Текст книги "SpyCorp"

Автор книги: Alexander Deev

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Alexander Deev
SpyCorp

All rights reserved.

Novel by Alexander Deev.

Cover and design by Sasha Lend.

to contact the project visit

www.spycorp.co

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places and events are product of author's imagination or otherwise used fictitiously. None of the opinions expressed in the novel are opinions of the author. All opinions are opinions of the novel's characters.

Word by Author

The following story is a set of events that happened not so long ago. These events are known to me through the documents and the media files I acquired from an anonymous source. Those documents and files were used to create the written pieces that are the content of the novel. These pieces were intended to be as close to the documents acquired as possible. They precisely portray the events as these events happened. I also should note that as soon as I finished the novel, all initial sources were destroyed as it was my agreement with the giver. I also note that all names, dates, and other details able to help the identification of these events’ participants were altered to protect my source. The rest is true.

Oct, 29. Morning and Day. Private Audio Diary of Elise. by Elise

As I remember it, Martin was almost asleep, drifting in a smog of his dream. And it was a telephone call that made him totally awake. That part of his mind which was away from the real world entered the reality. Suddenly, shaken. While he was talking – unsteady hand, pressing an instrument to his ear – his face changed. That was something. Something on the other end of the line.

I worked for this doc film studio for a couple of years. We all here, or at least most of us, have some other jobs on the side. Our days it is not so easy to make your living making the non-fiction features. And for us, the industry does not provide a permanent current of orders and sales. TV channels big enough won’t pay for anything you do and won’t give you an order to do anything you can do.

Once, I decided to use the opportunity for such a job because for a young girl like me, without some highly positioned friends and relatives, and without a prominent inheritance, an occupation a bit closer to TV, or something that at least might seem to be a more creative kind of business, was more promising than some other opportunities I could choose from. Though, I am not a kind of person who at any given moment in one’s life is expecting the unbelievable to happen. To happen and to carry you away from the world of boring reality. But the bloody truth is that I as usually expected my next turn to be a little better than it was indeed. When you start dating someone, do not you expect this new person to be a little more interesting than your previous experiences? If you don’t, we are different. That’s for sure.

Me, I always seize an opportunity for a portion of sweet dreams about something better entering my life when beginning new relations with my new boyfriend. I’m not that kind of female who expects someone to marry her right on the spot and arrange the most perfect marriage ever with the most perfect kids, etc. Of course not. One may say I was not born in the nineteenth century. But maybe I hope for something that is more like an adventure. At least, one little adventure appearing out of the blue in a current of my ever boring life. And maybe he would be more fascinating than a usual person. A little smarter than the guys usually are. Just a little. And only then it all appears to be the same old crap. Nothing so special.

And maybe that is also the way I could feel about a new occupation. What if it is a new move forward? Something that can finally change my life previously scheduled with so many absolutely expected things to happen. My route in life and career was an endless line of different jobs which were so similar in meaning. I was extending the way of loser items on my employee list with things like the shop assistant and do-this-and-that girl. And I dreamed of traveling. To buy a ticket for an airplane and to take a place in a heavy machine ready to carry me and some hundred other people to another continent across the sea. And maybe I would like to be the only passenger who didn’t care to buy the return ticket.

In my dreams, I never saw someone like Leo DiCaprio or James Franco, but so many times I saw myself leaving my hometown on a giant aircraft. It is not that I don’t like handsome actors, just I didn’t see them in my dreams so often as the steel wings breaking the clouds of pure white in the sky of crystal blue. And no matter, if you want to see some international celebrity, maybe you will need to cross the ocean for a beginning.

As a schoolgirl, I always was the best at geography knowing all capitals of all countries, because in my younger years I found some fun in studying the maps. Subconsciously I just wanted to get away from here and as far as possible. Someday, somewhere to Latin America, Australia, any distant and beautiful destination.

But instead, I was here in the tiny room which was something between office and store. A place Martin, who de facto became my closest chief, called the studio. But the studio was not filled with the art. Not the pieces of Da Vinci, Monet, and Modigliani, but tons of papers, photos enfolded in the yellow and red document cases together with some features by Michael Moore belonged to its shelves, which stood across two longer walls of a rectangular room.

And right then, I found myself standing near Martin who was sitting behind his monitor having a face of a man who was just unexpectedly struck. Expression of weird shock, excitement, and astonishment blended was frozen in his eyes. Some few seconds before, he was just talking on the phone, and now it was a different kind of Martin in front of me. Whether it was this someone on the other end of the conversation who made him feel so or something else, I will never have a chance to know. I was still standing with some papers he asked me to bring in my hands watching him unconsciously. I pretended I did not notice anything I was not supposed to notice.

