Master of Starlight
Page 21
‘Mr Chekhov, you seem to underestimate the extent and gravity of these matters. I’ll therefore come straight to the point. There are hundreds of Polish nationals who are, as we speak, being coerced into a life of prostitution in the UK. I have reason to believe that you are at the head of this heinous operation and I am going to have it stopped. In your own words, if you are responsible for this, I am going to have your career terminated.’
Chekhov remained calm in the face of Pavel’s blunt accusations. ‘And why Dabrowski? Have you had him spying on me from within the position of trust I gave him? What use is he to you now that he no longer comes into my head office each day? That doesn’t seem to have worked so well, does it?’
Leon was about to answer but Pavel placed a hand over his forearm.
‘It’s like this, Mr Chekhov. Dr Dabrowski has a vested interest in that your trafficking gangs seem to have swept up his fiancée, Professor Magda Tomala, into your prostitution empire. I don’t think that was such a clever move from an astute businessman.’
Leon was on the edge of his seat. He’s thinking about it?
‘Mr Pavel, I am not denying that I oversee an exclusive adult entertainments business in the UK. If you’ve done your homework, you will have already ascertained that my directors run a legitimate business which is open to scrutiny by the police, tax inspectorate and any other authority that wishes to investigate our affairs.’
He’s definitely the boss. It’s not Rodin.
‘However,’ Chekhov continued, ‘I am not interested in listening to this rubbish about sex trafficking and coercion that you accuse me of. Now it’s my turn to come to the point. Dabrowski, are you collaborating with the Americans on the design of a nuclear fusion reactor?’
This was bizarre. They were holding a debate at cross purposes. They both want something different from me. Pavel was only interested in putting a stop to the sex trafficking of his Polish nationals. Chekhov wanted to know if his chief scientist had defected. And all I want to do is get my darling Magda back.
‘You’re wrong,’ Leon said. ‘I have no interest in the American fusion programme. I absconded for one reason only – I want to be reunited with my girlfriend. We were going to get married before this happened.’
‘Ah, Dabrowski. It is you, after all. How are you keeping?’ Chekhov asked in a sarcastic tone. ‘If your girlfriend has gone missing, why did you not ask for help? As you know, I do possess a considerable resource.’
Would Chekhov have really been willing to help him at the time of Magda’s disappearance? Or was he the one holding Magda prisoner? Pavel came to his assistance.
‘Gentlemen, we appear to have three separate agenda items. Can I suggest we pursue each of these issues in turn? We are all intelligent men around this table and I’m sure we can debate these matters with respect for one another.’
To Leon’s surprise, Chekhov decided to go for it. Lips pursed, he nodded. ‘I agree. We meet again tomorrow morning at ten. Chekhov out.’ The video-wall went blank.
The two men sat in stunned silence. Leon studied Pavel. He knows I’m not happy. He could no longer contain himself. ‘An interesting meeting.’
Pavel was wringing his hands nervously.
‘You’re holding back on me, Pavel. You’ve suspected all along that Chekhov was behind this.’
‘Yes,’ Pavel replied, lowering his head.
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
Pavel looked up with worried eyes. ‘I’ve thought long and hard about it. I decided the best thing for us all was that you didn’t know the background. But I’ll tell you now – everything I know.’ He took a deep breath and gave a long sigh. ‘The world sees Vladimir Chekhov as nothing but a ruthless oligarch. But Chekhov is in fact a brilliant man when it comes to commerce and the empire he’s building could lead to his supremacy in the world of legitimate business. I don’t have to tell you, Leon, if Chekhov is successful in retaining the sole rights to commercial nuclear fusion, he would become omnipotent. But none of that interests me. All I care about is the liberation of my fellow citizens. You see, Chekhov recognised the potential in the sex industry many years ago, following the death of his father. He realised that if he could give prostitution an air of respectability, the law enforcers would become tolerant – especially if he paid them off. There have always been high-class call girls to satisfy the needs of so-called respectable clients. But Chekhov has now provided these people with sophisticated brothels on an unprecedented scale. And in doing that he’s collared the market.’
