The Spy Case
Chapter 4
Grinkov eyed me suspiciously as he took Olga's statement. Pushtin came over to question me. You see who does this? He asked gruffly.
I did not witness the attack, I reported. But I did see a man named Boris—I'm not sure his last name. He works at the TSO headquarters in Moscow. I saw him leaving just before I came in to talk to Mr. Krakov. He was leaving in a big hurry. I mentioned how I had come to meet Boris previously—in hushed tones so that Olga would not overhear.
Pushtin jotted some notes. You can give description of this—Boris?
I described the man as best I could, Pushtin making more notes. We follow up on this, he said finally. He motioned to his partner to join us. They spoke momentarily in Russian then Pushtin turned to me. Olga did not see who was attacking him. She was not injured. She says she fell—fainted when she sees Mr. Krakov. Thank you, Mr. Macdonald. We will follow this lead where it takes us. Now we are going.
I nodded and they left. Olga was crying now. I tried to soothe her but she called her daughter to come and pick her up and take her back home in Yakutska. I was just leaving the office when Vlad showed up at the entrance. What's happening. I saw an ambulance leave. Is someone hurt?
I related that I had found Mr. Krakov unconscious behind his desk. I didn't mention Boris. Olga is distraught but her daughter is taking her home.
Wow! Vlad muttered. Before you came this place was boring, Sergei will attest to that.
Yeah, I remarked. I just wish the excitement wasn't someone getting hurt. I wonder why someone would want to hurt Krakov. Olga told me nothing was taken from his office, so it wasn't a robbery.
Vlad just shook his head. I don't know why he was hurt. He's a nice man. He wouldn't hurt anyone. He was strict but very fair. I can't see one of the employees doing anything.
I was listening to Vlad but my mind was racing. What connection did Boris have to Krakov? Was Krakov the spy? I suddenly had an idea. Say, Vlad does anyone have a car I could borrow.
Why? Vlad wondered. Where do you want to go?
I want to go into Yakutska, I replied. Since there's no work tonight, I thought I would check out the town. I may not get many more chances.
There's nothing much in Yakutska, he informed me. It's not like in Canada. There are no movie theatres and not even a mall.
That's OK. I just want to explore.
He thought for a moment. Well, my friend Volya has a car that he might lend you if you pay for gas.
That sounds fair, I said with a smile.
I climbed into Volya's old—well more like ancient car. It was small and had a stick shift. It was a good thing I could drive a standard transmission. Vlad introduced me to Volya who was a short dark haired youth, not much older than me. He had long dark hair and a wispy beard. He didn’t speak much English either but smiled when I offered to fill up his tank. He gladly lent me his car.
УДаЧи, Volya called out as I pulled away and headed to the main entrance. I think that meant “good luck”. I turned left and headed to Yakutska. It was getting darker so I hoped I made it OK. About 2 km down the road the car sputtered and quit. I pulled over to the side of the road. Now I know why Volya said good luck, I muttered as I tried to restart the ignition. I was about to give up when the car sputtered to life. I noticed the gas gauge was on “E”. I hoped the car would make it to town where I would have to get some gas.
The landscape was bleak as I puttered along the road. Finally a small town came into view, its water tower rising up in the distance. I had been thinking about the case as I drove along. Was the explosion at the hangar related to the attack on Krakov? And what purpose did it serve. The pipeline would continue on once another shipment of supplies was received. A lot more damage would have been done if the explosion had taken place the next day with the new shipment of supplies. Very mysterious.
And what Vlad had said about someone in the Moscow office setting up his father. I had told Dad this on the phone earlier and he said he would follow up with Petrov and Romanov.
Volya’s car sputtered again and died again. I pulled over to the side of the road at the edge of the town. I tried to restart the car but it wasn’t having any of that. I got out of the car and pulled my scarf up around my neck and put my gloves back on. It was bitterly cold and the town looked not very lively in the dusk. I spied a gas station about a block away, so I put the car in neutral and pushed it along the street. Thankfully it was a small car so it wasn’t that difficult.
A young man came out of the station when he noticed me pushing the car and helped me push it the rest of the way up to the station’s only pump. He spoke in Russian but I shrugged. I don’t speak Russian.
Oh, you are English? He asked with a grin. I speak little English—learn from school. Name is Vasily.
Yes, from Canada. I’m Justin.
You have my friend Volya’s car. He lend to you? I hope you not steal car from him, he added with a frown.
No, Volya lent it to me. I told him I would fill it up with gas for him. Vasily nodded. OK, I fill up.
How much? I asked him as he was putting the cap back on. He told me the price and I almost choked. No wonder Volya lent me his car. It probably took a week's wages to fill it up. I paid Vasily and he looked at the money like it made his weekly—maybe even monthly quota in sales—which it probably did.
I thanked Vasily and got back in the car. I really hoped it would start. It took a few attempts, but the engine finally roared to life. Vasily waved as I pulled out of the station and headed into town. I was looking for Boris’ little blue car. I soon found it parked in a restaurant parking lot near the centre of town.
I parked at the far end of the lot and went inside the seedy restaurant. It was dark and gloomy inside, the lighting pretty low. Maybe they were trying to conserve energy. I soon spotted Boris in the far back of the room in a booth.
