“Why ask questions, just shoot him.” Budt stated in Russian as he removed his side-arm from its holster and held it by his side.
Had he underestimated the men, would they try to kill him? Snow readied himself for action as he spoke. “I am Brian’s friend. He asked me to come and here I am.”
Kopylenko scratched his chin. “Now I believe what you are saying but that leaves us with a problem. You see you have assaulted a police officer. This is something that I cannot ignore so here is the deal. You will pay Captain Budt compensation of $15,000 and myself another $15,000. We will take you to our personal banker. Once you have paid us I will personally drive you back to the airport.”
“And what about Brian?”
“He must see the judge; his offence carries a much higher penalty.”
“Why can’t you just let it go man?” Webb stood, arms out at his sides and palms upwards trying to placate the policemen. “I am not the reason Katya left you. We both love Ana; we should be working this out together.”
Kopylenko’s face contorted with rage and he pointed angrily at Webb. “Because of you my daughter will not talk to me! I am her father! You have stolen her from me, from her grandparents and now you want to take her away for ever!”
“Think of her future, man.”
“You have no future! Her future is here with me!” Kopylenko took a step forward. “Don’t you understand? Now I can offer her the best. The Best! I have power, I have respect. I am no longer a simple officer from Donetsk.”
“No you are a puppet.”
Kopylenko struggled to control his anger and switched back to Russian. “Take them outside to the van. We shall move them to the woods and finish this.”
Snow started to move but stopped when the Glock was aimed at his forehead. At point blank range he had no chance of avoiding a round. There was a tense silence which was broken by the Nokia ringtone.
Kopylenko pulled his phone from his pocket. “Da? Suka!” He swore. “Ruslan Fedorovich’s is early. Move them quickly.”
Budt nodded. “Ok.”
Kopylenko left the room. Budt smiled, the Glock still trained at Snow’s head. He now spoke in English, the accent all but incomprehensible. “Move now, up step. You one, you two. Now.”
“Do what he says Brian.”
Blazhevich had watched the owner return home in his dark green Bentley Continental GT. A long legged brunette had been in the passenger seat. The woman was not Imyets’ wife. Blazhevich was getting more and more concerned for both Snow and his SBU investigation. He retrieved his mobile and started to dial Dudka’s number when he saw a three car convoy approach the house. The lead and the last vehicle were matte black Mercedes G Wagons, most definitely AMG versions and most probably armour plated. The middle car was a piano-black Maybach 57S. There was something familiar about the convoy and Blazhevich frowned as he tried to remember who favoured that particular set up. The large gates opened once more and all three cars entered the courtyard. A bodyguard from each of the G-Wagons alighted, only then did a third suited man step out of the front of the Maybach and open the passenger door. A tall white haired figure dressed immaculately in a slate grey suit stepped out.
“Valeriy Ivanovich Varchenko” Blazhevich said to himself quietly as if not quite believing his own eyes. What was he doing here? Varchenko was a former KGB General and had been awarded the title ‘Hero of the Soviet Union’. As Director Dudka’s boss back in the days of the USSR he had remained one of the man’s oldest friends. He was a member of the elite group nicknamed ‘Nedotorkany’ - ‘the untouchables’, oligarchs who played both sides of the law and as such were above it. They were friendly with Presidents and bandits alike. Blazhevich had met Varchenko, he didn’t like him much. Whilst Blazhevich tried to make sense of what he saw the men moved into the house.
In the study Imyets had poured himself a large Cognac and was swirling it around in the bulbous glass as he listened to Kopylenko explain his presence. “Do you take me for a complete fool Pavel? Do you not think that I am aware of the petty racketeering that you and your men engage in under my protection?”
“No Ruslan Fedorovich.”
“I make allowances for your little indiscretions, I even allowed you to go after this Englishman because I am a father, I have a heart and because in the past you have served me well. But now you bring him here, to my house? You bring your dirty laundry here to be cleaned?”
“I intended no offence, Ruslan Fedorovich. I am sorry.”
Imyets downed the cognac then clicked his fingers. The brunette woman re-filled his glass. “Do you not see what you have done? You have signed their death warrant.”
“But they have seen nothing…”
Imyets screamed. “Shut up! I cannot take that risk. I cannot let them leave this place. Do you not understand what I have here?”
Kopylenko had no idea what Imyets was talking about, to him it was just a house but his pride was such that he would not let on. “I am sorry…”
“Is that all you have to say? Pavel I trusted you, I offered you a real chance. Did I not bring you and your men to Kyiv with me?”
It was a rhetorical question but Kopylenko answered. “Yes you did.”
Imyets drank some more then rolled his head from side to side. He had made a decision, he had no choice. “Pavel, you are sorry and I am truly sorry also. If only it had not ended like this.”
Kopylenko was confused but realised that his life was in danger. “Ruslan Fedorovich please…”
“Bring in the Englishmen.” Imyets ordered. The brunette nodded crossed to the door and several seconds later re-appeared with Budt, Webb and Snow. Imyets switched to English and pointed at Webb. “You are the husband of his wife?”
“Er yes.” Webb frowned.
“Who are you?” Imyets now pointed at Snow with his glass.
“His friend.”
Imyets nodded. Placed his glass on his desk then opened a drawer. From this he produced an Uzi sub machine gun. “Say hello to my little friend!”
Snow’s eye widened, Webb started to shake and the woman screamed. Imyets roared with laughter. “Do you really think that I would use this, in here, with all this hand crafted oak? No, even though it would make much less mess than an M203. So the question is what happens next?”
Snow held eye contact with the Politician. “Your men open the door and we go home.”
Imyets shook his head. “No. It can-not happen. Pavel has made a mistake and I am sorry that all of you will pay.”
Budt stepped forward and placed his Glock against Kopylenko’s temple. Imyets picked up his glass and drank again. Snow and Webb stood motionless.
“No Officer Budt, do not do it here. You may ruin the rug. Just hit him.”
Before Kopylenko could make any protest his former underling whacked him in the temple with the Glock and he instantly fell limp to the floor.
“Take him away. I shall call you with further instructions.”
“Yes sir.” Budt leant down and scooped Kopylenko up and over his shoulder.
“Now back to the Englishmen.” Imyets sipped.
The doors to the study burst open to reveal Valeriy Varchenko. “You keep me waiting Imyets?”
Imyets smiled and raised his arms. “Business calls General. I am sorry but I have just been attending to a small problem.”
Varchenko strode across the room then abruptly stopped when he saw Snow. “What is happening here?”
“These two men broke into my house. As you can see the Militia have made an arrest. I believe that they may have stolen some of my papers.”
Varchenko fixed Imyets with an icy stare. “You will let these men go. They are under my protection.”
“But General, they are under my roof.”