by J C Ryan
To make sure it stayed that way, Rex found the radios and stomped them to smithereens. Then he picked up the gun he got from the guard at the gate and pocketed it in one of the utility pockets of his pants.
He took the time to get his first-aid kit out of his backpack and bind his wound to stop the bleeding, and then said, “Let’s go, buddy. We have one more Russian asshole to deal with. Hopefully this will be the last one for a very long time—I don’t know about you, but I am fed up to the back teeth with these Russians.”
Digger replied with a soft woof.
Chapter 66
Zelenograd on the outskirts of Moscow, Russia
WITH NO MORE thought for the guards, who were beginning to stir but were securely gagged and bound and tied up to their bunks, Rex and Digger moved on to the house. As soon as he entered the door, Rex’s ears were assaulted by very loud, very bad, Russian rock music.
The party was in full swing.
Rex and Digger made their way through darkened rooms, guided by Rex’s memory of the layout and his night-vision goggles. At last, they came to a door that Rex knew would lead to the hot-tub room, where the music was louder than ever.
“Here goes nothing, Digger. I wish you didn’t have to see what we’re about to see. You’re too young to have your eyes corrupted by what I think is going on behind this door.”
It was even worse than he imagined, if that were possible. Koslov was on his feet, more or less. However, he was naked, staggering around in a parody of dancing, and urging the girls to get up and dance with him. Unfortunately for him, they were all passed out, just as naked as he was, three of them.
Rex ignored Koslov for the moment, as he was so out of it, he didn’t even realize a ninja-clad man and a big dog had joined the party. One of the girls was lying with her chin dipping close to the water in the hot tub. Rex pulled her out and left her lying on the floor beside the sunken tub. If he hadn’t, there was a chance she could have drowned. The others were safe, and none of the three looked as if she’d wake up before noon, if so soon. One of them had a rim of white powder around one nostril.
So, it’s not just booze, it’s drugs, too. Dangerous combination, girls—this stuff will kill you.
Rex turned his attention to Koslov, who had by then fallen to the floor and was crawling toward one of the girls.
“Oh, no, you don’t. Party’s over, mister. Let’s get some pants on you. I don’t like talking to naked men.”
It was like trying to push a noodle through a straw, Koslov’s legs were so wobbly, but Rex finally had the half-comatose man half-dressed.
He secured Koslov to a chair with zipties. The man had a smile on his face, maybe thinking it was one of the girls. With Koslov secured, Rex turned to the girls and tied and gagged them as well. Their discarded underwear made soft gags, and though he had no gripe with them, he justified the necessity with the thought that if they were consorting with a man like Koslov, they got what they deserved.
Maybe they’d wake up and feel ashamed and take stock of their lives and bad habits and make a turn for the better. Rex shrugged at those thoughts, one could only try. Not my circus, not my monkeys.
When he turned back to Koslov, the idiot was singing off-key at the top of his lungs to the horrible music. Rex would have left it on if Koslov had been suffering through it as badly as he was, but evidently the CEO enjoyed it. So, his next task was to find where it was coming from and stop it. There was no one near enough to hear Koslov’s inevitable cries of pain that were about to commence. When he found the iPod in its dock, he dropped it to the floor and crushed it under his boot with satisfaction.
Finally, he was ready to question Koslov. There was no time to be subtle. He had to sober Koslov up quickly and get the information he’d come for just as quickly. Nothing was so effective at sobering a man who was drunk and high as severe pain. So, Rex broke the pointer finger on Koslov’s left hand.
There was no reaction.
It took him a good half hour of inflicting pain before the pain started registering properly. Rex was almost at wits ends with this guy—he needed that confession, but Koslov was not responsive. He was about to carry Koslov out, put him in a car, and drive him somewhere where he could have more time, when he saw Koslov’s eyes shoot wide open. He looked around and saw that Koslov had his eyes fixed on Digger.
Koslov was becoming attentive, and with returning consciousness came the realization of pain.
He uttered an expletive and tried to focus on Rex. “Why’d you do that? Shit, that hurts!” Then he launched into an extensive rant of profanities involving Rex’s mother, sister, and if he had a wife, her as well, then he went into Rex’s lineage followed by some very explicit but physically impossible sexual acts he told Rex to perform on himself.
While Koslov was going on, the throbbing pain in Rex’s arm made him take two Oxycodone tablets out of his first aid kid and swallow them with some wine out of one of the bottles on the table.
Rex let Koslov have his say, as he knew it was helping to get him out of his torpid state. When Koslov finally stopped, Rex called Digger to come closer before saying in flawless Russian. “I needed your attention. Now that I have it, tell me who told you to kidnap Margot Lemaire and why.”
Before Koslov answered, the floor under his chair suddenly bloomed with a yellow puddle of urine. Just as Rex had predicted, he’d pissed himself. But to his surprise, it seemed it was not from the pain. His eyes were fixed on Digger, who was snarling.
“Get him away!” Koslov cried. “Name your price. Whatever they’re paying you, I’ll double it. Just keep that black son of a bitch away from me.”
