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

by Rik Stone

  Borislav’s expression changed as if his feet had been dropped back into the ice water and the wires reattached to his testicles. “Er, I don’t know. I get my orders in–”

  “Yes, yes,” Afanasiy’s deep voice interjected. “In an envelope and the same method is used for payment; you never see who you work for.”

  Borislav nodded.

  “Borislav, do you know how long I’ve been doing this kind of work? That line and anything like it is just so old, believe me. Now, one more time, who are you working for? And remember your shoulders. Next time the damage could be irrevocable.”

  Borislav’s eyes darted around the room, his mind clearly looking for something to say that wasn’t the truth but was, at the same time, something that Afanasiy would believe. The interrogator gave a throaty laugh while Anchova did his impersonation of a hissing snake.

  “Just tell us,” Anchova bellowed softly; how did he do that?

  Two of them competing to be quietest now, Afanasiy thought as Borislav whispered his answer. “Colonel Sergei … Colonel Sergei manages me and I pay everyone else. No one knows about the colonel but me.” He sobbed. “When he finds out I’ve betrayed him, I will die.”

  “Not by his hand you won’t, Comrade,” Anchova whispered. “He’s finished.”

  Afanasiy said, “We’ll collect the names of the minions later, Borislav. For now, tell us about Sergei. Is he the only high-ranking officer handling you?”

  Borislav nodded in subservience. “Yes, Colonel Sergei; he gave me the orders and made the payments to me. From it, I paid those in my control.”

  “You’ve done well so far, Borislav, but if I thought you were holding back information, hoping to negotiate later, I might have to strap you up again.”

  He looked terrified. “No, no! I’ve told you everything!”

  “Then why haven’t you mentioned Captain Ferapont? You met with him in Moscow on your return from Turkey. I’ve made checks and I can’t see any reason how you could know him.”

  Borislav’s face opened in surprise. “Him? Oh no, I don’t work for him. Colonel Sergei asked me to go there and give him some paperwork with signatures. I was glad to get rid of it. I’d been carrying it around since I left for Turkey. I like the colonel, but he has a furious temper.”

  Afanasiy nodded. “You didn’t peek at this paperwork?”

  “No.”

  “Right, one last question: if Sergei gets furious, what did he think about you losing your bodyguard in Turkey?”

  “He doesn’t know. Anton is a civilian and only works for me. I didn’t want the colonel thinking there was anything wrong so I kept quiet about it.”

  *

  Michel studied his little Smersh men as they proudly marched into his office and handed over their report. They had driven back to Moscow overnight and had come straight to his office. Now, they took a step back and stood to attention, but failed to wipe away their self-satisfied expressions.

  “Your faces seem to indicate you’ve enjoyed a measure of success.”

  “Yes, General Petrichova. The ammunitions sergeant broke down. He gave us everything he knew and said he is willing to testify in return for leniency.” The gravel-throat sergeant seemed to think that funny. “Whether it gets that far is up to you of course, sir. But we took it on ourselves to bring him with us to keep him a safe distance from the cartridge plant.”

  “Here in Moscow? Yes, good,” Michel said, drumming his thick fingers on the desk’s red inlay. The report was bulky, so hopefully Sergeant Georgy had a lot to say, he thought. He looked up from the paperwork. “I hope you didn’t use torture to get this.”

  “No, General Petrichova,” Afanasiy growled brazenly. “There’s barely a mark on him. He’d been blubbing like a baby, so I gave him a cigarette to calm him. He dropped it and burnt his arm. But we didn’t touch him. And his initial whining had been because he’d resisted arrest at the ammunition plant and his shoulder was dislocated in the furor.”

  “Hmm,” he said. A lie, he knew, but to be judgmental would be nothing short of hypocritical. The ruthlessness of these two was the very reason he had put them on the case. He thumbed the pages and excitement welled up. The interrogators might not have known it, but the sign-off required to bypass proper channels for such vast amounts of Semtex would be a hell of a lot higher than a colonel. And, there was no way for an ammunitions plant to justify having this amount of plastic bricks.

  He stopped on the penultimate page. “You mention someone named Anna in the report.”

  “Yes, General, we’ve written up everything we were told.”

