Birth of an Assassin, Books 1-3: Killer Plots and Powerful Characterization (Birth of an Assassin - the series)

by Rik Stone

  The sun shone brightly through a gap in the curtains, and while the beams warmed his face, they shimmered on his eyes. He squinted and saw Jacob sat in the chair opposite, motionless, as if he hadn’t moved since Jez lost consciousness. Had he been there all night, just watching?

  “I don’t understand. What is it you think I’ve done to you?”

  Bernstein’s expression was solemn and Jez wondered if his luck had run out. If so, this would be the last time. An accountant, for goodness sake, but he’d trussed him up like a turkey and there would be no easy way out of the bonds.

  “You made mistakes, Comrade. First, no one called Stefan Polanski has ever dealt with any funds I handle. I received Mitrokhin’s money from a man called Adrik Mayakovski, and lately Andrei Peskivich. Second, your biggest problem here was to underestimate me. Probably because you think I’m a decrepit old cripple.”

  Jez smiled inwardly. No arguments there. And he wouldn’t mind, but from personal experience he knew never to underestimate a person’s size or demeanor.

  “What can I say? You’ve got me.”

  “You could start by telling me why you’re here.”

  Jez looked into an open and honest face, but knew Bernstein was neither. Then again, he needed him and was in no position to barter. Try the truth.

  “I only intended that you’d get information on a need to know basis, but I’ve lost the advantage so I’ll be honest with you.”

  “Well, you haven’t made a very good start at that, but I’ll listen to what you have to say before I phone Mitrokhin.”

  What could he say? Whatever it was, it had to be good enough to stop Bernstein making contact with Mitrokhin. The brown paper and hairy string caught his attention. “The packet, Jacob, before we go any further, open the packet.” Tremors rattled his voice.

  Bernstein picked up the parcel, fumbled with it, but was unable to untie the string. He got up and went into the kitchen and shuffled back with a pair of scissors. After he’d cut the cord at the knots, he stacked the pieces to one side. Carefully, he unfolded the brown paper, then refolded it and placed it next to the string. He took his time to browse through the documents and lists. Another of Jez’s worries grew flesh on the bones: Bernstein hadn’t understood what he’d read. The old man started again, jumping his finger to various parts of the pages. Then he sat back mystified, but asked no questions, just stared blankly at the paperwork. Suddenly he leaned forward in the chair and his breath drew in sharply.

  His words faltered. “I don’t understand,” he said, “my girls – my beautiful daughters. Mitrokhin? I don’t understand.”

  “I’m sorry, Jacob. I don’t want to kick you while you’re down, but the man abducted innocent young girls. What else could you expect – some kind of respect from the brotherhood?”

  Jacob’s back seemed to bow even further. “Abduction, what are you talking about, abduction?” He looked at Jez and then back to the document. Suddenly, he sobbed.

  “You didn’t know.” Stefan Polanski had said he didn’t, but Jez hadn’t believed him. “But you must have. You would have to know about what he did in order to launder his money.”

  “No, I believed he worked in black market contraband. The sort of merchandise that people can only buy under the counter.”

  Jez ached. What worse news could a man have visited upon him? Jacob was obviously as naïve in his work as he had been when he started the investigation. And why would he lie? At this juncture, he was in charge.

  “I don’t know what to say, Jacob, we’ve been such fools.”

  Jacob almost straightened. “No,” he exclaimed, “I only know I’ve been a fool and I won’t be tricked again. Why are you here? What do you want?”

  The documents hadn’t been enough – establish more common ground. “Like you, Jacob, I’m a Russian Jew and...”

  “I’m not Russian, I’m Polish. My family came here at the beginning of the war.” Now there was fury in his voice.

  “Oh, Polish, then you were one of the lucky ones. You got out.”

  “Lucky? Oh yes we were lucky. On the journey here, my brother and I were struck down with polio. I ended up with a body stunted and stooped while he died. The whole family then suffered under the siege of Leningrad. I had a beautiful wife and two beautiful daughters. My wife died prematurely, and now you show me what has happened to my daughters. Oh yes, I’m one of the lucky ones all right.” His voice broke and he turned away to hide his pain.

