CHAPTER EIGHT
They left the Grotinov Dacha mid afternoon, and the cousin parked as close to the track they had used.
“Don’t fall asleep, turn the engine off but keep the key in the car, there’s a chance we will all come flying out fast.”
The cousin nodded.
They both got out, Raulf checked the gun in the holster close to his armpit. Vincent noticed.
“If and when you come to use it, select the target and don’t freeze in trepidation. Select, draw smooth but quickly, and fire. Then do it all over again, as we practised after lunch in the garden. Take it out now and release the safety.”
“I trust I won’t have to use this thing.” Raulf grumbled.
“Maybe, maybe not we don’t take chances. My shout you run with Misha. Don’t forget the apartment, first shot is a warning so down on your face, the second is for the target. If you are confronted by more than one antagonist then draw the Browning and shoot the ones not hit, go for the one nearest you see first, I will take out the others.”
“Sounds like a war coming up.”
“True, but they are expecting a spineless accountant, with no head for fisticuffs.”
“Why are you sure they are there.”
“Because they watched us last time, they made no move towards us, maybe they were short on bodies and they’ve had time to summon more resources. Still it might be a breeze no problems at all. In this game never pre suppose, take the blackest view and work on that.”
“Why did I ever get into this Vincent, which reminds this vest you’ve got me strapped in weighs a ton. I shan’t be able to run all that fast.”
“Raulf with what could be following you, you’ll run and the steel around your chest will help with the forward propulsion.”
“It’s not the front that worries me Vincent old soul, it’s the rear end!”
“Lets go. Good luck, remember keep to the clearing, that’s vital.” Vincent peeled off into the undergrowth, leaving Raulf to walk steadily along the track to the bridge. Occasionally an overhanging birch branch swept by his face and he tried to remember which ones were likely to hit him if he had to come storming back in a hurry.
He entered the clearing without incident and saw the fire was burning brightly in Sasha’s fireplace, so he sat down on one of the tyres and waited. He heard a short sharp whistle come from over the river and one in reply from this side under the bridge. Sasha walked from under one of the larger arches towards the fire and sat down.
“You are early, I said late afternoon.”
“The whistles?”
“A signal to tell Misha to come He will walk across the bridge and jump down up there.”
They waited in silence until Raulf saw a slight figure peering over the railings, then slipping through to jump, then running down the loose scree to reach them.
Raulf studied him as he crossed to the fire and sat down beside Sasha. His youthful face had a touch of Mongolian to his Slavic features, his lips with a slight pout, his frame was slight and he seemed half the size Raulf had expected. He was dressed in rough brown serge uniform with a red and white-stripped shirt. He looked twelve, thirteen at most, but his face was etched in trepidation, the larger than average forehead lined in frowns. Raulf’s immediate instincts were of a sad and lonely waif; he remembered how he felt when he became an orphan. Sasha interrupted his thoughts.
“”Mr. Turpin this is Misha, we don’t have much time for we are going to leave this place for good tonight.”
“Where will you go?”
“You will give us money for a train journey, we can go east, where Misha’s parents came from or South to the sea where our knowledge of English will work for tourists.”
“Does Misha have any relatives in the East?’
“No, but he remembers he was happy there.”
All this while Misha was moving his chin up to speak, summoning some courage deep within him his mouth opened to revel a bright set of teeth as he spoke.
“They mean to kill me, where ever I go they will find me. Gustav has told me this.”
“Gustav?”
“A guy who lives close by, sniffs glue.” Sasha turned his eyes up to the sky.
“I propose that you both come with me and return to General Grotinov’s for your own safety. There we can discuss your future and travels.”
“I have stayed already there.” Misha said simply.
“Then you realise that they only want to help you, Misha. To stop this wandering life of yours. How do you and Sasha survive for food?”
“I was sent to a colony for re-education Article 144 Paragraph 3 for two and a half years, for stealing, we took from garages or apartments that were unlocked, sometimes food or money if it was there, sometimes things to sell at the markets.”
“Yes you have served your time.”
“Mr. Turpin, I felt safe in there, away from those who wish me dead. Because of a father who gave his son a name for you father.”
“My uncle you mean, Uncle Todd.”
“Yes that is he.”
“Why did you run from the General?”
“Because they need me for evidence at a trial. I would not survive; they have people in the adult prisons, in the militia, in the Duma, everywhere, as a spider’s web. Sasha wants us to run but Gustav knows my story and he says I shall be caught soon.”
“Gustav is a drunk and see only the bottom of his bottle, I explain to Misha that he should not have told Gustav, but as you see Misha is not strong.”
“Misha is strong up here Sasha, maybe not here.” Misha tapped his head then angled his slight arms to shoulder height. “ I give you name now.”
