Ganglands: Russia: Russia (16 page)

Upstairs, the bedrooms were expensive hymns to tastelessness: four-poster beds covered with pink and cream drapes and teddy bears.
Looking at the burly figure of Boris Lebedev, Alexei guessed that Lilya had been left in charge of the decorating in these rooms.

As they headed down a flight of backstairs to the ground floor, Alexei noticed a further set of dingy steps leading on to a basement door.

‘What’s down there?’ he asked innocently.

Lebedev stopped in his tracks.
He turned round slowly and eyed Alexei with contempt.

‘It’s a cellar,’ he said.
‘What do you think is down there?
Wine bottles and rats.
If you’d like to spend some time down there I’m sure that could be arranged.’

‘That won’t be necessary,’ Viktor said smoothly, as Pavel shot Alexei a vicious look.
‘Please forgive Alexei’s interruption.
He suffers from an excess of enthusiasm.’

Lebedev grunted, unconvinced, then continued on his tour.
He didn’t brighten up until he entered the games room, a luxurious hideaway boasting two American pool tables and a row of arcade machines.
The only things framed on the walls in this room were football shirts, signed by players from some of the biggest teams in the world: Real Madrid, Manchester United, AC Milan.

‘Now you see my real pride and joy,’ Lebedev said, outstretching his arms.
He turned to the two teenagers.
‘Now I have matters to discuss with Viktor and Pavel.
You can wait for us here.
Tonight you will all stay. There is more than enough room.’

Viktor inclined his head.
‘You are too kind, Boris.’

‘So many people have told me,’ the tycoon replied, without any visible pleasure.

As Marat eagerly racked up the pool balls, Alexei watched through a gap in the door as the men filed into the conference room.

‘I don’t get it,’ he said.
‘The Eagles trashed Lebedev’s place a while back, didn’t they?
So why’s he so friendly?’

‘Search me,’ said Marat.
‘If we need to know then Viktor will tell us.
Haven’t you asked enough stupid questions already today?
Now are you going to break or not?’

Keen not to arouse further suspicion, Alexei picked
up a cue and broke.
But throughout the afternoon – as he lost game after game to Marat, much to the boy’s evident satisfaction – Alexei couldn’t get the thought of the cellar door out of his mind, nor what might lie behind it.

The men didn’t emerge until the early evening; Viktor, Alexei noted, looked particularly pleased with himself.
Dinner was an awkward affair.
Boris Lebedev sat at the head of the dinner table, regaling everyone with stories as he drained glass after glass of champagne.
Lilya was nowhere to be seen.
Viktor and Pavel listened attentively to the stories – as usual, the former’s champagne glass lay untouched in front of him.
Further down the table, Marat looked uncomfortable as he wrestled with his oysters, while Alexei thought Lebedev was nothing more than a boor.
As the tycoon got more and more drunk, his stories got more repetitive and self-aggrandizing, until even Viktor was struggling to show amusement.

It was a relief when the meal finally ended and Alexei could head up to the room he was sharing with Marat.
After his late night at Orbit and the long day at the dacha, Alexei was shattered, but he forced himself to stay awake until Marat’s breathing had become deep and regular.
Pulling back the covers of his bed, Alexei crept soundlessly from the room.

The dacha was drenched in a pregnant quiet.
Alexei sneaked along the hallway past Boris Lebedev’s room – where the sound of thick snoring was emanating through the door – and headed down the staircase, wincing with every creaking floorboard.
He prowled through the
ground floor, barely breathing, until he reached the cellar at the rear of the building.

To his surprise, the door swung open at the faintest touch.
As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, Alexei could make out the contours of a series of wine racks. Inching deeper into the cellar, he brushed a cobweb out of his face.
A drip was splashing down from the ceiling somewhere.

Behind him, there was the faintest squeak of a door hinge.

‘Who’s there?’

There was a blur of movement in the shadows.
A strong hand wrenched his head back by the hair, and Alexei felt a blade press against his throat.

20. Hot Water

‘What the hell are you doing down here?’ snarled Pavel.
Alexei cried out as the Eagle yanked his head back further, the edge of the knife poised a millimetre from his throat.

‘Nothing!’ exclaimed Alexei, through clenched teeth.
‘I was thirsty so I got up to get a drink from the kitchen.
I thought I heard someone down here, so I came down to check.’

‘Check for what?’ Pavel shouted, pressing his blade against Alexei’s skin until it dug into his Adam’s apple.
‘Lebedev told you there was nothing down here!’

