Blackmail

29 ZAPORIZHIA, UKRAINE

From across the crowded cobblestone plaza, Randy Guimond peered through the open window of the darkened fifth-story apartment, studying the temporary four-foot-tall wooden platform, its sides draped in white-, blue-, and red-striped bunting that matched the colors of the Russian Federation flag. Although the crowd had thickened in anticipation of tonight’s speeches, the platform, with a podium placed near the front, remained empty. Guimond checked his watch; another five minutes before Alex Rudenko and his associates took the stage.

It was only a few days ago when Guimond met with Rudenko in the private room at the back of the Ukrainian-cuisine restaurant Korchma. Rudenko was a leading member of Ukraine’s Opposition Bloc, an amalgamation of six political parties opposing Ukraine’s attempt to join NATO, preferring a pro-Russian, or at least neutral, stance. Their position had strong support here in the Zaporizhia Oblast, where twenty-five percent of the residents were ethnic Russians and seventy percent of the population spoke Russian.

During Ukraine’s recent Euromaidan revolution, President Viktor Yanukovych’s Russian-leaning administration had been replaced with a pro-Western government. Public sentiment had been sharply divided, with the Donbass — the oblasts of Donetsk and Luhansk — declaring their independence from Ukraine. A full-fledged civil war erupted between the separatists and the Ukrainian government, with the Donbass separatists supported discreetly by Russian troops and equipment.

Many in Zaporizhia also favored independence from Ukraine or outright assimilation into Russia, but the oblast remained part of Ukraine. With Donbass to the north and Crimea, already annexed by Russia, to the south, Zaporizhia would be the next domino to fall. All it needed was a nudge. As Rudenko and his associates climbed onto the stage, Guimond raised his rifle to his shoulder and placed his eye to the scope.

Guimond had chosen the apartment carefully, five stories up to provide a clear view of the participants on the platform, along with a short trek down a nearby stairwell to a car behind the building. Also carefully selected was the Ukrainian-made Zbroyar Z-008 Tactical Pro sniper rifle in his hands, outfitted with a scope and five-round box magazine. Five rounds weren’t many, but would be sufficient for tonight’s festivities. Guimond was wearing gloves, so his fingerprints wouldn’t be added to those of the Ukrainian national who had unwittingly sold the rifle to an SVR agent.

Rudenko moved forward to the podium, flanked by two men on one side and a man and woman on the other. The five men and women joined hands and raised them in unity, drawing cheers from the crowd. After releasing hands, Rudenko greeted the gathering throng, his voice booming from speakers beside the podium. Guimond listened as Rudenko’s speech progressed through the expected tenets, keeping the scope’s crosshairs centered on Rudenko’s head.

As Rudenko reached the climax of his speech, advocating for Zaporizhia’s succession from Ukraine, Guimond adjusted his aim, down and to the right, stopping on Rudenko’s left shoulder. He had told Rudenko he wouldn’t be killed, but failed to mention he’d be shot.

Guimond pulled the trigger, moving to his next target as Rudenko lurched backward. Two quick squeezes and the men to the right dropped onto the podium. Guimond swung left, where the third man and the woman were scrambling toward the podium steps. Another squeeze and a round hit the woman in the side of her head, sending her tumbling down the steps. The final man dove off the side of the podium onto the cobblestone plaza, but not before Guimond put a bullet into his thigh.

As the crowd scattered in every direction, Guimond examined the carnage through his scope: three dead and two wounded politicians. No one would be suspicious of Rudenko. Guimond pushed away from the window and headed toward the door, leaving the rifle and its fingerprints behind.