Текст книги "Don't kill"

Автор книги: Boris Gorowoi

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Boris Gorowoi

translated by Daria Ilyina

DON’T KILL

Cold may rain, has been washing Vienna the whole night and stopped just early in the morning.

Gerhard Brenner was carrying a small suitcase on wheels and was holding a voluminous suitcase in his hands.

– Guten morgen.

The old chartered driver opened the boot, put there the suitcase and wanted to put there a coffer.

– No, thank you.

Gerhard, having put the suitcase on his thin knees, sat next to the driver.

A dark universal Volkswagen was driving slowly along one-sided streets of old Vienna, by Hofburg palace, along the third ring road and set out sprightly to the airport Vienna Schwechat. Gerhard Brenner, a thirty-nine years old producer, had major business. He was a bachelor and he listened just to his mother. Gerhard’s mother, Evelin Augusta von Trapp, a fifty-seven years old woman in the full bloom of her years with especial rare beauty, she inherited fifty million dollars from her late husband when the only heir was two years old. Mother, for all her life, has been enlarging their capital by all means and she has done it with inflation glance over and over again.

They are both united by all-absorbing cupidity and correct borders if they had existed they would have crossed them. Several times, Gerhard asked his mother about his father and about his death and also about that capital but his mother was keeping silent or was making a joke in reply and he has ceased understanding this topic since that.

The passenger was keeping silent till the airport and just at the end of the trip he said:

– Danke.

Gerhard got the waiting room, put straight his grey crumpled chequered jacket and sat not far from the bar gleaming with his thick glasses. The waiting room has been gradually filling with people. He didn’t notice that there were two people supervising him independently of each other.

One of them had big hands, a neck and a head, although he wasn’t tall, he was swarthy, he had predatory nose, dark sloppy eyebrows and unpleasant contours of the bottom part of his face. There was constant tension in his eyes. He was Turk but was born in Germany not far from Würzburg. He served as a private soldier when BND special services noticed him. His name was Durmus Ekidge but he has often been called Turk.

Another tall one had puffy face, carrying horn-rimmed spectacles, was a nice opened man, he more resembled a worker of a big computer company than one of the best Mossad contract murderers who worked under cover as a butcher and who had a special number and account. His name was Ari Pick, also known as Hasia-Butcher.

Both representatives of that amazing hard job didn’t exchanged civilities due to their job but fixed each other moreover Hasia-Butcher understood that this meet with the Turk at the airport wasn’t casual. With animal intuition he got that there would be interesting.

The number of the flight BA 699 CX 252 British – Hong Kong, company Cathay Pacific at 7:40 AM on the 19 of May 2015 from Vienna to Hong Kong with changing of plane at Heathrow shown up on the table.

*

The phone was ringing at 5 AM in the Renaissance Mayflower Hotel in Washington. Olivia hardly opened her eyes, slowly scrambled down to the coffee table and croaked:

– I'm fed up with you!

Then she cleared her throat and said melodiously:

– My darling!

Once, she was an announcer in her Belorechensk.

– Hello, Vasiliy Ivanovich.

Vasiliy Ivanovich began giving instructions in a low voice:

– At eleven AM you have to be at the Art Freer Gallery. You have to imitate the beginning of family divorce.

– And who is he?

– His surname is Helmut von Neumann.

– How old is he?

– Seventy eight.

– Seventy eight!?

– Don’t worry. He is strong and he can leave younger generation in the dust.

She felt her partner next to her. Robert who didn’t understand any Russian word embraced Olivia and started stroking her beautiful legs.

– He has to leave loudly and you have to cry somewhere near.

– Vasiliy Ivanovich, I know everyrhing.

They left the room at eight AM hardly been in time for breakfast. Lusika, a Chinese woman responding the breakfast was looking at the couple with interest.

– We have broken away, – she thought, – eyes as drug addict people have and this smell.

*

A south night with big stars and million of cicadas was coming to an end. Light contours of milky dawn started to appear above the mountains. Colonel was drinking up whisky from his inlay churn which he has never left anywhere. No one knows why he has been called “Dux” since his school time.

A fairy huge five-star Hotel Caesar’s Temple, where Colonel without any plan has been staying for two weeks, consisted of villas and bungalows. Thirty-nine years old Leonie was telling a dull story of her life.

