The Spy Case Chapter 1

The Spy Case

Chapter 1

 I pulled the fur lined hood of my parka up as a biting wind sprung up suddenly. I turned to face away from the wind and was startled to see a figure approaching. Moving back into the shadow of the doorway, the person came closer.

Somewhere in the distance a clock struck one bell. It was one a.m. The man passed the doorway where I was concealed in the shadows and moved along the street.

Not Malenkov, I noted having seen the man's face a few seconds before as he walked under a street lamp. Another half an hour and I'll return to the hotel, I thought. Maybe he's not coming.

I yawned. The cold Moscow night was beginning to make me weary. Since arriving in the Russian capital yesterday I hadn't had much time to sight-see. Dad has summoned me here as he needed help with a case. I was excited about the prospect of helping Dad and was doubly excited to travel to Moscow Russia.

Snow began to fall as I eased out of the shadows of the doorway. The old brick buildings around me looked like they housed apartments. Across the cobbled street the icy black water of the Moscow River flowed quick and silent.

Twenty meters to my right a stone bridge traversed the river. Suddenly footsteps could be heard on the bridge. I ducked back into the shadow as another man approached. He walked under the street lamp and I saw his face. It was Malenkov!

"Just find out where he goes" was the instructions I was given earlier that night. "find out and return to the hotel". Easy enough, I thought. I wasn't counting on it being so cold.

The man moved along and I peeled out of the shadows and followed – at a discreet distance. Another block and the man continued on in the darkness, snow swirling around us. I tried to walk nonchalantly as I could as to not arouse the man's suspicions.

Suddenly the man stopped and pulled something out of his pocket. A gun? A knife? I stopped in my tracks and watched the man take the object and flick something on it. A glow could be seen coming from the object as he moved it to his lips.

A lighter. I breathed a sigh of relief as the man lit a cigarette and continued along the dark street.

Now if I lose him I can always follow the cigarette smell.

The man walked for another ten city blocks before coming to stop in front of a nondescript building. He checked the number and went quickly inside the door.

I slowed my pace but continued on. As I came to the doorway I didn't dare stop but glanced quickly at the number on the door. I walked to the corner and stood and looked around as if I were lost. In case the man was suspicious and was perhaps watching me.

I turned back around and walked the way I had come, glancing briefly to confirm the number as I passed. No one was about. I walked away.

As I approached my previous hiding spot by the stone bridge, I heard footsteps approach from behind. Was it Malenkov returning?

I hurried over the bridge and headed to the main section of the city and the hotel where I was to rendez-vous.

The footsteps kept pace with me as I hurried along. The hotel was another 20 city blocks away. Should I hide and see if this person is following me, or continue on my way?

I decided to keep going. I could outrun this person if I was being followed. I was on the track team back in Port Salser, my hometown.

A few blocks later the person turned a corner and moved away.

I doubled back and checked the street behind me but no one was about. By now the snow had stopped and the wind had died down, but it was still bitterly cold. I was glad to finally see the lights of the hotel up in the distance.

The Hotel Kursk was a medium scale hotel in the downtown area of Moscow. I made my way up to room 360 and knocked. A voice from the other side bellowed, "Password".

I rolled my eyes. These Russians could be so melodramatic. "Odeen, dva, tree" I said, One two three.

The door opened and I faced a 6'7" Russian. Boris. His dark curly hair cascaded down his back and he was dressed all in black. His dark beard was thick and he had deep blue eyes.

Welcome, Mr. Macdonald, he said. Your father is waiting.

Thanks Boris, I said with a grin.

I went into the inner room and faced three men. One was my father.

Dad! I said, greeting him. I had not seen Dad since I arrived in Moscow.

Hello, son, he said with a smile. Glad to see you've returned. You have some information?

Yes, I said, facing the other two men. This is Romanov, Dad said motioning to a tall blond headed man, clean shaven with piercing green eyes. I shook Romanov's hand. He had a firm grip.

This is Mr. Petrov, Dad said, motioning to the other man. He was slightly shorter than Romanov and was dark haired with a thick moustache and brown eyes. Both men were dressed in black suits to match their moods.

Did you find out where Malenkov went, Petrov said in a thick Russian accent, getting down to business.

I related the evening's events and gave the address where Malenkov had gone. Romanov moved to the phone situated on a nearby table and made a call. He spoke in Russian then hung up. Mr. Malenkov will be dealt with, he related to us. I’d like to thank you, Mr. Macdonald and Mr. Macdonald Jr., he said looking at me. For your help in this matter. It looks like our association is at an end. We will question Mr. Malenkov and I am sure we will get to the bottom of this.

We shook the two men’s hands and retreated. Passing Boris he just smiled at us. Catch you laters, he said.

I waved goodbye and we went into the hall. We walked in silence until we reached our room on the fifth floor.

What was all that about, I asked Dad as I kicked off my boots and flopped on the bed.

Dmitri Malenkov, the man you were following is an employee of Trans Siberian Oil. He’s been suspected of working secretly with a rival company to sabotage the pipeline project in Siberia. Another oil company, American Atlantic Oil hired me to work with TSO to find out who was responsible for sabotaging the deal.

What is the problem? I asked. Who is sabotaging the deal?

TSO needs land to build the pipeline from the headquarters near Yakutska in Siberia about 700 km to the east shoreline of Russia at the Sea of Okhotsk. The city of Tukchi is on the coast and that is where the pipeline will end. But someone is buying up land around the area where the pipeline is due to be built. They’ve already started building it and now suddenly the land is being bought up quickly and quietly. TSO is in danger of losing the contract with AAOil if they can’t build the pipeline as they promised.

Whew! I said. I’ll bet that contract is worth a lot of money.

Dad just nodded solemnly. A lot of money, yes, he said finally. We’re talking in the billions of dollars.

Malenkov has been acting strangely the last while and we believe that he thinks that Petrov and Romanov are on to him. We needed someone to find out where he was going tonight. Someone he wouldn’t suspect. They needed someone on short notice and I thought of you and they agreed to use you.

I hope everything works out. It was fun but I’m exhausted. It’s late.

I pulled on my gym shorts and t-shirt and crawled into bed. As soon as my head hit the pillow I was out.

The shrill ringing of the telephone woke me from a deep slumber. The bedside clock read 6 am.

Dad picked up and spoke in hushed tones for a minute then hung up. I sat up in bed and rubbed my eyes.

They want to see us right away, Dad said, solemnly. It’s Petrov and Romanov. They’re are the police station.

We dressed quickly and bundled up in our parkas and boots. Heading out into the early morning cold, snow began to fall. We headed to Police Headquarters which thankfully were only a few blocks away.

We were met at reception and when we introduced ourselves were ushered into an office down a dimly lit corridor. Petrov and Romanov were waiting.

Not one to make small talk, Petrov got right to business. We went to the address you gave us, Mr. Macdonald. Malenkov was not there, but he had been there. We went to his home.

Was he arrested? Where is he now? Dad said, looking between the two men.

There was a bit of a problem, Romanov replied looking at his partner. We questioned him and he claims he was set up.

Did he give a name? I asked.

No, we wasn’t able to, Petrov said gravely.

Dad and I exchanged glances. Why? What happened? I said

Malenkov had a heart attack, right in front of us! He’s lying unconscious in a Moscow hospital.