Raulf felt in his side pocket for his notebook and move his arm inside his jacket for his pen. As he reached for the pocket top he touched the handle of the Browning. He withdrew the pen and handed it to Misha, who concentrated on writing. Raulf leant forward to take the pad, but Misha said he had another to write, English one.
From beneath the largest arch two men had walked, or rather sauntered out into the clearing.
“Sasha do you know who they are?” Raulf asked quietly.
“They are here to speak with you.”
“I do not know them.”
“They said they would come to speak with you if you came back.”
“How much did they pay you and Misha for this knowledge.”
“They pay Misha nothing only me”, He spat out, “ For too long I have shared with him, they offer many roubles for him, but he wavers and runs from places we are to meet. Only a name of Turpin will he meet, so I tell them to come as well and all will meet together, I have money to travel and they have Misha.”
“Well said Sasha, you have done well, and a packet for you,” the tall distinguished grey hatted one threw an envelope to Sasha who rose and strode away to his archway.
“Well Mr. Turpin, allow me to introduce myself, I’m sure my name appears on that notepad that the boy Misha will hand to you.”
Raulf took the pad and noted two names General Cheneskin and Duncan Arnas.
“And you are?”
Cheneskin pulled the notepad from Raulf’s hand; a thin smile came over his face,
“The boys father knew a great deal, and sadly you both have learned the same.”
“Duncan Arnas?”
“A knight of your realm, highly placed.”
“I presume one of yours?”
“On my left is Mr., I’m sorry, Don Dagio.” Cheneskin turned and bowed to his partner.
“From Italy, like minds you might say?”
“Indeed Mr. Turpin you might say that. Now we haven’t come alone, if you feel like calling for help there are only ourselves here.”
“Gustav?” Misha cried out.
“In the river I’m afraid, he’ll have plenty to drink there.” Cheneskin chortled.
“What do you intend to do with us?” Raulf leaned forward picking the pen up re-screwed the cap and put it back in his inside pocket.
“You are taking this very calmly, however since you ask we shall leave Misha to Don Dagio, he has a penchant for slitting throats and as for you.” Cheneskin drew a revolver from his coat, Misha rose and leapt across the fire shouting in Russian, ‘Niet. Niet.”
He pushed Raulf off the tyre and they landed in a heap just as a shot was heard.
Raulf turned and shouted to Misha to stay close to the ground, but he could see Cheneskin wheeling around, blood spurting from his head, his arm involuntarily waving the revolver. A second shot hit him close to the shoulder forcing him to the ground. Raulf’s gun was in his hand as the Don made a grab for Misha, Raulf shot twice, one hit the Don in the shoulder the other missed but it was enough to force the Don back.
“Run with me Misha, run with me.”
“Not track there are others he said, come to bridge.” Misha yelled.
Raulf loosed off another bullet in the Sicilians direction and had a hit on the thigh. His mind was racing, a sudden thought crept in how cold he was, he grabbed Misha’s arm and he pulled him towards the track. Misha was quicker and ran to the front, ahead Raulf spotted two men, they had machine guns, he aimed for the closer one, ‘I hope that Vincent’s not chosen the same one’ as he fired. The men had been along the track, heard the gunfire and were unsure as they knew their boss was in a killing mood. That combined with Raulf’s growing competence blew the head off one, whilst the other fell with Vincent behind him.
“Run you two, is there anyone behind you?”
“Only an Italian called Dagio. I hit him twice but he was making for the arches, Sasha sold out to them. Where you going?”
“Personal business, take the boy to the car, I’ll be a minute, tell the cousin to park in the apartment car park, I’ll find you. Keep that gun out and ready.” Vincent stormed off the track and headed for the arches. Raulf guided Misha ahead of him, there was a crack and he felt a horse kick in his back, he fell and the Browning went skidding ahead. Misha turned and picked the gun up, the man put another bullet into Raulf’s back before Misha got his shot away. The Mafia hoodlum crashed down into the birches, Misha picked Raulf’s arm up, scared, he shrilly urged Raulf to run with him. Raulf was hurting but his cool reasoning returned he couldn’t feel the dripping warmth of any blood, he would have expected that, but the bullets seemed still to be there, in his skin. Misha’s faces was flushed and wet, Raulf couldn’t remember it raining, he looked up as he ran and was slashed by a birch branch, he remembered he should have been watching and ducking under them. They arrived at the car, Misha shoved him in and jumped on top of him, in Russian Raulf yelled to the cousin to get to the apartment car park and wait. By then he’d worked it out the bullets have made indents in the metal, that’s what he was feeling.
“Get this bloody thing off Misha”, as they both scrambled to get the heavy vest away.
“Turn over Mr. Turpin I check back.” Misha ordered.
