CHAPTER 38. WEDNESDAY OCTOBER 7, 08:00.
Treated himself to a shave and a sauna. Also to a hand job off the masseuse. Quick and clinical. Next please. However, he felt like a new man after that. As he got dressed, Tailpipe came in.
"What're you up to, Caramarin? Maiorescu's lot are lookin' all over for you."
"Thought they were, comrade. I'm here now, aren't I? If he wants me for anything, he's got my number."
"It was good knowing you, Caramarin. You want my opinion, get out now. Go back to Romania. Or Iceland or Australia or somewhere a million miles away."
"I'm not leaving. Tell him that, comrade."
"You can tell the old bugger yourself. See you around." Tailpipe pushed past Caramarin into the dim, steamy sauna.
The early October sunshine dazzled him. He slipped on his shades and took a cab over to
Deribasovskaya Street. Sat out at a table on the tree lined boulevard and watched the world go by. The pastel buildings looked great in the sun. The smartly dressed young people all looked like they belonged to the in crowd. A people who knew how to enjoy themselves and live life to the max. At times like this, Odessa was the best place to live in the world.
He felt tired but wired. Nervous energy fizzed through his bloodstream. Knew it was essential if he was going to live here to show that he wasn't afraid. And he wanted to live here.
Ordered the good healthy Ukrainian food he liked for lunch. He dialled Valeriya but she wasn't answering. Maybe she was sleeping. Wasn't concerned but when she still wasn't answering an hour later, he felt a clutch of worry around his heart.
Paid for lunch and left a decent tip for the pretty young waitress. Then he took a trip out to Seven Kilometre Market. Bought ammunition for his Kalash and CZ-75 pistol from a man who charged double the usual rates. Picked up a couple of other items.
Had to pay more than he expected and the dealer seemed unwilling to sell. Word about him was definitely getting around. Caramarin dialled Valeriya several more times but it always went to voice mail. The worry was turning to fear by the time he got back to Odessa.
His cell rang. Wasn't surprised to see Maiorescu's number on the display.
"You bastard, Caramarin."
"And good evening to you, too, comrade."
"Cut out the funny stuff, shit head. You've cost me a load of money."
"I know. You went too far with this sex trade stuff, you pervo. I didn't mind doing the money laundering, the protection, the extortion, even the gun running but what you were doing..."
"Listen," Maiorescu cut in, "I'm not fuckin' interested. There's good money and if a few slags get burned, who cares. Now listen good."
Valeriya's voice on the cell.
"They've got me, they've got..." The sound of a blow.
"Yeah, we've got your whore and her lad. They're safe with us now."
"Don't you dare touch them!" Caramarin shouted, making several people nearby turn to look. But one look at the angry man in a camo jacket on a cell and they looked away instantly.
"We need to meet. At the warehouse at eleven, capisce."
"No way. Not going into that death trap. No, I'll see you on the Potemkin Stairs at six. Nice and open and public. Okay, comrade."
"I give the orders. Why the fuck should I see a low life loser like you there?"
"Because I've got a copy of your laptop's hard drive. Remember when you forgot it in your car? Want me to make several copies? Want me to send them onto your friends, the papers, the Militsia? That what you want?"
There was a pause at the other end; he could hear a whispered conversation.
"And you'd better bring Valeriya and Vladimir, too, that's if you want the disc."
"How do I know how many copies you've run off?"
"You don't, pervo. But if you want to find out, you'll be there. With Valeriya." Caramarin closed the call.
Now he had to get off the street. Would be too easy for Maiorescu's thugs to rub him out before he had a chance to get Valeriya back. And he needed to settle with Maiorescu once and for all. No way was the gang boss going to let him get away with screwing his wife.
Caramarin took a mini bus to Moldavanka. He knew where his landlady hid a spare key under a flower pot so let himself into her apartment. Knew he had a few hours free because she always went to her social club most afternoons to catch the latest of which of her friends had died or been admitted to hospital.
He sat at her kitchen table and methodically stripped down and oiled the Kalash and CZ-75 pistol. Emptied and refilled the magazines. The long remembered skills kept the fear at bay as he concentrated on the task in hand. He looked up at the clock. Time to go. Slipped the pistol into a pocket and the Kalash into a sports bag then let himself out.
He made it to the Potemkin Stairs with time to spare. He leaned on the shady side by the statue of the Duc de Richelieu and looked down the Stairs. At this time of day, the Stairs were full of people coming and going. Tourists peering about them, locals in a hurry, sharp suited businessmen on cells, children laughing and playing. No way would Maiorescu start anything with so many witnesses.
Hoped it would be a simple exchange but expected anything to happen. He glanced down at his watch. Six p.m. exactly. He watched the people walking past. No-one he knew, no-one he recognised. Ten past. Easy, Maiorescu maybe running late. Twenty past. Maybe playing with him, showing him who was boss. Now half past.
A vagrant in the tattered remnants of a suit walking past, noticing Caramarin still standing there, put the bite on. Caramarin gave him a handful of change and the dosser shuffled off. Caramarin stretched and walked round the statue. Still no-one there.
Seven p.m. came and went. Startling him out of his watchfulness his cell burst into life; he pressed the green button.
"Still there? I'm changing the meet to three a.m. in the morning. Same place. Okay? You want to see your bitch and her boy again, you'll be there. Capisce?"
"Let me speak to her! I need to know they're all right."
Valeriya's voice came over the air.
"Nicolae! Don't go! Don't..." her voice was cut off.
"Maiorescu. Is she all right? Tell me you bastard," shouted Caramarin.
"So far. But if you want them back, you'll be at the Stairs with my disc at three. No tricks, you bastard." Maiorescu cut the call.
Maiorescu and no tricks? Not bloody likely. Caramarin wanted to walk away from this meeting.
Didn't want his bloody body rolling down the Stairs at five minutes past.