Code Shield (23 page)

Time stretched out. Finally, the liveried doorman tapped Michael's shoulder and jerked his thumb to the door.

Michael bent low and looked past the man's legs. He saw a blonde woman standing outside the revolving doors. It was Tania.

She was in denims complimented by a muffler around her neck, a fur hat and a deep green svelte overcoat with imitation fur collars.

It was freezing and when she spoke, her breath condensed. “Staff cannot enter hotel. We use only staff entrance. Come Mikhail, we go to your apartment.” She took long strides on her high heels.

Michael quickened his pace and fell in step with her, “I have a car, a car in the hotel basement.”

“Oh, you have an auto.”

Chapter 35

By the time they parked outside the small apartment block along Polyanka Street, Michael had made up a story. He explained that he owned a small business and was on an extended business visit to Moscow with multiple side trips all over Eastern Europe. He was looking for a short-term stay of about two months and hotels were too expensive.

He hoped secretly that Tania would not question why he did not get one of his business associates or even Tara to help. In any case, it did not matter what she thought as he would have got what he wanted – a peek into the place.

Tania nodded and smiled, but seemed quite uninterested in what he was saying, which suited him well.

The landlady was a cigarette smoking, middle aged woman. Her hair was in a tangle of large dark curls and her upper arms as large as Michael's thighs. She was huge but lacked all the warmth and rough friendliness of the other huge woman he had met – Andrei's Maria.

Michael congratulated himself for having secured Tania's help, as seeing the two women confer he was sure he would not have made any headway with the landlady. He heard snatches of words that sounded like
chinky
or
cheenie
from the woman but pretended not to take notice.

Tania peppered her conversation with some English words, perhaps for Michael to follow the discussions or perhaps to impress the woman. She mentioned the word
automobile
several times.

The woman knocked the teetering ash from the tip of her cigarette, pulled aside the grimy curtains with the other hand and peered at the car parked outside.

Michael glanced at his watch. It was about eleven, he did not expect the girls or their abductors to leave their apartment that early.

“Mikhail, no apartment possible now but next week is okay,” Tania reported the bad news.

“Ask her when next week, which apartment?”

The tall blonde spoke to the woman who seemed to be getting more annoyed by the minute.

“She says fourth floor apartment, Monday is okay.”

“Tania, please tell her I don't mind waiting till Monday but I need to view one of the apartments on any floor just to get an idea of what it's like.” Then as an afterthought, he suggested, “I'll pay her for her troubles.”

The woman shook her head as Tania relayed the offer. She shot dark looks at Michael, wiped her hands on a greasy towel and made to enter her room behind the counter.

Michael took two steps, spread a thousand roubles on the counter top and gestured with his hand for her to take it.

The woman stared at the money, shot a look at Michael and quickly snatched the money. She tucked it into her deep freckled cleavage, stuck out her other hand, and demanded something. Tania handed over her identity card and the woman made a show of copying down the particulars. She then handed over some keys.

Holding up and jingling the huge key ring, Tania said triumphantly, “Okay, one apartment possible, tenant away a few days, five floors, come we look.”

Tania crooked her finger, indicating that Michael follow her, and headed for the stairs around the side of the counter.

“Isn't the landlady joining us?”

“No lift, she too fat to walk, five floors. Come we look.” Tania bolted up the narrow flight of steps and turned a corner.

When they reached the fourth floor, Michael entered the short corridor and stepped softly past two doors, reading off the numbers, 04-01 and 04-02. His heart pounded against his rib knowing that his Annette was just metres away. He thought of banging into one of the doors, grabbing his daughter and running out. He knew it was not only crazy but also downright stupid and would probably get them all killed.

He stood outside one of the doors; the one he thought had bedrooms that looked out to the street. He reached for the doorknob, his fingers clasped slowly around it, gripping it tight. He twisted the knob gently.
Locked solid
. He was about to rattle the knob when he received a dreadful shock.

‘Mikhail!”

