A Deal to Die For

by Albert Able

  “But you’re supposed to check into the clinic tomorrow?” Igor turned on Ernest.

  “One two days late, no matter.” Ernst said simply in English.

  In spite of all of the protestations the three men reported to St Petersburg airport for the early evening flight to Moscow.

  Yuri Drumenco had quickly to organise an extension to Alex’s Visitors Visa and went with it to the airport to see them off.

  “So Alex, we meet again and on the same side this time, eh?” Yuri seemed pleased with himself.

  “I thought you said you hadn’t ever been to St Petersburg before?” Igor turned on Alex.

  Alex looked at Yuri. “I haven’t. We only met briefly somewhere in Angola.”

  “The bad old days I call them” Yuri confirmed. “But now you have my fullest cooperation because I want this thing cleared up with the utmost secrecy. If it ever came out that Tactical Nuclear Devices were roaming around the streets of Moscow, it could be years before the political dust settled. So ‘go get um boys’, as our Americans friends say.”

  “Are you confident that your telephone system is secure?” Alex asked, as they were about to board the aircraft.

  “I guess everyone is listening to everyone else within the country, but outside? I can’t believe it would be possible.” Yuri raised his shoulders. “But who knows?”

  “In that case, until I get confirmation from my partner, Hans, in London, do not call the Boss or any of us, agreed?” Alex insisted.

  “It’s a bit late for that, I’ve already had several calls with the Boss.”

  “Then we’d all best be on our guard.” Alex emphasised. “These people have no scruples or care for national boundaries. We’ll see you back here...” Alex paused - “whenever.”

  The flight landed on schedule at Moscow International Airport where they were met by one of Igor’s smartly dressed ‘Pulaski Dames’ who silently led them to an immaculately polished Mercedes Mini Bus.

  It was early April but the weather was still cold and damp. The street in the Southern suburb of Moscow where Ernst’s tanker driver friend lived was a continuous row of drab three story houses, every second house had originally been blessed with a single garage but most had obviously been converted into additional accommodation. A number of dilapidated rusty cars were parked alongside the pavement; otherwise the street appeared to be deserted.

  “They all look same?” Ernst observed and lapsed back into Russian. “It must be six or seven years since I visited his house.” They drove slowly. “I know it’s a junction on this side, I never remembered the number but I know it had a yellow door.”

  As they approached yet another crossroad, Ernst leaned forward. “This is it, I remember now, take a left here and it’s the third or fourth house.” He smiled with satisfaction at the others.

  The driver swept the minibus around the corner and stopped abruptly, facing two policed cars blocking the road. They could also see several fire-fighters and paramedics milling around a fire engine; an ambulance with flashing amber lights, its rear doors open, was parked a little further away.

  The Pulaski Dame lowered her window and pulled up to the nearest police car. “What do we have here officer?”

  Her infectious smile and the sight of her smart uniform melted the stern faced policeman.

  “Probably a gas explosion and then fire, looks like three dead, two men and a woman, probably the residents. You from around here?” the officer enquired.

  “No just passing through.” She looked into the rear mirror; Igor gave a silent signal to drive on. “Rotten business, I’ll get out of your way.” She reversed the minibus and drove back to the crossroads. “Where to, Sir?” She asked Igor politely.

  Visibly shocked by the situation Ernst had remained silent until now. Then he exclaimed excitedly in Russian: “Did you see that yellow door hanging at a crazy angle? It was definitely Dieter’s house!”

  Igor, also stunned by the possibility that this terrible accident confirmed everything Alex had warned them about, translated Ernst’s outburst.

  “I’m afraid that was no accident; it’s far too much of a coincidence. In fact it’s typical Syndicate they always remove the evidence and in this case it was that poor man and his wife. I wonder who the third man was?”

  Alex needed to think. “I suggest we go back to your depot, I need to make some calls of faxes.” He corrected himself. “If that’s OK with you?”