Here it is. I said and was going to show the diagrams of primal importance from the study he wanted to know about. But he was somewhere far away. And all Martin responded with was What? that he said in such unsure way that I didn’t know whether I should’ve continued unfolding a summary of research contents. Or maybe I should’ve just left a pack of sheets filled with figures and researcher explanations on his table and move away silently.

So… This showcase in view of the author actually explains why situation could take the form like this and to develop to the point when… I began slowly almost moved only by the inertia of my intention which previously was clear. But then I did not think it was a good time to talk on the subject. I’ll better explain you this a bit later. I said. He responded with a sigh coming from so far away. Yeah… And by saying this he still was staring somewhere through the wall, his eyes wide open. And I slid away to be absolutely forgotten for some hours until I would be needed again for some please-bring-me-this errand.

After some minutes he picked up the notebook and pencil and left the room. I spent the rest of the day reading some stuff which could turn to be useful for Martin’s next documentary film, drinking coffee and eating sandwiches. Alone. Thanks to my rapid metabolism which allows me to put as many sandwiches inside my stomach as I please, without thinking about what will happen to my skinny body constitution. Finally, it looks like I fished something out of this paper pile. Something that can be useful. And then satisfied, I went home.

This evening, I watched a couple of boring TV shows, read some book and spent some time dreaming about my future.

Recorded October 29, before going to bed. End of line.

Oct, 29. Morning. from Dictaphone Record. by Martin

I still do not know what it really was. And I expect the absolute essence of happening to be never revealed to my poor mind. Was it luck or misfortune? I only can say it was unusual. Sitting in front of a monitor, I was trying to gather all pieces of supposed documentary feature into a single shape. My stomach was in process with the breakfast I ate an hour earlier, and my brains were processing the pieces of video and the writing stuff while trying to overcome a state of sleepiness. I asked Elise whether she could find and bring me a folder with some papers I wanted to see in addition to what I saw on display.

And then it came. The thing was falling out of the blue sky. My old-fashioned office phone rang, and I almost instinctively picked up the instrument while continuing to view the lines of text and the photos covering a surface of my computer’s monitor. That was the call of a lifetime.

I am a person who hardly perceives too many things emotionally. But about this matter… my thoughts and feelings mix in a turmoil state of mind I have. Currently, I try to finish my new work as fast as I can, no matter that indeed there were moments when I regarded it like the oeuvre. And at some moment I thought that maybe I shouldn’t hurry up too much, but to prepare the ground for it and wait for revelations and glimpses that should be developing momentum for the great work. I really don’t think it is a crazy idea to think about a doc film as about the piece of art. I mean, at least, such thing can be one in theory. So, I thought maybe it was better just to collect some material and to concentrate on the work mentally.

Just some days ago I was asked to do some job. And now I’m obliged to make a film on the topic that isn’t my primal interest. I say obliged, because I mean I didn’t want to do it, especially borrowing time from my project number one. I mean, that looks to me like wasting time. But that was the order from the company which is one of the very few clients asking for our production. That means that we really depend on them. That means we depend on their cramped audience and the soap, cola and bouillon cube advertisers. That means if we – first of all me as director and author – don’t make exactly what they ask for and when they ask, we’ll go out of the industry. And I will need to find some other job to do in the case.

And so, in a state like this, I receive The Call. And here comes the voice on the other side of the wire which shakes my life entirely. At the moment, I could not know it. I felt crazy and irritated from the very morning. But then I also sensed that this could be the most interesting.

A voice on the other end offered me to be provided with information of great importance. In the situation like that, there was too much of everything-for-you thing. And it was the voice itself that didn’t sound natural to me. It was like it was produced by some vocal synthesizer or was computer-effect masked. Early in our conversation, I started to feel that there had to be something wrong with it. And most probably, it seemed to be some crazy joke. Since the day the telephone was once introduced by Mr. Bell to humanity, there was always a part of this humanity that played in the way like this to entertain themselves with such a silly game.

And step by step, as one phrase was added after another, the thing felt strange. At some moment, it didn’t look funny at all, but really strange. Almost from the beginning, a guy who was on the other end of the line started to perform tricks that I am still not able to understand. He was telling me about things that no one except me could know. At least, I thought so before that moment. He was telling me about what I was doing yesterday and some days ago and also my numbers, passwords and all the most intimate data things. How can anybody know what I use to open my e-mail? I’ve been hacked or something.

Nobody could know that much about me. I hardly can say that I have any close friends of mine. And I don’t remember any stable personal relations – including these with women – in recent years. Now I think all this was done to make me agree to no matter what proposed. But when you propose to a journalist, a writer or any television man something really sensational, why would you play so much of a game then? Why almost threaten?