“I don’t want money, and neither does my dog, but both of us are riled with you. So, Koslov, it’s going to be a cheap round for you moneywise, but you’ll have to answer my questions, and if you behave, I will see what I can do about the dog. But I can’t promise you anything. He tends to follow his own head. However,” Rex leaned forward and whispered, “I’ve noticed on a few occasions that if he sees I am happy, he won’t devour my captives. So, maybe you should try and keep me happy.”
“I’ll tell you. What is it you want to know? And remember my offer; I’m still happy to pay you. Just keep that beast away from me.”
Rex grabbed a chair, pulled it up right in front of Koslov, about one meter away, took his satphone from a pocket in his tactical vest, started the video recording app, and recorded every word, as the confession came tumbling out of Koslov’s mouth like a waterfall.
Every time Koslov slowed, Digger gave another snarl, and Koslov sped up. Digger had this act down pat, experience gained from many such interrogations.
“It was the President. I swear, I would not have done it.” Rex asked for and got detail, who had hired the thugs he’d twice fought off from kidnapping Margot, why, and finally a surprising admission.
“I don’t even want that damn pipeline. Think of me what you will, but I’m a good steward for Russneft. That pipeline will be a cost, not profitable. The President wants it only for political gain, and he doesn’t care about the loss to the company. He’ll skim his profit off the top no matter what, and the rest of the shareholders will eat the cost. I’ve been pushing it only because if I don’t, I’ll be replaced.”
Rex finished for him. “And that would mean the end to all this.” He swept his arm around to include the house, the girls, and the well-stocked bar at the side of the room.
“Yes, and potentially the end to my life. I’ll disappear—like in permanently.”
Rex understood. He didn’t doubt that what the authorities would find here when Koslov didn’t show up for work and they came looking for him would cost him his life, or at least his freedom, anyway. But he couldn’t care less about that. His concern was for Margot, and by extension, for Aguillard and Laurent and their country. He had enough to hand to them for a nasty surprise to the Russian President at the summit, should he be so stupid as to try one more time to force Aguillard’s hand.
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br /> And it was time to go and send it. He assumed he had only hours to get out of Russia before they were discovered. Neither Koslov’s guards, nor his partygoers, nor he would suffer permanent damage from being without food, water, or medical care for half a day or so.
He summoned Digger to his side and left the house, leaving everyone as they were.
Let Mr. Koslov explain the scene that the rescuers will find when they arrive.
***
MOSCOW WAS TWO hours ahead of Paris. Rex looked at his watch, to see that it was now 8:00 a.m. in Moscow. The summit would start at 9:00 a.m. Paris time. He had three hours to get the recording to Laurent. However, he had at most an hour before Koslov’s no-show at the office could be noticed and maybe another hour before the CEO would be found at his house. Rex assumed if Koslov were found before his flight took off, he risked all roads and airports being closed. His disguise would stand up to casual observation, but not to a search.
He had to make the flight Rehka had booked for him and Digger. It was going to be tight.
He jogged back to his car, which was hidden nearly half a mile away, Digger keeping pace with him. The pain from the wound in his left arm made him grit his teeth. But there was not much he could do about it until he got to the car where he had a bottle of water and would be able to swallow a few more pain killers.
While trotting along to the car, he phoned Lucien and told him a message with a recording would be coming through shortly. He apologized for the lack of niceties and said he was in a rush, and asked Lucien to use his influence to see if he could help persuade the Air France staff at the airport to let him get on that flight. Lucien promised to do so. Rex ended the call, and then sent the raw video file on its way just when he reached his car.
He and Digger got in, and he stepped on the gas, racing for the airport, hoping and praying the Moscow police wouldn’t be out on the roads so early and pull him over for speeding.
Before he got to the airport, he had to stop once again and don his disguise. At the airport, he first had to get Digger to the area where he could get into his crate and checked in. All that made Rex miss his own check-in by minutes. The gate agents were closing the doors to the jetport as he came hobbling up with his walking stick as fast as he could without raising suspicion. They shook their heads. The flight had boarded, and he was too late.
In genuine distress because Digger would arrive in Lyon with no one to meet him, Rex began to protest and wave his cane around, complaining loudly in French that his service dog was aboard, and he must get on the flight. His performance wasn’t completely an act, but just then another Air France staff member turned up and whispered something into the ear of the woman talking to Rex. Immediately her attitude changed, she smiled and opened the doors and let him hurry down the jetport to board the aircraft.
Thank you, Lucien, you came through like a real trouper.
He had only minutes before his satphone would have to be turned off for the flight to send one last message to Lucien, with an attachment.
In Geneva, Lucien read the message, “If all else fails.” He frowned, what’s the meaning of this? Then he opened the attachment and started smiling from ear to ear.
The attachment was a photo of a marriage certificate between one Margot Lemaire and Rowan Donnelly, dated a week before Margot’s ill-fated trip to Vanuatu.
Chapter 67
Geneva, Switzerland
THE SUMMIT WAS about to begin, and Russian President Boris Markov had received the news, a few days before, about the failed second attempt to secure Margot Lemaire. As a very dissatisfied major shareholder, he’d already given the order for Koslov to be ‘replaced’.