  Igor instructed the driver.

  They had only travelled about five hundred metres when Ernst blurted out in Russian. “You’re quite right: that must have been Dieter and his wife.

  Poor bastards.” Ernst scratched his head. “I just remembered something else. Dieter had a mistress. I wonder if she’s alright?”

  “Where does she live?” Igor demanded.

  “She lived a couple of miles from here, they’d been together, if you know what I mean for years. In fact I think Dieter knew her even before he was married.”

  Igor gave the instructions to the driver and then explained it all to Alex.

  Physically exhausted from all the tension, Ernst sat back looking out of the window and as the passing drab houses flashed by all those old memories came flooding back to him.

  It had been twelve years or so ago, about the same time that he had started as dispatcher for the old fuel cooperative. The young secretary at the depot was what could be best described as the local bicycle. Ernst, although happily married, had easily accepted the favours this mild mannered attractive young lady was so keen to offer.

  Dieter, who subsequently found more lucrative employment with the local mob, worked with the fuel cooperative at that time; not only did he have a loving wife but also an adoring and understanding mistress. So when he realised that Ernst was having a fling with the secretary, he saw the perfect opportunity to enjoy some social pleasures with a kindred spirit and asked Ernst and the young lady from the office to join him and Mia, his ‘bit on the side’ as he referred to her, to go to the theatre and on to dinner.

  Ernst jumped at the opportunity and soon they were all going out once or twice a month, often meeting at Mia’s house for a drink before hitting the town.

  In the event, once Ernst’s guilty conscience finally took control of his laps of fidelity, he bravely terminated the six-month affair. ‘The consequence of my selfish indulgence is too high a price to pay,’ he used as the excuse to terminate the relationship with the voluptuous secretary. Whereupon and apparently totally unmoved by Ernst’s rejection, the young lady simply shrugged her shoulders and walked out of his social life and into another relationship.

  Ernst sighed as the minibus pulled up outside a tired looking block of apartments and his thoughts returned to the present situation.

  “This is it,” Ernst confirmed and led the way, laboriously climbing the stairs to the second floor.

  Mia answered the door. “Good God Ernst, what are you doing here?” She held her hand to her mouth at the sight of the other two men. “Dieter?” she whispered fearfully.

  “May we come in?” Ernst asked gently, taking her free hand in his and led her into the tidy little sitting room.

  Mia sat ashen faced whilst Ernst quietly related the news of Dieter’s death in the explosion.

  “He always said it would happen one day,” Mia sighed and wiped the tears from her cheek.

  “How do you mean?” Igor leaned forward, speaking for the first time.

  Mia looked at him for a moment and snapped at him: “If you’re with that lot as well, I don’t have to tell you?”

  “Can someone tell me what’s happening?” Alex asked in English.

  “Just give me a moment,” Igor replied.

  Ignoring the rebuff Igor addressed Mia in a gentle, compassionate tone. “I’m sorry to distress you at this time bu
t I can assure you that we are not with that lot, whoever they are, neither are we with the local authorities. We are simply friends of Ernst and we urgently need to find out what - if anything - Dieter has been up to during the last few weeks.”

  “You’re English?” Mia ignored Igor, addressing Alex in English. “I haven’t spoken English for a long time, seems like another life.” She looked towards the window.

  “How come you speak such good English?” Alex asked, glad to be able to create a more relaxed mood and participate in the conversation.

  “I’m half Russian, half English. My father was in the Soviet army and my mother a secretary at the British Embassy in Moscow.” Mia smiled weakly pointing at several framed photographs on a shelf. She lovingly picked one up and then, turning back to Igor, continued in English. “He’s been a bundle of nerves ever since his boss asked him to deliver some special packages.”

  Mia looked at the photograph, her hand trembled slightly as she clutched the picture to her breast. “Dieter lived with her but he only ever shared his secrets with me!” She looked up triumphantly. “I was the one he trusted but he wouldn’t leave her; I think that somehow I actually understood that.”