– We had to pledge our house and Karl had to ask his uncle to leave Sarah…

“One more week and I will kill her”, – thought Dux.

He was fed up with her cold lips, her face and stories. He had found this German woman accidentally when he was admiring morning sea dawn. This habit of many years to get orders early in the morning became a part of his life.

– Prosit, – he read on the distinct Leona’s bottom, he twisted his locket worn on his neck then he lied on the big snowy bed and fell asleep.

“These Russians are strange people”. Leonie looked at Colonel and started doing the room quickly. There were many small and big things, purpose of which she guessed about. There were wires scraps among covered with writing and crumpled piles of paper. She put the socks, briefs, shirts, trousers with different heavy unknown things in the pockets in a row. In this chaos the only system which could be formed was plastic-plastic, leavings-leavings, paper-paper as at the storehouse. Everything ended by that Leonie pressed some black device accidentally. A grey little ball rolled out of it on the floor. Having taken it Leonie felt acute burning on her palm. She ran to the bathroom, poured water. It was her mistake. The hotel shuddered. Her wail and scream resounded from the morning calm hotel, where Leonie dashed around, to the mountains. Colonel woke up, ran to the bathroom, examined the scene of the accident, smiled and understood that those new Swiss round mini-sedative worked great!

*

Aida Chtonova, a twenty-eight years old not tall, slim, Kirghiz was born in township Orlinskoe, at the foothills of Tien Shan. She has graduated from the Civil Engineering Department in Bishkek, entered the post graduate course, worked as a Young Pioneer organizer, as a master at the project, washed dishes and even was a conducter in the bus. Once, her life changed a lot when she had to help her father with the group of foreigner-hunters to shoot howling wolves at nights in the Tien Shan mountains.

Aid’s parents had graduated from the same institute and worked at the faculty of the steel concrete constructions but the main point of the family budget was her father’s talent as a guide and a hunter-trainer. He has been courting party bosses till 1991, in 90s he tracked the most dangerous cargos, often working as a sniper and since 2000, when he got the tour company, he has been specializing at “hunting”. Aida could feel mountains as animate creatures, as if inhabited pyramids with endless staircases inside were hiding behind them.

Once at the third course she was called to the local Kirghiz “lubyanka” and made her tell in details about all foreigners who had been hunting. Especially they were interested in one American who was the life and soul of that company. He was courting actively a one girl in the group.

Then Aida became proving her English, corresponding with them, firstly by letters then by the Internet. American’s name was Pit Gordon and he was watched closely by special services. Friendship with Pit gave Aida her first promotion. She became the senior lieutenant and started her first independent investigation.

*

The night Shade tagged after him at midnight. Turusbek felt that somebody was following him. Turusbek stopped, the Shade also stopped. Then Turusbek ran and fear seized him. Turusbek understood that he shouldn’t turn back. But he also felt that he would do it. The thing he saw was his last awful vision.

*

The Boeing 747-300 was flying silently above the Indian Ocean. Bright south stars started lighting up at the dark violet sky.

Gerhard asked a nice Chinese stewardess to bring a strong coffee. A big business he has been having was accompanied by the mess of meetings in different countries. He had a rest during such flights. As in any business, lucky streaks changed unlucky ones. But he has been having success for the last five years. Gerhard wiped his glasses, opened his suitcase Vincenzo Palermo which he, at one time, bought in Las-Vegas and was absorbed in a book. He was looking through a voluminous folder. That was dossier on his rivals. His secretary Alexandra with faded bluish eyes has been collecting that odd information for almost a year: quotes from the journals, ocean information in the Internet, discharge from hospitals, theft of which has been paying. He was getting the important information by his main informer from the establishment ruling top in Vienna. Gerhard understood that if somebody found out about who had informed him the consequences would be absolutely unpredictable. Sudden accidental shove with an elbow woke him up. A swarthy tall man who was trying to apologize to him appeared in front of him. Gerhard didn’t know that all the documents were secretly photographed by the best Israeli candid camera ViewSonic which had been plugged in the back of the passenger’s seat ahead. Moreover, he didn’t know that his Ipod had been, for some time, replaced by the copy during the airport bustle. And he didn’t know that he was kept under twenty-four-hour observation.

