by Rik Stone
He smiled. “Oh, him, yes I know him.” A chuckle. “You must be looking for a girl.” He winked and his nose crinkled again. “You won’t find him round here at this time though. He’s one of the night owls. Come back about eight or nine. I’m sure you’ll get what you want.”
“Thank you, Comrade. I appreciate your help.”
They hugged the waterside along the quay as they walked towards town. “Well,” Jez said, “I thought Nadia was feeding us a line, but at least this part of her story looks good. Let’s get a bite to eat and we’ll come back later.”
Chapter 24
On the waterfront later that day, the cold air nipped. A new set of locals had emerged, the working girls, those willing to give their flesh and gamble their health in the fragile hope of being in temporary employment.
A clear sky, a full moon and a damp quayside reflected a silver sheen back at the night. Jez and Viktor blended into the shadows of a large curved doorway. Well back from the empty fish stalls, but close enough to see the happenings as far down as the wharf. Half an hour passed – and then an hour.
“We’ll give it a little longer,” Jez said, and shivered at the cold night, inactivity making him restless. “After that it’s back to Moscow. Tomorrow we start all over again.”
“Sounds good to me,” Viktor said.
Frost drew patterns on top of the stalls. Jez saw them glisten, and realized his feet had lost communication with the rest of his body. Only a few minutes had passed since setting the time limit, but already he’d had enough.
“That’s it,” he said. “We’re not dressed for this. Let’s call it a day.”
“If only you’d said that five minutes ago. Look, near where the fishermen fixed their nets earlier.”
A tall blond man walked along the quayside. He swaggered, wore a girl on his arm like a piece of sparkling but cheap jewellery. He leaned over and caressed her shoulders, kissed her neck and whispered in her ear. She giggled and his massive chest puffed out. Still at the “impressing her” stage, Jez thought.
“I see him. And this one has to be Boris,” he said, throbbing with excitement. “He fits the description exactly.”
Viktor frowned. “I’m afraid so. Now going home seems a long way off. We’d better follow.”
Near the end of the wharf, Boris greeted a swarthy foreigner in a tapering black suit: wide shoulders, narrow hips. Jez had seen him there earlier. Tall and slender, he had a physique that wouldn’t look out of place on a dance floor. Boris introduced the girl and the three walked along the quayside together. The swarthy man turned and exposed a long ponytail gathered tightly back from his forehead. Viktor was first to recognize him.
“You were saying over the meal in your apartment that your thinking wasn’t as sharp as it should be, but it looks like you were on the money about Nadia. The photograph in the silver frame: it was him.”
“Ah yes, and he looks even more like a pimp in the flesh. But why is Nadia giving up Boris if he’s friendly with her provider?”
Viktor shrugged. At the end of the quay, Boris went into a bar and the girl veered off with the swarthy man. She looked back and pouted pitifully, but Boris had already turned his back. Maybe he’d gone past impressing her after all.
Jez and Viktor went into the bar and took a table in the corner where they could see everything clearly. Viktor ordered Aldaris beer, but Jez wanted to keep a clear head. He had Kvass because it was almost alcohol free. Boris sat alone, but then a swarthy man came in and sidled up to him: another foreigner, another pimp. He had to be. Relief flooded Jez on hearing the pimp greet Boris by name. At last, now there was no doubt they were on the right path.
Over-eager thoughts ran ahead of logic, and Jez said, “The girl Boris handed over outside the bar: do you think she’s in transit and it’s all happening under our noses?”
Viktor didn’t answer. He was too busy studying Boris. When the conversation at the bar ended, the pimp nodded and left. Soon, he returned with two girls. Boris welcomed each with a light kiss and left the bar with one linked on each side.
“No,” Viktor said. “They’re not being trafficked, at least not in that way. They’re already working girls. Boris is organizing them, moving them about to spread the quota, meet demand. And they don’t look like your rural peasants, do they?”
Viktor grinned. Jez fixed a gaze on him and felt stupid. Of course, he was right. The first girl had looked anything but naïve. The very reason he hadn’t trusted Nadia.
