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

by Rik Stone

  “Are you alright?” Pavel asked with concern as he sidled down to where Jez floundered.

  A little dazed, Jez stared blankly, but then he got up, stamped, and put his legs into various positions before pushing fingers into his ribs. “I don’t think I’ve broken anything,” he replied, bending his head one way and another to make sure his neck was intact, before dropping back onto the snow for a breather.

  “You stay there,” Pavel said, his face suddenly brightening after Jez had told him he was okay. “Get a second wind. I’ll collect the backpacks and rifles.”

  He scrambled to the top of the bank as the train disappeared from sight and, even above the clicking noise of the rolling stock, Jez heard a roar of laughter.

  On his return, Pavel had refocused and said, “We take whatever’s valuable from our stuff and hide the rest in the forest. It’s time to start looking like civilians. We have plenty of money from the Gulag so we’ll buy clothing and then it’s on to lodgings for a bath and a shave.” He rubbed his fingers into his beard and tucked his head into his loosened clothing. “Definitely a bath first; I stink to high heaven.”

  *

  They met up at a designated street corner after shopping separately.

  “So how do I look?” a clean-shaven Pavel asked, giving a little pirouette.

  “Hmm, yes, lovely,” Jez replied sarcastically while looking at himself and grimacing at the peasant outfit he’d bought.

  Pavel set off ahead for the railway station, laughing. And to rub salt in the wound, he turned and ran his thumbs under the lapels of the dark brown suit he wore under a woolen overcoat. In response, Jez pulled at the peak of his cap and began trudging behind at a respectful distance.

  Jez had worked with internal security, Osnaz, and on entering the station hall it was plain to see that the safety measures were stringent, much more so than would be normally expected. He pulled his cap down over his brow and wound his neck in – too far!

  “You!” a voice rasped.

  Jez froze. He didn’t recognize the man’s uniform, but he was probably railway network security.

  “Why are you trying to hide yourself?” he asked, gripping Jez’s jacket at the shoulder and pulling him towards the exit.

  Pavel had gone on ahead after buying a ticket. He rushed over and stopped the official in his tracks. “What do you think you’re doing, idiot?” he bellowed.

  “What …?”

  Pavel flipped his Smersh ID open and before the official could study it too closely, returned it to the inside pocket of his suit jacket.

  “This is my partner,” he said of Jez. “And we were on covert duty until you come blundering over. I believe in vigilance, but your response was nothing short of stupid. What? It makes you feel good to bully peasants?”

  Jez was surprised to hear the way Pavel hollered his words. He had attracted the attention of most in the hall.

  “That’s it then, Comrade,” he bellowed as he turned to Jez. “It’s over; we have to go on.”

  “But, sir,” the official grumbled. “What did I do?”

  “If you’ve heard anything about the latest dust up from the Chechens, you shouldn’t need to ask. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if that was why there’s more security here than usual.”

  “Uhm, yes, sir, we–”

  “Enough! You’ve fucked my operation here. We can no longer go unnoticed in the crowd. Go! I don’t even want to look at you.”

  The man slinked away and tried to dissolve into a small group of people that milled around a Pravda newsstand at the back of the platform. Jez waited silently by Pavel’s side and in a little less than two hours, the Trans-Siberian Express pulled into the station. The blue engine dominated with its presence, the red star above the buffers at the front endorsing its credentials. It stopped, people got off, mostly military personnel, and Jez got on to the welcome of a very serious-looking, uniformed girl. Welcome? She checked his ticket and let him pass without a word or change of expression. He walked the corridor past the sleeping quarters and took a seat next to a window in the passenger part of the carriage. Pavel came along, sat next to him, and stretched out his legs.

  “Now all we need do is make ourselves comfortable for the next six hundred kilometers or so to Moscow.”

  Chapter 18

  Moscow, Russia

  “First, we need to find out if General Petrichova is still alive,” Pavel said, walking through the Arbat District with Jez by his side.

  The snow had been cleared from the main walkway and was piled high to one side. Large paving slabs beneath their feet glistened and Jez beamed with delight as Pavel slipped. He grabbed him to stop him from falling and sniggered. “And I never saw a sign of you faltering in the Arctic.”