*

Late in the morning, when Colonel fell asleep by profound sleep, his telephone became awfully ringing. The result was zero. Several minutes later, his cell-phone became peeping with the same result. The blood red dawn in the mountains dispelled, small lapwings were twittering and loudly rustling and first early market women had extended along the shore. And Dux had a dream about warm Leonie.

Vasiliy Ivanovich turned on with sadness the second level of the alarm.

– I really didn’t want it!

Colonel was bug-eyed with surprise and his extremities became jerking as newborn crying baby’s ones. That formerly nice vision became decaying.

And again soundless death began to hiss in his dream. Before waking up he had discharged his new smart gun with tungsten system which was lying under his pillow.

– Yes, boss.

– Wake up, – the general muttered discontentedly, – the flight to Bishkek is today, the instructions are written, your convoy and the visa is at the airport. Rejoice, this is a young girl.

– I got it, Vasiliy Ivanovich.

– Yes, it’s a problem. From the top circles. It’s some kind of politics, the category of the third level of complication, don’t get dirty.

At last, the sound of the alarm calmed down.

– A swine, – thought Dux,– probably, next time there will be the first level of the alarm.

20 minutes later, Dux left the room, a taxi driver was waiting for him downstairs. The car was driving along the Istanbul road.

– Misha, you have such appearance,– grinned Dux.

Colonel liked stared at the road but this time he will be in a deep sleep.

*

At 10 AM the local time, Mr. Brenner left the big ultra-modern Chek Lap Kok Airport in Hong Kong. Having screw up his eyes, he looked at the bright sun, beautiful green contours of mountains, blue sea and went to the parking of yellow taxi. Flocks of birds were flying over the bottomless sky and European flu was vanishing instantly with humid overheat air. If Mr. Brenner could know he would return. But the taxi was driving at high speed along good left-side road with skyscrapers, micro-districts and fantastic big bridges. Below everywhere one could see pieces of the sea with ship bands crossing green sheer waves’ whitecaps. That town has always amazed Gerhard: amazing City and various crafts of all types from all over the world and this smell of crazy money. In an hour of a trip along the center of the city the taxi reached the main shore called Tsim Sha Tsui. The hotel called “De Peninsula Hotel” and was built in the twenties of the last century. Gerhard has usually rented a room in a five-stars hotel but here he needed to cut a dash. The room de luxe costed six hundred fifty dollars per twenty-four hours but the view on the Victoria shore was so exciting, that he immediately stopped pitying about money.

Gerhard, fresh in a starched shirt had a good dinner and went out to the shore.

*

The flight GI508 from Istanbul to Bishkek was delayed. Colonel liked the airports bustle, instantaneous psychological portraits of unusual people from different countries and waiting for new meetings. He had a real rest only in such long trips where he was rarely kept under the observation.

Dux has always sat next to the window. Moreover, he has never slept and for hours has been looking at the Earth below. Ex-physicist-experimenter used to seek for analogy and appropriateness which have often been obvious. The Earth, the sea, clouds were for him as an open book. There is the Iranian plateau with raised huge banks of mountains, volcanoes craters and recent flood tracks. Toy fanciful rounded green hills of the former Byzantine Empire near the warm Mediterranean Sea were like a paradise. Iraq’s desert was covered with blood and petroleum. He suddenly remembered as he a young student was at the discussion of the human evolution issues and types origin at the biology department. The youth, with acute feeling of justice and seeking of the truth, was very difficult to force his way through obvious lie of the official science of cosmogony, the Earth and the life origin. Over the years he started inclining to that the world was very young. The indicator “to fasten seatbelts” has lit up and the Boeing 737-800 started descending.

*

Osvald passed the second turnstile and waited patiently for the end of the inspection procedure. The guard attentively examined him from all sides because a black collar covered him till the chin. When the scanning of the small suitcase on the wheels has ended, the security thought a little bit and gave the green light.

Osvald pressed the lift button of the 16th floor at 38d street not far from the UNO building. The web-cams dispassionately filmed his full face and profile. He was waiting for and a big gorilla wearing all black took him to the boss. Osvald saw the boss, a man called Death. His black hat which he has never taken off swinged a little bit. Osvald became quickly laying out the cash. There were several kilos in the package. The piles were new and crumpled and many small changes about six million dollars.

– I won’t count, – said the boss.