  “This is good, but make sure there is no follow-up on her. She’s undercover. Remove all mention of her.”

  “Yes, sir,” Afanasiy said, giving a side glance to his partner.

  Michel read on. “Hmm, and you can forget about the two men in Vorkuta as well.”

  Anchova’s face reddened and he whispered. “But if you knew about the two men in Vorkuta, and this Anna works for you, General, why didn’t you tell us? You must have already known a lot of what’s in the report.”

  “I did, but I didn’t want you going in forearmed. I wanted everything fresh and new. That way I’m able to fit in what I know, and verify whether Borislav is telling the truth.” They didn’t look convinced, so Michel thought he’d give them a carrot. “Right, this is good work, Sergeants, and could be very meaningful to your careers. Well done.”

  The Smersh men’s faces creased into smiles. Everyone can be bought.

  “My aide will contact Captain Bukosky and you will be commended, but you’re not finished yet. You will remain under my direct command until further notice.”

  The Smersh men looked like they had already been promoted.

  “I’ll have half dozen GAZ-69s and thirty agents from Osnaz transferred to your authority; I want you to grab some rest while I put the necessary warrants together. Take your command to Tula and seize the cartridge plant, commandeer all paperwork and arrest those implicated by Sergeant Georgy. Determine the top level of authorization for signoff of the Semtex. Remember one thing: until you’re in Tula no one should be aware of what’s going on. Apart from anything else, it could be dangerous for you.”

  The Smersh men almost skipped from the office and Michel smiled; he had made a sound choice when making use of those two. But he could only hope Irishka didn’t get wind of things and shut down the Semtex trail. The situation was still finely balanced and the tables could yet be turned. The sergeants might have broken Sergeant Georgy, but once again proof was flaky. Any attempt to take Irishka down could yet blow up in Michel’s face.

  Chapter 26

  The Heroin Depot, Marmaris, Turkey

  Yuri was at a loss. Why was he on his hands and knees? His arms suddenly lost strength and he flattened out onto his face. Take a minute, he told himself. No time. Hands grabbed his arms and he was dragged forward. Too rough, the contents of his stomach came up into his throat. He watched his shoes scuff their uppers as he was trailed over bare concrete. His mind swam and his stomach reacted to his unbalanced feelings. The ground became spattered with its contents.

  Whoever was holding Yuri dropped him and stood away. “Oh, shit! … You dirty bastard!” a male voice said, and kicked him in the ribs. The blow took the wind out of him and he threw up again. What had happened? A prisoner clearly, but he couldn’t remember how it had come about. Shock jolted him. Mehmet! Had he been taken, too? No answers came before he was hauled from the building and thrown down. He pulled up to his knees and tiny whirlwinds whipped up sandstorms under his body, dust twisting into his face. He heaved again. An engine sprang into life and Yuri squinted towards the noise. The back door of a car opened. Eyes still watering from the dust attack, he saw the outline of a man by the vehicle.

  “Get him in the car,” a voice said impatiently.

  A deep voice answered, yet it sounded like a woman – Helga! Pieces fell together and then the whole sorry episode cleared in his mind. At least M
ehmet was safe.

  Someone took his weight and shoved him into the back seat of the sedan. Helga went around the car and squeezed in next to a man already in the vehicle. Yuri fell back against the soft upholstery and his head flopped forward. Pain seared in his eyes and the whole of his skull throbbed. He heard his own voice mumble but it didn’t even make sense to him. Hassan leaned into the back of the car and hovered.

  “Don’t want him throwing up in the car,” Yuri heard before a blow struck the side of his head. Robbed of awareness, he slipped back into the darkness.

  *

  Yuri’s head hung heavily on his chest. He couldn’t see much, but what he could see didn’t add up. Earlier that day, when he left Great White with Adam, the sun had been shining, but a cold wind had stolen its warmth so he’d worn a long-sleeved shirt. The T-shirt he had on now wasn’t even his. Both of his arms were bared and strapped to a chair – palm up. Fear tingled over his skin; interrogators only did that when they wanted access to a victim’s veins. He lifted his head and looked around – Adam’s seed barn.

  “Ah, Yuri, that was quite a nap you’ve had, but you’re back with us now,” Adam said, chuckling. “You were covered in puke, so we had to change your shirt. I just can’t work in those conditions.”