  Pavel smiled condescendingly and then said, “I know Michel doesn’t sleep in any of the city barracks. I don’t suppose you know where he lives?”

  “Don’t worry about that. I have a code that will bring him to the river. Keep your fingers crossed, first that he’s alive and second that he remembers the code, oh, and third that the telephone number I have branded into my brain is still the one he uses. I’ll call him at his office after we’ve eaten and we’ll make our way to Lubyanka, follow him when he leaves the building.”

  They turned right down Gogolevsky Boulevard and, before reaching the Moskva River, came to a small shop. Inside, they waited in line. There was no shortage of food, but with only one girl on the counter using an abacus to calculate costs, the queue had grown out of all proportion, not untypical but the morning was gone by the time they got to eat.

  “Red cabbage salad and black bread, not my favorite,” Pavel moaned.

  “Think yourself lucky. It wasn’t so many years ago the people were melting down furniture glue to make soup.”

  “I know, but that doesn’t help me like red cabbage salad and black bread any the better for it.”

  After they had eaten, Jez found a public phone not too far from Dzerzhinski Square. The receiver was now in his hand, but all he could do was look at it. So much depended on this call and should the general be dead they would be cut adrift without direction. A heavy sigh and he began selecting the digits, tensions increasing with each number. The final swish returned the dial to the home position and the tone chirped … and chirped. His ever-deepening fears were suddenly realized when a voice answered: “Sergeant Filat.”

  Too low a rank to be Michel’s aide. But he had to continue with the charade; maybe he had changed his number. “Is Petty Officer Makarov there?” he asked.

  “Petty Officer Makarov? What are you talk–?”

  “Who is this?” Someone else had taken over the telephone. Jez felt a buzz. It was Michel – alive.

  “If I’m speaking to Makarov, I need to know if you’re still down by the river.”

  “I’ll ask you once more: who is this?”

  Jez replaced the receiver. “He’ll be out soon,” he told Pavel.

  They hung around Dzerzhinski Square, keeping an eye on the main entrance.

  “There he is now,” Jez said, seeing the huge frame of Michel leaving the KGB building wearing a heavy greatcoat and ushanka rabbit skin hat. He crossed the square and turned right towards the Kremlin.

  Pavel made to move, but Jez placed a hand on his forearm. “Give him a minute, make sure no one follows.”

  The general left the square and a lieutenant hurried from the KGB building on the same heading. Pavel nodded, approving, and Jez said, “You track the lieutenant. I’ll go ahead to the river. If he’s following the general, sidetrack him. I’ll be with Michel in the State Department Store in Kitai-gorod, near Red Square. Look for us on the upper tier under the glass roof.” The GUM (department store) was the alternative meeting place arranged should there be a chance of anyone following.

  Jez took the long way down to the riverside. He had run most of the way and got there before the general. A clump of weeds grew at the edge of the path. Jez pulled it out, configured it into the shap
e of a tail, hung it from a shrub where he knew the general would wait, and disappeared into the shadows. Moments later, Michel walked to the shrub, pulled the tail from the branch, and walked away, scrunching the grass between his hands and throwing it towards the river. The lieutenant followed about ten seconds later. Jez watched as Pavel came towards him from the opposite direction. The lieutenant tried to walk around him, but Pavel got in the way whichever way he went. He was still playing footsie with him as Jez left and hurried on ahead.

  It wasn’t long after, that Jez stood shoulder to shoulder with Michel as they leaned on a guardrail watching the shoppers queue patiently on the level below.

  “I like this goom,” Michel said of the GUM. “There are always so many people. Just for a while, you can lose your identity. I sometimes come here just to clear my head, become one of the mass of citizens wandering around in anonymity. I found it comforting after our people at the Gulag were massacred.”

  Jez became pensive. “The Gulag, yes … What of Anna?” he asked.

  “She had already left.”

  Relief saturated his body. “Thank God … I understand how you felt about the others, Michel. I felt the same thinking you and Anna might have been amongst them.”