‘Why did you drag me into this?’
‘It’s because Chekhov has managed to place an invisible ring of steel around his sex industry, a clandestine protection we need to break down. We needed your brilliant mind to think of a way in. And, in you, we also have bargaining power. We’ve taken something from Chekhov that he needs back.’
That final statement lit the fuse. Leon exploded. ‘You’ve been using me? That’s why you didn’t finish the job when Rodin was down. All this time, I’ve just been a pawn in your game.’
‘It’s not a game. But if you’re going to liken it to chess, I confess you were an essential piece of our strategy. But not a pawn. In terms of chess pieces, you are a queen – the most powerful piece on the board.’
‘And what about Magda? Have you had anything to do with her abduction? She was the incentive you provided to ensure my cooperation, wasn’t she?’
‘No! I swear on my life I had nothing to do with that. Her abduction was the catalyst for our approach to you. Prior to that I was devoid of any sort of plan. You were a godsend to us, a discovered check, you might say. And now we’re on the verge of achieving our goals, both of us. We can get them all out of there, Leon – Magda included.’
Leon felt his heart drop to the floor. But he had to stay calm. Once again, he’d have to let Pavel take the lead in their forthcoming meeting and give him whatever support he needed. So, they were to go for Chekhov’s jugular. Never mind chess, we’ve just set up the world’s most momentous poker game.
The following day, Leon was poised for the showdown of his life. Chekhov opened the proceedings from Monte Carlo. ‘I will answer your questions with honesty,’ he said, ‘but when it comes to my own queries, you must return that respect.’
In London, Pavel scanned his list of prompts on the wafer-board he’d hidden below the table’s surface. ‘My first question is this – does your adult entertainments business comprise a string of brothels in the Highgate area of London?’
‘I prefer to call them pleasure houses,’ Chekhov replied. ‘They are high-class gentlemen’s clubs with additional services. Nobody objects to them as far as I’m aware.’
‘Thank you, Mr Chekhov. That’s consistent with the testimony we obtained from your estate manager, Alexei Rodin.’
‘I don’t know any Rodin. My estate manager is Oleg Malkin, formerly my father’s bookkeeper. He appoints his own managers.’
‘Who is responsible for staffing these establishments?’ Pavel asked.
‘As I’ve already indicated, I am not involved in detailed staffing and recruitment issues. I pay my managers to do that. Come to the point, Pavel. What is it you are trying to say?’
‘Are you denying knowledge of your own recruitment policy? You abduct and imprison young women. They are being forced into prostitution against their will.’
Leon studied Chekhov’s reaction. The image on the screen was becoming softer, the lighting was no longer harsh. For a moment he was sure he saw a huge shark glide past in the background. He shook his head to clear his mind.
‘I’ve told you,’ Chekhov responded, ‘I don’t get involved in the day-to-day running of this business. Besides, Malkin assures me that the girls are content with their living conditions and happy in their work. Now, can we move on?’
Leon could see that Pavel was frustrated. He’s not getting a
nywhere with this.
‘One final question,’ said Pavel wearily. ‘Are you aware of the number and disposition of brothels in your estate?’
‘Pleasure houses,’ Chekhov corrected him once again. ‘Of course I am. I have to have an awareness of all my businesses to that extent. But I say again, I don’t have time for day-to-day details. Are we finished?’
‘Not quite.’ Pavel paused.
He’d make a good barrister, Leon thought.
‘You are aware of the flagship brothel that resides under your Fusion HQ?’
That was unexpected. And he could see Chekhov was puzzled. Leon eased himself upright in his chair. Go on, push him.
‘I think you are wrong about that, Pavel. There could be no such facility. You can confirm that, Dabrowski?’