  Yuri tried to look at him, but his eyes wandered out of control. “This is madness, Adam,” he croaked. “You can’t get away with it.”

  “Oh, is that right?”

  “Killing the policemen alone will have the whole of the Turkish authorities after you.”

  Adam laughed. “Oh, Yuri, you’re nearly as much fun as Batur. The Marmaris police station is running as normal and I have contacts in administration that will keep things as they are for the time being. But after you’ve given me your lists I’m sure the whole episode will … well, it will just go away.”

  Yuri tried to laugh it off, but failed. “I’ll never give them to you.”

  “Tut, tut, don’t be silly. I know all about your little weakness from Alik. Remember Alik Ishild? The agent who helped you kill Beyrek Ozel. He belonged to me right up to his untimely death … Yuri, I don’t have you down as a stupid man, and clearly you’re no longer wondering why I’m keeping you alive. But believe this – you can still walk away.”

  Panic rose in Yuri’s chest. He’d been betrayed by one of his own: Alik Ishild. Now Adam would know about his past, how he’d failed in the face of the enemy. However, Adam had mentioned his weaknesses, but didn’t know how things had changed over recent months. Yuri had confronted his demons and won. Adam could promise whatever he wanted here, but he would never take away the bravery that had deserted him for so long, no matter the cost.

  Suddenly, the barn door was flung open and Helga ran in. “Mister Mannesh, there’s at least one person spying on us from the top of the rise.”

  “Well, what do you think I pay you for? Take care of it,” Adam growled.

  “What, you want them killed?”

  “Yes, of course! Why would I want them down here with me? I …” He stopped to deliberate. “Just a minute, let’s not be rash here. It could be the Turk that Yuri adopted. Bring him here. Maybe I can use him.”

  Helga rushed from the barn. Yuri heard the conversation and frantically strained to free himself from his bonds, but he couldn’t move. Adam gave him a friendly smile and said, “So, where were we? Ah yes, you have something I want … two things actually. The lists obviously, but I also need to know if your team will return. I know about Mehmet and Anna. How many others are we talking about?”

  Yuri’s gut twisted. He could lie to them, of course, but if they had Sodium Amatol or any other truth drugs he might get mixed up and tell them what they wanted to know. He decided not to reply.

  Adam was stood next to Hassan, legs apart, hands on hips. “Oh so brave,” he chuckled.

  Yuri closed his eyes, ignored him.

  Adam snorted. “Persuaders, Hassan, we need the persuaders.”

  Yuri sneaked a look to see a table, just out of the reach of his feet, with a small metal case on top. Hassan flipped the lid and took out a hypodermic syringe, cotton wool, a small bottle of surgical spirit, and a couple of screw-cap vials. No fear, Yuri told himself. He had to purge his mind of that possibility, as he’d been taught when training with Spetsnaz. He searched for something to concentrate on, anything, a mantra that would hold all else at bay.

  “Yuri, I’m going to leave you to consider your options. And please don’t come to the wrong decision.” Adam picked up a vial. “I don’t know if you’ve heard of this one,” he said. “Dopamine: a natural chemical your brain produces to balance the central nervous system. Scientists are currently developing a serum to treat shock and nervous debilitations, like yours I suppose,” he laughed. “But it appears that given in the wrong quantities it induces fear, enough to send you out of your mind. I don’t know if that is true; I’ve never used it on anyone before.” He put the vial on the table, laughed, and his fleshy body swayed gracefully as he walked away. “Come, Hassan, join me. We’ll have tea.”

  Yuri stared at the syringe and anguish took an ugly grip on his soul. Surely Mehmet would have contacted Michel before following – maybe, but what use would that be now? It would take hours for the unit to get from Odessa. And Mehmet coming here had been stupid. As good as he was with a knife, he was a lousy shot. He would have no chance against this many professionals. But Mehmet wouldn’t try anything by himself. Surely, he was too sensible for that. Yes, he’d make a run for it as soon as he saw them move on him.

