It was the first time in a week that Marek and Benoit had a couple of days to feel remotely safe, just them and their racing minds. Benoit was the first to bring up the events of the chasm where the giant, black clad soldier had attacked them. Recounting in his mind and often out loud in the presence of Marek how he watched chunks of flesh and cloth fall from the soldier as he emptied a full magazine of 5.56 ammunition into its torso. This caused Marek to also dwell on what he saw during the event, the chunks of bone and gunk that took flight from the rear of the giant's head as he too pulled the trigger of his 5.56 rounds. 2,750 feet per second of man stopping power and the thing barely flinched or halted its attack.
Spending almost too much time dwelling on the subject, Marek and Benoit both found themselves on opposite sides of the coffee table where they were residing. A doctor injecting bodies, Brigovic killed as if his station was less than nothing, an entire work force hidden in the earth and protected by the Litsky Mafia, this was a rabbit hole that the two could not see a way out of.
Listening to the brief snippets of what they could on the buzzing radios of cars in the streets, Odessa was on alert, the incident they had caused being blamed on all sides. Russian authorities blamed the fallout on Ukrainian Separatists and vice versa. So far, Marek and Benoit could tell that this was a political power move, if the boots on the ground knew their involvement remained to be seen. Both men, knowing they were being hunted took the briefest time to breathe, undetected in Transnistria.
Mr Happy’s valet arrived in the morning, manila envelope in hand, clean papers and flights to Bratislava, the flight was only short, the papers provided by Mr Happy, good enough for the border crossing by car into Austria on their way to Vienna.
The drive was smoother than they had been used to, heading straight for the airport, the safety deposit box Carrol had mentioned over the phone their only hope for answers. Benoit constantly thinking of his local contacts in case trouble followed them, Albert Carpenter, the Station Chief for MI-6, a man who runs Vienna like he is some sort of royalty, the highest name on the list as a former middle man for Benoit previous operations in the area as a freelancer.
Arriving at the airport, the plan was simple: Benoit would find a good vantage point to observe the locker area as well as the comings and goings of anyone acting suspicious. Marek would head to the box after being given the all clear from Benoit. After two coffees and a walk around the area, Marek made his way to the locker, opening it, he removed the thick manila folder inside. Arranging through his phone to meet Benoit at the taxi rank outside the airport. The short drive to the other side of the highway brought them to the strip of hotels specialising in Airport tourism. Booking into a medium quality inn, the two sat across from each other as Marek poured out the contents of the envelope. Flopping onto the table in front of them, $50,000 US dollars, a set of car keys with an Audi keychain attached, a long term parking permit for the airport, a set of house keys with a tag attached, the address written on it. Two passports also fell out of the envelope, one on Carrol’s name, the other for his wife Marta.
Electing to stay together, Benoit and Marek made their way back to the airport on foot, heading to the long term parking area. As they looked for anything resembling an Audi, Benoit continued to click the “Unlock” button on the car key remote to see if the flashing of lights could be seen. A brand new Audi RS7 came into view, its doors unlocking with the push of the remote, without breaking their stride, the two men inspected the car for any form of traps, starting the car and letting it run for a moment before fully climbing inside. Benoit taking the driver's side, Marek the passenger, snapping a picture of the VIN number for investigation when he had free access to his laptop.
Turning on the car radio, news reports were flowing through regarding the opening of the first day of an international trade conference, security was on high alert in the city, reporters, security personnel and extra police patrols were everywhere.
Approaching the neighbourhood of the address on the card attached to the set of house keys found in the envelope, Benoit and Marek conducted their usual surveillance patterns, finding good places to park and observe before moving to another good vantage point, it was an older part of Vienna, the streets clean, yet giving off the feeling that this has been a wealthy part of the country for some time, restorations were clear for the older style buildings and well groomed gardens. As the sun began to go down, Benoit pulled down the sun visor, revealing a garage door opener, pressing the button he pulled the Audi into a private car park attached to the three story townhouse styled building. Taking the lead, Marek used the main door key to open the large double doors, heavy and classically fitted. Entering the building cautiously, Benoit and Marek could see the well polished floors of the foyer leading to a large staircase that flanked the main space. A set of elevators at the far end, the numbers one and two clearly visible on large wooden doors to their left and right. Checking the keys, the number on them was five, they were on the second floor, electing to take the stairs rather than an unproven elevator. Passing a cleaner and resident who were clearly discussing some sort of drain blockage, Marek smiled and nodded, his German rusty, but coming back to him quickly as he listened to it more and more.