“Raulf, call me Raulf, and be careful I can feel blood.”
“Superficial, skin damage, and bruises coming, blue and large.”
“Thank you for the synopsis, I think you can get off me now and look for Mr. Lazlo.”
“Who Mr. Lazlo?”
“A friend, a very old one who protects us.”
The friend meanwhile had headed for the river and then come under the central arch on the other side of the bridge. Vincent then carefully stepped from arch to arch, until he heard a scream come from the smallest arch, he ran gun in hand and saw Dagio, dipping dagger in hand standing over Sasha’s body.
“Drop the knife Dagio.”
Dagio turned quickly and crouched ready to spring. Vincent shot the red dagger from his hand.
“Move back against the wall.”
“Who are you.” Dagio growled in Sicilian
“I am Vincent Bechella.”
Dagio’s face was thoughtful, and then he shook his head.
“No, I only know one such and you are not he, he died soon after the rest of his stinking family. But you are one of us I can tell by your accent, I am wounded, you will help to a doctor and you will be repaid.”
“As you did to Sasha just now.”
“He was a nothing, an informant, in our business there is no place for tales. Now give me my knife.”
Vincent picked up the knife with his gloved hand, and held it up to see the haft.”
“This knife I drew from my own mothers breast, you may have it back for it is the second time I have returned it to you.”
Dagio’s eyes blinked in remembrance, his crotch damped, where Vincent shot him first. Then the dagger that Vincent held was thrust into Dagio’s stomach and drawn upwards. As he lay dying, Vincent spoke of those times, Dagio tried to speak but his tongue was caught in Vincent’s strong grip and slashed out with the knife.
“That’s for my dog, and this is for my father and brother.” He stuffed the tongue back into Dagio’s gurgling mouth and shot him once in the temple. He checked Sasha but he Sasha was dead, his throat cut and a dagger lunge to the heart had killed him instantly. Mercifully it had been quick thought Vincent as he made his way down to the river to wash the blood from his gloves and cloths. As he re-holstered his gun he cleaned himself up as best he could. As he looked down the river to check on any movement, he saw what looked like a bag of rags caught in a tree trunk. Taking his coat and shoes off and his holster he swam to the log and pulled an old man from it, then swam for the shore.
The man was only just conscious and as Vincent dressed he waited for the old man to come too. Vincent then stepped into the shade of the trees.
“What’s your name.” Vincent asked in Russian.
“Gustav, are you the idiot who hit me on the head?”
“No, but he’s dead.”
“How is little Misha, and that thief and malcontent who calls him his friend, Sasha?”
“You should not speak of the dead in such a tone.”
“Both gone?”
Vincent did not reply he was walking away carefully watching until he reached the track. He came across the two heavies, and further on the man Misha had killed. He shook his head then returned to the clearing. Taking a small camera from his pocket he photographed each of the bodies and heads, including Sasha’s, then returned to the men on the track. Then he returned to the road and walked across to the car park.
He opened the passenger front door and clipped on his seat belt.
“All belted up then lets go.” They drove quickly to the apartment block.
“Vincent.” Raulf began.
“Leave it Raulf till later please. By the way you better let me have the Browning back now whilst Russia still has some population, I presume the safety catch is on.”
“I forgot.”
“Um. What else did you forget?”
“My notebook, it has my name on the cover, you did say I had to get Misha and run.”
“True,” Vincent pulled out the notepad and handed it over, “Name in embossed gold you’d never make a good criminal, by the way who pays for that.”
“The office, anyway I didn’t ask to become a hit man, so I’m sorry if I’ve disappointed you.’
“Not in the least I’m very proud of you, you stood up well, but how many shells had you left after your shooting spree?”
“Well I shot off two I’m sure in the clearing, then one at the hoodlum on the track, and Misha fired one at another hoodlum.”
“Two,” Misha stated quickly, “to make sure Mr. Lazlo.”
“Well when we get back what will you both do?”
“Drink a beer and unwind.” Raulf said. Misha just shrugged his shoulders.
“I’ll give it back when we reach the dacha, you will please first polish both your prints off the revolver, before you hand it back to the General. So we return to England as soon as we can book a flight.”
“What will happen to Misha, can we find him a safe position, or perhaps the General will be able to help.”
“Perhaps, by the way you had two names on your pad, I presume one was killed, I’ve photographed them for identification. But there was a second.”
“Arnas, Dick Arnas or something.”
“Duncan Arnas.” Misha said.
“Sir Duncan Arnas, Cabinet Secretary I believe, we’ll need to talk this further in the barn, for the time being don’t mention the name please either of you. By the way Raulf say hello to your cousin Misha.”
“What?”
“I’ll tell you later, let’s just enjoy the ride.”