  Jez sat quietly for a moment, and then asked, “But why did you go over to Mitrokhin?”

  Jacob nearly answered, but stopped midway and anger visibly rose. “You think yourself so clever. Never mind me. If you don’t tell me what you’re up to, I will still call Mitrokhin. He betrayed me, yes, but what do I owe you?”

  What could Jez do now? He had to get him on side somehow… For not much short of an hour he told his own story, every detail. When Jacob looked puzzled, he clarified. This was his only chance; if Jacob refused the truth, it would be over.

  “I don’t want to believe you,” Jacob said. “I don’t want to believe anything I’ve heard since you got here, but I can think of no reason why you would make up lies like that. I only wish I could.”

  He unfastened Jez’s bonds.

  “Why did you go over to Mitrokhin?” Jez asked a second time.

  “I worked in a government department with my friend Leo. I was an accountant; he worked on passports. Passports in the Soviet Union, yes, there were those who said he didn’t have much of a job.”

  Jez smiled. Jacob’s lip quivered from grief, but he’d still attempted humor.

  “We worked on different floors,” he continued, “and often spoke on the internal telephone. We discussed people’s rights, mostly Jewish because that’s what we are. It turned out that the phones were tapped. We were fired.”

  “I’m a little surprised at your naïvety. You’re an intelligent man: didn’t you realize that ‘listening in’ is quite normal in ministry offices?”

  “No… why would I? Even if what you say were true, they can’t listen to everyone.”

  No, only those they have an interest in, and Jez realized that being Jewish might be reason enough.

  “Anyway, we both became unemployable. My daughters were seventeen and eighteen years old and in poorly paid jobs. I was frantic. If they labeled me a parasite, I could be imprisoned; and I worried what would become of my daughters.” Jacob’s face contorted with the fresh knowledge of what had become of them.

  “Weeks passed and the hardship of my position started to bite. Mitrokhin came to me and offered work. The cash he proposed for me to handle his money was even higher than I’d made in the department. But more than that, he said he could smuggle my daughters to Italy, give them the start in life they deserved.” He caught his breath. “The temptation was too great, but I should’ve known. Mitrokhin always seemed to be laughing at me. A silent ridicule that said he knew something I didn’t. I should’ve known.”

  “What of your friend, Leo? Was his story similar?”

  “Yes, his mother is an invalid. If they imprisoned him, she would die. He had fewer alternatives than I.”

  “Stand back and look at it, Jacob. Can’t you see? Mitrokhin had you handpicked from the files, he manipulated the situation. He needed you and Leo… although I can’t think why he wanted Leo. But I would wager that your phone conversation, if anyone other than Mitrokhin had listened in, would have received no more than an admonishment.” Jez paused for thought. “At your level you would be valuable to the department. If Mitrokhin needed an accountant to control his ill-gotten gains, you were the ideal person. He made you weak and then took advantage. The fact that you and Leo are Jewish would be a sweetener for him. It would have given him great pleasure to ruin your lives and impose that cruel twist against your daughters. The fact that you would never become aware of it wouldn’t matter to him. He knew, and that would be enough.”

  His body still stiffened from drugs, and
having been bound for too long, Jez had to move. He staggered to his feet, stumbled around the room, stretched his arms up to the ceiling and out wide, and then down to his toes.

  “Could I have a real cup of tea please, Jacob?” he asked. “My mouth and throat are burning up.”

  “Oh yes, of course.” Jacob shuffled to the kitchen. “Is there anything we can do about my daughters?” he pleaded.

  “Yes,” Jez replied. “I’ll send this package to General Petrichova in Moscow. He’s a man I trust, and even though he’s against me now, I believe he will react to these documents. I’ll write a letter and tell him what happened to you and beg his indulgence in getting your girls back. You must accept in your mind that this will happen. In the meantime I want you to contact Leo and get him over here.”

