The Samurai Inheritance

XXX

Arkady Berzarin smiled as he settled into the back of the armoured Mercedes S-Class, one of a fleet of six from which to choose at random whenever he needed to travel. He’d decided on the big V12 because it was the preferred method of transport of various Middle East potentates who had tested its bomb- and bullet-proof qualities to the very limit. A second identical car started up behind them, and a third was already waiting at the gate to act as the point vehicle. He pressed the intercom linking him to the driver’s compartment.

‘Is everything arranged, Lev?’ He already knew the answer, but he’d learned over the years that it never did any harm to ask.

‘Sure, chief.’ The driver grinned. Lev had been with Berzarin for ten years and knew his boss’s habits better than any man on the protection detail. ‘We’ll have a motorcycle escort from the outskirts of Kras, but they’ll stop at the airport gates. Security know to let us through to the apron to wait for the plane to land. Andrei will walk down the steps and straight into the car.’

‘Good. Good.’ The billionaire nodded. He hadn’t seen his son for more than three months apart from the odd video conference, and he was frightened the boy was growing apart from him. The school in England looked after him well enough and he was doing well, but … Berzarin worried about the influence of that bitch of a second wife, though he’d never mention it to Andrei. They had three weeks together and he intended to spend every possible moment with his son and to hell with the aluminium industry for once. ‘Who’s in the lead car today?’

The driver frowned, ticking off the security detail in his head. ‘Mikhail and the Bulgarian, Serov.’

‘Good,’ Berzarin repeated. ‘They know their business. Okay, let’s go.’

They drove out of the underground garage into the sunlight, a low Siberian sunlight that could scorch your eyeballs if you weren’t careful. Lev plucked a pair of Ray-Bans from the dash, flipped the arms open and placed them expertly with one hand.

‘You want the sun visors down, boss?’

‘Since when could I get too much sun?’ Berzarin chuckled and the driver smiled. It was unusual to see the boss in such a cheerful mood these days. The boy would be good for him.

The road wound across the tundra in tight loops, narrowing where it was flanked by concrete pillars that would slow any intruder who managed to get his car or truck beyond the gate. It was designed to give the house guards time to reach their defensive positions long before an attacker could get there. Lev had driven it a thousand times and took the corners smoothly. It was two miles from the house to the gate and he called ahead to make sure the guards were ready for them.

In the back of the car Berzarin tried to study share movements in the metal and minerals industry on his personalized iPad, but found he couldn’t concentrate. He flicked to a weather website. It was a little late in the year, but maybe he could organize a fishing trip with Andrei up one of the tributaries of the Yenisei. Catching his first taimen with his old man would give them something to remember for a long time. One of the guiding companies had just started to use mini-hovercraft to get up into the headwaters, which would be something new for the boy. Yes, that’s what he would do. Of course he’d run it past Andrei first. You couldn’t dictate to a fourteen-year-old.

His mind drifted back to the strange visit from the Englishman and his girlfriend. When he’d had time to consider, it seemed to him that fate had brought them to his house. They’d provided him with an opportunity that was unlikely to occur again and he had put things in motion to take advantage of it. He wondered if Andrei’s impending visit had influenced his decision, and decided it probably had.

As they approached the gate Lev saw one of the security SUVs speed off down the road. He glanced in his mirror to check if the boss had noticed, but Berzarin was engrossed in his computer. With a mental shrug he decided they’d find out if there was some sort of problem soon enough.

Up ahead, the guards watched the big black car approach. They held their machine pistols casually, the way a workman holds the tools he has wielded for half a lifetime, and their eyes were hidden behind the ubiquitous mirrored sunglasses. One of them, Yuri, the big ex Spetsnaz from Omsk, waved the car down and Lev lowered his window.

‘What’s up?’ the driver demanded. ‘The boss won’t want to be late for the kid.’

‘We had word of two men by the roadside a mile south of here. Probably just hikers, but Ivan and Vitaly are checking it out. It should only take a minute.’

Lev scowled, but put the automatic to park and waited for the inevitable reaction. Arkady Berzarin heard the click and looked up from the fishing website he’d been studying. ‘What’s happening?’

‘Nothing, boss. Just security starting at shadows, but that’s their job, eh?’

Berzarin grunted and sat back in his seat. ‘We’ll be late for Andrei,’ he growled after a few minutes passed. ‘Fuck shadows. Let’s go.’

Lev looked up at the security man and shrugged, but Yuri shook his head. ‘It’s not worth taking a chance,’ he said quietly. ‘You can make up the time.’

‘Security says no, boss. Better to be safe—’

‘Who pays their fucking wages?’ Berzarin exploded. ‘I say when it’s fucking safe and when it’s not.’ He reached for the switch that lowered the window separating him from Yuri. The guard watched emotionlessly as the mirrored glass began to slide downwards, anticipating the blast from within.

Lev frowned. ‘Boss, I …’

Berzarin ignored his driver and glared at the guard. ‘Did you hear—’

Yuri stood with his legs slightly apart and in a crouch so he could see into the rear compartment of the Mercedes. He held the AK-9 machine pistol at a thirty-degree angle, barrel downwards and with his right hand on the butt, and his left gripping the black plastic stock just behind the barrel. It was the work of a millisecond to twitch the barrel upwards and bring his finger to the trigger in the same movement. Berzarin saw the muzzle come up and fell backwards with a cry of terror, raising his hands in a futile attempt to fend off the stream of bullets that was about to erupt from the black tunnel. Yuri had loaded the AK-9 with armour-piercing rounds and they shredded the Kevlar vest Berzarin put so much faith in with the same efficiency they shredded the raised hands. By the time he took the pressure from the trigger Berzarin was already dead, but Yuri was nothing if not professional and he fired the last four rounds into the former oligarch’s head even as the bullets of his comrades smashed him sideways away from the car window.

As he lay on the ground the cries of the guards faded and all he could hear was the tick-tick-tick of a cooling engine and what his dying mind believed was the soft murmur of the Siberian wind, but in reality was the sound of his last breath.