Ganglands: Russia: Russia (11 page)

It was impossible to be heard above the music, and no one was going to ask Medved to turn it down, so the men kept their own counsel as the van made its way north through the Moscow suburbs.
Alexei almost wished that Marat was with him – at least they knew each other.
He tried to ask a bullet-headed teenager where they were going, but the boy scowled and refused to answer.

Finally the van came to a stop.
Alexei hurriedly opened the doors and leaped down on to the sunlit road, pleased to be out in the fresh air.
He was standing on a quiet street in the shadow of a large, unfinished building – a forbidding complex of slate-grey levels, with black holes where the windows should have been.
Even from this distance, Alexei could see the gaps in the walls where the concrete had crumbled away.

As he looked on, Marat climbed down from the second van and jogged over to him.

‘Alexei!’ the blond-haired boy hailed cheerily. ‘Thought you weren’t going to make it.’

‘What’s the big deal?
What are we doing here?’

Marat jerked a thumb at the building.
‘Training day.’

Alexei tried not to let the relief show on his face: training, he could handle.
He followed the gang as they entered the complex grounds and snaked their way through an untamed forest of Japanese knotweed.
Judging by the height of the plants, construction here on what was
apparently going to be a hospital must have been halted several years ago.
The Eagles reached the edge of the knotweed, and scrambled inside the building through a yawning hole in the wall.

Even in the dingy half-light of the interior, it was clear that the hospital was in a terminal condition.
The floor was riddled with holes, and the gang had to skirt around piles of rubble as they made their way up to the roof of the complex. Water streamed through the ceilings and down the walls.
Reinforcing rods poked out of the concrete as they vainly tried to keep the structure from falling apart.
Everywhere Alexei looked, the walls were daubed with Nazi slogans and the Eagles’ tag.

By contrast, the roof was bathed in warm spring sunshine.
Viktor Orlov stood by the edge of the roof, dressed smartly in a full-length leather coat, dark trousers and a pair of sunglasses.
Skinheads were changing into combat fatigues around him, against the bright-blue backdrop of the Moscow skyline.

Amid the heaps of green camouflaged rucksacks and multipacks of bottled water, Alexei was surprised to see Nadia sitting on a fold-up chair, her blonde hair tucked behind her ears and her brow creased in concentration as she typed at a laptop. Glancing up from the screen, she caught Alexei’s eye: he gave her a friendly smile, but she immediately looked away.
He still wasn’t sure whether she had believed his story about the email back at the university – and whatever her relationship was with Viktor, Nadia certainly had his ear.
As Alexei struggled into a set of musty fatigues with the rest of
the gang, the leader of the 88s went over to place his hands on Nadia’s shoulders, fondly kissing the top of her head as he inspected her screen.
Then he clapped his hands together.

‘Gentlemen!’ Viktor called out.
‘We stand alone at the front line of a war, my brothers: the true army of the White Russian.
An army needs to be fit.
An army needs to be lean.
Days like today – tests like these, tests of the body and of the heart – are crucial if the Eagles are to be ready for war.
We will be watching you, brothers.
Do not disappoint us.’

Although his words echoed sonorously around the deserted complex, Alexei noticed that Viktor had made no moves to put on fatigues himself.
Instead the leader of the Eagles took a seat alongside Nadia, allowing Pavel to step forward.

‘You will all complete one full lap of the terrain with a rucksack on your back,’ the ex-soldier said briskly.
‘I will lead the way.
Fifty press-ups for anyone who fails to keep up.
There is no room for passengers in the 88s.’

Trooping over to pick up a rucksack, Alexei was astonished by how heavy it was.
He unzipped it, only to see that the sack had been filled with bricks.

‘What the hell –?’

There was an unpleasant laugh next to him.
‘You’re with men now,’ growled Medved, slipping his rucksack on to his back as though it was filled with feathers.
‘Try and keep up.’

Gritting his teeth, Alexei pulled on the rucksack.
There was no way he was going to let Medved get a cheap laugh
at his expense.
The Eagles fell in line behind the diminutive form of Pavel, who turned and began jogging along the rooftop.
Alexei took up a position close behind Medved at the back of the formation, trying to ignore the bricks scraping against his back as he kept pace with the giant skinhead.
The air rumbled with the sound of boots clumping across the concrete.

