Cold Blood (24 page)

TWENTY-THREE

Lviv Central Railway Station
,
Western Ukraine

Vickers looked down the platform at the arriving train. It had been a guess and he was soon either to be very relieved or very embarrassed. Blazhevich had insisted on coming with him, after all Snow was still wanted but not, they were both relieved, for murder. Vickers knew that Blazhevich had somewhere to be not by what he said but by the phone calls he kept making. Vickers also knew that his SBU contact had stuck his neck out by arranging the plane and letting Vickers run the show. The local militia had not been informed, neither had the SBU, apart from the two rookie agents Blazhevich had brought along to watch his back. If all went well Blazhevich would tell his boss where he was and what he had achieved, if not then there would be a great deal of explaining to do. Vickers had informed Patchem, who was fully behind him if the proverbial was to hit the fan.

“Your men will stay outside as you asked?” Vickers just wanted to be sure.

“Yes, as arranged, Alistair. I’ll remain here and keep you in sight.” He drummed his fingers on the office windowsill.

“Right.” Vickers left the office and took the steps down to the arrivals level. Lviv’s station was grand, art nouveau, a relic of the days when the city was the capital of Habsburg Galicia. Vickers made a quick mental note to return when all this was over and take a longer look. The guard stood on the platform and raised a flag. Doors opened and passengers streamed out, most were pulling wheeled cases. Vickers stood partly concealed next to the newspaper kiosk and studied the faces. Passengers moved past him, some returning home, others just arriving. A couple of western looking businessmen were taking their time as they stopped to observe and pass comments on the workings of the station.

Vickers disregarded them, then focused on a group of three. Two of them were elderly women, one was a man who was carrying their bags. He was smiling and chatting as they walked. Vickers continued to watch. The trio moved closer and Vickers could see the trousers that seemed slightly too large, the unkempt hair brushed back and finally the brown leather Gortex boots. He felt his phone vibrate, the signal that Blazhevich had spotted him too. They reached the end of the platform and then Vickers stepped out into the open. He kept his eyes on the face of the man until the suspect turned his head. Their eyes locked. Without losing eye contact Vickers heard the man, with Moscow-accented Russian, tell the old women that he had been happy to help.

“Welcome to Lviv.” Vickers spoke first.

“Alistair, you needn’t have come all this way to welcome me personally.” Snow was still but his eyes now darted around.

“Where is the girl?” Vickers meant Larissa.

“She didn’t come with me.” So they didn’t have her yet, that was a good sign.

“The SBU know that you didn’t shoot Malik. You are no longer a murder suspect.”

Snow’s eyes returned to Vickers again. “How?”

“They have testimony from an insider. Pashinski ordered it.”

“Pashinski and his men also killed Arnaud,” Snow stated as he tried to control his anger. “Where is Pashinski?”

“Sorry, don’t know,” Vickers shrugged. Then took an involuntary step back, believing that Snow was about to explode.

Snow inhaled deeply and in almost a whisper said, “I am going to kill him.”

Vickers believed him. “Look, we have a plane waiting to take you back to Kyiv. The SBU want to talk to you.”

“And accuse me of attempted murder?” Snow was none too happy with the offer.

“That cannot be avoided.” Surely Snow was not going to do a runner now?

“Perhaps it can, Alistair.” Blazhevich appeared from behind Snow. “I think that it is in our best interest to put this aside until Pashinski is caught.”

“Aidan, I’ve told Agent Blazhevich that you can ID him.”

Snow took a side step so both men were facing him. He studied the two.

Blazhevich spoke. “We will drive to the plane then fly back to Kyiv Zhulyany Airport. I have some questions to ask you on the way.”

Snow sighed and replied in Russian, “
Pyedem
.” Let’s go.

*

Kyiv Zhulyany Airport

They were on final approach to land when Vickers felt his phone vibrate. “Vickers.”

“Alistair, it’s Jack. I have just come into some information by way of Five.”