  Chapter 54

  Leo’s shoulders were sloped but looked rigid, and his dark grey pin-striped suit hung loose on a slight frame. A wispy strand of auburn hair hovered like a last sign of autumn over a pinched face; sacs of skin puckered under dark eyes, and his thin moustache appeared permanently atremble. Not a handsome man, but his large brown eyes gave him an indefinable attractiveness that also carried an air of sadness.

  “Speak out if you don’t want tea,” Jacob said, as he shuffled out to the kitchen.

  Jez ushered Leo to a seat at the table and asked him for a rundown of how his end of Mitrokhin’s business hung together.

  “As you already know, I worked for the passport office. You were in Spetsnaz, so if it ever became necessary for your foreign duties to be covert, then I might have been instrumental in producing an alter ego for you.”

  Leo stuck his chest out, and Jez smiled.

  “Mitrokhin set me to work with a host of blank passports and ID cards. It was very easy for me to create genuine identification that would hold up to any scrutiny. All I needed were photographs, and I was able to stamp the documents and add the relevant numbers to the files. Whoever I created became a real person. And I must say, over time Mitrokhin has needed a few.”

  “How can you add passport details to department files when you don’t have access to the office block?”

  “Everyone knows my face, but nobody seems to know who I am. It was enough for me to show ID at the entrance and walk in. In fact, I don’t remember anybody actually looking at it. Once inside, I went to the basement where the files are stored and made the alterations. It was very easy.”

  Jez smiled at the simple attitude. He had no idea of the danger he’d put himself in.

  Leo continued. “Most of the stuff I did for Mitrokhin was identification to open international bank accounts or for foreign travel. You know, visas, stuff like that.”

  “The bank accounts are where I came in,” Jacob said, as he tottered back into the room, unsteadily balancing a tray and three mugs of tea. “I massaged the necessary paperwork and moved the money from Mitrokhin’s deals into his bogus accounts. And because the value of the rouble is a constantly changing factor, I had it all converted to US dollars.”

  In a different time, different place, Jez might have been impressed with Mitrokhin’s organizational skills – he’d thought of everything. He took a sip at his drink, moved to a more comfortable chair and sat back quietly to mull over the information. Jacob and Leo stayed at the table, heads together like schoolchildren.

  Jez looked up. “How much are in these accounts, Jacob?” he asked, mind alive with ideas.

  “Oh… I don’t know; somewhere between 15 and 20 million US dollars.”

  “What!” If Jez had been in a position to fall backwards, he would have. “More than 15 million dollars, how on earth could he make that sort of money? Surely you must’ve had suspicions?”

  “No,” Jacob replied. “I have no idea how much criminals make. How would I? I told you earlier of the people who brought the money, and they did occasionally let details slip. I got the impression it came in from all corners of the globe. I just thought it had been issued by those he dealt with in contraband.”

  Jez relaxed in the chair. “Jacob, have you got any jurisdiction over these bank accounts?”

  “Yes, I’m not that slow. But Mitrokhin doesn’t know it. He thinks I can only put money in, but I set up the accounts to give me as much power over them as he has. Leo and I have joked about making transfers and skipping the country. But even if we’d meant it, Mitrokhin often sends little reminders that he knows the whereabouts of my daughters. He always has the angles covered.”

  “Yes, that’s as maybe, but the transfers are no longer a joke. In fact, it’s exactly what we will do, and we won’t skip the country.” Jez turned to Leo. “I need you to make up another four sets of identification and each will carry my face on it. Will you do that?”

  “Yes, of course, that’s why I’m here. Jacob is my friend. I couldn’t live with myself if I let him down in such a situation. No, all you need worry about is what you want me to do.”

  They made plans and were all but finished when a knock at the door froze the three of them. The room went silent.

  “Are you expecting anyone?” Jez whispered, and withdrew the PB from his waistband.

  “No, I have no idea who it could be. Quickly, find somewhere to hide… in my bedroom.”

  *

  The knock repeated, this time with more than a little impatience. “Yes, yes, I’m coming, I’m coming,” Jacob said, and dragged his feet exaggeratedly as he scuffed along the passageway. He gave his comrades time to hide and slowly drew the bolts, unlatched the lock and pulled open the door.

