The Moscow Affair

by Nancy Boyarsky

  “We can’t let the Russians know,” Chet said. “Our operatives will make sure the explosives are neutralized and, hopefully, removed from the site. There’s time. The military parade isn’t until Monday. That’s four days from now.”

  Nicole frowned and shook her head. “I don’t get it. Why is this the business of the U.K.? If you simply told the Russians, they’d take care of it.”

  “That’s the last thing we’d want to do. It would set up a chain reaction that would kill a lot more people than can fill Red Square. I can see you need to have a better understanding of the situation. What I’m going to tell you is top secret. You’ll be bound by our Official Secrets Act. You cannot tell anyone—not a living soul. Do you understand?”

  “Of course.”

  “All right then. The eight people you’ve been observing are activists in FALGA, an extremist offshoot of the Ukrainian nationalist movement.”

  “Are these people Ukrainians?” she said. “How can that be? They all speak perfect English and are passing themselves off as American tourists.”

  “They’ve been preparing for this for years. That includes extensive training in English to perfect an American accent.”

  “They sure fooled me,” Nicole said. “But please go on.”

  “The Ukrainian government’s goal is to appease Russia,” he said. “Above all, they want to avoid any action that would anger Russia and escalate the conflict between the two countries. FALGA, on the other hand, advocates violence. They’re determined to get revenge for Russia’s attacks on eastern Ukraine, which killed 13,000 Ukrainians since Russia invaded Crimea.

  “If the Russian Federation were to learn that explosives were planted by Ukrainians in a venue where Putin is to appear, they would immediately retaliate. Russia would not distinguish between those who represent the Ukrainian government and an organization like FALGA, which works underground and has different objectives. They would bomb Ukrainian population centers or invade the country. In other words, we’re talking about a possible war, and other countries would have to get involved. So it’s in the interest of all of Europe to make sure this doesn’t happen. For your information, the U.K. isn’t the only country working on the operation. You can be sure we have experts capable of rendering these explosives harmless and untraceable to the Ukraine.”

  Nicole nodded her head. She was dumbstruck by the enormity of the operation in which she was playing a small role.

  For the first time, Chet seemed to relax. “I have to ask one more favor. I need you to come to Red Square with me this evening so you can show me exactly where they left the explosives. Will you do that?”

  “Wait!” Nicole said. “You promised to get me off the ship and out of Russia tonight.”

  “Yes, and we’re set to do that,” he said. “But first, will you show me the location of the explosives? It will delay your departure for a few hours, but you’ll be doing us a great service.”

  “All right.”

  “Brilliant. I’ll come by for you tonight around 11:00. Wear jeans or trousers of some kind.”

  “Won’t the place be locked up and guarded at that hour?”

  “It will be guarded, but they’re behind schedule, so work continues twenty-four hours a day. I’ll bring you a uniform and the credentials you’ll need. Once you show me the location, my agency will take it from there. Again, you can’t tell anyone what I just told you or about your mission here.”

  “I understand. You can count on me.”

  “I know I can. Now for your future plans, as of tomorrow, you will no longer be working on this assignment. You’re free to continue the tour, but given the circumstances, I imagine you’d prefer to return to the U.S.”

  “You’re right. I’ve had quite enough of Russia,” she said. “I want to go home, but they’re holding my passport.”

  “Don’t worry about the passport. There are ways to work around it. You’ll have to leave your things behind, I’m afraid. We won’t be coming back to the ship. But you can send us an itemized list of clothing and other items, and the agency will reimburse you.” He stood up. “Oh, I almost forgot.” He pulled something out of one of the pockets in his jumpsuit. “I have a replacement for the broken watch.” He held out what looked like a man’s watch, a digital model, silver, on a leather band.

  “Oh,” she said. “It’s completely different from the one I have. One of the passengers did notice it—” Nicole stopped, reminded of Kat and her sudden appearance with the FALGA group. “Her name is Katarina Heikkinen. Do you know her?” He shook his head, and she went on. “She appointed herself my traveling companion. Then last night I saw her meeting with the people I’ve been following.”