Vickers looked around the small plane. Snow sat opposite him with Blazhevich further ahead, talking to the pilot. The two agents were looking out of the window.

“Go ahead.”

“Bav Malik’s assassin was supplied with a weapon by a Moldovan, name of Arkadi Cheban. He says that he works for his uncle, Ivan Lesukov.”

Vickers listened. Lesukov’s name had been discussed and he had been accused of being behind the recent increase of illegal arms sales. Patchem continued, “Lesukov is a former member of the Red Army Spetsnaz and served with Pashinski in Afghanistan. According to Cheban, Pashinski has been contracted to ‘facilitate the transportation’ of Lesukov’s arms shipments through Ukraine.”

“That explains a lot.” For Vickers the pieces of the puzzle were fitting together nicely.

“It was Cheban who said that the shooter was American but then one of Malik’s employees, a David Ossowski, said that he thought he heard the shooter use Polish.”

Vickers thought. “Did the Viennese authorities get anywhere?”

“No, the suspect, a Mark Peters, disappeared. Both hotel staff and a waiter in a local restaurant were questioned but don’t know where he went. All were adamant that he was American.”

“What do the Americans think?” Vickers would have liked to have seen the look on the London CIA station chief’s face when Patchem spoke to him.

“They are helping us with our enquiries.” Patchem scrolled through the digitised dossier. “I’m sending this to you now. You should pass it on to the SBU. It could be that we have stumbled onto something quite important.”

“Will do Jack. How fresh is the intel?”

Patchem sighed. “The police had this the day of the shooting and Five have been holding onto it since then.” Vickers shook his head. The inter-service rivalry between MI5 and MI6 was again getting in the way. “Speak more later.” Patchem ended the call.

Snow looked up. “Care to tell me what is happening?” He had heard Vickers’s side of the conversation.

*

SBU Headquarters
,
Volodymyrska Street
,
Kyiv

Dudka folded his arms as Blazhevich entered the room. “Vitaly Romanovich. Please explain again why you are in Kyiv not Odessa?”

Blazhevich cleared his throat, he had tried to explain on the plane but obviously not well enough for his boss. “Gennady Stepanovich. I have gained vital intelligence from the British Secret Service.”

Dudka remained silent for a second. Vickers entered the office. Dudka stood, walked towards him and shook his hand. He spoke in English. “It is good to see you Mr Vickers.”

Vickers replied in Russian, “I am pleased to see you Gennady Stepanovich and thank you for letting me call this meeting.”

Dudka raised his eyebrows at hearing the embassy man speak Russian. His English, too, was also better than he let on. He decided to continue the meeting in Russian and let the Englishman show off. “Please take a seat Mr Vickers.” Vickers sat. “Vitaly. Can you confirm that the ALFA team are in Odessa?”

“Yes Gennady Stepanovich. They arrived two hours ago. Major Bodaretski has given them orders.”

Dudka was now slightly less concerned. “So what have we that is so urgent?”

“Mr Vickers has passed on to me information from British Intelligence that points to Pashinski’s direct involvement in cross border arms smuggling and the assassination of two British citizens. Mr Malik in Odessa and his son in the UK.”

“This is corroborated?” Dudka asked Vickers.

“Yes. We have a Moldovan in custody who is the nephew of Ivan Lesukov.” Vickers repeated what he had been told by Patchem and handed Dudka a hard copy of the file which he had printed at the embassy. It was in English but he doubted that would cause any problems.

It was Blazhevich’s turn to speak; he did not want Vickers to take all the credit. “Gennady Stepanovich, if you remember we found an airline booking confirmation at Knysh’s house in the name of Mark Peters.” Dudka’s brow was furrowed as he attempted to scan the file but he nevertheless nodded.

“That is the same name the British have for the person suspected of shooting Bav Malik in England.”

“Good.” Dudka looked up. “So we have an actual link between Pashinski and the murders as well as the arms shipments?”