The Eagles jogged down a set of steps running around the outside of the complex to the ground, before abruptly turning into a basement.
Temporarily blinded by the plunge from sunlight to complete darkness, Alexei cried out as he felt his feet go out from under him and he tumbled into a pool of water.
It was collected snowmelt – so cold that the air was buffeted from Alexei’s lungs, and his heart pounded in protest.
Weighed down by his rucksack, he desperately searched out a footing on the rocky floor, breaking back through the surface of the water.
As Alexei wiped his eyes, gasping for breath, he saw the burly figure of Medved wading past him.
The Eagle had completely ignored him.
Alexei splashed angrily after him, and dragged himself out of the snowmelt on to dry land.

He soon realized that he was probably safer in the freezing pool.
The basement was a pitch-black deathtrap of missing steps, holes in the floor, and reinforcement rods sticking treacherously out of the ground.
It may have only been a training day, but there was real risk of serious injury here.
The Eagles’ pace slowed as they stopped to warn one another about the upcoming hazards.
Still shivering from his plunge into the snowmelt, Alexei dropped to the back of the line.

As the basement exit finally came into view, there was a howl of pain in the gloom ahead of him.
Peering through the darkness, Alexei saw that Medved had trapped his foot in one of the treacherous potholes, and was clutching his ankle in pain.
Trying to suppress a grin of triumph, Alexei made to jog past him – only to stop in his tracks.
Medved may have been a loathsome individual, but that didn’t mean Alexei had to be too.
He turned back and held out his hand.
The large man looked up at him suspiciously, then grasped Alexei’s hand and allowed himself to be hauled to his feet.

‘You all right?’ Alexei asked.

Medved gave him a furious look, checking Alexei’s face for any sign of mockery.
Eventually the large man nodded.
‘Better get a move on,’ he growled.
‘Unless you like press-ups.’

Alexei didn’t need the encouragement.
As he burst out of the cellar back into the sunlight, leaving the hobbling Medved far behind, Alexei’s competitive nature took over.
He drove onwards through the vegetation and then back up through the levels of the hospital, taking pleasure every time he overtook a panting skinhead.
The Eagles might have done this exercise before, but Alexei had been in intensive training of his own for years, and was nearing his physical peak.

By the time he had completed a circuit of the complex, only five of the Eagles had finished ahead of him.
Alexei threw down his rucksack and peeled off his combat jacket, which was now drenched in a combination of sweat and snowmelt.
As he took a couple of deep swigs
from a water bottle, he was aware of Nadia closing her laptop down and rising from her chair.

‘Not bad,’ she said, with a faint smile.

‘Thanks very much,’ Alexei panted.
‘I didn’t see you down there.’

Nadia pulled a face.
‘It’s bad enough that Viktor makes me come and watch, without having to swim through freezing water in a dingy basement myself.
Anyway, the Moscow Eagles don’t let women take part in their army training.’

‘But they don’t mind you posting their videos of their “army training” afterwards,’ Alexei shot back, rather more sharply than he had intended.

A shadow crossed Nadia’s face; but before she could reply Viktor appeared at her shoulder.
The blonde girl shrank away, returning to her chair and opening her laptop without another word.

‘Well then, my young troublemaker!’ Viktor declared expansively, leading him away from the rest of the gang.
‘How did you find that?’

‘OK,’ Alexei replied cautiously.
‘I was glad to get out of that basement.’

Viktor smiled, gracefully inclining his head.
‘All in all, it was a most impressive display for a first time.
But being a soldier is about more than fitness, Alexei.
An army does not jog to victory.
It fights; it kills.’ He leaned in close, and whispered in Alexei’s ear.
‘When the call to arms sounds, do you think you could press the trigger?’

Goose-pimples broke out across Alexei’s skin like bushfire. ‘I don’t – I don’t know,’ he faltered.

Viktor reached into the pocket of his leather jacket and pulled out a black semi-automatic pistol.
He pressed the weapon into Alexei’s hand.
‘Only one way to find out,’ he said quietly.

14. Burn Unit

The Eagles’ shouts of exertion faded into the background as Alexei stared at the gun.

‘What do you want me to do with this?’ he asked quietly.

‘I want you to fire it at Pavel.’

Alexei looked over at the ex-soldier, who was watching the last of the gang complete the course with a look of disdain on his face.
Unlike the rest of them, who were spreadeagled out across the concrete, exhausted, there was barely a bead of sweat on Pavel’s forehead.