  “I’ve never heard of her,” Chet said. “She is probably going by an alias. About the watch, sorry we don’t have the same model. Since communication is vital to your mission and safety, we’ll have to take a chance that no one will notice. Best wear a long-sleeved jumper or blouse and keep the watch covered.”

  Somewhat reluctantly, Nicole took off the rose-gold watch, handed it to him, and replaced it with the new one. She walked him to the door.

  “Thank you for everything you’ve done,” he said. “I’ll see you tonight, yeah?”

  After he was gone, she studied her new watch. She didn’t like it much; it certainly wasn’t pretty like the original. Then she noticed the time. It was 3:00 p.m. Kat might be back from the day’s tour any time now. She’d probably seek her out, aggrieved at being deserted that morning. Nicole shrunk at the idea of having to continue playing dumb and feigning friendship as if she didn’t know the woman had been spying on her. She’d already planned to plead illness as her excuse for abandoning Kat that morning. Kat had mentioned the possibility of food poisoning from the sausages they’d bought from a street vendor. This gave Nicole the perfect excuse. Only now did she realize that she’d forgotten a crucial step in making her excuse airtight.

  She got her phone out of her purse and typed in a message to Kat, well aware that it wouldn’t go out with a cell phone blocker in place. It explained that she was returning to the ship because she was ill. Then she left it in her out-box as if she’d forgotten to send it. This done, she decided to change so she’d look as if she’d spent the day in bed. She took off her boots, then went into the walk-in closet to get her pj’s. The first thing she noticed was that the bottom drawer of the bureau was slightly open. When she’d unpacked, she easily fit all of her things in the top three drawers. She’d never opened the bottom one. She bent down and pulled out the drawer so she could see what was in there. Sitting in the otherwise empty drawer was a small, silver gun.

  She stepped back and stared at it. Someone had been in her room and left this. Chet had been there, of course, but he would have told her if he was leaving a weapon. It had to be Kat, who’d spent some time exploring this part of the suite.

  Nicole picked up the gun and took a close look. She recognized the model, which was designed to fit into a woman’s purse. Even though Nicole hated guns, she owned one. After several close brushes with violence, she’d applied for a license to carry a concealed weapon. Her main criteria for choosing a gun had been its size. Was it small enough to fit in her purse and light enough to make it easy to carry? Once she had her license and the weapon, she made it her business to learn how to use it. She went to target practice regularly and had become something of a sure-shot.

  Of course, she couldn’t bring the weapon with her. Not only did TSA forbid guns on planes, Russia had very strict laws governing such weapons. Nicole had looked it up. Foreigners were forbidden to be in possession of firearms on Russian soil. That would have given someone—most likely Kat—a motive to leave the gun here. It would be easy for the police to find if they came back and searched the suite again. They’d haul Nicole off to jail and would no doubt refuse to believe that she had no idea who’d put it there.

  She debated what to do. She knew there was nowhere to safely hide a gun in a hotel room, much less in
a ship’s cabin, even a spacious one like this. Maids came daily to clean and change the linen; management had access to the safe, and so did the police. Now, with the investigation still active, this gun was a huge liability.

  The simplest way of dealing with it was to get rid of it. All she had to do was drop it in the river. She picked up the gun, went onto her balcony, and immediately realized her mistake. There were four ships lined up between Queen of the Volga and the dock. On the ship nearest hers, not fifteen feet away, two people sitting on their private deck were staring at her. She’d have to wait until dark so no one would see her toss the weapon into the water. She went inside and closed the door.

  Back in the closet, she returned the gun to the drawer for the time being and got into her pj’s, pushing the new watch as far up her arm as it would go. The sleeve easily covered it. She’d just put on the robe and slippers when she heard loud knocking at her door. Nicole’s first thought was that Colonel Kolkov was back to question her again.

  She dashed into the closet, took the gun out of the drawer, and looked around for a better place to hide it. The knocking got even louder, and she realized she couldn’t waste any more time. She dropped the weapon into one of the boots she’d just taken off. She put the boots on the closet’s shoe rack and hurried to the door.

