Alex Shaw - Hetman - Donetsk Calling

“You piece of shit!” Klyuyvets swung his baton at Snow, who stepped out of the way and kicked the officer in the head which snapped back rendering him too unconscious.

“Aidan, what have you done?” Katya put her hands on her head.

He ignored Katya’s question and checked both men were still breathing and that their skulls were not fractured before cuffing them with own cuffs. “At least we now know what they wanted. Check their ID.”

Still in a mild state of shock she did as she was told. “Ah, that’s why they refused to speak Ukrainian.” She pointed to a driving licence. “They are from Donetsk.”

“Makes sense, new faces come in and want their share of the ‘cake’.”

Katya nodded and started to rant. “Since that goat became president he’s been replacing everyone with his own people. My friend’s an estate agent and she says that most of the companies renovating flats are from the East, especially the Donbas region. On the roads there are more and more cars with number plates starting with ‘AN’ – Donetsk and can you believe this even the supermarkets are using Eastern Ukrainian suppliers! The country is going down the toilet!”

Snow knew all of this, but did not interrupt her, she needed to talk, to vent - it would help lessen her shock. Most of Russian speaking population of Ukraine wanted closer ties with Russian now that their man had become President and the last vestige of the Orange Revolution had been swept away. ‘Party’ men from the East had come to the capital and started what was at first called a ‘quiet coup’. Now however more and more noise was being made as they continued to gain control of public and private bodies.

Katya continued. “That’s why we are going to move. I’ve been offered a job in London. My bank’s re-launching its Eastern European venture capital unit. They want me to be part of the team dealing with Ukraine and Russia.”

“So you’ll be speaking Russian and dealing with the ‘Bandits from Donetsk’.”

“Oh shit.” Her focus turned again to the two recumbent officers. “Oh shit Aidan, what have you done?”

“I saw red, I hate bullies.” Snow realised he had made a mistake but it had felt good to slap the two men silly.

“But they’ll be missed, we’ll get arrested!”

Snow looked at his phone. “Maybe not, we’ve got some leverage. Tell me about your neighbours?”

“But why…”

“Please.”

She frowned. “That side,” she pointed to the left, “is owned by an old woman. She never speaks to me. She’s half deaf, keeps herself to herself.”

“So she probably wouldn’t have heard anything.”

“And the flat across from us is owned by an alcoholic.”

“A fiend of Brian’s?”

“Ha ha. No. He’s very loud when he’s pissed.”

“So we can assume that if anyone did hear anything they may think it was the bloke across the hall?”

“Ok, I get it. But what happens when the Militia come looking for them?”

“Hopefully we won’t need to keep hold of them for that long.”

“Aidan, I don’t like any of this. This is my home and now I’ve got two bound up policemen in the middle of my lounge.”

“Then we’ll move them.”

“Great. Where to?”

“The bathroom.”

“I thought you meant somewhere else? Somewhere outside.”

“Can you get me your ironing board, duck-tape and any spare belts of Brian’s?”

Katya cast him an odd look. “Have you been reading Fifty Shades of Grey?”

“Just do it.”

Whilst Katya moved into the bedroom to look for belts, Snow dragged the diminutive Officer Brovchenko into the bathroom where he removed the man’s shoes. Katya showed him where the ironing board was and Snow placed it under the still comatose officer. The man’s shackled arms were behind him and underneath the board. Katya handed him two belts. Snow nodded in approval. Made for a man with a huge waist they easily went around the thin officer twice and secured him to the board. Katya looked on none the wiser whilst Snow searched the bathroom.

“Is this your face cloth?” He asked her.

“Yes but it needs to be washed.”

“All the better. Katya. I need you to go and sit in the lounge and keep watch over ‘Mr Angry’.”

“What are you going to do?”

“You don’t want to see what I’m going to do.”

“Who are you Aidan, I mean really?”

“A friend. Now go into the lounge.”

Snow removed his polo-shirt then manoeuvred Brovchenko so that the board was leaning against the bath like a see-saw. The board creaked slighty, it wouldn’t hold for long but was all he had available. He then gently lowered the end with the officers’ head into the bath before turning on the shower. The icy cold water splashed onto the Ukrainian’s face; his feet began to tap and his eyes shot open. As the water travelled into his mouth and up his nose he started to splutter and choke. Snow pushed down and the man’s head came clear of the water. He coughed and then fought for air. Water-Boarding was an extreme measure but Snow was in a hurry. He still however hoped that he would not have to take it too far. Snow started his questioning without wasting any more time. “Where is Brian Webb?”

“I don’t know…let me go.” Brovchenko spluttered.

Snow placed the wet facecloth over the man’s face and then let his head drop down again into the shower. This time the material clung to his face, making it more difficult for air to get into his nostrils and mouth. Brovchenko felt as though he was drowning. He pulled his arms and tried to kick with his feet as his panic increased. It was at this point that he emptied his bladder. Snow pulled him up again and removed the towel.

“Where is Brian Webb?”

“You can’t do this to me I’m a serving Militia officer! You’ll be thrown in jail!”

Snow slowly draped the facecloth once more on the young officer’s face as he did so the man started to talk – the words muffled. Snow removed the cloth. “Where is Webb?”

“I’ve got a Krisha! I’m protected by…” His words were cut short by the facecloth once more.

Snow held him under longer this time before snapping him up-right. He wasn’t sure how long the home-made device would last so he had to increase the risk. “Now tell me where is Webb?”

Gasping for air Brovchenko replied. “He’s at a house in Petropolavskaya Bolshaghivga.”

“Not a Militia station?”

“No.”

“Where exactly? What’s the address?”

“It’s in Meer street… 26. Yes Meer 26. Now please let me go.”

‘Meer’ the Russian for ‘peace’. The fact that Brian was being held at a private house and not an official address confirmed to him without a doubt that this was all a rouse. “Who provides your Krisha?”

Officer Brovchenko became wide eyed as he realised the full cost of his error. “No I can’t!”

Snow slapped him in the face with his open palm, replaced the face cloth and dunked his face again. This time he held him for as long as he dared before tipping him back up. It took a whole thirty seconds for Brovchenko to recover enough to be able to speak. “Ruslan Imyets.” The name meant nothing to Snow and Brovchenko noticed this fact with shock. “Ruslan Imyets is a Verhovna Rada Deputy with the Party of Regions for Donbas.”

Snow nodded satisfied that he’d got all he needed. “Officer Brovchenko, were you responsible for the abduction of Brian Webb?”

Brovchenko saw a way out. “No. There were others involved.”

Snow nodded, the man had taken the bait. “Your group has made a serious error in kidnapping Mr Webb and attempting blackmail his wife. Now I understand that you perhaps are naïve enough to have been caught up in this, coerced into becoming part of this criminal group.”