Читать книгу Head Of The Snake - G. Rehder - Страница 11

Chapter 7

Flying into Russian airspace in a private jet was stressful for Mack no matter how many times he had done it. The flight plans you had to file and get approved days ahead of your flight were as extensive as you could get. And the last thing you wanted to do was veer off that approved flight plan.

They had already been to London then onto Bern. Now the last passenger to drop off on this flight was Viktor Bardzecki on the outskirts of Moscow. Viktor seemed anxious throughout the flight. The cockpit monitor that recorded the cabins activity showed a fidgety Bardzecki, getting up often, pacing in the narrow aisle, sitting for a moment, then doing it all over again.

After viewing this activity for a while, Mack turned to his copilot Tomac and said, “Wonder what kind of reaming he got from Lehan on the island. Must have been brutal. Never seen a man so stressed.”

Tomac replied, “Or its you’re flying, Mack.” He grinned at the pilot, and they both laughed.

They landed back at the same airport they had picked Viktor up at, the CemR3Nho in Vladimir. It was now 2100 hours. It had been a long day, but the pilots wanted to turn around quickly and fly into the Flughafen Hamburg Airport in Germany before stopping for the night. They didn’t want to spend the night in Russia. They would get two rooms in a hotel next to the German Airport and get the required sleep before returning to their home field in Bermuda.

A different Pobeda, this one dark blue, was sitting alongside the tarmac, waiting for Bardzecki. Mackey taxied as close to it as he could and trimmed back the engines.

He noticed there was a woman behind the wheel. No other passengers were visible in the vehicle. Tomac lowered the exit steps, and Viktor deplaned with his single bag over his shoulder. Once the stairs were up, Mack turned the plane and headed to the runway. The good thing about CemR3Nho was very little air traffic so Mack and Tomac’s time on the ground was about seven minutes. Neither the pilot nor copilot cared to wait to see if Bardzecki actually got into the luxury car.

When Bardzecki squeezed into the front passenger seat, he looked over at his driver and said in Russian, “Thank you, Mariya, for picking me up. Are you sure Gise is unaware of my return?”

“He knows nothing. He is fearing you will not return, so why this big ruse?”

“I will explain,” Viktor began to tell his sister Mariya Kamanev, “what had transpired at the Sarnev estate in Bermuda and his private conversation with Lehan.”

Mariya was aware of Andre Sarnev’s protection assignment gone awry in Alaska and Viktor’s fears concerning his part.

He then said, “I need your help carrying out that disgusting snake’s orders.”

She looked over at him. She had not started the car yet, so they were still sitting on the side of the tarmac. She became angry, doubled her fist, and punched Viktor hard on his shoulder. He tried to move closer to the door, not knowing if another blow would follow.

“You are a fool, Viktor. You and your men screwed up, and now as always, you need my help to make things right.”

The two of them argued often. Sometimes Mariya got physical, but Viktor never hit Mariya. He knew if he did, she would probably cut his throat some night while he slept.

“So what do you want me to do? ‘Garrote’ them for you? You fat swine.”

“No, I must do that myself. Lehan has insisted I be the one. I need you to film me doing it.”

“What fun is that for me? I haven’t killed anyone for,” she paused and thought a moment, “four or five months. That little Asian girl that wouldn’t stop crying after Arseniy had his way with her.”

“Please, Mariya, even though you detest me at times, we are still partners, family. I need your help in planning how to do all three of them separately without them getting suspicious.”

She finally started the car and began to drive out of the airport. She spoke as she drove.

“Now that presents a challenge. You know I love a challenge. Maybe watching Matvej die would be satisfying. He’s always looking at me with a lustful eye.”

For a while, there was silence between the two, and then Mariya spoke and simply said, “Da, I will help you.”

“Thank you. I will nap now on the way home. I slept little in Bermuda.”

Viktor closed his eyes and was soon snoring. Mariya had to restrain herself from throwing another punch into his arm to silence the noise.

Even though they argued often, he was the only family she had left. She would defend him vehemently against others while criticizing him on just about everything when they were alone.