There are questions you can’t answer. Especially, when there are other people’s minds and the other people’s plans involved. So, all I know I should get to the place at a time fixed to be ready to receive some sensational material which should be revealed through media, the requirements provided. And it was stressed that I should never tell anybody about details of this meeting.

I was so shocked that for some instants it seemed to me I did not know what to do then. When indeed deep inside I knew, of course. And then I noticed I was watched by Elise. As I understand, I looked strange and astonished. Possibly a little weird. And she looked at me in some peculiar way. I just forgot what I asked her about before and why she was standing right then and there, catching me in a state like this. And finally, I was a little irritated about her. She was standing in front of me with her long unwashed hair hanging down. Gosh, why does not she try to be a little more of a woman? She is not that bad I should admit. Now I consider that subconsciously I chose to hire her among all of the opportunities – actually not a great variety of candidates – also because she had the most attractive looks. And she indeed can be a rather attractive girl. She is rather handsome. Sure she is. But maybe, some strange people like me tend to get together with other people who are a little strange too, somehow.

So, I cast an irritated glance at Elise after being not able to understand what she wanted from me. And then I rushed out of the room to prepare myself, alone, to get ready for the meeting that was so inevitable then. That seemed that the voice on the other end had the real power or either way represented it. So there were no ways out and no real escape then. Just wait for what will happen next. And just do what you can.

Some Notes on Documentary Films. from Dictaphone Record. by Martin

I do not know how it happened this way, but now I am supposed to make two docs when initially all the strength of my poor troubled mind was directed to the embodiment of one movie only. This one movie had to be something about international industry giants, modern conglomerates that control so much of human lives around the globe. In contemporary reality, it is so common when two or three corporations have almost the entire control over the industry. And so, this way or the other, they do influence the world. They change it in a particular way.

And this film should’ve had some rather pathetic title like Towers of Power or Babel Towers or Power Incorporated or something else dealing with towers and powers.

Architecture is all about some symbols. Why does any corporation in the city desire to erect a new skyscraping tower higher than any other one did before? Why they want their office to be placed higher than all other offices? They really want to dominate no matter what. What a peculiar reincarnation of primal biological motives inside a system of the corporate machinery. They want to be bigger and wider than others more than they want profits. Profits are just their instrument to get bigger. That is their food of the gods. People want the profits, but corporations do not. They just want to get bigger, no matter what their so much respected shareholders want.

That is the thing I was initially interested in. That was supposed to be something with the POV and at the same time embracing the entire human race in its scales.

But they asked me to do something else. What a nice case it is! I just encountered an incorporated strength of the giants about whom I wanted to tell the world into a shape of the network on which I depend and which is in some way or the other is another dominion of another international multi-conglomerate.

The film I was told to make is supposed to be about prostitution. That is quite a hot topic our days with all of this disputed state legalization and the human smuggling from Eastern Europe. That is such a big world embracing many levels from the bottom of bordellos to the top luxury of pro escort ladies providing their services to the rich people from privileged society. Yes, the topic is not bad for a doc. But that was quite irritating to be forced to do what I did not intend to. And why me? There is such a variety of TV people who can do it. It is true that some of my investigating documentaries connected in their issue to politics and crime achieved some modest success, but that won’t help much in the matter.

When beginning a new thing ordered by the network, I would go through some usual dull ritual. I would call to one person representing them just to check out whether there are requirements about which I don’t know. But usually, I always know about all the requirements. And the truth is that in this way I just report to them that their order is received and will be executed.

So, I picked up the instrument and dialed the number to connect to someone whom I know and about whom I had never cared and who knows me and who had never cared about me too.

So, what things exactly do you want me to discuss in the film? I asked somewhere in the middle of a dull talk. There should be something interesting. Find and show it. Show it in diversity. I mean in different kinds of it, from a low side of it to the top of it where the big money flow. That was the answer I received. Go and get it from down to up, from left to right.

Oct, 29. Morning. from Dictaphone Record. by Martin

The day when I was going to meet Mr. Shadow. At morning it was misty. Indeed, a mist covered an area for many blocks ahead from my place. As it was agreed, I was supposed to meet a stranger on the spot. Time and place set. I went to a corner where there were a few small shops and some cafe. There were a few people around. And in the fog like this, it even seemed that there were no people at all. I waited and then… I waited a little more. At some point, I began to think that I misunderstood the address or time. Or I thought it was some stupid joke indeed. And someone is cruelly laughing. Like I am still some insecure schoolboy. Actually, I felt quite nervous.