Moving carefully, Marek used the door key to open the classic brass lock set into the oak door. Before pushing it open fully, Marek looked around the border of the door as he slowly opened it, making sure there were no traps or wires protruding that could be connected to any kind of device. Satisfied that it was safe, the two made their way inside.
Benoit and Marek moved fluently together, both men spread out quickly across the main living room, scanning for any signs of an occupant, clearing the rooms and assessing the apartment even though unarmed. Satisfied that the space was empty, signs clearly pointed to this being Carrol’s residence, the outlandish Zebra rug in the bedroom and absurd chef’s apron hanging in the kitchen were solid giveaways.
Benoit moved through the dining room and kitchen, looking for food, yet happy to discover a stocked liquor cabinet. Marek moved through the bedrooms, the main bedroom revealing a walk-in wardrobe, shoes, suits and most importantly, a small gun safe were visible.
Benoit scanned the windows, the main thought in his mind, this apartment was chosen by someone with a good mind for strategy, the sight lines out from every window revealing good vision with minimal chance of being observed.
Marek continued to move through the rooms, pulling a small electronic ‘bug’ sweeper from his pocket; he began searching for any signs that they could be monitored while within the apartment. Benoit also moved freely through the apartment, drawing all curtains and blinds, doing his best to keep the space secure.
With no sign of electronic surveillance, Marek returned to the gun safe, the touch pad proving tough, by Marek’s standards for such a small unit, what would normally take 20 seconds, over a minute passed before his equipment cracked it open. As the door swung open, Marek pulled out a Glock 19 with stainless slide and three matching magazines. A Colt Officer’s Model 1911 with bone grips and 3 matching magazines and a Colt detective special revolver, complete with extra speed loaders.
Pulling them from the safe, Marek handed Benoit the Glock and revolver. Happy with his weapons and feeling somewhat less exposed, Benoit made his way to the master bedroom, taking the opportunity to sleep.
Marek moved back to the living area, opening his laptop and setting up all of his alerts and security procedures. Opening the mail icon, he could see a single email had come through to one of his main email addresses. The sender was a string or garbled text, similar to the email he had received that pointed the two of them in a direction when reading the stolen documents from the NATO base. The email only had two words in the body, a name Arkady Shevlenko. Marek was starting to feel nervous, his system was not supposed to be so easily found or contacted, whoever was sending these emails appeared to have an intimate knowledge of his particular trade.
Noting that Benoit was already entering a deep sleep, Marek began his search into the name, choosing to start broad with his search using basic internet search engines, Shevlenko was attached to the Gokhran, a division of the Russian Ministry of Finance, mainly to do with the sale and purchase of precious stones. Digging deeper into his role, Marek could see that Shevlenko was currently in Vienna, attending the trade conference.
Moving to his less public ways of searching, Marek spent close to the next two hours building a solid profile on Shevlenko, an ex KGB agent in the 1950’s, he had no place to go in the SVR when the regime changed and varied but unremarkable career within the KGB, spending time in the middle east an attached to several embassies in the 1970’s and 80’s, spending the last portion of his career babysitting other old spies. Based on that information, Marek could see that Shevlenko would have a very secure network of supporters and ways of disappearing, a working knowledge of spies in the field and recruitment of military assets would be problematic if Benoit and himself tried to show any force.
Choosing to cross reference Shevlenko against the dossier from the NATO base, Marek could see that the notes made by Lennard showed that he did not know if Shevlenko was working in concert or against whatever he was investigating, other documents also showed that Shevlenko was potentially leaking information to the CIA.
Going further down the rabbit hole of research Marek discovered that Shevlenko was the last person to debrief the infamous Kim Philby, a member of the ‘Cambridge Five’.
Shevlenko had no surviving family except for a granddaughter Anna who seemed to be missing from the grid for several years.
Leaving the copy of the dossier in the deep secure location he set, Marek went back to searching through any and all photographs he could find to do with Shevlenko. After another hour of searching, a constant company of four could be seen. The first, a monster of a man, ex-Spetsnaz and most likely FSB, Taras Kaminski, a bodyguard of sorts. The second seemed to be some sort of Personal Assistant, always pictured with a tablet or phone in use, Sevastyan Popov. A woman also constantly appeared, some form of nurse as it has been noted that Shevlenko at the age of nearly 80 is in poor health, Zhenya Mihaylov. The last constant face in the photos was another woman, clearly the leader of the entourage, Katarina Volkov, FSB.