I sidled over to his table and stopped. Boris. How are you?
He glanced up at me, squinting in the low light. Justin? Is this you, Justin Macdonald?
Yes, it’s me, Boris. Surprised to see me?
A little bit, yes, he said. I—what are you doing here, Justin?
Didn’t your bosses tell you I was out here at the TSO facility? You must have heard someone is sabotaging the pipeline project. You also heard Petrov and Romanov ask me to investigate. Back at the hotel in Moscow, I remarked. You know that’s why I’m here.
I did know that, he said, visibly calming down. But why are you here in Yakutska. Have a seat.
I sat down across from him in the tiny booth. I glanced around the restaurant. There were only a few patrons. A blond guy sat hunched over his meal at a corner table. A young couple sat at another and looked to be having a small argument.
Are you following me? He asked, taking a sip of his water. How did you know I was here?
I followed you from TSO. I saw you earlier tonight, leaving the offices.
I was looking around for you, he said with a large grin. I was actually looking for you earlier but you were not in your room. I was going to contact you later tonight. I did not expect to see you here in town. I came in for some dinner. The food at TSO is not very good some days. Your father and my bosses send me here to look after you. You needed help, they said.
I was sceptical of his story, but why would he lie?
The waiter came by then to see if I wanted anything. He was a gangly teenager with long dark hair and a t-shirt with an American rock band on the front. I ordered a ham dinner and a bowl of borscht—a beet soup to start.
You are working undercover. I know these things, Boris continued. I do not blame you if you are not believing me. You can call your father. Once you have eaten of course. This place is not the nicest—not like the restaurants back in Moscow, he said, waving his hand around in the air, but the borscht is very good here. You will like.
I studied Boris carefully but he seemed calm now. I guess I just startled him when I came in. Either he was a very good actor or he really was here to help me.
I saw you leaving the office building at TSO. You were to see Krakov?
Yes, I had some things to discuss with him.
I saw you leaving, I related. I went in to see Krakov right after and he had been attacked. He’s at the hospital here in Yakutska. Someone walloped him really good.
And you are thinking this is me? Boris exclaimed, nearly choking on his steak. I swear I found Krakov like this. I panicked and left but I called the ambulance—anonymously. I do not want involvement in these things.
That was why the ambulance didn’t take long to come, they had already received a call to come to TSO. OK, maybe I believe you, I said as the waiter brought my borscht. So who did attack him then? I asked after the waiter left.
Boris pouted dramatically behind his bushy beard. I do not know these things and I am sorry you have no faith in me, Justin, but what I say is the truth.
You must find this out, Justin, he said. I cannot become involved in this—I am only here to watch out for you. I am being your—how do you say it in America—your back up.
I was inclined to believe Boris. His story did fit the facts, but I was still a little wary. Krakov did mention Boris’ name, though. I asked Boris this.
He was expecting me, Boris said. Maybe he thinks I did it to him but I am sure it was not me.
OK, I believe you. I’m of course going to call my father and get his side of the story.
Very good, Boris said, finishing off his steak and wiping his mouth on the napkin. He took a long swig of his drink and put the glass back on the table with a thud. Here comes your food now. Enjoy.
Boris stayed with me while I ate my supper. It was delicious—a fact that belied the surroundings. Can’t judge a book by it’s cover—or in this case a restaurant by it’s decor. Boris left and would continue back to the TSO plant. I went looking for a phone to call dad. My cell had no service out here so I asked around and the only public phone was at the small hospital. The one Krakov had been taken to apparently.
I found the phone in the front lobby and after finding an operator who spoke English, they were able to connect my call to my Dad’s cell. But there was no answer. I would try again later.
I decided that since I was already here, I would check on Mr. Krakov. But when I enquired at the nurse’s station they reported that he was still unconscious. That was all they could tell me as he was under strict guard and could not be disturbed.
As I was exiting the hospital I nearly collided with a blond man as I went around a blind corner. Sorry, he muttered in Russian and continued on his way into the building.
I headed to my car but something was niggling at my subconscious. The blond man. Where had I seen him before?
He was the man at the restaurant, sitting hunched over his meal. His thick blond hair was unmistakable. But I had seen him somewhere else—but where?
I continued on to my car lost in thought. I suddenly heard a voice calling my name from across the parking lot. It was Boris
Justin, he called again, motioning me to come over to his vehicle. Did you see a blond man—just now when you came out of the hospital?
Yes, I affirmed. He bumped into me as I was leaving. I was checking on Krakov. Why? Who is he?
I don’t know, but I saw him earlier—at TSO, right before I went to see Krakov. I saw him again at the restaurant and followed him here, but I didn’t see him go in.
You think he’s here to harm Krakov? I blurted.
Go back inside and see if you can find him. I’m calling the authorities.
I hurried back inside and headed to Krakov’s room. I was about to go inside when a voice boomed behind me. Stop! They said in Russian
Эй! A voice called out. Hey!
I ignored the voice and went into the room, which was now in darkness. I gasped.
A figure was hunched over Krakov’s bed!
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