Cold Blood by Alex Shaw Read Free Book Online Page A

secretary to send him in a ‘tea’. Macintosh was career diplomat and skilled at cocktail parties but when the real world encroached on his delicate sensibilities he really struggled. That’s why I’m here, mused Vickers.
    Nearing his own office he remembered the email in his in tray from the CCCI mission manager in London. Bugger, that was his other hat calling. Alistair Vickers’s official post was that of Commercial Attaché at the British Embassy, Kyiv. He however wore another, albeit invisible hat, that of the SIS man in Ukraine. Kyiv had been Vickers’s second-choice posting after Moscow.
    Sitting back at his own desk he picked up a custard cream and crunched it between his teeth before sipping his now cold tea, White Earl Grey with two sugars. A purist would never add the milk but he just liked it that way. He replaced the cup and saucer on his desk and leant back to concentrate on the report. He had of course met Jas on many occasions. The man was not afraid of self-advertising and had managed to get into most of the national newspapers as well as join expatriate business groups such as the American Chamber of Commerce. In fact he was probably one of the most well-known ‘Brits’ in Ukraine, which made his murder all the more curious.
    Vickers liked to think that he knew the feel of a place and spoke regularly with his contacts in the Sluzhba Bezpeky Ukrayiny (SBU), the Ukrainian security service. He had been of the opinion that Jas had had a good ‘ Krisha ’, a ‘roof’ in other words; his local partner had protected him from any unsavoury interest from other businessmen, mafia. Big business to some extent was still governed by the mafia in Ukraine and the more noise you made the more likely it was that you would encounter them. Jas’s partner was ideally placed to protect him. The man was a former KGB general and Hero of the Soviet Union who now had amassed a fortune as a businessman. If anyone called the shots then this man, General Valeriy Varchenko, did. As close to an Oligarch as you could get in Ukraine, Varchenko had his base in Odessa, Ukraine’s pretty port city. Vickers crunched on another biscuit. Why would anyone pick a fight with Varchenko, for killing his business partner surely was an act of war?
    *
    Central Kyiv
     
    “Da. I’m listening.”
    Dudka cleared his throat, “Please put me through to Valeriy Ivanovich.”
    There was a slight pause. “Whom would you be?”
    “Tell him it is Genna.” Dudka drummed his fingers on the plastic café table.
    Another pause, noises in the background. “OK.”
    Dudka heard a rustling at the other end and then a muffled voice started to speak, “Gennady Stepanovich, my dear friend how are you?”
    “Fine my friend. Is this an inconvenient moment?”
    “No, no,” Varchenko replied, “I am in the middle of a rather good lobster. The next time you are in Odessa you really must try one.”
    Dudka eyed his pathetic café sandwich. “I have something that I need to discuss with you.”
    “Oh, and what might that be?” Varchenko’s voice was now clear.
    Dudka cast his eyes around the terrace; there seemed to be no one eavesdropping. “Can we meet at the dacha ?”
    If any other man had received a call from a Deputy Head of the SBU, the Head of the Main Directorate for Combating Corruption and Organized Crime, they would have been justified in showing concern, however with Valeriy Varchenko, the retired KGB general, what registered sounded more like annoyance. “It is not very convenient.”
    “I insist old friend.” Dudka held firm, after all he was still the enlisted man even though he turned a ‘general’ blind eye to the general in Odessa.
    Varchenko sighed, more for effect than anything else. “Very well. We’ll meet tomorrow afternoon at three. I’ll even have the chef here prepare you a lobster.”
    “Agreed.” Dudka put the phone down. He knew where the chef could stick his precious lobster. He bit into his open sausage