His smile was more frightful than his nickname.

– Take more from the airport in Miami in two weeks.

When Osvald left Hayvery he looked with surprise at his fingers. They were white.

*

Colonel was observing the crowd of the meeting. Their look wasn’t positive. She was wearing a white blouse and a dark skirt and an odd hat. And there were dark high heel platform shoes on her feet.

But an hour later he cheered up. She was speaking easily and quickly on business with good humor. The hotel was by local measures beautiful with the view on mountains not far from the governmental quarter of Kirgizia. Colonel had a rest, had a good dinner and went out to the fountain which was not far from the American university. She was wearing an amazing white dress.

She was speaking and he thought that one could fall in love with her.

– So. The boy was eighteen and it was his second academic year. He went to his mother, got the regular bus, got out alone of the bus at night, he was remembered by the couple of witnesses then he utterly disappeared. His name was Tursubek.

It was a dull and a strange story. The main problem was that the son was from the top circle not just the local “man”. He was wearing brown velvet trousers, a bright shirt, brown shoes and he had a dark sportive bag behind his back. He had the newest and sophisticated cool cell-phone Nokia. That’s all.

There were three main versions. The loot, theft for the purpose of ransom and a politician order.

Colonel had studied the dossier. The folder was extremely thick. The report of the bus driver’s interrogation was that he got out the bus alone. There were dozens of people left in the bus each of them was looked for. There were dozens of pages of cell-phone printouts. Tursubek called a lot of times and talked for a long time. Main calls were from his bride but there were many other calls.

Dux automatically examined the dossier, smiling the girl in his thoughts and was thinking over a strange general’s order for him.

It was foolishly to get out joker from the block. His intuition was telling him that he would have to use his own joker.

– Aida, let’s drink a coffee. You are an amazing vision of Bishkek! Show me some good places. We will be working together for a long time.

Aida was a very good, cheerful interlocutor and Dux suddenly felt “a real Colonel” with her.

It was already dark when he led the girl by the taxi to home. He had again this familiar rough boring feeling as if somebody was watching attentively at his neck. He looked the rows of the parked cars over and felt that there were agents in two cars.

It was easy to understand that he was shot with the camera and his cell-phone was heard in these two cars.

– If I am stay alive today I will surely call the Shade, – thought Dux.

He took off the safety device, the newest Mossad’s development, a miniature smart gun with the remote laser induction then he found the bench with good vision. He has been preparing a surprise for them for ten minutes. Then he came up, rolling a little bit, to the second car and asked to light up a cigarette. The agent smiled and two guns were aimed at Dux.

–Take away the gun. Call Bakaev. We have to meet.

While the agent was calling his boss, all the gadgets from these two cars have already been secretly scanned. The newest equipment was stolen last year from the Mossad and copied. Colonel heard a typical intense crash and buzz in the agent’s cell-phone. Another agent got out the car in embarrassment. And while Dux continued to depict a drunk simpleton, both cars feverishly started in a strange direction. “Yes, I imagine what they had to suffer with their equipment”, – thought Colonel and laughed with all his heart.

*

The club de Hong Kong, a black double cube, is famous by its dull stories. It wasn’t in any guide-book. And even information about it in the Internet was enough scant. It was founded in the middle of 19th century at the height of opium wars when the isles were changing hands at high speed. At last, the Englishmen won and seized Hong Kong. The peninsula and the isles system with a good harbour, being like a modern big London by their size, they became the biggest town of smugglers, opium kings and pirates of all sorts. The weather-beaten club of one hundred fifty years old had an aristocratic Shade, smell of opium money and terror of war conflicts. There was a good spacious casino in the club, cozy halls, four ones for conferences: a dark-violet one, an orange one, a green one and a white one, discipline service staff which could answer any questions.

– A stupid story, – sighed Paul. He had to prepare the conference for four hundred participants, a small showroom for one thousand square metres, maximum food and a spare room for tree hundred square metres.

Paul was born in a small village Schwarzwald not far from Stuttgart where there are fairy hills, calm decent satisfying life, eternal Lutheran churches with bells and peacefully co-existing a catholic cathedral with the copulas of organs.

