Mila Urilenko from the FSO sat opposite Petrov. This was the first time Desny had seen Urilenko, and he was struck by his features. He had the countenance of a schoolboy on a man’s body, the skin pock-marked, as though still in puberty. A lopsided haircut added to the illusion. He wore clothes one size too small, making his arms and belly seem fat. The man’s reputation preceded him. Rumour had it that the FSO were obliged to take him from the FSB because of his antisocial tendencies. The FSO was the federal protection service for high-ranking state officials, and Desny guessed he must have had good contacts in the Kremlin to secure such a high ranking post. Desny couldn’t work out what he was doing here, but he hoped to find out shortly.
A steward scuttled forward to clean up the spilt coffee, and Zlotnik waited until he had gone.
He stood up. ‘I am Serge Zlotnik, the leader of this little group.’ He surveyed their faces. ‘Some of you already know me; those that don’t will soon. I sent for you because I believe you are the best in your respective fields.’ He turned on a projector. ‘I have a task for you.’ They observed a composed head and shoulders shot of a man, obviously taken by a professional photographer. His lined face had dark hair going grey at the temples. The eyes seemed to hold a mischievous twinkle.
‘Meet Alexei Khostov. Age 45, he is thin and stands six foot one inch. Brown eyes. He speaks English, though not fully fluent. He is one of our greatest nuclear design engineers, and he has gone missing.’
‘When was this reported?’ Desny asked.
‘Five days ago. He was drawing up plans for a nuclear powered platform for GazArctic in Severodvinsk.’
‘Were there any signs he was planning to go?’ Desny could not suppress his natural curiosity.
‘He reported the power plant’s specification for shielding had been watered down so much, a nuclear emergency was a distinct possibility. He also made the suggestion that GazArctic skimped on the spec in order to save a lot of time and money in building the platform.’
‘Who did he speak to?’
‘The senior operations manager. We interrogated him, but he knows nothing about Khostov’s departure. However we do know Khostov discussed some of his concerns with a colleague — an American called Nic Tyler who worked for US Shale on the same project.’
Desny turned slightly to glance at Markow, but his expression remained impassive. ‘What information do we have about the company?’
‘GazArctic and US Shale have a multi-billion dollar agreement to extract oil, gas and minerals from the Arctic,’ replied Zlotnik. We believe Khostov’s claims were untrue.’
‘Could you tell us your reasons?’ enquired Desny.
‘Khostov is accusing GazArctic of corruption to cover his embezzlement of 15 million roubles from the company. Nicholas Tyler, his colleague, also stood to gain a considerable amount.’
‘Do you have any evidence of this?’ Desny enquired.
‘There is a 15 million rouble hole in GazArctic’s accounts, and both Khostov and Tyler are missing.’ Zlotnik clicked the projector and a picture of man in his mid-thirties appeared. He had a handsome face with blue eyes, smooth skin and full lips. ‘Fedyenka Leonov, Tyler’s lover and a Russian male model. Leonov revealed under interrogation that Tyler was working with Khostov.
‘You said was his lover.’
‘I did. When Tyler raised questions with his American operations manager, he was sent to inspect the parts being delivered from China. The ship’s orders were to lay over in Tiksi before reaching its destination port. We’re certain Tyler arrived at Tiksi. He was found several days later, frozen to death.’
Zlotnik glanced quickly at Urilenko, before walking around the table, handing out copies of Khostov’s photo and a printed list. He aimed the remote at the projector and the same photo appeared on the screen.
‘This is the man we are seeking; our orders are from the highest authority to find him. He has probably fled to London, a popular destination for dissidents because of the British refusal to extradite criminals. You have copies of the photograph and a list of people who might shelter him in the UK. You will work through the file until you track him down.’
Zlotnik surveyed the room again, pausing to add emphasis on his next words.
‘He must be found at all costs.’
CHAPTER FIVE
As Sean drove along Beneden village green, he admired the half-timbered houses lining the road. He found the Fox Inn nestled between similar houses and checked in. At 7 pm he walked a short distance to the Tyler’s house. An attractive woman of about 35 answered.
‘I’m Sean Quinlan; I called earlier.’
She paused a moment, looking at him in the light from the hallway. ‘You’d better come in.’
He followed her into a spacious kitchen. ‘Tea?’ she asked over her shoulder.
‘No thanks. If you’ve not eaten, I thought I could take you to dinner at the pub.’
She turned, a hesitant smile appearing around her lips. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t introduce myself properly.’ She held out her hand. ‘I’m Kellie.’ They shook hands. ‘I wasn’t expecting the man from the ministry to turn out to be so..’.
‘Attractive? Bold? Cheeky?’
She laughed. ‘No. I meant, so thoughtful.’
‘And I wasn’t expecting you to be so..’.
‘Good looking? Young? Sexy?’ she supplied.
‘Hm. Perhaps all of the above.’
She arched an eyebrow. ‘Only perhaps?’
After escorting her to the pub, Sean bought drinks at the bar. They found a quiet table in an adjacent room and Kellie sipped her gin and tonic. ‘What section of the ministry are you from?’
‘The Foreign Office.’
‘Oh. Are you freelance?’
‘No, but I’m often sent abroad. I’m hoping to scale back soon.’
The barmaid appeared, and they stopped to order. Sean laid the menu down. ‘I was sorry to hear about husband.’
Kellie waved her hand. ‘That’s all right.’
‘Can you tell me a little about him?’
‘Well like you, Nic was away a lot. They used to send him out regularly to China and the States.’
‘You mean US Shale?’
Kellie nodded. ‘He used to go about six months at a time.’
‘You were lonely?’
Kellie frowned. ‘I was fine to start with. I worked, and I went to the gym and joined other classes. But you can only do so much of that.’ Her eyes flicked sideways, assuming a distant gaze. ‘The last few years were the worse. I got made redundant. Other jobs were hard to come by, so I stopped working altogether.’
‘You weren’t able to accompany Nic when he went away on business?’
‘That wasn’t part of the culture of the company. I’d go with him sometimes if it was a short trip — conferences and trade shows, for example. But they didn’t like the idea of paying for two people when they only needed one.’
‘What sort of work was he involved in?’
‘Oh, project management, mainly big projects. Like building an oil rig for instance.’ She took a bite of her starter and chewed slowly. ‘They brought in US Shale to partner a Russian energy company. They’re trying to exploit gas deposits in the Arctic, but they have little to no experience of deep water drilling. I think Nic was directing the project management for an exploration platform.’
‘Were you told how he died?’
‘No. He’s based in Severodvinsk and rings every Tuesday evening. When he didn’t ring last week I called him but there was no answer. I rang the company, and eventually spoke to his manager who told me Nic had gone to some godforsaken place in Siberia. I tried ringing him again, several times, but still no reply.’