They followed Boris from one venue to another. Sometimes he picked up girls, sometimes he delivered them. On foot and by taxi, they became blasé and got a little too close.
“I may be wrong,” Viktor whispered, “but twice now he’s taken a long hard look at us. I think we’ve been made.”
“Okay, we’ll watch from outside the bars. It’s not as if we don’t know what he’s up to. Besides, if you have any more of that beer you won’t be fit to follow anything other than your fingers as you crawl on all fours along the sidewalk.”
Boris completed full circle and ended up back on the waterfront. He went into the bar where he’d taken the first girl and Jez found a sheltered doorway to watch from. The soldiers waited… and waited.
“He’s been in there too long,” he said. “If he spotted us earlier, then he might have slipped out the back. I think we’ll have to take a chance. Go in for a drink.”
“Good. I could do with a warm up.”
Inside, Jez stamped his feet and rubbed his hands together. Not a crowded saloon, but enough men with girls to take all but one table – in the middle of the room. They both blew misted breath through clasped hands and sat. Jez observed Boris as he laughed and chatted with a girl, but felt uncomfortable at that table. There was nothing covering their backs, if someone should approach from behind... No sooner had the thought drifted through his head than a pair of large hands clamped on Viktor’s shoulders. And before Jez could respond, the same thing happened to him.
“Gently does it,” a third man insisted, holding his jacket open and exposing a pistol butt sticking out over his waistband. “Boris would like a word in the back room, gentlemen – if you don’t mind.” Comrade Sarcastic.
Viktor didn’t look fazed. He slurped at his beer and ignored them. But Jez didn’t want to make an issue of it, and he would need to talk with Boris at some point. Now seemed as good a time as any.
“I don’t know who Boris is,” he said, “and I can’t imagine why he’d want to talk to me, but I’m friendly enough, so...”
On the way along the corridor, Viktor’s gait veered slightly off centre. Jez had seen him drink many litres of beer without ill effect, but if things went wrong here his coordination might be a worry.
“Sit down. Boris will be here soon enough.”
Jez familiarized himself with the backroom. Two chairs for him and Viktor, a further chair behind a spartan metal desk. A tall filing cabinet standing alone in a corner and flooring covered in worn stone tiles: the proletarian theme clearly the order of the day. The blacked-out windows and uncovered light bulb cast an unfriendly gloom. He reckoned he’d seen more welcoming interrogation rooms in KGB headquarters.
Two of the men left. The man with the gun remained. He was probably in his early thirties and looked a typical doorman. Jez measured him. Clearly he thought he was tough, and he was certainly big enough to back up the thought, but he was out of shape and his midriff hung bulbously over his pants. He wore a severe expression centered by a broken nose that ran long and close to his face. It reminded Jez of the drugstore cigar Indian he’d seen in an old American film. He had a large skull crowned with thick, dark, cropped hair. He stood straight and tall, and linked both hands in front of him. Jez turned to Viktor, and noticed him making his own assessment.
Boris took all of ten minutes to make an appearance. And when he did, he came in full of his own importance. Perhaps he wanted to give the impression of being a capodecina: Comrade Mafia. Nadia’s description of him had
been spot on when she said “like a circus strongman”. Where clothing touched, muscles bulged. He sat in the chair opposite and took a gun from the top drawer. He set it down on the desk in front of him.
“Excuse me, no offence, Comrades, my little equalizer…” he said and sniggered. “To business: for being my bodyguards this evening, how much do I owe you?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Viktor replied. “We’ve only been around town having drinks.”
“Please – don’t insult my intelligence. Not only did I see you follow me everywhere I went, but one of my drivers has been taxiing you around all evening.”
A brief pause and Jez affected a nervous expression. If he could make Boris believe he was afraid and look like he was ready to tell him anything, he just might get some information in return.
“I… okay, it’s true,” he admitted. “We’re looking to build a set-up in Central Moscow, similar to the one you have here. One of our partners – a girl – knew of your team, so we thought we’d take a look and see if we could learn anything.” Seemed plausible.