  But Yuri was finished, he knew. Until faltering in the Near East, he had been an inspiration to those who fought alongside him, so if it was over now, so be it. Whatever might be in store for him, he would never allow himself to weaken as he had then. He would die like a soldier. His mind lost itself in mantra: I will not weaken … I will not weaken … I will not weaken …

  A minute or a month passed and Yuri heard the footfall of Adam and Hassan echo out on the boiler plate steps. They would be expecting him to have folded.

  “Well?” Adam asked.

  Yuri set his jaw and stared across the open divide without acknowledging the presence of the two Turks: I will not weaken. He gritted his teeth and silently repeated his mantra.

  “Very well,” Adam said, but then faltered. “The thing is, I like you, Yuri,” he said softly, “and I really do want to give you a chance to save yourself. So before I take such a severe step you should be aware of the futility of your campaign … Yuri!”

  Yuri would not relent. He bit into his lower lip and the flavor of blood swamped his taste buds. I will not weaken.

  Adam shook his head and pulled cotton wool from the wad, soaked it with surgical spirit, and laughed. “Wouldn’t want him getting an infection, would we, Hassan?” he said, rubbing the cotton ball in the crook of Yuri’s arm. “This is the brachial vein if you’re interested; once injected the dopamine will travel to your brain in seconds, less.”

  Adam’s lips parted and Yuri saw him nip his tongue between his teeth as he gave his undivided attention to what he was doing.

  “You’re sure now?” he asked as fluid spit out onto Yuri’s arm.

  I will not weaken.

  The hypodermic needle punctured his flesh and the liquid forced a path into his artery. The effect was swift, immediate. His vision swirled and life’s fears grew in magnitude. In an instant, stark terror dominated his soul. Sweat ran down his back, his teeth chattered, and he shuddered as if in the shock of injury. Muscles tightening and chest constricting, his spine stiffened, and the fluid raced up through into his skull, stifling his brain.

  I will not weaken.

  “There, now, do I have to ask the questions again or will you be a good boy and cut to the chase?”

  Over and over, the silent oath repeated itself: I will not weaken … I will not weaken … Staring forward, he ignored his tormentors.

  “Give him another shot, Hassan.”

  “But the chemist said that
too much of this shit would kill …”

  “Huh, these chemists! Don’t worry, he’s a big man. He’s not going to die. Give him the shot.”

  “But if he does die, what happens to the lists?”

  “Just give him the injection, Hassan. We’re not getting success from the first shot are we? And Helga hasn’t brought the young Turk back. Give him the shot. He’ll be fine.”

  Yuri heard a sigh and then the needle jabbed again, the juice flowed, and his heart rate increased, thudding, palpitating, and banging like a hammer on the inside walls of his chest. He hyperventilated, his fingers and toes tingled, and pain stabbed his heart. His resolve collapsed. He would tell them anything, he would sell his very soul if only they would take away the fear and anxiety that saturated his being. Please, no more. But a new resolve forced through and turned his spirit. Determination stepped forward and his mantra began again, almost without his intervention. I will not weaken … I will not weaken … and then, though still conscious, he lost control of thought altogether.

  Chapter 27

  Mehmet had watched the small motor boat pull away from Great White and, with three large passengers and a skipper on board, bob along precariously in the water. He would have liked to see the swell topple the little water taxi and the men scramble for shore; if that happened he could help Yuri from the water and maybe whisk him away from a bad decision. Unfortunately, the skipper was all too aware of what he was doing and they neared the opposite shore unscathed. Mehmet skipped the steps down to the saloon and radioed the Russian Embassy annex in Yenikapi. After giving them an outline of what had happened, he ordered that the information be immediately patched through to General Petrichova.

  Reaching the promenade, Yuri left the boat and walked off by himself, while Adam and Hassan took a heading in the opposite direction. The clothing Mehmet jumped into wasn’t suitable for the tail-end of the windy season, but there was no time to spare. However, he did pick up his throwing knife, an Uzi sub-machine pistol, and a spare clip. He slipped the clip into his pocket and wrapped the pistol in a pillowcase from the dirty linen basket. He only took the gun because Yuri would have him do so, but in reality his shooting was rubbish and the extra weight was a bit of a burden, but … no buts, just do it. He jumped the last two ladder rungs onto the pontoon and ran through to the harbor exit where he’d parked his Vespa. Coming to the promenade, he drove past Adam and Hassan. They didn’t notice him.