Pavel’s line of questioning made Leon think about the results from his modelling. Goldhurst was without a doubt at the geographical centre of Rodin’s estate. But he’d never seriously considered the prospect of a brothel within Fusion’s headquarters. ‘I expect you’re right. But sometimes you have to look beyond the logic. There’s no physical reason why you couldn’t install a pleasure house, as you call it, under Goldhurst. But why would you ever want to do that?’
‘There you are, Pavel. I would never do such a thing.’
Pavel came back in. ‘But there is something going on under there. We have evidence to show that the rest of your establishments are linked to that building.’
The meeting was taking them nowhere – and at a painfully slow pace. Fired up with frustration, Leon ploughed in like a raging bull.
‘Are you willing to take us under Goldhurst? I for one would love to see it.’ He thought back to the time he watched the Arab delegation disappearing into thin air. There must be some way of getting into the basement.
‘Don’t be ridiculous. You more than anyone should appreciate that I can’t have casual visitors wandering around my company HQ. And with respect, Dabrowski, that is what you are. You are suspended on account of your own actions and you no longer have freedom of movement within Fusion. As for the Polish police, Pavel, you will get a search warrant over my dead body.’
Pavel had an expression of defeat across his face. Leon cursed himself – he’d just given Chekhov the upper hand. Chekhov was perfectly entitled to stop them going into a classified area in a company that he owned. There was little point in raising the subject of Magda now.
As if this dead end to their enquiries wasn’t enough, Chekhov reminded them of his next agenda item. ‘We are yet to talk about my security issue. Dr Dabrowski, can you please tell me why you went absent without leave from Fusion Limited?’
‘I’ve already told you, I needed to take time out to look for my girlfriend, Professor Magda Tomala. The Polish police showed no interest when she went missing – until my colleague here offered to help in return for my assistance with his investigations. I did nothing wrong. Any man among us would sacrifice his career to find a lost loved one.’
Chekhov’s head drooped; the movement was barely discernible but Leon knew he’d struck a raw nerve.
‘Mr Chekhov, will you please help me to find Magda? I love her and I want her back. I’ll give you anything I have within my power if you can find her for me.’ Leon was sure he could see a tear running down Chekhov’s cheek. It must have been a trick of the light. He spotted a movement in the background. My God, that really was a shark. The stress was getting to him now. In desperation he’d played all his cards in one go. Why should he help me? I’m a fugitive on the run – from him.
Chekhov rubbed his face and his composure returned. ‘I will try to help. I’ll make some enquiries of my own but from what you’ve told me, I wouldn’t raise your hopes. Now, I have a request to put to you.’ He continued in dismissive fashion. ‘Dabrowski, I want you to come and see me in Monte Carlo. Are you willing to meet face to face on my yacht?’
Pavel covered the side of his face with his hand and offered Leon the slightest shake of his head. No, he was saying, don’t do it.
‘No.’
‘What is your concern? Don’t you trust me?’
Leon sympathised with Chekhov. Without him, Chekhov would struggle to maintain the pace in Fusion’s programme and stay ahead of the Americans. If he returned to his job, he could even get to the bottom of this data theft and put a stop to it. The security of this planet’s future energy supplies was in his hands. But so was Magda’s safety. He looked down at the table and gave a slow and wide shake of the head. Pavel confirmed Leon’s response with a single discreet nod of agreement and a half smile.
‘If that is your position, I can make no further contribution to this meeting. Good day, gentlemen. Chekhov out.’
‘You know you were out of order there, Leon?’ Pavel said, pacing the room after the video-wall went blank.
Leon said nothing. There was little point in arguing among themselves.
Pavel opened the door and invited Schumann to join them. ‘I think you can stand your men down, Schumann.’ He brought his officer up to date with the outcome of their meeting. ‘That’s where we are, I’m afraid. But we’re not going to give up. We have to regroup and redouble our efforts. I’m not going to give in to a man like that. He thinks he—’
The Melomet cut in, ‘Call for you, Pavel, from Mr Chekhov.’