“A girl knows about my business. And which girl might that be?”
Stay cagey. “I err… her name, oh yes, her name is Nadia. You wouldn’t know her.”
Boris smiled. “Of course I wouldn’t know her. How could I know a girl that doesn’t have a second name? I’m sorry, boys, you’ll have to come up with something better than that.”
He reached for the gun.
“Ulyanov,” Jez said quickly. “Nadia Ulyanov.” She had to be the key. She alone had given them the Boris connection.
“Ah, that Nadia, a great fuck but no loyalty. I must tell Alexandro. You will have seen him earlier. He used to be her benefactor until she took off.”
But she still kept his photo on the display unit.
Boris left the gun on the desk, sat back and said, “So you’re part of the trafficking operation. Of course you’d have to be, that was who Nadia defected to.”
“I really have no idea what you mean; but if your suggestion were true, why would we be following you?”
Boris pondered. “Good question… but an obvious one. You were sent to kill me.”
That’s funny, the same thought had just occurred to Jez. That’s why he was there. Nadia had set him up to kill Boris, but for who and why? Whatever the reasons, Boris had just made it clear he was on the outside of the trafficking. Suddenly, it seemed more important to speak to Nadia than sit around here.
“I wouldn’t even know how to kill,” said Jez, “but I do know that if I was capable I wouldn’t have waited until now. I’ve had plenty of opportunity tonight. If there are people who want you dead, believe me I’m not one of them.”
“Maybe you were told to do it in a way that would send a message to others.”
It’d been a long day. “That’s enough. I’ve told you why I’m here. This conversation is over. I’m leaving.” Jez stood up and nudged Viktor. He could have laughed when he saw the look on Boris’s face – stunned.
“Are you serious, or are you some sort of crazy fucking nut? You think you can leave because – what? – you don’t fancy hanging around any more? I haven’t finished with you. Sit down!” He reached for the gun.
Jez put up his hands and made to sit, but bent his legs, used his weight to push up and twist sideways. The gun landed out of Boris’s reach after a scissor kick cleared it from the desk. The henchman’s reactions were slow, but he eventually separated his clasped hands and raised them for action.
Boris smiled. “Impressive, but do you really think I need a gun against a puny runt like you?”
The henchman laughed and moved from one foot to the other, as bodyguards do. Viktor, who was also on his feet, vaulted and twisted, the kick building power so that his boot slammed into the side of the minder’s neck with force. A crack, spittle gobbed and snot blew from his nose. He thudded to the floor and laid strewn out in an unnatural shape.
Viktor placed two fingers on the heavy’s neck. “I think that was a bit harder than intended,” he said. “He’s dead.”
Jez knew it. Too many beers made for diminished coordination. The smile on Boris’s face blanked out as he stared in disbelief. He pushed his chair back and away.
Unfortunate, but it’s done, take advantage. “I see you noticed my friend isn’t a puny little runt,” Jez said. “And unless you want to suffer the same fate, I suggest you tell us what your part is in this trafficking scam. Remember. Your enemies have set you up for this fall.” Boris wasn’t part of the operation, but he had to know something, or why would they want him dead?
“You already know that the people I work for want to take over your operation. What else is there?”
“Who are your connections?” Jez asked, beginning to think he’d stepped into the middle of a gang war.
“Other than those you know of, I’m contracted to work blind. You can save your breath with your questions. What I’m telling you is what I know.”
Lies, but he needed to speak with Nadia before anything else. “Boris, I don’t believe you, but my task has other priorities for the moment. I want you to think seriously about what you might want to tell me – because I’ll be back. And you shouldn’t think of protecting these people. They tried to kill you.”
Jez made to leave. Boris could have let him go, but no, he had to scurry across the floor towards the gun. As athletic as he appeared, he acted out the move gracelessly. Jez watched and calmly reached for a weapon. He pulled a throwing knife, threw it with force and the blade buried up to the hilt in Boris’s neck.