  She sighed. “You see in his own peculiar way, that man was faithful to us both. So what could I do?”

  “I think you did the right thing, he was obviously a most sincere man.” Alex replied perhaps a touch too patronisingly but he was anxious to learn more about Dieter’s movements. “Tell me Mia, did Dieter ever say anything recently about some metal boxes?”

  “Well there was something to do with some packages; he was very agitated about that. But he didn’t mention metal boxes and that’s about all I know about it.”

  “Are you quite sure, any little thing?” Alex persisted. “You see, Mia, those boxes - and I’m going to have to trust you now, just as Dieter did - those boxes contained radioactive devices, which in the wrong hands would cause a massive destruction and loss of life, so you will understand why we have to get them back.”

  Igor interrupted, clearing his throat: “Look, I’m sorry to dwell on this, Mia, but what packages did he deliver and where?”

  Mia thought for a moment then looked up: “You must know about them Ernst, I’m almost certain they were the boxes he collected from your old address.”

  Ernst nodded slowly.

  “Dieter took them to an airfield somewhere,” Mia continued. “He reckoned they were going to some place in India.”

  “India!” Alex exclaimed. “I wonder how he found that out?”

  “Apparently one of the men had to travel with the boxes so when the co-pilot saw the man’s heavy coat and boots he laughed and joked: ‘Are you sure you’ll be warm enough in India with those clothes?’”

  Mia raised her hands, “the sharp dig in the ribs the co-pilot received from the pilot for his indiscretion was to late, because Dieter had heard the remark and seen the co-pilot’s reprimand, so that’s how we knew it was India.”

  She stood up. “I think I’d like to be alone now, so if you don’t mind?” She gestured to the door.

  “Just one last thing” Alex asked as he stood with the others. “Who exactly did Dieter work for?”

  “He was with a local group running a betting syndicate.” She looked proudly at Alex. “He was a good man, you know, not some petty crook!” Then she rubbed her forehead in thought. “Talking about syndicates, I’ve just remembered, a couple of years ago, he did a few errands for an outfit calling itself the Syndicate.”

  Mia gestured with open hands. “All he ever had to do was telephone a certain number with bits of information from time to time, they paid him very well until they packed up.”

  A flush of excitement coursed through Alex’s body at the mention of the Syndicate.

  “He used to make the calls from here; he didn’t trust her you see!” Mia added proudly. “Come to think of it, he called them two weeks ago when those boxes were found. He still had the old telephone number but there was only an answer machine.”

  “I don’t suppose you know the number do you?” Alex asked hopefully.

  “No I don’t and neither did Dieter, he kept it in this draw by the telephone.” Mia pulled the draw of the telephone table right out and placed it on the chair and then slipped her hand inside the recess and pulled out the small card which had been wedged inside. “Here, you keep it. Dieter won’t need it any more.” She passed the card to Alex her eyes welling with tears again. “I wish you well, gentlemen.”

  The three men retraced their steps to the minibus in silence. Once they were settled into their seats the Pulaski Dame started a low toned conversation with Igor who in turn explained the driver’s concern to Alex.

  “Seems we have company.” Igor peered towards the junction about one hundred metres away. “Gilda, that’s her name, recons she recognised the car parked down the road a bit, seems it belongs to some unsavoury outfit from downtown Moscow; they’ve been watching us ever since we arrived.”

  “I can’t see anything” Alex strained, trying to pierce the dark.

  In fact, confident that they had not been seen, when they saw Alex and the others reappear at the door of the house the men in the mystery car had pulled back a couple of metres into the shadows. Now all they had to do was wait for the minibus to leave so that they could complete their contract to eliminate the woman without interruption or witnesses.

  “I suggest that you drive slowly away as if we know nothing about their presence. Then pull into the nearest intersection and turn off your lights, then we’ll wait to see if they do anything.”