Both Viktor and Mariya were born in the northwest district of Moscow known as Solntsevo, home to the Solntsevskaya Brotherhood, an organized crime operation that dealt in arms trafficking, prostitution, money laundering, and drug distribution.

Their mother, Oksana, and father, Leontiy Bardzecki, were accused of hiding funds they had earned from their own criminal enterprise and not paying the Brotherhood their share. Rumors in the Solntsevo District were that Oksana was forced into prostitution to pay off the debt, never to be seen again, and Leontiy was turned into a meal for a pit full of viscous dogs.

Viktor was twelve at the time, Mariya was ten, no matter their parents’ fate, they were orphaned and forced to fend for themselves. And they did, quite successfully. You could say that crime and criminal activity was in their blood, and if nothing else, their parents taught them those traits well.

Mariya was briefly married to Boris Kamanev. He was tragically killed by a subway train under the streets of Moscow the day after he beat his new bride. Viktor was the only witness.

Years later, when Andre Sarnev was in Moscow on business, he was introduced to Viktor. He was told that Viktor was a man who could get things done in Moscow. “He knew the right people.” Andre hired him to run his legitimate mineral and petroleum sales operations in Russia, selling precious metals from Sarnev’s vast global mining ventures to private and government entities and brokering deals for lucrative oil sites.

When Joseph Lehan came to Moscow for an annual financial review, he approached Viktor, asking him to run his personal illegal enterprise in the region. Viktor naturally turned to Mariya to assist him. With her expertise in all things illegal in Russia, she was perfect for this new endeavor.

Bardzecki’s hard work provided Sarnev International a large and steady income stream and the combined efforts of Mariya and Viktor added to Lehan’s personal illicit fortune. One that Andre Sarnev was not aware of.

When Viktor had left for Bermuda, Mariya had dispatched Gise, Malygin, and Klopov each to a different region to take care of what she considered normal operating issues, supervising human trafficking shipments and their lucrative Chinese drug transport trade. Watching over these operations usually involved the breaking of bones or worse.

None of the three men were expected back in Moscow for at least another day or more, which gave her and Viktor time to plot their assassinations.

The next day, Gise called Mariya. “Have you heard from Viktor?” he asked.

She simply said, “Nyet.”

Gise told her, “I will be back in Moscow late tonight. My train gets into Kurskaya Station at eleven twenty. Can you pick me up?”

“Da, I will wait in my car, somewhere in the north lot. I will find a spot facing the tracks.”

This is what Mariya and Viktor had hoped and planned for.

At 11:00 p.m., Mariya pulled her Pobeda into a spot at the far end of the lot. There were only a few unoccupied cars nearby, and it was poorly lit. Viktor was in the back seat behind the passenger side, hunkered down as low as he could go. Mariya kept the engine running. It was cold, even for Moscow.

At 11:23 p.m., they saw Gise’s train pull in. Minutes later, they saw him walking out of the station, heading to the car. Since the back windows were tinted, they felt Gise would not be able to see Viktor in the back as he approached. Mariya made sure the rear doors were locked so he could only get in the front.

Mariya and Viktor both agreed that if Gise did see him in the back, they would lie about his return, tell Bogdan that Mariya had just picked him up an hour earlier, enough time to get from Vladimir to Moscow.

The strangulation plan would proceed no matter what, but surprise would be best.

Gise got to the passenger side door. His warm breath steamed visible and heavy as if he opened it, threw in his bag, and slid in while holding onto the edge of the cars roof, then he pulled the door shut. Only a few seconds had passed, Bogdan began to speak as Viktor quickly placed the garotte around his neck and pulled back with all his strength and weight.

Mariya had her cell phone out and ready. She hit the film icon and looked through the screen as Bogdan tried in desperation to pull the garotte from around his neck as he was gasping for breath. He flailed and tried to swing his gloved fists behind his head, attempting to strike his attacker, but Viktor’s head was out of reach as he leaned back. It gave him more leverage to pull tighter.