He fell to his knees, but continued towards the revolver and Jez watched on in disbelief. About to die, but Boris wouldn’t give up the fight. Blood fought with air for exit. The stone tiles became a red hue. At last, he fell to his belly and remained prostrate. Still he shook spasmodically and his legs kicked, his body waiting for someone to tell the nerves he was dead. But when the death throes kicked in, nothing was left to the imagination.
“He knew who the traffickers were,” Viktor said in disbelief.
“I’m not so sure that’s true, or why would he think we were them?”
Jez took the key from the door and locked up on the way out. The two men who’d escorted them to the office approached menacingly, but the soldiers’ display of ID cards was enough to back them off.
“I want this bar emptied – now!” he shouted. “It’s closed until further notice.”
“What about Boris and Igor?” one asked.
“I’ve just told you, it’s a security matter. Move out!”
He and Viktor herded the small crowd off the premises.
With the bar empty, Jez confided to Viktor. “Closing this place gives us a little time, and I don’t want the militia involved. One of us needs to go back to headquarters to arrange disposal of the bodies, the other to Nadia’s to find out who she works for. I know you would like the Nadia task, but I don’t think you’d be asking the right questions.”
Viktor pulled a face. “Right, headquarters it is then. Oh, are you sure you can handle the girl alone?”
“Yes, very funny,” Jez replied. “But you could be right. Maybe I should take her from behind – just in case.”
Out at the car, he became sombre. “Only speak to Mitrokhin or Mayakovski. It’s unfortunate, but they’re the only ones we can trust.” He handed Viktor the keys to the club.
“But the captain won’t be there at this time.”
“Don’t you believe it; sometimes he and Mayakovski drink in the office until the small hours. Anyway, if they aren’t there, you have a key to my apartment. Go home, get your head down and try again at first light. But remember, you must only speak with Mitrokhin or Mayakovski.”
Chapter 25
Jez dropped Viktor at the metro, left the car at the police station and made his way to Nadia’s. He considered what tactics he should use. On the one hand, he didn’t want to get rough with a woman – but what else could he do? Maybe
he would start with intimidation; that might be enough.
Unlike earlier, the entrance to the Plattenbau stank of urine, which probably explained why the woman scrubbing the floor earlier had that resigned look. He came to the door of Nadia’s passageway and a boy with a group of shaven-headed youths blocked it from the inside.
Jez knocked on the wired window and the youth, who sported a multi-colored razor haircut, stared at him blankly, made silly signs, and pretended not to understand what Jez wanted. Bad timing: the thought of hurting Nadia bothered him enough; he was cold, and he’d just killed a man. He pressed his ID card against the window, and pointed to it with a Makarov semi-automatic pistol. The youth and his gang jumped away quicker than if they’d caught fire. When he was on the other side of the door the youths seemed unsure, but blustered to cover the fact.
“If I wasn’t busy... Look, let me make a suggestion: move on. I’ll be back in a couple of minutes,” he paused, “and if you’re still here… well.”
One of the youths came back at him arrogantly. “We don’t have to move. This is a public place and we’ve done no wrong.”
There was a small swastika amateurishly scratched onto his neck in black ink. Jez sighed. “In that case I won’t be able to take you in, so when I return I’ll handle it unofficially.” He whipped his gun back out and pushed the muzzle under the fascist’s chin. “If you get my drift.”
Magic words – or maybe the gun had something to do with it. Either way, the youths disappeared like smoke in the ether.
He knocked on Nadia’s door – no answer. He knocked harder – still no response. He banged with the butt of his pistol.
“All right, all right, for Christ’s sake I’m coming.”
Bolts scratched in latches and locks clicked. The door opened and a slither of light snuck out into the dim corridor. Jez kicked it fully open. Still in her nightclothes, Nadia was thrown back forcefully. Her robe fell open. Pendulous breasts broke free of their confines. Just as well Viktor hadn’t come. Jez’s smile dissolved. Tough, he had to go in tough. Inside the passageway, he kicked the door shut.