Tania had come down the narrow carpeted staircase and had stood observing him.

“Wrong floor, next up on the five,” she pointed and again disappeared up the staircase.

Michael reluctantly stepped back and made his way upstairs. He found Tania standing outside the fifth floor apartment and patiently trying one key at a time.

“Too much keys,” she explained and finally found the right one for the door.

She stepped in cautiously, looking up at the ceiling as she did so, with Michael close behind her.

The living room walls were in light pastel, the floor fully carpeted. Past the living room, a narrow passage led to two bedrooms, both double locked. Tania did not have keys to the padlocks on the rooms.

“What do you say?” asked Tania.

He brushed past her and went to the window. A chill rushed down his back.

Anyone looking out from the floor below would have seen his car parked at the same spot for two nights in a row.

The floor below, thought Michael. Annette is a mere three metres below my feet
.

“Come here Mikhail, look.” Tania had stepped into the kitchenette and had popped her head around a cabinet, crooking a finger at him. A full-length mirror occupied most of the wall beside the kitchen window. “This kitchen is also too much for one man.”

Again, Michael ignored her and walked about the apartment as though in a trance. He mentally counted the steps from wall to wall, sizing up the place. Satisfied, he suggested checking out the car park, as he needed a space for his Fiat.

A thought struck him when Tania was locking the apartment door. “Is that a spare set of keys you're holding?”

“This, master key,” said Tania.

“Master key?” asked Michael, his heart thumping viciously.

“Yes, landlord key, master key, open all door,” repeated Tania. “In Singapore is different.”

“No it's the same in Singapore too. Can I have a look at it,” he stretched out his hand.

Her features relaxed just a nano-second. Recovering, she handed him the bunch, holding a long brass key held between thumb and finger.

Tania cantered down the stairs and Michael followed at a more leisurely pace. When she was out of sight, he slipped the master key out of the ring and pocketed it.

Again, he paused on the landing of the fourth floor, but hardening himself, he caught up with Tania.

She was in animated conversation with the cigarette-smoking woman who was seated behind the tight reception counter. Behind the woman, a door had opened, revealing a cluttered room and a high bed that spilled white linen on the floor.

“Come we look at car park.” Tania led the way through a narrow corridor, beside the reception counter. They went down three steps and came to a landing and door. She twisted the knob and pushed out the door. Cool air greeted them.

Again, Michael took the key ring from Tania and fell behind as she stepped onto the short flight of stairs that led down to the car park. He tried the keys, located the one that fitted the lock and pocketed it.

Tania had walked to the far end and heaved up the roller shutter; letting some daylight into the dim car park.

Michael's heart skipped a beat. There down below were the red Porsche 911 and the blue mini bus. There were four other cars in the tiny basement and two empty spaces. He headed for the Porsche.

The huge landlady had appeared on the top of the flight of stairs. There was no handrail and she decided not to risk ambling down the narrow steps. The woman said something and Tania walked back, answering her.

Michael pretended to walk around the car next to the Porsche, asking questions about access times, insurance cover and every conceivable question remotely related to car parks.

As Tania translated and peppered the woman with the questions, Michael circled the mini bus, running a finger along its sides. His eyes glistened at the thought that hours earlier his daughter had perhaps touched the same spot on the vehicle.

When he reached the passenger cabin window, away from the side facing the women, he stuck a postage stamp on the glass and continued to walk around the car without stopping. He approached the women.

“Tania, please inform her that I'll consider the apartment and return for a second viewing in a day or two.”

“Okay, but landlady say we must close shutter. Come we go out through the exit that way and find your car in the front.”

As they walked to the car, he asked Tania where the nearest post office was, as he needed to buy some stamps.

“Stamps, you write letter to Singapore? Why not email or telephone?”

Chapter 36

The train sped south towards the Black Sea, the metallic wheels clanging monotonously, the rhythm entrancing for some and maddening for others. After a few minutes, Tara found Plustarch in the first class dining compartment.