He has graduated from the polytechnic university in Stuttgart then he studied at the department of advertisement and exhibitions. He was a technical manager of foreign international exhibitions. The boss of the Asia department has been explaining him for a long time that was a small special exhibition with little space. The main revenue of the exhibition was the tickets.

Then there were started some strange things he couldn’t understand.

Firstly, this awkward slow talk with the client with long pauses for forty minutes. Then the boss has been mumbling something for a long time. Then that mug. He was in low spirits. A Chinese face named Fen Man shown the restaurant, dishes and other trifles. While that day was dragging on one brought black boxes into the room. Paul knew that only the insurance of those displays was fifty million dollars. Suddenly, he felt an ardent desire. The boxes weren’t sealed. One of those boxes was lying unevenly and Paul instinctively tried to put it straight. He glanced stealthily back and opened the lid of the box. In several seconds he awfully and monotonously yelled and fatal fear seized him.

*

At last, at three AM Colonel reached the hotel room. He has been listening attentively for a long time to the deceptive silence. Then he quietly opened the door and entered the bathroom. Other smells were interrupting his animal instinct but something continued quivering in his red-hot subconsciousness. It’s a good result for a trained body to turn on the light and to take out the gun in four seconds. He could saw her eyes widen with fear and that she didn’t have a gun in her hands.

– Ooh! – Dux sat down.

A grey double-breasted jacket, a dark tight skirt and big black eyes. She was sitting on the chair and probably was nodding. There was a grey leather bag with many useless thins on the bedside table.

– Can I smoke here?

She took out a long thick cigarette. She had detached view. She has been silent for a long time. He began falling asleep. Dux understood that everything wouldn’t be in his favour. She began telling. That semidarkness, almost a dream, big eyes.

– Would you like drink something?

– Why not?

About herself: the fourth academic year of the law department, the second year in divorce, she doesn’t have a baby, that divorce was awful. Her warmth melodious voice and amazing aroma began to drive him crazy.

– Do you think I’m a prostitute?

She laughed. Pain in her eyes, a black Kirghiz night, some scraps instead of normal conversation like autumn leaves.

Colonel lied down on the bed. She sat next to him near the chair. To tell the truth, he has almost dreamt but some part of him heard and felt her.

In a flash, he realized that there was a death which came for him in this appearance. And he felt that she was also a victim of those who tried to kill her.

There were several seconds for thinking everything over. Colonel grabbed her in a way like carrying out the battlefield. She screamed, tried to break away and take the bag but iron-hard Dux’ hands didn’t give her any chance.

– You’re a maniac! – she shouted and tried to kick him. He took her to the emergency exit but when he started to professionally touch her in the street she furiously bit his shoulder.

Piercing shriek harmoniously blended with awful explosion.

She became flabby and cuddled up to him with the whole body.

– I left my passport there!

“She is fool”, – he thought.

It was useless to look for something in the room.

The door fell out, having disrupted the hinges. Dozens of splinters flew about the corridor. That explosion was professional and was equivalent to 1000 grams of trotyl. Dumbfounded half-dressed people darted out their rooms, guards and policemen were running. The panic is about to start. Colonel was dragging out those invaluable seconds. His habit of many years told him that the couple with the microphone and a camera was about to appear. He smiled to the rightness of his speculation. The couple merged with the night crowd of the went mad and running out of the hotel guests.

*

Pleasure boats of Harbour were a special show.

Big liners, sparkling with bright colors were made for the delight and luxury. The upper dock was the private entrance. The captain met imposing guests for whom there were private staterooms by crazy prices even for rich people. Although, Mr. Brenner could wear soiled, stained with grease trousers he has never indulged in top luxury. The captain with English appearance was smiling in every possible ways and even tried to take Gerhard’s suitcase by himself but the last aggressively refused.

– Hello, sir, we hope you will like our ship, the lieutenant will accompany you. Brenner gave this lieutenant a crumbled fifty dollars note, lied on the double bed and went out upstairs. There was a mini golf on the upper deck , a waterfall, an observation deck the floor of which was also an aquarium with multicolored fish. Gerhard screw up his eyes looking at incredible view of the gulf, twisted a false steering wheel and got his hand into his suitcase for the camera.

An amazing landscape made him just shooting, shooting and shooting. A professional who gave the cinema a half of his life, felt like an enthusiastic boy here. Brenner asked his neighbour to shoot him against the shore background.