‘I know he did.
But I did hear something, Pavel, I swear!’

If either of them slipped, Alexei knew that his throat would be sliced clean open.
He stood there, eyes closed, for what felt like an eternity.
Then he felt the grip on his hair relax, and the knife withdraw.
With a gulp, he looked at Pavel, who was tucking his blade back into a sheath on his belt.

‘Be grateful it was me who caught you,’ the man said grimly. ‘If it had been one of Lebedev’s men you’d be dead for sure – Eagle or not.
This is a dangerous place to go snooping around.’

‘I wasn’t snooping, Pavel! Honest!’

‘It looks like I believe you.
But no more night-time wandering, you understand me?’ He cuffed Alexei across the back of his head.
‘I don’t care if you need a piss – do it in your bed.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Alexei said mournfully.

Pavel shook his head.
‘I thought there was a chance Marat might do something brainless, but not you.
Get out of here.’

Alexei stumbled away up the cellar steps, rubbing his throat.

Back in his bedroom, as Marat snored softly, Alexei tossed and turned in his bed, unable to shake the feeling of the knife at his skin.
Just as he was finally drifting off to sleep, the sound of tyres crunching softly across gravel floated up to his window.
Alexei crept to the window and peered outside.

A black limousine was creeping around the front of the dacha, as dark and stealthy as a panther.
As it slowed halfway down the driveway, the door to the banya opened and two men hurried out, carrying a slumped woman in their arms.
It was Rozalina Petrova.
Of course, thought Alexei, kicking himself: Lebedev hadn’t taken them anywhere near the steam house!
It would have been the perfect place to hide the lawyer. She didn’t struggle as the limousine’s boot clicked open and the men placed her roughly inside.
They closed the boot and jumped into the back of the car, which purred away down the driveway.

As the vehicle disappeared into the night, Alexei
wondered whether that was the last time he’d see Rozalina Petrova alive.

The next morning, the Eagles ate breakfast in the conference room, slurping coffee and munching on ham and eggs.
Alexei studiously kept his head down, his eyes drawn to an architectural model of a skyscraper that formed the centrepiece of the table.
‘Moskva Heights’ – the tag read – ‘Moscow’s gateway to the future’.
Although Pavel refused to catch Alexei’s eye, the boy took heart from the fact that Viktor Orlov seemed to be in a good mood, humming softly to himself as he cleared his plate and wiped his mouth with a napkin.

As the gang began trooping back to their car, Lebedev and Lilya followed them out on to the veranda.
The former gymnast was clad in a thick coat of pure white fur that must have cost a small fortune.
Boredom was plastered across her face.

‘Thanks again for the hospitality,’ Viktor said to Lebedev. ‘It’s a truly amazing residence.’

The tycoon shrugged.
‘It’s more Lilya’s place than mine.
I rarely see outside of Moskva Heights these days.
Don’t contact me until our most pressing business is completed.’

With that, he turned on his heel and strode back inside, without bothering to say goodbye.

For the journey back to Moscow, Alexei and Marat were ordered to put the balaclavas back over their heads, although thankfully this time their hands weren’t bound.
Neither Viktor nor Pavel spoke, leaving Marat to prattle
away in the back seat, apparently unconcerned whether anyone was listening or not.

After only a couple of hours’ sleep, Alexei should have been dead on his feet, but his mind was alive with questions.
Where had they taken Rozalina Petrova now?
Did the fact that they had moved her in the middle of the night have anything to do with Alexei – had Pavel not believed his story after all?

He hadn’t reached any conclusions by the time they had returned to Moscow, when he removed his balaclava to be greeted by the familiar sight of the gym off Komsomolskaya Square.
The building was empty save for Medved and Svetlana, who were cuddling up to one another on one of the weights benches.
Embarrassed, the giant skinhead hastily clambered to his feet as the other gang members entered.

‘How did it go?’ he asked.

‘Not bad at all,’ Viktor replied mildly.
‘Our sponsor is pleased with the way things are going.
If things go to plan, the next few months could be very interesting indeed.
It’s a great time to be an Eagle, Medved.
Now, if you’ll excuse us, Pavel and I have some things to discuss.’

‘No one go anywhere,’ rapped Pavel.

The two men disappeared inside the small office adjoining the gym and closed the door.
Alexei grimaced with frustration.
He was desperate to get back to the monastery in Taganka to talk to Trojan, but the tone of Pavel’s voice had brooked no argument.
In an effort to occupy himself, Alexei began peppering a punchbag with blows.
Marat lay down on one of the benches and dozed
off, while Medved and Svetlana huddled back together.

