‘Central Railway Station,’ said Jack as he climbed in behind his friend.
As the taxi pulled away, Bogdan said quietly, ‘What’s the plan, boss?’
Jack looked at the driver, then leaned closer to the Russian. ‘Someone is definitely onto us, buddy.’
The big man grinned. ‘Da, for sure.’
Jack looked at the driver again and continued. ‘We need to get the hell outta Montenegro soon as possible, and I don’t want to chance the airport. There’s a train leaving in twenty-five minutes. I’ve booked us on it. We’ll be across the Serbian border in two hours and into Sarajevo, in two more.’
Bogdan nodded, then leaned back into his seat.
A light rain had started to fall, freshening the muggy atmosphere. For a few minutes there was silence in the back of the cab, then Jack turned to his friend, and said quietly, ‘How come you were at the door?’
‘What?’
‘The suite door. When that fucker opened the door, you were standing there.’
Bogdan grinned. ‘Ah, da, okay. When I get to club on roof, there is plenty women. So maybe I have busy night,’ the big man winked, ‘I think, okay, maybe I miss breakfast. So, I come down to tell you.’
Jack leaned back and smiled… ‘Thank fuck you did, buddy.’ Jack held out the palm of his hand and the Russian slapped it. ‘Yeah, thank fuck you did.’
The traffic around the station was congested and the cab had slowed to walking pace. Podgorica Central Station could be seen a hundred yards ahead.
‘We’ll get out here,’ said Jack, as he opened the door.
Bogdan paid the driver and followed his friend. Jack looked at his Rolex. ‘We got ten minutes, buddy.’
By the time they got to the station Bogdan was wheezing, clearly not happy with the pace Jack had set.
‘You okay, big man?’
The Russian nodded and waved to carry on. The station was busy, and it took a couple of minutes for Jack and Bogdan to get to their platform. The barriers were closing as Jack shouted, ‘Hold on, please!’
As they took their seats, the train lurched and pulled out of the station.
The First-Class carriage was not as busy as the rest of the train. Jack smiled and nodded to a lady on the other side of the aisle. ‘Just managed to catch it,’ he said.
Bogdan had recovered his breath and looked at the woman. ‘Nearly kill me.’
She smiled, then continued to tap away on her iPad.
A few minutes later a steward pushing a heavily-laden snack-trolley arrived. ‘Would you like a drink, madame?’
She shook her head.
‘Gentlemen?’
‘Water, please,’ said Jack, ‘and a Coke.’
‘Sir?’
‘Water and beer,’ said Bogdan.
The two greedily drank the refreshing water, and then sat in silence. It was getting light and the train was almost through the suburbs of the city, the speed and heavy rain blurred the view through the dirty water-streaked windows.
Jack took out his smartphone and swiped the screen. He tapped out a message and attached the photo he took in the banker’s study. A second message had the picture of the two thugs attached. He pressed SEND and then leaned back into his seat. He cracked the can of Coke and swallowed half the sweet liquid. Bogdan had already finished his beer and his eyes were closed, ready for sleep.
It was a few minutes after 3am. in London, when Mathew Sterling woke to the sound of his phone, the ping signalling an incoming SMS. He rolled over and took the phone from the bedside table, rubbed his eyes and swiped the screen. A smile appeared as he read Jack’s message…
3bil (less 3mil) transf equally > Macau Merchant Bank > Azerinternational. Baku > Volks Merchant. Lichtenstein. See attach screenshot. Ends
He opened the next message and the smile disappeared…
uninvited guests / cover compromised / now on train to Sarajevo / See attach pic- can u ID? Ends
‘Looks like you’ve stirred up a hornet’s nest, big brother,’ he said out loud.
Jack tried to sleep, but the jolting of the train as it rattled over points kept waking him. They’d been traveling for almost two hours and were approaching the border when two Immigration Officials appeared, one from Montenegro, the other from Serbia. Jack watched as they checked and processed the passports of the half-asleep passengers. He shook Bogdan and the big Russian woke with a grunt.
‘Passports,’ said Jack, nodding to the approaching officials.
‘Passports, please,’ said the Montenegro official.
Jack handed his over and watched as the guy flicked through the pages, nodded and stamped the document.
Bogdan’s was processed in the same casual manner and both were handed over to the Serbian officer. ‘You are travelling to where?’
‘Sarajevo,’ said Jack, with a smile. ‘We’ll take a flight from there back to Moscow.’
‘Why not fly from Podgorica?’
‘My friend here likes trains.’
The official looked at the Russian. Bogdan smiled, and raised his hand as if pulling a cord, ‘Choo-choo! Choo-choo!’
The official stared at the big man for several seconds, a puzzled look on his face, then stamped the passports and slid them across the table. ‘Welcome to Serbia.’
They crossed the border right on schedule, an announcement in Montenegrin, Serbian and English, declaring the fact.
Jack smiled at the woman across from them. ‘You travelling to Sarajevo too?’
She smiled back. ‘Yes I travel. My English not good… sorry.’
Jack continued to smile. ‘Well you understood me, so I guess it’s not that bad.’
‘I understand some… I speak some, thank you.’
‘Very good,’ said Jack nodding.
She placed her iPad on the table and Jack noticed a news headline on the screen. Pointing to the tablet, he said, ‘May I see that please?’
The woman handed him the device and said, ‘Yes, please.’
Bogdan was trying to sleep, but Jack nudged him awake.
‘Da?’
‘Can you read this?’
The big man took the tablet and looked at the screen. There was a picture of Silvio Schlovan and Esther, dressed in evening attire, at some function or other, probably a stock photo the news media had. Below the picture were headlines and a short report in Montenegrin.
‘Well?’ said Jack.’
Bogdan leaned closer, and said quietly, ‘They dead, boss.’
‘Can you read more?’
‘Not well. But says there was intruder. And were killed.’
Jack took the iPad and passed it back to the woman. ‘Thank you.’ He turned to Bogdan, and said under his breath, ‘Fuck. We’ve stirred up a hornet’s nest.’
Chapter Twenty Seven
Jack’s father-in-law, Dimitri Mikhailovich Orlov, was a true Russian oligarch in every sense of the word. He’d made billions from oil, mining and steel, and held a large portfolio of extremely lucrative properties in all the major cities. As a hobby he owned a premier league football club in the north of England, but his pride and joy, after his own beloved ‘Orel Island’ off the coast of Abu Dhabi, was his prestigious golf club in Scotland.
All this of course paled into insignificance, when it came to his beautiful daughter Nicole and his two granddaughters.
Dimitri, or Mitri, as he was known to family and close friends, was at home, on Orel.
A well-known and respected figure within the international world of finance, he was a tough strong-willed negotiator. In his private life, generous to a fault.