  “Andrei,” he exclaimed, “what’re you doing here? You shouldn’t be here for a week at least.”

  Andrei smiled and pushed his way in. “Business is doing well. I’ve got another drop for you to deal with.” He walked into the lounge and stopped abruptly. “You have company?” he asked suspiciously, and tucked a thumb over his holster.

  “No.” Jacob flinched.

  “Then why are there three mugs? Whose are they?”

  “Oh, there’s nobody here now. Leo and his mother visited earlier. She can’t go far in her condition, so he often brings her. A change of scenery does her…”

  “Yes, yes,” Andrei interrupted, and wrapped a hand around one of the mugs. But then he held up a silencing finger. “What was that noise?”

  “Oh, it’ll be… one of the neighbours.” Jacob shifted. “They don’t appreciate that other people live here.”

  Andrei drew his pistol and went into the passage. He threw open the door to the spare bedroom – empty. A few steps down the hall and he entered Jacob’s room. Jacob followed, fingers tightly grasped around the fork he’d picked up off the table. A messy bedroom, and Andrei gloated.

  “Huh, I was sure the noise was along this passageway. I must be getting jittery. But look at this place,” he sniggered. “Not so spotless in the hidden areas, are you?”

  “Err no,” Jacob said, as if embarrassed to be caught out. Andrei grinned and visibly relaxed.

  They went back to the lounge, completed their business and Andrei left. Jacob went to the bedroom to help Leo out of the blankets strewn over the floor. Jez rolled from under the pine bedstead, and tucked his pistol back into his waistband.

  Jacob shook his head. “Come on out, I have some tidying up to do.”

  *

  Three weeks after they’d pulled their ideas together, Jez had paperwork that would get him past any security in the country. Leo had made him a high-ranking official answerable only to the Soviet Union’s first secretary. Anyone less, which was everybody, would have to doff their caps to him.

  “I need a few signatures from you, Jez,” Jacob said. “I’ll set up three international accounts. The first will be a staging post; the second, a communist party treasury asset for foreign payments; and the third, an ordinary international access account similar to those I created for Mitrokhin.”

  Jez scribbled signatures on the relevant paperwork.

  “One, and only one, high-ranking treasury official
can access the treasury account. That is this alter ego,” Jacob said, and flipped the identification so Jez could read it. “Only a signature from Brezhnev himself would allow anyone other than you to make a security check.”

  They drained the contents of Mitrokhin’s accounts; Jacob helped Jez transfer the money to the first account. It rested for a day before being wired on to the treasury account. Two days after that, they moved the asset to the third account. With the money secure, Jacob closed the first account so that now, even if Mitrokhin discovered the treasury asset, there was no way he could get access. To trace the existence of the third account would be impossible without access to the treasury account.

  “Jacob, from what you said about the laundering, we have less than a week to disappear before Mitrokhin finds out his money has gone. Do you and Leo have a safe place?” Jez hadn’t considered where the men might end up when the job was done, but now that time had come.

  Leo answered. “Yes, I can take my mother to relatives in the Ukraine. No one in Leningrad knows of them.”

  “Good, and you, Jacob?”

  “No, as I told you already, we came from Poland. I have nowhere and nobody outside of Leningrad. I’ve already discussed the possibility of going with Leo and his mother, but we decided that if we went together it might draw attention.”

  “Yes, it would. But don’t worry. I know a family I can trust. I’ll take you there. It’s on my way to Moscow so it doesn’t interfere with the plan.”

  Jez paced the lounge.

  “Right, let’s see where we are. Leo, you’ve made ID for yourself, your mother and Jacob.” Leo nodded. “Jacob comes with me, but for the sake of your security, I think I should plan a safe route for you into the Ukraine. It would be less than professional to ignore possibilities. When you get to your relatives, you should stay there until Jacob tells you otherwise.”

  “And what will you do?” Leo asked.

  “I’ll be all right, you just worry about yourself.”

  *

  With Leo and his mother gone, Jez had one more job in Leningrad.