  A not very convincing chuckle sighed from Michel’s throat.

  From nowhere Pavel came up behind Michel, put his arms around him and squeezed. “And who do we have here?” he said, mumbling close into the general’s ear.

  Jez wanted to laugh and squirm at the same time. Michel was clearly flustered and Jez knew he wasn’t capable of mixing fun with his work, if indeed he was capable of fun at any time. He stood to one side and kept quiet.

  “Ahem, yes, hello, Pavel. I’m glad to see you made it,” Michel said.

  Pavel beamed at the general then joined them at the guardrail as Jez told Michel everything that had happened since first leaving the Gulag, including what the Smersh sergeants had said about Irishka.

  “Yes, I’ve met the little Smersh men. They tried to interrogate me about your death. Oh, the one with the bandaged ear speaks very highly of you,” he said and Pavel guffawed.

  “Has Anna’s task changed after what happened?”

  “A little. She and Mehmet Pasha are trailing one of our traitors now – a military man called Borislav. At the moment, his first name and the fact he’s military is all we know of him. About an hour ago, Mehmet boarded the same cargo passenger ferry from Istanbul as Borislav had taken. Anna took a flight directly to Odessa, the boat’s final destination. She’ll wait there until we’re ready to take the next step.”

  Jez nudged Michel, stood back a little, and pointed down to the lower trading level. The lieutenant who’d followed the general from Lubyanka had somehow ended up in the store and was scurrying about, frantically looking into the faces of passersby. Why he did that wasn’t clear; Michel was the only one around who was in uniform and he was twice the size of any of those in the crowd below.

  Michel managed a smile. “He’s tenacious to have found this place, I’ll give him that.”

  “What do you want us to do now, Michel?” Jez asked.

  The general nodded. “I want the pair of you in Odessa. Meet Anna; she knows what I want and will share with you when you get there.” He told them where Anna would be staying, and leaned forward to look down to the lower trading level again. “I’d better let the lieutenant know where I am so he can follow me back. First job at the office will be to sweep the place for bugs – again. Goodness only knows who is monitoring my movements this time. There are probably twenty from the assembly who keep a close watch on what I do, and that’s apart from Irishka.”

  “Before you go, General,” Jez said, taking a piece of paper from his pocket. “A young soldier was a lifesaver for us when we crossed to the Perm province. I think he probably upset someone in Moscow and was transferred out. He’s certainly a live wire and could easily rub a man up the wrong way. But he’s a good man and deserves a chance. I told him I knew someone who might be able to help.”

  Michel held out his hand. “I’ll look into it.” He gave Pavel a light push before patting Jez on the back and leaving.

  Jez watched him walk down to the ground floor and grinned when he saw him ‘accidentally’ bump into the lieutenant. Michel apologized and left the GUM with the lieutenant close behind. He turned away from the balustrade and considered the journey to Odessa. Sudden excitement shivered through him – Anna; he would soon be with Anna.

  Chapter 19

  Odessa, Ukraine

  Jez concealed himself near the entrance of the Morskoy Hotel after sending Pavel ahead. He watched him speak to the receptionist and then take a seat. Only moments had passed when Anna rushed down, looked beyond Pavel, and let her eyes worriedly search the foyer. Jez felt warmth spread in his chest; how could someone so beautiful love him? But then a sudden pang of guilt made him realize she might have thought him dead. He dropped the charade and hurried in through the entrance. When she saw him, her shoulders visibly relaxed, but then she pretended otherwise, ignored him and smiled at Pavel, who stood and kissed her on either cheek. Jez put his arms out in greeting, but she placed her hands to his chest, leaned forward and pecked his cheek.

  “Oh, you clearly missed me then?” he said gloomily, while Pavel shuffled on the spot.

  She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him. “Yes, I missed you,” she said icily, “but I didn’t appreciate your childish prank.”

  “No, I was playing with you. I didn’t think about what I was doing until I saw your face. Sorry,” he said, giving her his best little boy face.

