Close Quarters

TWELVE

I drove out into the suburbs until I found a small hotel that accepted cash and asked no questions. I’d given up on the other place, and I doubted they’d miss me until morning. Once I’d tucked the car away out of sight at the rear and was in my room, I made my first call to Langley.

The woman who answered had a soft voice, professionally calm and clear, and I got the impression of someone youngish, brown-haired and serious. I tend to paint pictures of people I can’t see. Every once in a while I get it right.

I told her my call-sign and she said to go ahead. No surprise, no questions about timing or asking for a repeat. Businesslike.

I kept it short. ‘I’m in place and mobile. Tell Callahan the area’s too hot with military to be able to keep a constant eyeball on the location, so I’m having to stay back until I get the word to go.’

‘Understood, Watchman. I’m sending you a list of encrypted addresses. Callahan says you’ll know what they are, am I correct?’

‘Yes.’ They were the addresses for the cut-outs handling Travis’s journey out of the country. It must have taken some persuasive arguments to allow that kind of sensitive information out of the building, but I guess Callahan knew I’d need to check the areas out before Travis reached them.

‘Good luck. We’ll be in touch.’

I signed off and dialled another number. This one was to an unlisted Berlin phone.

It took twelve rings before Max picked up. He sounded cautious, but I wasn’t surprised; the kind of people he dealt with, he had to be sure he wasn’t being set up in a sting by the cops looking to find evidence of dealing in stolen goods and illegal arms. But this sounded ultra-careful, even for him.

I told him my name and heard an intake of breath. Then the words came out in a rush. ‘Mr Portman, what can I do for you? The exchange was good, I hope?’ He was trying to sound breezy but it didn’t work.

‘You know damn well it wasn’t, Max. What’s the deal with Ivkanoy?’

‘What do you mean, Mr Portman?’ He was trying to sound normal but his voice slipped off the scale and I knew something was wrong. For a Berlin wheeler-dealer, Max could lie about as well as I play the harpsichord. I was sometimes amazed he managed to stay in business, but maybe everybody knew he only ever told the truth.

‘You’re a lousy kidder, Max. If you don’t tell me about Ivkanoy, I’m going to come right over there and rip your tongue out.’

Over-dramatic, sure. But with some people it’s the only method that works. And Max hates the idea of violence.

‘Seriously, Mr Portman, I am saying the truth. It was not a thing I knew.’ He was babbling, and when he babbles, his English goes to shit. Same when he lies.

‘It was a simple enough transaction, Max. A car and an extra, for cash. We’ve done it before, you and I, and you’ve arranged other deals like this in your sleep.’

‘Yes, I know—’

‘Only Ivkanoy wasn’t ready to play. He tried to rip me off. Why was that?’

‘Please, Mr Portman. I can only apologize. I was not to know this.’ He was rattled, the words tumbling out of his mouth in their haste to escape. ‘I was given his name as a reliable supplier of … services. The kind you, as you have said, are asking me to arrange before. But this man, this Ivkanoy, he is not what I believed. He is …’ He hesitated, gasping for air and a decent explanation that would get him off the hook.

‘He’s what?’

‘He is a cousin of a man in Volgograd. A leading businessman. I swear on my mother’s life I did not know Ivkanoy would do this to you.’

A businessman. In Volgograd. What Max really meant was Ivkanoy’s cousin was a member of the Russian mob, which by association, family ties and plain criminality in their blood, made Ivkanoy one, too.

I should have guessed. Volgograd, formerly called Stalingrad, lies across the border in southern Russia, and the connections with eastern Ukraine run deep and deadly. And the Russian mob has never been good on borders.

I took a deep breath. Max should have known, if he’d done his homework properly. The people I deal with, the suppliers of the kind of material I use from time to time, like Max, are always freelancers. There are two reasons for this: a supplier with ordinary gang affiliations is too restricted, even unimaginative and unlikely to venture far from the home nest. It means they’ll take the easiest route, the cheapest and least reliable. They also don’t care about repeat business so they rarely stick to an agreement. If anybody complains, they can always call in a favour for a couple of heavies to provide backup.

But tie that supplier to the Ukrainian or Russian mob and that’s a whole different level of no-go in my book. I was surprised Max hadn’t worked it out; or maybe he’d got caught into trying to cut deals using the mob to further some other business interest he had on the go.

It explained a lot about Ivkanoy’s attitude. To him I was just a mark passing through his territory, to be fleeced and disposed of, my travel documents and anything else he could use to be sold on in the city. He’d have known that anyone wanting to hire an untraceable vehicle and a weapon, cash down with no questions, would be in no position to complain to the authorities if they didn’t get the deal they expected. And in the worsening atmosphere that had taken over the region, with more guns and guys keen to use them per square mile than anywhere outside of the Middle East, he’d reasoned that there was no chance of anything coming back on him if I simply disappeared.

‘How bad is this, Max? What’s the likely fall-out?’

‘Huh?’

‘Don’t play dumb. You’re already scared, I can hear it in your voice. How deep in with them are you?’

He coughed. ‘Scared, yes. Of course I’m scared. You know me, Mr Portman. I do not get into bed with such extreme people normally. Never. But I was made an offer I could not refuse … as also were others in the same business here in Berlin and Munich.’

‘So it’s a takeover.’

‘I believe, yes. Two who refused have gone, disappeared. Now since I hear what you have done to him, I am hearing that Ivkanoy is blaming me! He says I must pay restitution for the damage and the car. I have tried to refuse but two times now I am having telephone calls with nobody speaking. Just breathing.’

I felt almost sorry for him. He was in a low-end business where most of his suppliers were crooks, gang-bangers and thieves, not hard-core mafia. On the outgoing side he had clients like me who were selective about their sources of supply. It was a difficult place to be. And now the Russian mob were muscling in and dictating how and with whom he did business, and threatening to break legs or worse if he didn’t play ball.

‘What else have you heard, Max?’

‘That you have hurt him … that you have harmed his reputation. That you stole a car and you make him look foolish.’

‘He tried to screw me, Max. It was a set-up. He was ready to beat my brains out.’

‘I am sorry. Really.’ He hesitated, then added, ‘I believe he will come for me soon. For this reason I am leaving town. It is too dangerous to stay, even here.’

He was right to worry. The Russian mob’s reach wasn’t confined to within its borders, but worldwide. And Berlin was right on their doorstep. Getting someone to pay Max a visit would take a simple phone call. I was surprised the heavy breathing hadn’t escalated to something more deliberate already.

‘I am sorry, Mr Portman. This Ivkanoy will not stop. Others of his kind will know what happened, and he will follow you until his honour is satisfied. Until you are dead.’