  Igor nodded “I got it,” he replied to Alex and translated to the driver who slipped the vehicle into gear and moved forward in what appeared to the men watching in the car to be a perfectly normal way. They continued to watch as the minibus turned into the next intersection and vanished from sight. After a couple of minutes two men alighted from the car and casually walked along the road, one each side of it, until they were outside the block of apartments where Dieter lived.

  Further down the road the minibus had stopped with its lights out as Alex had requested. “What would a low life bunch of thugs want in a residential area like this?” Ernst asked innocently.

  Igor explained to Alex: “I totally agree with the fact that Dieter and your friends have been murdered and now these villains are hovering near Mia’s apartment. It smells too much like a coincidence to me. I better go back and see what - if anything - is going on.”

  Then, just as Alex made to get out of the car, the Pulaski Dame said something in rapid Russian. “She thinks we are going to need a little help.” Igor translated.

  The driver opened her polished black handbag and produced a Browning .38 semi-automatic pistol, which she passed to Igor.

  Igor took the pistol. “I think you had better have this, I suspect that you are more familiar with hand guns than I am.” Igor passed the pistol over.

  Alex did not hesitate, then glancing for a moment at the driver who simply nodded approval and silently passed an extra clip of ammunition to Alex.

  Using the shadows on the opposite side of the road Alex and Igor had worked their way back to within twenty-five metres of the black limousine as the two men emerged and set out towards the apartment block entrance.

  Alex signalled to Igor to stay where he was while he moved forward and waited just out of sight. He was only a couple of meters from the car yet still able to watch the progress of the two men, who quickly vanished into the entrance of the apartment block.

  Alex could see that a third man the driver, was alone in the car and that he had been absorbed watching the progress of his colleagues.

  Alex didn’t hesitate and jerked the door open, jabbing his pistol into the driver’s head. He was so startled by the sudden attack that he froze in silent, abject fear.

 
; Igor rushed to Alex’s side. “Tell him to give me his gun,” Alex snapped.

  The man simply held open his jacket to reveal a shoulder holster and pistol.

  Alex jerked the gun away and passed it to Igor. “Here, cover him until I get back. Mia is in serious trouble.”

  Alex sprinted down the street and entered the apartment block. He pressed the intercom to Mia’s apartment repeatedly. Time seemed to stand still as he waited for her to answer.

  “Da?” Mia’s voice inquired.

  “It’s Alex, Mia. Do not answer your door.”

  The sound of a pistol shot thundered down the stairwell killing the sound of any reply. Alex did not wait and leaped for the stairs racing up two at a time. He was almost at Mia’s floor when another pistol shot stopped him dead. The sound was followed by a pitiful scream from inside Mia’s apartment. Alex moved forward, his heart beating in his chest as he cautiously stepping on to the landing.

  Three more adrenalin fuelled strides took him to the open door of the apartment where he saw one of the gunmen looking back and laughing at someone in another room. The man was casually clipping a pistol back into his shoulder holster, but as he turned he froze for a fatal milli-second on seeing Alex.

  That brief moment was all Alex needed. His own pistol raised, he dived at the man, grabbing him in a bear hug and firing into his chest at the same time. The gunman never knew what hit him as the .38 slug from Alex’s Browning smashed through his chest, killing him instantly. Alex took the weight of the dead man as he collapsed and lowered him silently to the floor, out of sight of the other gunman.

  Fortunately the sound of Alex’s shot had been significantly muffled by their bodies and had coincided with another shot and piercing animal scream from inside the room.

  Gun raised, Alex stepped into the doorway. Mia was face down on the floor; the gunman was kneeling over her, holding his pistol to the back of her knee. Mia’s other leg was a mess of blood and bone where he had already shattered the joint.

  The gunman, in spite of shouting a tirade of something unintelligible at Mia, must have heard or sensed the danger and half turned, the words dying on his lips as he saw Alex and the gun. Instinctively he started to dive away from what he must have recognised as certain death.