  Nicole peered out the peephole. It was Kat. Nicole took in a deep breath, part relief that it wasn’t Kolkov, part apprehension at having to deal with Kat and pretend she wasn’t on to her.

  “What happened to you?” Kat was angry. “I looked all over. You disappeared, and it spoiled my whole day.”

  “I’m sorry.” Nicole did her best to sound both weak and contrite. “I went back to the ship because I was feeling sick. I sent you a message. Didn’t you get it?”

  Kat pulled her cell out of her bag and checked it. “No!” She gave Nicole an accusing look and held out her phone. “See? No message.”

  “But I’m sure I sent one. Come in. I’m feeling—I need to sit down.” She backed into the sitting room and dropped onto the couch. Kat followed but remained standing.

  “I went to the loo when I got off the bus. Remember?” Nicole went on. “I was feeling sick. By the time I got out, I felt even worse. I didn’t want to wait for the bus back to the ship, so I caught a cab. That’s when I sent you the message.” She reached into her bag, which was on the couch next to her, and took out her phone to locate the message.

  “See? Here it is. Oh, no! It looks like it didn’t go out. Maybe I forgot to hit the send button. I’m so sorry.” She held out the phone to Kat, who took it and read the message.

  “Oh, you did try to reach me.” Kat’s anger disappeared, and she was instantly all concern. “Is it your stomach?” And to Nicole’s nod, Kat added, “You could have food poisoning. These Russian kitchens are filthy, and we ate those sausages from a street vendor yesterday. You’d better see the ship’s doctor.”

  “I’m not sure what it is,” Nicole said. “I’ll see the doctor if I’m not better by tomorrow. Right now you’ll have to excuse me. I need to lie down.”

  “Wait,” Kat reached her hand out and touched Nicole’s forehead. “I think you have a fever. This could be something serious, like E. coli. Stay here. I’m going to get the doctor.”

  Nicole’s patience had reached the breaking point. “Don’t you dare! I’m going to take a rest—an uninterrupted one. You have to—”

  Her words were drowned out by someone pounding on the door. “Open up! Police!” She recognized Kolkov’s voice and immediately thought of the gun in her boot.

  She opened the door. Kolkov was there, flanked by two uniformed officers. He gave Nicole a cursory glance before his eyes fell on Kat. “The man at desk say I find you with this woman.” Pointing to Kat, he turned to the policemen behind him and said something in Russian. Each grabbed one of Kat’s arms. She struggled to pull away.

  “What are you doing?” she shouted. “I’m an American citizen. Let go of me!” As they marched her down the corridor, she kept shouting. Several stateroom doors opened as they passed.

  Kolkov watched them go, then turned back to Nicole. “Not worry. They just take her for formal interview.” He stepped forward, taking Nicole’s arm and leading her to the couch. “Sit,” he said. “I look around.”

  Once more, Nicole thought of the gun stupidly hidden in her boot. Now she really did feel sick.

  Chapter Six

  Nicole sat and watched Kolkov look around her sitting room. After pausing to go through the drawers of the end table, he closely examined the lamp on top, turning it upside down as if he expected to find something hidden inside. When this didn’t pan out, he moved onto the credenza and the cabinets above, working his way over to the small refrigerator under the wet bar. Only then did he notice the liquor sitting on the counter. He picked up a vodka bottle labeled “Beluga” and emitted a loud “aha” of pleased discovery. He got down a tumbler and poured himself a good amount, downing it in a single gulp. After he swallowed, he let out a long, exaggerated “ah” before setting the glass on the counter.

  As he walked into her bedroom, and Nicole’s stomach lurched. The minutes dragged by, and she found it impossible to sit still. All she could think about was the gun and how stupid she’d been to hide it in one of her boots. If Kolkov picked them up, he’d notice one was much heavier than the other. She expected him back any moment, holding up the gun and placing her under arrest. At last he emerged. To her great relief, he wasn’t carrying the gun. Instead, he had her iPad, which she’d locked in the safe that morning. She wasn’t surprised he’d have access to the stateroom safes. Of course the ship’s management would have given the police the universal code to open them.