‘I don’t understand,’ Alexei said.

Viktor’s face was solemn.
‘What is there to understand?
Are you questioning a direct order?’

‘No … I’m not questioning …’ stuttered Alexei.
‘I just … Why do you want me to kill Pavel?’

Viktor gazed at him levelly through his horn-rimmed spectacles, then suddenly erupted into mocking laughter.
‘Fear not, my young soldier,’ he laughed.
‘White Russia will not regain its pre-eminence by turning on its own.
I don’t want you to kill Pavel – but I do want you to shoot at him.’

At the sound of his name, the wiry man walked over
towards them.
Viktor tossed him the weapon.
‘Reassure our skittish young friend that this gun isn’t going to kill anyone.’

‘Frightened of this?’ Pavel said scornfully. ‘It’s a child’s toy.’

Taking aim at one of the large water bottles by the edge of the roof, he fired off several rounds almost negligently.
Viktor waited until Pavel had emptied the chamber, then walked over and picked up the bottle, tipping it to one side.
Water trickled out through small holes in the plastic where the pellets had penetrated the bottle.
Pavel may have dismissed the gas-powered gun as a child’s toy, thought Alexei, but getting hit was still going to hurt.

Viktor waited until the Eagles had caught their breath and collected themselves into a circle, then proclaimed in a ringing voice: ‘Today is an auspicious day indeed, my brothers!
To celebrate his entrance into the brotherhood of the 88s, Alexei has agreed to take on Pavel in a duel!’

Amid a murmur of excitement among the skinheads, Nadia gave Alexei a nervous look that did nothing to reassure him.
As the entire gang headed down towards a lower level, Alexei could feel his heart thundering against his ribcage.
He had never fired a gun in his life, and Pavel had been to war in Chechnya.
It wasn’t even going to be a contest.

Viktor brought them to a halt three floors down, in the middle of a vast space broken up by chipped pillars.
The floor had bowed at the far end of this dilapidated arena, creating a depression in which a large pool of
snowmelt had collected.
The Moscow Eagles arranged themselves along one wall while, at Viktor’s insistence, Alexei put on another layer of combat fatigues and strapped a ski mask over his face.
The gun felt unfamiliar and heavy in his hand.
Pavel had taken up a position directly facing him, a dark, sinewy silhouette against the sunlight pouring in through the window space behind.

‘Ready?’ Alexei said, trying to stop his hands trembling.

Viktor tapped the side of his face with a slender finger.
‘Not quite yet,’ he murmured.
‘Let’s make this a little more interesting. Marat!’

The blond-haired boy stepped forward almost apologetically, carrying a clear plastic water bottle.
He began sprinkling liquid over Alexei’s shoes and down his back.

‘Hey!’ Alexei protested.
‘What the hell are you doing?’

‘Stop moving!’ hissed Marat.
‘You don’t want me to get this in the wrong place.’

Alexei caught a sniff of the acrid liquid.
It wasn’t water.
It was lighter fluid.

‘Are you crazy?’ he yelled at Viktor.
‘You’re not setting me on fire!’

The leader of the Eagles stepped forward, his face serious.
‘What did I tell you before we started?
Today isn’t just a test for the body, Alexei.
It is also a test for the heart.’ Viktor pressed his hand against Alexei’s chest.
‘For us to trust you, you have to trust us, yes?’

At that moment, surrounded by violent skinheads in a deserted building, Alexei wasn’t sure he had a choice.
He nodded, not trusting his voice to hide his fear.
Viktor clapped him on the back.

‘Good boy.’

Someone stepped forward with a burning rag.
Viktor lit Alexei’s shoes and back, then stepped quickly away.
Alexei felt the flames licking hungrily against his clothes.

‘Three!’ began Viktor.
‘Two!
One!
Fire!’

Diving to one side, Alexei caught a glimpse of Pavel raising his gun and taking aim, sending a shot narrowly over his shoulder.
The crowd was roaring – who for, he couldn’t tell.
Alexei was moving on instinct, ducking in and out of the pillars, firing wild shots in the direction of his opponent.

He felt a sharp stinging pain in his thigh, and then another: Pavel had found his range.
Alexei wanted to shoot back, but the fire was scrambling his senses and he had no idea where his opponent was.
Instead Alexei ducked behind a pillar, even as another pellet ricocheted off the edge of the concrete post.
The flames were billowing up his combat fatigues.