The three men stared at each other in surprise. The video-wall came back to life. Pavel was the first to express his astonishment. ‘What the devil—?’
The three men gawped at the huge tiger sharks swimming around behind Chekhov. ‘Where the hell is he?’ Schumann blurted out.
Chekhov’s face was a picture of despair. Leon could tell he hadn’t called to gloat or to challenge him further on his commercial espionage problem.
‘Gentlemen,’ Chekhov said in a downcast voice, ‘I do apologise for the intrusion on your debriefing, but I’ve just been given some information which you, Dabrowski, should be made aware of.’
The goose-pimples sprang to life on Leon’s neck.
‘I’ve just received some sad news.’
Please God, not Magda.
‘I’ve been informed of the demise of Dr Pawel Kaminsky. He has been murdered.’
Leon’s first reaction was to suppress his relief. Then the shock took hold. ‘Kaminsky was an unassuming and courteous man. Who would want to kill him?’
‘I don’t know. The Metropolitan Police homicide team are pursuing their inquiries. All I know is they found his body in a toilet at Gatwick Airport. He was returning to Germany after delivering the data from the latest stellerator runs. The coroner has just informed me that he died as a result of an administered toxic agent.’
‘Was he found with a wafer-zip on his person?’ Leon asked impulsively.
‘The police are revealing no further details at the moment.’ Chekhov’s demeanour turned. ‘I’ll find out who did this and I will also find you, Dabrowski, now that I know what you look like.’
Leon broke into a cold sweat as he realised what Chekhov meant. Following their meeting, he’d removed his balaclava.
CHAPTER 32
Magda was becoming more tired and listless by the day. There must be a syndrome like this for every prisoner who’s been incarcerated for this length of time, she told herself. Hopefully the depression will lift. In the meantime, she would put the bad feelings to one side and continue to work on Sergei. As she waited for him to come out of the dressing room, she began her warm-up stretching, though she found it hard to muster any enthusiasm. Why did he bring her to his quarters before this particular training session? Why the change in routine?
Sergei came into the lounge looking more serious than usual.
‘What, no smile? You feeling OK, Sergei?’
‘Yes, Ana. I’m feeling fine. Sit down, I have something important to say.’
This sounded like bad news.
‘I don’t think I’m going to like this.’
‘But you will,’ he said. ‘I’ve thought about our recent discussions and I have to admit you’re right. This is no life for either of us. I’m going to take you out of here.’
She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Just like that? This was her dream. Her thoughts of escape and seeing Leon again kept her going through months of meaningless days and the lonely nights. Why was he offering this on a plate after all this time?
‘You have no thoughts on that? I did imagine you’d be pleased.’
‘I’m delighted, Sergei. But I need to know one thing before I agree to what you’re proposing. You are doing this for us, aren’t you? You’re going to take this huge risk so we can have our freedom and start a new life together.’ She mentally crossed her fingers in hope that he was telling the truth, rather than nullifying her own blatant lie.
‘Of course, I’m doing it for us. Why else would I suggest this?’
He kissed her cheek and her doubts became stronger. It’s another ruse, but I have no choice. ‘When do we go?’
‘Tonight. We wait until it becomes dark outside and everyone is back in their rooms. Most of the complex will be on emergency lighting by then and the alarms and cameras will be inactive.’
Tonight! This was a shock. And why would their security systems be disarmed tonight? Surely this was the time of day when they were needed most – unsupervised inmates, opportunities to move about the place in silence – none of this made sense. I have to take my chance – I may never get another.
‘I suggest you get some rest, Ana. Try and sleep. I’ll wake you when the time comes.’
She got up and kissed Sergei on the lips. ‘I’ll be ready.’
Sleep? How could she sleep? I’m coming, Leon. Please be there for me, my love – whoever you are.
CHAPTER 33
Gunther Schroeder and Roman Slavic sat stony faced in Fusion’s main conference room. Kaminsky was dead. Slavic’s secretary closed the door behind her and both men tried to speak at the same time.