I tried to knock at the cafe window. No one seemed to be there too. I got no answer. But after several minutes more, I tried again. And that time, a person appeared. I mean a guy from a cafe. I tried to order some coffee. He tried to persuade me that they don’t serve anything until they open. Rules, you know. I argued a little. And after some few attempts, I achieved success. The cafe guy managed to bring me some coffee in a plastic mug.

I decided it was enough. I finish the coffee, I go home, and the joke is over. I finished but hesitated. Maybe the coffee was really good, and I asked for one more cup. It took some time. I drank this second one. And at that moment I was positive about going back home to have some nap.

I went in the direction to a bus stop. And then when I turned to another street and started walking in another direction, I suddenly recognized something strange with a corner of my eye. I turned back. And I saw that there was a strangely dressed person. It wasn’t an absolutely strange suit, but… He wore the gray coat and gray hat. The hat covered most of his face with a shadow.

I made a few unsure steps toward him. I stood there and almost tried to talk. I waited that he would talk first, probably. But instead… He just produced a wrap from under his coat. He held the folder in his hand for a while. I hesitated and then slowly I took the wrap from him. In all this mist he looked really like… Mr. Shadow. Like a guy from the comics strip who could be both the good and the evil. He didn’t say anything. He just made a silence gesture. He crossed a lower part of his face with his index finger. And I didn’t see his face. Just a sign of silence.

And in a mist, he was swept away by his quick sportsman-like stride. Now I am thinking about all this, and I don’t know what it really means to me.

It’s time to unwrap the mystery.

Oct, 30. Private Audio Diary of Elise. by Elise

Last night I had a strange dream. There was nothing strange about the images I received in it, but there was something strange about a feeling I had in it. And when I woke up, I felt uneasy for a while. I stood in the endless field of strawberries. Sun was high, the sky was blue, and there was nothing as the eye could see but strawberries. I felt I wanted to taste them. I reached out for the strawberries and took one. And then put it into my mouth. But that berry was tasteless. Disappointed, I took another one, but it also had no sweetness and no taste at all. Then suddenly, I understood that I was standing there in this endless field of strawberries being nude. I had no clothes on me and didn’t feel shame. And for an instant, I felt like I wanted it. And then the dream was over.

When I woke up, I wondered what my subconsciousness wanted to tell me. And is there any message to be read or it’s just another strange dream? My first thought was to take a morning shower. That had to be refreshing. I took my pajamas and my underwear off. Then I wondered why I did it in the bedroom, but not in the bathroom. For a couple of seconds or so, I stood undressed there, feeling myself like when meditating and then directed to the bathroom’s door. And the shower was refreshing and nice indeed. I felt like I entirely woke up after that.

Last evening Martin called me and told me he would be off the studio, said he would work in the field probably. And so, I arrived at the studio when it was past eleven o’clock. I spent some time sorting some useful files containing some useful information from folder to folder and ate another sandwich. After one and a half hour work, I decided that I would give myself a day vacation and maybe while walking through the city I would find a couple of new ideas for a new doc project nesting in my mind.

I went to a cinema to watch some rather mediocre but rather bearable Hollywood’s blockbuster. And also I entertained myself with a walk through the park and made some little shopping, as little money in my possession does not permit me more. That was not so freaking great, but that was not the worst day of my life. At home, I spent my day’s rest usually. A little of TV, some food, and some book. Right now I almost forgot to put my pajamas on. I wish myself the nice dreams.

Night, October 30. Going to bed, end of a line.

Oct, 30. from Dictaphone Record. by Martin

As I woke up this day, I tried to prolong my late morning activities as much as possible. Maybe it was subconscious. Because as soon as I finished my breakfast and tooth brushing, I was supposed to face the dangerous wrap containing I did not know what. What if inside there was some bomb mechanism hidden? And there was indeed a bomb of some kind. And there is not a thing in the world that can stop a modern journalist from being curious. Or better say sensational. In my view, a modern journalist is always a greedy person. It is just a kind of greed that differs. A dishonest journalist is greedy for money, and honest is greedy for information. Maybe, being honest means choosing priorities and holding back some of your desires, most of all.

When the time comes to do it, all you can is to do it. I took the wrap. Opened it. Inside there was no bomb. Indeed there was one. But it was made of data explosive.