Eventually the door to the office opened, and Pavel strode out.
He beckoned everyone over.

‘What is it?’ rumbled Medved.

‘Something’s come up,’ Pavel replied. ‘We’ve just received word from our good friends at Storm Hammer.’

Marat pulled a face.
‘Those cocksuckers?
What do they want?’

‘Wait,’ said Alexei.
‘Who the hell are Storm Hammer?’

‘Another White Power gang,’ Pavel explained.
‘They used to claim that they were the toughest skinheads in Moscow, until we stepped in and showed them otherwise.
There’s been silence between us ever since.
But now that Nikolai is in jail, it seems that they wish to talk with us.
Maybe they want to bury the hatchet.
Maybe they want to start another war.
Either way, we need someone to meet with them.’

‘I’ll go,’ Medved said immediately.

Pavel shook his head.
‘No, you won’t.’ He turned to Alexei.
‘You will.’

‘What?’ screeched Svetlana.

‘Look, if Medved wants to go –’ Alexei began.

‘What Medved wants is immaterial,’ Pavel said sharply. ‘This is Viktor’s organization, and he’s decided that you’re going.’

‘This is bullshit!’ spat Svetlana, looping her arm around her bristling boyfriend.
‘My baby has been with you since day one.
No one’s been braver.
No one’s fought harder.
This asshole Alexei’s only been here five minutes, and you’re letting him take over!’

‘Enough, Svetlana!’ Pavel roared.

Medved stepped forward and squared up to the ex-soldier.
Even though Pavel was nearly a head shorter than the burly skinhead, he gazed up at him without fear.
The two men eyeballed each other for several taut seconds, then Medved spat on the floor and stalked out of the gym, with Svetlana trotting after him.
Pavel didn’t bother to watch them leave.

‘Am I going to have a problem with you too?’ he challenged Alexei.

The boy shook his head.

‘Good.’ Pavel handed him a scrap of paper with an address on it.
‘Go to the bathhouse here.
It’s run by men we know – there’ll be no one to listen in.
Find out what Storm Hammer want, and then report back to me immediately.’

As the soldier marched back into the office, Alexei looked down at the address, frowning.

‘A bathhouse?’ he said to Marat.
‘Seems a funny place to meet another gang.’

‘Not really,’ the other boy replied.
‘That’s where all the serious meetings take place.
After all,’ he added grimly, ‘it’s harder to hide a weapon when you’re naked.’

Tucked away down a quiet side street, the bathhouse was so unobtrusive that Alexei walked past it twice without realizing.
It was hidden behind heavily shuttered windows within an old terraced house.
Only a tiny brass plaque by the front door gave any hint as to the building’s purpose.
Alexei hesitantly pushed open the door and walked inside.

He was surprised to find himself in a plush entrance hall, with high ceilings covered in ornate marble decorations.
Elegant statues and giant ferns in terracotta pots were dotted around the lobby.
Alexei’s footsteps echoed on the tiles as he walked towards the counter, where a skinhead was watching a boxing match on a portable television screen.
He looked up as Alexei approached.

‘You one of Pavel’s men?’

Alexei nodded.

‘Get changed and go through to the sauna,’ the skinhead said. ‘I’ll send through Storm Hammer when they arrive.’

Alexei walked through into the changing rooms, where he took off his clothes and wrapped a towel around his waist.
Painfully self-conscious of the black swastika tattooed on his chest, he was relieved that there was no one there to see him. He packed his clothes away into a locker, and placed the key chain around his neck.

As Alexei wandered through the bathhouse, past an opulent bar and lounge area, and then a large plunge pool, the complete absence of people gave the bathhouse a ghostly atmosphere.
He was relieved when he finally found the sauna: a small, wooden-panelled room with benches arranged in a square around a stove stocked with steaming coals.
A bundle of branches was propped up against one wall next to a bucket of water.
The air was thick with heat.

Alexei settled down on a bench to wait, his skin already glistening with sweat.
As doubt gnawed away at his mind, he steeled himself with old memories of
Lena: her burrowing next to him on the sofa on snowy winter nights, the television flickering away in the background; joining him for dinner at Stepan’s apartment, giggling at his uncle’s dreadful jokes; watching Alexei fight from the back of sports halls and gym, pensively biting her lip but never flinching as the punches rained down upon him.
At every turn, Lena had been there for Alexei.
He owed it to her not to let her down now.