Gise tried to look at Mariya. His eyes were bulging he couldn’t turn his head. If he had seen her face, he would have witnessed the crooked smile and the gleam of satisfaction in her eyes.

She made sure she scanned the filming phone into the back seat to get Viktor’s face clearly in focus. It seemed like the struggle lasted forever, but within a few minutes, both Viktor and Mariya knew Gise was gone.

Mariya put down her phone and the silenced Makarov handgun she held in her other hand, if things did not go as planned, she would have been ready.

They both sat silent for a moment. No one else was in the parking area, so they were not rushed. Suddenly the silence was broken by the buzzing of Gise’s cell. They sat in silence until it quit as if the caller could have heard them.

Viktor was winded and was trying to catch his breath before he could speak.

When he did, all he could say was “Two to go, dear sister.”

Mariya reached in Gise’s pocket and pulled out the cell. She looked at the screen.

“Klopov,” she said.

They drove out of the lot slowly, not wanting to draw attention from the armed security that stood by the exit gate. He waved them through, and a moment later, they were out on the street heading to ul. Zemlyanoy Val. Then north onto A103. They had one more stop before they journeyed to Bogdan Gise’s burial ground.

Seven miles down A103, they were picking up a young man who would be doing all the digging. Viktor was too heavy, and Mariya had given up the hard work involved in disposing a body long ago.

Gorya Bykov was his name. He worked for Mariya doing odd jobs and watching over her girls, taking care of their basic needs while they were in her custody. She paid him next to nothing but allowed him to take favors from the girls of her choice, not his.

He was parked in a turnout off A103, in an older model Aleko Svyatogor, a rusty brown vehicle he had inherited from his father. The Pobeda pulled in behind him, and he quickly jumped out, and into the back seat next to Viktor, he smelled like cheap wine, cigarettes, and dried sweat. Viktor buzzed down his window a crack after a few minutes for fresh air. He didn’t care how cold it was.

Their destination was the isolated and heavily wooded Park Losiniy Ostrov. They left A103 and got onto smaller roads until they reached the narrow and straight Road Proseka Bumazhnaya. They traveled in about five miles until they got to a dirt track off to their right. Mariya pulled into it about twenty-five yards.

Gorya got out, and Mariya popped open the trunk. Gorya grabbed the shovel and the “kit” and went to Gise’s door.

“Viktor, help him,” she said angrily.

Viktor slowly got out and stepped next to Gorya as he opened the door. Gorya spread out the plastic tarp next to the car and pulled the body out onto it.

The next steps were important, and Mariya watched the two men intently as they began to pull all the belongings Gise had on him out of his pockets and place them in a small bag next to the body. He also had on a Rolex knockoff and a gold chain around his neck. Gorya took off Gise’s gloves. There was a ring on his left hand that he struggled to remove.

After a few seconds, Mariya shouted, “Cut the damn finger off.”

Gorya pulled out his knife, and with some effort, he finally removed the finger, and the ring slid off the cut end. Viktor then grabbed a larger bag, and they began removing all the clothing, shoes first. They had Gise stripped down to his underclothing.

Viktor placed both bags in the trunk then closed it. He threw the shovel on top of Gise’s body.

“You get the heavy end,” he told Gorya.

Both men grabbed the tarp from the ends.

Mariya called out, “See you in sixty minutes. Can you get this done by then?”

“Da, see you then.”

Viktor closed the door, and both men started to drag the body deeper into the woods.

Mariya drove off, leaving Bykov and Viktor to finish the job. She would drive through the park to its far end and circle its perimeter until it was time to return to pick them up. At this time of night, she was certain she would not see any other vehicles, at least that was her hope.

In about an hour, she returned to the spot. Both men came out of the woods. Gorya carrying the shovel and tarp, his hands and pants were stained with the black earth from the grave, Viktor was clean.

“Get the sheet out of the trunk and put it on my back seat and remove your shoes,” she barked at Gorya. “I don’t want that dirt ruining my seats.”

He did as she asked.

They headed back to Moscow. Mission accomplished.