He didn’t know that his accidental neighbour was a famous Ari Pick. Gerhard couldn’t recognize him anyway. Hasia-Butcher had many images he was able to use perfectly with immediate changes of mimic, timbre, walk and a face expression.

*

Hong Kong is a system of two hundred sixty small isles which became the part of British Colonial Imperia by the Treaty of Nanking in 1842. The former colony is comparable with Manhattan with many skyscrapers. Luxurious cottages are along the peninsula slopes and usual clerks live in fifty stores houses, decorated with gold lions. The price of such apartment is so high that it’s indecently to call it aloud.

Mr. Brenner understood a lot of simple words in Mandarin language but his attempts to understand something in Cantonese, the local dialect with the peculiarity of comprehension of seven intonations, were unsuccessful.

At last Gerhard with the triumphal look observed that fantastic gulf, found a free table in the far corner, took out his notebook from his suitcase and delved deeply into his work.

The numbers Mr. Brenner summed up were hundred millions dollars: columns, diagrams, graphics, histograms with many pictures, photos. He could work and he loved it. His new folder was collected just a year ago and it promised fabulous sums. That’s why the best agents as Ari Pick from Mossad or Durmus Ekidge from the BND followed him. A couple of CIA agents, aggressive segun, a Japanese military intelligence agent from the Eastern department Shina-Ka and of course a group of Chinese men from different ways as the KJV “The Office of the Political Security” or an exotic secret service “The Manage to destroy the traitors” who became winning the half of world spy games for the last seven years.

Of course, the rivals annoyed Gerhard a lot. But Brenner had understood long ago that he had to find the ally or allies otherwise his facilities would be exhausted soon. That’s why he fixed the meeting to his close rival in the restaurant next to the Business Center with the image of seagull not far from the dock. At that time, his thoughts were interrupted by the boat’s parting hooting. A multicolored crowd from the lower decks started to the dock and Gerhard hurried to the Convention Centre, smiled the captain insincerely.

He went up to the top of the Business Center with the view on harbor where he booked the table in the Heuriger, in the Vienna’s “Congress restaurant”.

*

The Englishman came to a minute. He smiled widely, looked over carelessly the bright near-empty luxurious hall. Unlike Mr. Brenner who, softly speaking, looked like a man from the rubbish heap, Kevin Edwards with typical English appearance was a gentleman. He was tall, was wearing rich sparkling brown shoes, white perfect trousers, a double-breasted brown jacket which was sew by the special order, a dazzlingly white shirt with a bright tie and watches by Basel which cost two hundred pounds sterling. A graduating student of the London imperial college in the royal region between Kensington and Westminster defended at histology specialty and got the bachelor's degree. Means allowed him to find time for sport. Three times that year he disappeared for a week, making a paraglider, in winter he was snowboarding and in spring he was surfing at Sri Lanka. A good sportsman Edward was a bachelor, at his thirty-four he liked life and women. Edward’s parents wanted him to enter the department of law but he began to be obstinate and appeared some palliative variant. He didn’t find himself anywhere during the first two years of studying at university only just in a rugby team. Such good luminaries of the royal college as professor Mark Peppis, a Nobel laureate professor Ian Fleming and a professor Vasso Episkopou hardly remembered that typical middling person.

Probably, he would finish his articles at internal muscles and would become a good applied doctor. At five o’clock sharply, he would start drink in the company of his friends in pubs such as “The Little Driver”, “The Alexandra” or “Duke of Wellington”. Sometimes the chance is incredible.

Mr. Brenner stood up from the table. Gentlemen shook each other’s hands.

– This talk wouldn’t take place if you don’t work by yourself.

– There are two teams and a Chinese man with me. Who went to Moscow?

– These are my people.

– Are you sure? They had German faces. Gerhard got excited. He drank sadly a full glass of wine Heuriger, which is a rarity abroad the Austria.

There was a long pause. Kevin slowly drank a couple of ounces of Scotland whisky.

– We are ready to stop stepping on each other. It’s just a question of price.

Gerhard always worrying started speaking slowly.

– We have the only source. But it’s cheaper in our region and we can get the Chinese man out of the way.

– That’s your problem, – Kevin suddenly stammered then having lowered his gaze said aloofly, slowly and calmly, – but we speak about different sums and another price.