“Not quite. We have a link with Knysh, but not Pashinski.”

Dudka frowned. “But Knysh is Pashinski.”

“We do not have that proof yet.” Blazhevich looked at Vickers.

“That is where I can help. I have a British citizen who can physically identify Pashinski.”

“Where is this person now?” Dudka liked this Englishman already.

Blazhevich wanted to impress. “He is in our holding cell, Gennady Stepanovich. The witness is Aidan Snow.”

“Then bring him up, Vitaly Romanovich.”

Blazhevich left the room; Dudka smiled at Vickers but said nothing. The sound of traffic from the street below was all that broke the silence. A minute later the two men entered. Dudka spoke first.

“You are Aidan Snow?” It was a rhetorical question.

“Yes.” Snow sat with his back straight.

Dudka wanted to cut to the chase. He handed Snow the old photo from the Polish file. “Can you identify this man?”

Snow looked at the photograph and answered in Russian. “He was older when I met him; but yes I can identify this man. He is the man who tried to kill me ten years ago. Tauras Pashinski.”

Dudka nodded, concealing his surprise at Snow’s Russian, and passed him a second image, this one a photo-fit from the informer Cheban in the UK. “And this man?”

“It is the same man.” The image was a good, if not perfect likeness.

“You are certain?” Dudka wanted to be sure.

“Yes. If I were to hold a gun in your face I think you would remember mine.”

Snow did not want to waste time persuading yet another official.

Dudka ignored the Englishman’s sarcasm. “When was the last time you saw this man?”

“Yesterday, here in Kyiv.”

“You are positive?” Again he wanted to be certain.

Snow could no longer hold himself in check. Inside he raged. If he had been believed at the time Arnaud would not be dead. He looked at Vickers, who sat away from Dudka’s desk at an angle. Vickers was looking at his notes, not wanting to make eye contact. “Yes, one hundred percent.”

Dudka looked at the three other men in the room. “If you were to see him again you could positively identify the man?”

Snow knew it was important so made a supreme effort. “Yes Director Dudka, I could.”

“Good.” He paused. “When we have him in custody I will ask you to identify him.”

Snow rose from his seat. “Just a minute, what do you mean?”

Dudka remained seated although Blazhevich stood. Dudka spoke. “When we have arrested him you will be a valuable witness for the prosecution.”

“You listen to me.” Snow spoke for the first time to the SBU with force. “I want to identify this man as you capture him, not after. I want to be on the ground.” Snow steadied his breathing.

“Not possible Mr Snow. You are a foreign civilian and we cannot have you put any further in harm’s way.” Dudka used his fatherly tone.

“I’m sorry Aidan. This way is the safest,” Vickers broke his silence.

Snow slammed his fist on the desk. “This man has tried to kill me; he was responsible for the deaths of my friend and of two members of my regiment. I cannot stand by and have others…” Snow ran out of words as the images of the last few days replayed in his mind.

Dudka, although slightly surprised by the outburst, was not angry. “I think you underestimate us Mr Snow.” He opened a folder and handed Snow a picture that Vickers had not seen. “This is, I believe, one of Pashinski’s men?”

Snow studied the bloodied corpse with the head all but severed. “This is the man who shot Arnaud Hurst.” Glances were exchanged around the room. Vickers looked up, his jaw slack. Snow continued. “I did not kill him but I am responsible for the gunshot wound he has in the stomach. Who finished him?” Snow had some satisfaction that Arnaud’s murderer was now dead.

Dudka shrugged. An anonymous caller had told the SBU to check the address. “Thought you could tell us? OK, so now no one knows. We must speculate.”

Blazhevich addressed Snow directly. “Aidan you must let us take this from here. We have information that Pashinski will surface in Odessa and we will be ready for him.”

“Really?” It was sarcasm that only Vickers picked up on.

“Yes really, Aidan, we have two ALFA teams in place.”