Inside it, there was a big envelope with a word Instructions printed on it in big letters in its center. And below it, in little letters, there was a recommendation. You better follow this. I took the envelope and saw that it was lying on the top of many other envelopes of smaller size. I tore the instructions envelope and inside I found a couple of pages with what indeed happened to be instructions on how I should receive the information. And it also said what can happen to me if I don’t do it in a recommended way. I don’t want to say what it was supposed to happen to me if I do it deliberately and without following the instructions, but the rest of it, in general, consisted of the order in which I should open an envelope after an envelope. And it actually said that I should not go to the next stage until I am not done completely with the current information from a current envelope. So, each envelope bore the number and sometimes a title too. I found one with the digit one printed on it. I tore it and inside I found nothing but the USB flash drive. I tapped some other envelopes, and it looked like inside there was also nothing but the similar flash drive sticks.

Well, that should be a little container for big secrets. What was there? I thought maybe there was some unbeatable computer virus which would kill my laptop’s digital sanity in a second as soon as I only launch the flash drive, no matter how strong my protection is. But the real virus of my life is not a digital one, but the virus of journalist’s curiosity. What am I in this game? Am I a cat or a mouse in it? And do you remember what killed the cat actually?

As I plugged a dangerous flash drive in, I was sitting and gazing at the window on my monitor like being paralyzed for a minute or so. In total there were two files. One was the text file and one – a video. The text file consisted of instructions about what I should do first. And one of the first things was about an interview with some girl. Her full contact information and address were listed in the file. And if to talk about the video file, I think that is such a thing about which it would be completely true to say that seeing is believing, because that is the thing which is hard to describe in plain words. Well, in general, I would say the video consisted of some sort of secretly made records that were full of… well… They were full of sex.

Some Notes on the Subject of Prostitution. from Dictaphone Record. by Martin

Prostitution is a kind of human activity that is historically coined as the oldest profession in the world. But it is also true that many people still consider this activity to be absolutely unsuitable for the normal society. Many consider that thing should be out of decent society. They would prefer this profession to be in the shadow of the gray sector’s economy. To be a dark part of social life. This opinion survives our days, when in many European countries – and around the world too – the prostitution gained legal status. And at the same time when almost no one is concerned about existence and global flourishing of the commercial porn industry. That is possible to note that in between the porn production and the prostitution there is a huge difference. At least that is what many people do believe. But is it really so? At least is it such a big difference across the entire range of comparison? What I mean… I mean that we may say that a porn actress may choose more. She can choose not to participate in a porn movie. She can choose it if she thinks there is something she does not want to do and if there is someone with whom she does not want to do this. Or there are both these obstacles together. Also, it is true that hardly many porn stars list too many requirements from their side. Actually, it seems that a modern pornography feature – or something like a short video – is done in the very obscure frameworks, bearing not a lot of limitations, if it has any at all. So, most of the porn stars seem quite ready to perform everything they may be asked to perform. For a porn star, a video audience is the final consumer of a product. For a prostitute, it is a certain person with certain wishes. Well… at least, in theory. The difference between the real sex and the video is that a video should present as much as possible to make a person kinky and excited. When in reality all of that may be not needed that much. Though, of course, it varies. So, that is why a porn star may do everything for money, just to stay in business. If she asks for requirements, she may find herself to be not that much wanted for this specific kind of job. And also, at least, the VIP escort girls charge more than a regular porn star for one hour. I mean the porn stars do not always earn more cash.

To expand this idea – I had heard from one of my acquaintances, who is definitely more informed about the matter than me, that there are the escort girls who won’t do absolutely anything you ask. They do have the requirements. And they may simply inform you on that before you start to do anything. And most probably, that will be noted in the advertisement. In some part that can be called, uh, resume. That is how I suppose everything except the photos in the ad can be called. And also if a girl receives the clients privately at her place, she may theoretically choose people to whom she opens the private door. In this case, she may note in her advertisement that she has some face control. There is nothing to talk about forced prostitution, or about that kind of it that just comes from the severe poverty. It is an evident evil, but it is different when one chooses it consciously like when someone starts participating the porn production also without an external pressure but just having both the opportunity and the wish. Or at least having no reasons against this way of earning money.

Laws against prostitution are based on some moral code probably in bigger extent than on anything else. The stealing is immoral, but is there a law against it only because of its moral quality? Laws in the modern rational world are actually a system of governmental rule, but indeed they are part of economic one, because the economy, better say money, is what everyone including govt people is worried about. On the economic side, stealing is not good because when someone steals, he gets benefits not giving to society. It is a bad thing because it is not a fair exchange and there is nothing to do with morals. And a fair exchange is the principal element and also the symbol of contemporary democracy. Ten Commandments are not important that much anymore. Instead, we have one major one – Thou Shalt Exchange Fairly. And do it as much as possible. And that is why the stealing is not good. One should not take when he gives nothing. That is the very principal rule of capitalism. But prostitution is not stealing, it is an exchange, and in a legal mode, it is not a forced activity.