and read briefly before looking up. “Exterminator has been in twice since they’ve been here.”
“Why?” Lucas asked as Brillard pulled out another page.
“First time was six weeks ago. Treated the exterior of the building and the parking garage, only. Didn’t go in. Then again two weeks ago. This time they went inside. Hold on, let me find the report.”
He shuffled through another stack, then pulled out a single sheet of paper and scanned it quickly.
“We didn’t do an interview of the men who went inside. Felt it was too risky that word would get back to the Russians that someone was asking questions. All we’ve got is what Schmidt pulled off their computer, which is nothing more than a list of the types of chemicals employed, and the quantity used. We don’t know what they were spraying for.”
“Why were you concerned about interviewing them?” Lucas asked. “You spoke with the maids.”
“Maids are all locals. Born and raised. The exterminating company is run by an immigrant from Eastern Europe, and the employees are his family. We were unsure of his loyalties, especially considering he was contacted directly by the Russians. Maybe they looked in the phone book and saw a name that reminded them of home, but we weren’t going to take the chance.”
“What did they use? What chemical?” Rachel asked.
“Cislin 25,” Brillard said after consulting the paper.
Rachel looked at Schmidt who nodded and began typing on his laptop. Wellington resumed his seat, listening closely.
“Broad use in commercial and residential buildings for common pests included spiders, ants, cockroaches and beetles,” he said, reading from the screen.
“So, they’ve got a pest problem,” Rachel said.
“Same company both times?” I asked, thinking I knew where she was going with her questions.
“Yes,” Brillard said.
“How closely were the exterminators and their equipment checked when they went inside?” Lucas asked.
Brillard read further down the sheet before answering.
“Cursory check of the equipment, but complete body search of the personnel.”
“That’s our in!” I said excitedly. “There’s got to be something we can dose the pesticide with that will do the job. Knock them out, or do the job outright and kill them.”
“There are several things, in fact,” Wellington said, nodding. “We could easily break into the exterminating company and introduce something into their chemicals. But how do we know when the Russians are going to want service again? It might be next week, or next month. From what Lucas said, we’re on a rather tight timeline.”
“Spiders,” I said. “Everyone gets freaked out by spiders crawling around their house, and you’ve got some really nasty ones here in Australia. So, we push the issue.”
“How?” Wellington asked. “We can’t exactly send them a post with a whole nest of creepy crawlies inside.”
I stared at him, then looked first at Lucas before turning to Rachel. Both simply shrugged their shoulders.
“Hold on,” Brillard said. Everyone went quiet, watching him while he was deep in thought. “The lady gave me an idea when she mentioned a plumber. Why not introduce something into the plumbing? A gas, I mean.”
“How do we do that without contaminating half the bloody city?” Tanner asked.
“Don’t know, but I’ve got a mate that works for Sydney Water. If there’s a way, he’ll know how.”
Wellington looked around the table for a moment.
“I think we should proceed with all our ideas, then make a decision on which will best achieve the desired results. Agreed?”
Lucas glanced at me and I nodded.
“Agreed,” he said.
“Then let’s move forward. Senior Sergeant, get in touch with your mate and explore the options. While you’re doing that, Schmidt will research the different compounds that could be introduced, either through the water supply, or via the exterminators. Chief Inspector, please finalize the plans for removing the Russian mafia from the equation. Lucas, your team can work on how we provoke the Russians to call for a pest treatment. Any questions?”
Everyone around the table shook their heads.
“Very well. We’ll regroup at eighteen-hundred to review our progress.”
30
“Not impressed,” I groused to Lucas.
We had left the meeting room and stepped out onto a large balcony so
I could smoke a cigarette.
“You heard what they had to say,” Lucas grumbled. “There just isn’t any way in. And without them, we wouldn’t have the intel we do. I know this is personal, but don’t kill the fucking messenger!”
“Maybe it’s a better use of our time to figure something out, rather than complain,” Rachel said, taking the freshly lit cigarette out of my hand.
I grumbled something under my breath that I won’t bother repeating, but eventually nodded my head.
“There’s not an idea that was floated in there that isn’t a Hail Mary,” I said. “Including mine. So, where does that leave us?”
I led the way to a small table with a few chairs scattered around. A large, potted tree provided shade from the hot sun. Dog wandered for a few seconds, thoroughly sniffing the whole area before coming over to lay by my side.
“That leaves us with a few half-assed plans that need to be worked on, and we’ve got one we need to discuss. Time to focus, mate. Not every problem is a nail that has to be hammered. Sometimes, a little finesse works better.”
“Fuck off,” I said in resignation, acknowledging he was right.
“You know,” Rachel began, a thoughtful tone to her voice. “I always hate when I have to admit this, but John’s right.”
“About what?” Lucas and I asked in sync.
“These plans. They kind of sound good when you first bring them up, but think about them for a few minutes and they’re all crap. Spiders and some poison in the exterminator’s tank? Posing as a pimp and sending in hookers to gather intel? Gas in the water supply? Really? This is the best we can come up with?”
“You sat in the same meeting I did,” I said. “What else is there, short of dropping a bomb on their heads? And that might cause a release of the nerve gas.”
Rachel shook her head, obviously deep in thought.
“You need to be the one going inside,” she said. “Not necessarily you, but someone like you two. Otherwise, what’s the point? Even if the idea with the hookers worked, they don’t know what to look for. No, it has to be an operator.”