Looking back through the discovery of the name Kim Philby, born in 1912 and died in 1988, joined the SOE in 1940, moved to SIS now MI6 in 1941, promoted to head of station Istanbul 1947, transferred to Washington 1949, trusted with access to the US and British pact, a sad coincidence as he was a member of the Soviet spy ring the ‘Cambridge Five”.
Philby was interrogated in London before returning to Russia in 1963.
A second search result, Harry St John Philby, 1885 -1960, worked for the British foreign office working in the Middle East, a supporter of a tribal leader who later became the king of Saudi Arabia, however Philby fostered a greater fondness of the American Oil companies rather than the British.
Creating a spider web on the living room wall or string, photos and documents, Marek decided that it was time to catch up on much needed rest, leaving his discoveries to be seen by Benoit when he rose from his bed. Collapsing into the second bedroom as the clock on the wall clicked over to three in the morning, Marek was asleep moments after laying down.
Waking in the morning, Benoit had to double take the wall of the lounge room, the new wallpaper created by Marek seemed to be gibberish at this time in the morning. Benoit walked to the second bedroom, looking through the door he could see Marek face down on the bed, his shoes, clothes, even jacket still on. Benoit checked the fridge, much to his disappointment, there was not enough there to create any form of food, he threw his shoes on and made his way to the door, keys in hand.
As ten o'clock chimed in the living room, Marek emerged to see Benoit staring at the wall of collected data, coffee and pastry in hand. The conversation followed the pathway of explaining the wall, Benoit cut the conversation however when he learned of the phantom email. A separate and more panicked discussion broke out as whoever was sending the emails to Marek was a totally unknown element to them. More disturbing was the realisation that whoever it was realised who they were and could track them across locations, passports and papers with ease. Benoit put forward his suggestions, his thoughts showing a belief that whoever is sending the email is most likely some form of agency with access to high level tracking equipment such as satellites and facial recognition.
Neither of them could rule out that whoever it was, they were either very good, or had unlimited resources and were pushing them in a direction. In this case, Shevlenko.
Marek also put forward the notion that this instance of pushing towards Shevlenko could somehow be related to Mr Happy, targeting a Russian official who works for the Precious Stones department and has ties to contacts all over the world could be supplying funds to the Litsky Mafia.
After filling their stomachs with pastry and coffee, Marek and Benoit had the safe question, why were they being pushed towards this target? Both seemed to be puzzled by who was pushing them and where did they lose control of their own actions.
Marek’s next proposal was to fully protect themselves and their location, logging back on to his computer and sourcing locally where to get surveillance and monitoring equipment along with extra protection to bolster his firewalls.
Tuning out from Benoit, Marek began again to try and source where the email had come from. Watching the signal bounce from country to country, Marek began to swear under his breath as he recognised the same tricks he has used constantly when others have attempted to track him after operations. Leaning back in his chair, Marek considered where he learned all of his tricks from, recounting his time in university, military service and independent contracting, there was no single source, everything he learned, he had pieced together from either watching others work or figured out himself.
Stepping back from the discussion Benoit believed it was time to call his local resource, taking his leave from Marek, Benoit called the number etched in his mind for the MI6 Station Chief, Carpenter.
Carpenter's voice on the phone was that of a well spoken, somewhat aristocratic man with little care regarding much at all. As Benoit spoke directly, Carpenter’s voice shifting to concern rather than idle politeness, a meeting was arranged between the two, Benoit informing Carpenter that he would not be alone. Lunch was scheduled for the meeting, the address sent through as a text to Benoit’s phone.
The restaurant was well presented, better quality than what they had been used to for some time. Entering together 20 minutes prior to the meeting time, Marek and Benoit took a seat together and waited for Carpenter to arrive. As the familiar rain coat wearing MI6 operative entered, Benoit stood to signal where he was sitting. Carpenter took a seat and introduced himself to Marek, the unknown.
The conversation recounted that no contact had been made for years and suddenly in the middle of a convention, names were being shared regarding Russian delegates. Carpenter made it clear that whatever was going on, there was no be no noise, no waves, no disruptions to the trade convention. Carpenter presented himself as a man who was pulling strings with what was transpiring within the convention, although the sudden appearance of Benoit and a colleague clearly gave him reason to be concerned.