  She melted, laughed, and began dragging him towards the stairwell. “Quickly,” she said, “we have an hour before the ferry is due in. Let’s not waste it. Oh, I’ll have to think of you how you used to look; you’re not up to much right now.” She laughed again and Jez accepted the backlash he deserved.

  “I’ll just hang around here then, shall I?” Pavel said, but then turned his attention to the girl on reception. “Or maybe she would like to talk with me.”

  The girl must have heard. She looked up and grinned. Pavel was over there without another word.

  Later, Jez let the thoughts replay gleefully in his mind. An hour she’d offered; five minutes would have done the trick. But now the SS Udaloy was approaching. The ferry grew from a speck on the horizon to full size, froth beating up on top of the water as propellers shunted the vessel back and forth, until cruising alongside the concrete wharf. Jez stood with his fingers entwined through the diamond mesh as he watched the crew tie ropes to capstans and then push a gangway up to the hull ready for passenger disembarkation. However, before passengers could consider getting off, custom officers had to board and go through their regular security routine.

  Jez let his thoughts slip back to Anna. While he was happy to take full advantage of their reunion, he had shuddered when seeing her bared breasts. “What happened, Anna? You’ve been tortured.”

  “Torture is a bit strong. It was the result of a skirmish, that’s all.”

  Her answer had been dismissive and he knew not to pursue the line of questioning. She was, after all, her own woman. Nevertheless, the yellow and purple bruising had just made the task personal.

  He pulled his oversized trench coat tight, and pushed Afanasiy’s pebble glasses up onto his brow so he could better see what was going on. Nothing much. But then, further along the quay, auxiliary generators roared into life and the steel cargo hatches of the neighboring ship began drawing back. Metal screamed against metal and the hatch doors banged together as they hit fully open. The noise brought the customs officers from the ferry and they began making their way down the gangway. Jez gave a rushed glimpse of Afanasiy’s identity card to the guards at the dock gates and entered. He nodded as he passed the customs officers and made his way to the gangway. Onboard, he wheedled his way through corridors stinking of diesel oil, until coming out on the top deck.

  The passengers stamped feet and wa
lked in circles to fend off the cold while waiting for permission to go ashore. Jez looked over the top of his glasses and his wandering eyes stopped at a young Turk who fit the description Anna had given him: Mehmet. Younger than Jez, it irked him to note that he was indeed tall, slender, dark, and good looking; Anna had drooled the description to him.

  Mehmet grinned and Jez returned the acknowledgement, pleased to see the young Turk’s teeth were less than perfect, but then felt guilty for letting his jealousy take control. Mehmet began snapping photographs. His main focus was on one passenger in particular, a short stocky man around forty: Borislav. Borislav rushed over to Mehmet and objected vehemently while trying to relieve him of the camera. Mehmet held on, repeating humble apologies to Borislav as he fended him off.

  Jez crossed the deck. “What’s going on here?” he commanded, feeling his eyes meeting in the middle as he struggled to get focus through the pebble glasses.

  “This man is taking photographs. It is illegal to take photographs in dock areas and I want to know why he’s doing it.” Then Borislav checked himself and spoke with aggression to Jez. “But who the fuck do you think you are to question me?”

  “I don’t think about who I might be,” Jez replied calmly. “I know.” He displayed Sergeant Afanasiy’s ID. “I am Sergeant Afanasiy and I work out of the Smersh unit attached to KGB in Moscow. So, Comrade Belligerent, before I ask him why he’s taking pictures of you, we can start with you telling me who you are.”

  Borislav gulped. “I am also a sergeant. I work–”

  “Papers,” Jez demanded.

  Flustered, Borislav reddened, his whole face furrowed, and his shoulders slouched. He sighed deeply and then took identification from the front pocket of his overcoat and handed it to Jez.

  “Borislav Georgy, and yes, as you say, you are a sergeant. Tell me, Sergeant, why are you travelling from Istanbul?”

  Borislav’s flustering returned. “I haven’t been to Istanbul. I work in the military industrial complex of Tula, for the Tula Cartridge Plant in Ulitsa Marata. I’ve been to the Crimea to quantify the requirements of an army training camp there.”