Upon seeing her, he half rose and remained leaned forward with bent knees until she slipped behind the tight table. Plustarch already had the Moet chilled and a pair of dainty stemware awaited the bubbly.

The waiter in black tie proceeded with the elaborate service. He broached the champagne and poured the drinks. Then he took their orders, bowed smoothly, stepped back and melted away.

After a clink of glasses and sip, Plustarch whispered in that halting manner whenever he spoke English. “The two Mafiosi have a Singaporean girl, a Liam Lai Fun –”

“Annette Liam,” corrected Tara.

“Oh, okay,” conceded Plustarch. “But it's advisable to secure Simonov's blessing before you move on these guys.”

“Why?” asked Tara, a little combative. “Why do you have to inform big daddy of everything? He'll probably alert Sobyanin.”

“That is a possibility but –”

The waiter returned, pushing a serving cart. After a couple of minutes of controlled flourish, he placed large plates before them. In the centre of each plate, a small mound of greens and lobster shreds, ringed by wavy lines of sauce. He wished them
prijatnovo appetite
(bon appetite) and moved along.

“Get his blessings and your back is covered.” Plustarch spoke under his breath but with that smile permanently etched on his lips. “Go solo and your back is exposed.”

“I thought
you'll
cover my back,” whispered Tara with a coy smile, her demeanour very incongruent to the subject and tone of their conversation.

“I'm not the only right-hand man that Simonov has.” Leaning closer he murmured, “In this regards, the General has more arms than even a Hindu deity. I know a lot but not everything.”

“Polyanka comes under your jurisdiction,” reminded Tara, her fingers now intertwined in his.

Plustarch contemplated what Tara said and she had implied plenty. He had a day job as a police officer; as a foreign intelligence agent he had to keep Simonov apprised, and as Tara's lover and collaborator –

“Daunting, but not impossible. I'll see what I can do.” Plustarch released her hand and leaned back as the waiter pushed the food cart, with their main course, to their table.

It was almost nine o'clock when Karpov herded the two women into the mini bus. Kashin gunned the Porsche's engine. Both vehicles paused at the edge of the short driveway before turning left into Polyanka Street and heading off.

It was a few kilometres before Annette snapped out of her daze, noticed the piece of sticky paper on the glass. She scratched it absently. The paper looked familiar. Fed on a diet of computers, emails and text messages, it took her a few moments to realise that it was a postage stamp, the serrated white edges standing out in stark contrast to the inky darkness outside.

She gasped as she recognised the Chinese characters on the sticky side of the stamp.

Mei-Mei, Pa is here. Drop me a note by the bus. Be brave
.

Annette took a short and sharp intake of breath and looked away. Then with tears welling in her eyes, she turned slowly towards the window, hoping that the stamp had not flown away. She was not mistaken, it did read,

Mei-Mei, Pa is here. Drop me a note by the bus. Be brave
.

She sniffed and instinctively looked at the driver and dropped her eyes to her knees. She had seen Karpov peering at her through his rear view mirror. A million thoughts raced through her mind.

Pa is here! Here? Is he alone? How did he manage to track me? He's such a timid man. Are the police following them?

Her emotions roiled, she bit her lips as tears blurred her vision. Mei-Mei is his pet name for her, even her friends did not know about it.

It must be Pa, can't be anyone else… drop him a note… but how?

She had a small packet of tissue paper but with nothing to write.
Wait a minute, my lipstick!

The vehicles headed towards the MKAD and turned off into a side street. After a few more turns the mini bus and red Porsche emerged into a dual carriageway and approached a row of neon lit bars and nightclubs.

Karpov abruptly turned left, crossed the path of oncoming traffic. He bulldozed across the footpath, to shrieks and curses from people who plastered themselves to the wall. Kashin in the Porsche continued to head down the street.

Michael, who had been following them, hesitated, slowed and thought furiously but the truck behind high beamed him. Panicking, Michael kept driving, and then pulled into the slow lane on the right.