Markov had a summit to attend, and one more opportunity to get the pipeline agreement signed.
This time, he’d handle it himself, and the threat would be direct, though not so effective as it would have been if he could have produced the woman and her confession that Giles Aguillard was the father of her baby. He’d have a quiet word with Aguillard at the summit to tell him what Russia knew about his indiscretions, followed by the threat to begin expertly leaking the information to the media. Russia had plenty of practice in that, and the fact they’d been discovered at it in other instances only served to emphasize what damage they could do.
However, he knew it wouldn’t be as easy as it sounded. The French were masters at diplomacy, and he knew the adage: Diplomacy is the art of telling someone to go to hell in such a way that they’d look forward to the trip.
After the usual folderol of cameras flashing in their eyes as pictures were taken to mark the occasion, both men smiling and shaking hands while muttering their opening salvos between shots, the media representatives were eventually barred from the room, and they were able to get down to business.
As the party who’d requested the summit, Aguillard should have had the first word. But Markov had another agenda and spoke before Aguillard had even opened his mouth.
With a friendly smile on his face, his first lie of the day, Markov said, “I am aware that Russneft is very keen to do business with your country. I, of course, support them, because I think it will go a long way to boost our respective economies, and of course, further improve on the good relations between our countries.”
And, of course, make my country totally dependent on yours for our gas needs.
Giles did not express the thought. Instead, he said, “It has been a topic of many a debate in France, and as you know, it’s a controversial topic. I am, as you surely are aware, one of those who oppose such an agreement.” He didn’t say anything else.
Markov didn’t allow his annoyance to show on his face, but the atmosphere in the room grew tense.
“So, what will it take to change your mind and support the idea?” he asked.
“Nothing that I can think of right away.”
Markov was even more annoyed that the damnable French philanderer didn’t even seem worried.
“Not even your position as President?” he said, allowing the coldness he felt to creep into his tone.
Aguillard gave a faint smile. “I’m not sure what you mean by that, but no, not even that. I have been elected to represent France and its interests, not my own.”
Markov felt a jolt of satisfaction as he upped the ante. “Not even if it means your involvement in a scandal that will destroy your presidency, your marriage, and your party?”
Aguillard’s smile remained fixed, and one eyebrow went up quizzically. “Well, for that to happen, there must be a scandal to begin with, and there are none. Unless, of course, you are planning to create one out of thin air.”
This was not going as he’d planned it. Markov began to doubt his intel, but he pressed the point anyway. This time, he went for the jugular. “Nothing will be created out of thin air. Unless you want to call the baby of your press secretary, of which you are the father, created out of thin air.”
Giles started laughing. “As you might imagine, I am more than a little surprised to hear about my newfound fatherhood. This would be the second time in human history that an Immaculate Conception took place, except this time there were no signs of it in the stars.”
Markov had not expected that reaction. And what was Aguillard babbling about, some kind of superstition? “What do you mean, signs in the stars?”
Aguillard, still amused, smiled. “Oh, if I remember my Bible classes correctly, the last time that happened, there was some kind of bright star showing up in the heavens.”
Markov felt the heat rise into his face, and he struggled to maintain his aplomb as he pressed his threat further. “Okay, so you’d rather have me pass on the information I have to the media?”
“I’m sure the media would love to have a story about such a miracle, and I’m sure they’ll give you all the credit for discovering it.”
Near apoplexy by this time, Markov snarled, “So, you’re going to deny it?”
Aguillard feigned puzzlement. “What is it I should deny?”
Aguillard knew he’d gained the upper hand at that point. He raised one eyebrow and let his voice grow cold.
“Is this a declaration of war, Mr. President?”
The Russian’s face had gone another much deeper shade of red, reminding Aguillard of the borscht the Russians liked so much. Markov didn’t reply, only tried to stare him down.
Aguillard relaxed. This was going his way, and there was no reason to escalate it. He smiled and, bringing the conversation back to the starting point, said, “Okay, Boris, let me help you with your problem. It’s obvious you are desperate to have this pipeline. And it’s obvious you’ll stop at nothing, including blackmail, lies, deceit, abduction of my citizens, and God knows what else. But your problem is, the CEO of Russneft says he doesn’t want the pipeline.”
“What?! Who told you that?”
“He did. This morning. Do you want to hear him telling me about it?”
The Russian made no reply. Aguillard took it as a yes. He leaned over and pushed the button on a remote control, which switched on the wall-mounted TV. He pushed another button, and the CEO’s face appeared on screen. He started talking.
Markov was livid by the end of it. Aguillard was worried the Russian President was going to suffer a heart attack, and then he’d have a serious problem on his hands.
Instead, Markov stood abruptly, almost knocking over the heavy chair in his haste. “This session is at an end. I will see you after lunch, Mr. President. Don’t think you have won.”
Aguillard gave a one-shouldered shrug. He stood and held out his hand for the Russian to shake, but Markov brushed past him without an acknowledgement. When he’d left the room, Markov pressed the intercom button and asked Laurent to come in.