  Sensing he expected a protest, Nicole said, “Why are you taking that? There’s nothing on it but books and movies.”

  He gave her a look of defiant amusement—perhaps thinking of the power he held over her—before reaching for her purse, which was next to her on the couch. He took out her phone and put it on top of the tablet before handing the purse back to her.

  “I go now. We see what is here.” He held up the iPad and the phone. “Later I return.”

  After he was gone, she locked the door and retrieved the gun from its hiding place. She took it into the bathroom and opened the lid of the toilet tank. After wedging the gun behind the flushing mechanism, she replaced the lid. It was probably one of the places Kolkov would look if he returned and decided to give the suite a more thorough search. Hopefully, he’d stay away until after dark when she’d have a chance to toss the weapon in the river. She flushed the toilet to be sure it worked. Still trembling from the stress of having Kolkov search her cabin again, she paced a bit then decided to go out on her balcony. Maybe some fresh air would help her calm down.

  The deck was sunny but chilly from the wind blowing across the water. She stood at the railing a while, studying the ship anchored next to hers. The few passengers outside were on deck chairs, covered with blankets. They appeared to be dozing.

  Her mind turned to Kolkov and the devices he’d taken away—both her iPhone and iPad. He wouldn’t find anything compromising on them. All at once, she realized she still hadn’t been able to listen to her voice messages, and now that was out of the question. She remembered, suddenly, the blinking light on her office phone. She hadn’t picked up messages from the office either. Even if she could find a cell to borrow, it wouldn’t help—not if the ship had a cell phone jammer.

  When dinner finally rolled around, she decided she might as well go down to eat. It would be a distraction from the long evening ahead, waiting for Chet to arrive. Besides, she was curious to see what her fellow passengers were really like. She couldn’t believe they were as bad as Kat had made them out.

  When Nicole entered the dining room, all of the seats were taken except for two singles at a large table where three of her targets were sitting—David Wynn; James Bartel, the mayor; and Mary Haworth, the hausfrau. Nicole had no choice but to join
the group. Wynn was his usual enigmatic self, ignoring the people around him. He’d just finished refilling his wine glass to the very top. Red wine spilled on the tablecloth as he lifted it to his mouth. Mary and the mayor were deep in conversation, and Nicole detected a certain degree of tension between them. From the way they were slurring their words, it was evident they’d continued their celebration throughout the afternoon.

  Nicole had no desire to enter the conversation. She focused on listening to the others and eating her salad, once again swimming in dressing. Her silence soon became a subject of comment for Mary and the mayor, moving from unfunny teasing and to an argument between the two. They didn’t speak directly to her but referred to her in the third person as if she wasn’t sitting right there.

  “She’s certainly a pretty little thing,” the mayor said. “I’ll bet she’s broken a heart or two.”

  “Don’t you notice how quiet she is?” Mary snapped. “Maybe her heart is broken. Did you ever think of that? Women have feelings, not that you’d ever notice.”

  “Well, there’s a limp dick in this somewhere.” His comment sent his wife into a fit of giggles, and he let out a snort of laughter at his own wit. Emboldened, he turned to address Nicole directly. “What is it, sweetie? You disappointed in love? Why don’t you come sit on my lap? Once you get on, you won’t ever want to get off.”

  Nicole put down her fork. “That’s quite enough,” she said.

  “Oh, come on, love cakes. Can’t you take a joke?”

  “To qualify as a joke, it would have to be funny.” Nicole got up and headed for the door.

  “See?” Mary turned to the mayor accusingly. “You drive people away with your filthy mouth.” As Nicole left the dining room, Mary continued berating him. The last thing Nicole heard was the mayor’s booming voice, “What’s with you, Mary? You going through the change? Let’s ask the waiter to bring you some ice. You can drop it in your pants to cool off.”