We reached a clearing, an open space in the woods where the leaves of the overhanging trees parted above our heads, creating a space in the canopy that allowed us to look up and watch as the helicopter flew over our heads with its precious cargo; Russia’s most wanted man. Everyone watched the helicopter disappear and, along with it, went my last chance of salvation. I turned towards the men who were about to kill us.
‘We do it here,’ said the soldier, with no trace of emotion.
Burly hands rested on my shoulders and I was pushed down on to my knees. Beside me the sobbing Mikhail was forced into the same position. I don’t think he’d shut up once since we’d left the house but he finally fell silent now. I watched as the soldier went round behind Mikhail. In one swift and simple movement he raised the gun, aimed and fired. The bullet went straight into the back of Mikhail head and came out the other side, obliterating his face. His body pitched forward until it slumped lifelessly onto the ground. The snow around him was spattered with fresh blood.
‘Jesus Christ,’ I gasped.
The soldier frowned. ‘You are a Christian?’
I tried to say something but I couldn’t because I knew I was next and it would soon be my blood splashed all over the snow.
‘You can stand up now,’ the soldier told me and when he saw the confused look on my face, he actually laughed, ‘you thought we were really going to do it?’ And his men laughed too. ‘That was just for him, and for Vasnetsov. You needed them to think we killed you too.’ There was no disputing that but I couldn’t believe they had taken the trouble to march me all the way out here just to fake an execution. I took a deep breath and my knees gave way. I stumbled to my feet and had to put a hand out in front of me to stop myself from pitching forwards face first into the snow.
‘Do you think we don’t keep a promise, English?’ the soldier asked me, ‘that we have no honour? You helped us take a man we have been trying to capture for ten years. You think we would kill you for that? No, you are our friend now, a hero of Russia,’ he told me, ‘but I think it is better for you if no one knows that.’ I managed to nod. I was fighting back the bile in my stomach, trying not to puke at the sight of Mikhail’s brains in the snow.
‘Thank you,’ I managed and slowly, very slowly, I climbed back to my feet.
‘Obviously, English, we cannot give you a ride,’ the soldier told me and there was more laughter from his men, ‘and I don’t think you want to go where Vasnetsov is going.’
‘No,’ I agreed.
‘You should leave quickly…’ He didn’t finish the sentence, but didn’t need to elaborate. When the Finns worked out that a smash and grab commando raid had been carried out by Russian special forces on their home soil, there was going to be one almighty row.
‘And the money?’ asked the soldier who’d done all the talking. ‘The two million dollars at the house?’ he gently enquired, and I did not hesitate, not even for a second.
‘Keep it,’ I told him and he looked a little affronted, as if I might be daring to imply he was corrupt. ‘A gift to your president,’ I added quickly, ‘for his re-election campaign.’
He smiled and nodded, ‘I am sure he will be most grateful.’
I didn’t give a shit whether he kept some or all of the money, gifted it to his Major, his intelligence chief or the president himself, all I cared about was my life. I started to walk back towards the house, treading carefully to avoid the blood-drenched snow.
When we reached the house, the second helicopter was ready to leave. The dead bodyguards had all been piled up just inside the house and I watched as they were doused with petrol. The commandos moved briskly, as they removed all evidence of their presence. The Major spotted me and walked over. He handed me a set of car keys. ‘Silver Mercedes’ he told me. We both looked at a row of cars parked not far from the building and, sure enough, a silver Merc waited patiently among them. I turned back to the Major and he handed me a padded brown envelope.
‘From the banker,’ he told me, ‘as you requested.’
‘Thank you.’ I said.
‘Good luck Blake,’ he told me, then he was gone without waiting for a reply.
I walked towards the car as the commandos melted away from the building and the sound of helicopter rotors whirring intensified. A charge went off inside the building. It didn’t make a huge amount of noise but it must have been an incendiary device because a fire broke out and spread quickly. I watched as the helicopter took off and rose vertically above the trees, then tore off at an eye-watering speed until it was gone, disappearing into the darkness. I climbed into the Merc and started the car as the fire really took hold. I drove away from the house just as the first window exploded.
EPILOGUE
I drove back into Helsinki as quickly as I dared. I left the car in the underground car park of a large hotel. Then I went shopping. I bought new, casual clothes and a traveller’s rucksack then walked for a while until I found the small, family-run hotel. I collected the package waiting for me under an assumed name and took it to my room. In it was the passport Palmer had acquired for me and some money. Once in the room, I changed my clothes and emerged wearing backpacker jeans, T-shirt, baseball cap and the blandest jacket I could find. I bagged up the suit in a black sack and ditched it in the large bin at the rear of the hotel. Before I left the place, I gave them the padded, brown envelope to mail out for me then I took a bus to the airport.
I sailed through Customs with the fake passport and boarded a flight to Stockholm, just to get me clear of the country. Then I took another flight from Stockholm to Berlin. I checked into a hotel, took a long hot shower and fell into bed. I planned to stay in Berlin for one night only. I hadn’t finished travelling yet, not by a long way.
You can buy English papers in Berlin and the next morning one of the broadsheets wrote. ‘International condemnation is mounting against the Russian government following the alleged kidnapping and repatriation of a western-based oligarch who is resident in London. Yaroslav Vasnetsov, a long-time campaigner for human rights and a staunch opponent of the Russian President, was apparently snatched from a house near Helsinki by agents of the GRU or FSB, the Russian Military Intelligence and State Security Service, following a pitched battle with his bodyguards, which reportedly left several people dead. The President of Finland was said to be outraged by such an inflammatory act on Finnish soil.
The Russian government has denied the kidnapping, stating instead that Vasnetsov had returned to Moscow voluntarily, to answer numerous criminal charges levelled against him. A business associate of Vasnetsov has described this as laughable, adding that, ‘A return to Russia is just about the only thing Yaroslav Vasnetsov was afraid of’.
Vasnetsov resurfaced in the Russian capital yesterday, standing in the dock of a Moscow court in handcuffs and regulation prison uniform, where he was charged with nine counts of tax evasion, embezzlement, money laundering, sponsoring terrorist organisations and treason. If convicted, he faces a life sentence in a Siberian prison. Human rights organisations have dismissed the spectacle as a show trial with the verdict already beyond doubt.
Mystery surrounds the fate of an unnamed British businessman who was also reported to have attended the high-level meeting near the Finnish capital. However, the Foreign Office stated that it was not aware of any British citizen being harmed.
Though there has been denial of any state involvement in the alleged kidnapping, a source close to the Russian Security Service said, ‘Russia staunchly defends its sovereign right to defend its territorial borders against the threat of international terrorism. Terrorists and their sponsors do not have human rights. Yaroslav Vasnetsov was not taken on foreign soil but when the west does this, you put your suspects in orange suits and fly them to Guantanamo, locking them away for years without charge or even the opportunity of a trial. The Americans call this ‘extraordinary rendition’. When the Russian government is accused of returning one of its own citizens to his homeland to stand trial, the American President and the British Prime Minister call this kidnapping. The hypocrisy of the western so-called democracies is staggering.’