Covering the Russian delegation, Shevlenko mainly, Carpenter gave as much information he could remember, close protection, the mention by Marek of the Litsky Mafia not ringing any bells. The mention of the Litsky name causing Carpenter to retort with his knowledge of the Odessa activities of the two men, confirming that all the people who listen seem to know their involvement.
As Benoit was conversing with relative carelessness by way of name dropping, Marek felt compelled to join in, asking Carpenter if he knew of Dr Dorjiev. Unfamiliar with the name, Carpenter responded by assuring the two that he would do some digging. Benoit pushed forward looking for any information regarding meeting Shevlenko, Carpenter pointing them towards the Seminar being held the same evening at the convention centre.
Carpenter turned the conversation towards his preferred topic, how can the two of them pay for the information he had shared. Requiring Benoit to accompany him later in the evening for a stake out. Discussing the time, the seminar was at 7pm, Benoit was to accompany Carpenter alone from 10pm.
After a meal of Schnitzel and Schnapps, Carpenter took his leave, leaving Marek and Benoit to plan their next move.
Benoit pulled the Audi into a spacious car space outside a main market street, both men entering a tailor, needing to dress appropriately for the evening's activities. Within an hour, both men were back at Carrol’s apartment, suits and shoes boxed and in their appropriate hanging place.
Using his down time to research the seminar that the two would be attending, Marek did his best to research the topic, Geology and Politics of Central Asia, specifically Afghanistan, noticing that the seminar to be given by Shevlenko was by invitation only. In his mind, this was easily solved.
Arriving at the Vienna International Centre early, the two made their way across the grounds to the hall designated to the seminar. A small group of high society looking men and women were already standing around the entrance. Marek, not missing a step, engaged with several of the possible guests, as he scoped out his best target, not too high as not to be noticed.
As the doors opened to allow the guests in, Marek and Benoit both entered, pinning their newly acquired badges to the lapels of their jackets. Moving towards the front of the seating area, the two sat when directed, looking towards the front of the room, the large bodyguard, Taras was clearly visible off to the side, Katarina also visible in close proximity to Shevlenko who was shuffling some papers at the podium.
Sevastyan and Zhenya were also visible moving around in the background, Sevastyan scrolling through a tablet while Zhenya kept a watchful eye on Shevlenko.
As the crowd took their seats, Shevlenko began his lecture on the topic. After 40 minutes, he stepped back from the podium, the crowd rose to their feet with mild applause before Shevlenko and his entourage made their way forward to begin greeting the audience.
As Shevlenko interacted with numerous audience members, Benoit overheard him speaking fluent Arabic with several members of a Saudi Arabian delegation. Paying close attention, Marek and Benoit could both see that the members of Shevlenko’s staff were paying little attention to the conversation. Benoit’s fluent Arabic tongue picked up what could audibly be heard from the distance, also generating the thought that he could converse with Shevlenko without detection from the members of his staff who were close by.
As Shevlenko continued to work the crowd, his outstretched hand took that of Marek, who introduced himself by the name on his stolen name badge, thanking him for his seminar. Moving along the line, Benoit gave a sly nod to Marek as he spoke in Arabic to Shevlenko, asking for a private meeting Shevlenko’s response was that he was happy to meet, handing Benoit a card to contact Sevastyan for an appointment. It was clear that Shevlenko was in ‘crowd control’ mode. He did not seem to respond with any form of recognition to anything being said. Unable to resist the urge to test the theory, Marek leaned forward to Shevlenko, expressing that Dr Dorjiev sends his regards in no particular words, Shevlenko responded with smiles and no break in stride or momentum.
As Shevlenko moved towards the exit having greeted most of the room, Benoit and Marek both exchanged confused looks about how Shevlenko could possibly be of any value to them.
Moving through the masses that were swarming outside the main entrance, Marek could hear the discussions regarding the reception happening later in the evening regarding the seminars and convention politics. Thinking that it may be an option to attend with his new ID badge, the thought of leaving Benoit to handle the task Carpenter wanted him for alone was a dangerous notion.
Exiting the Convention Centre, Benoit turned his mind towards the next task, work with Carpenter that presented potential risk. Choosing to first head back to their residence to get changed, Benoit drove silently, his mind racing as to what Carpenter could possibly need him for. Marek on the other hand took a taxi directly to the restaurant where they had met Carpenter, the designated meeting point, choosing to wait outside to watch the comings and goings of customers, waiting for the familiar Audi to arrive.
