Julia Gousseva - Gray Shadows - Russian Historical Thriller

“Nice to see you again, Nikolai,” Svetlana said.

Nikolai came up and shook her extended hand. “The pleasure is mine.”

Their greetings were interrupted by grunting sounds.

“The wheel is broken, the wheel is broken,” a deep male voice said. “Mommy, look! The wheel is broken.”

A young man who looked like he was about nineteen or twenty years old crawled out from behind the couch, a small toy car in his large masculine hands. He was dressed in dark pants, a loose-fitting bright blue sweatshirt, and scuffed-up sneakers. His face was contorted with pain and disgust. “The wheel is broken,” he kept repeating, pointing to the car in his hands.

“It’s okay, we’ll fix it. Don’t worry,” Svetlana said. “Let mommy take a look.” She picked up the car and looked at it. The young man crawled back to the other side of the couch. “I need to find a new toy in my bag,” he said. “A toy that works.”

Svetlana glanced at the secretaries, then turned to Nikolai. “That’s how it has been all these years. He turned four, and that was it. Never got past that age, it seems like.” She sighed.

The door opened and Pyotr Alekseevich walked in. “Svetlana, nice to see you.”

The young man crawled out from behind the couch again. This time, he was clutching a small teddy bear in his hands. He plopped on a chair next to Svetlana and stared at Pyotr Alekseevich. “Mommy, who’s that?” he said.

“Ilia, it’s your daddy,” Svetlana said to the young man.

Ilia inched closer to Svetlana, his eyes darting from Pyotr Alekseevich to Svetlana before stopping on Pyotr Alekseevich’s face. “Can you fix this car?” Ilia asked and handed him the broken toy.

Nikolai saw the expression of shock on Pyotr Alekseevich’s face that was quickly replaced by a wide forced smile. “I’m sure we can figure something out.” He took the car from Ilia.

Not wanting to add to this already uncomfortable situation, Nikolai quietly walked out of the room.

Later that night, Viktor called Nikolai again.

“I have some new information. Pretty interesting stuff,” Viktor said.

“I’m listening.”

“You know that I’m a thorough guy, right? But my methods are not always exactly by the book, and you know that, too. So, while I was checking your network, I looked into Luna Oil, and found that they had the same virus, JS-67.”

“Looked into it?” Nikolai said.

“All right. Hacked into it, but it’s just semantics. I wanted to make sure the two companies got equal treatment from your local computer guy. And they did. But I also found something weird. I don’t know if it means anything, but I thought I’d tell you.”

“What is it?”

“Somebody in Luna Oil has been doing a lot of research on that big oil spill that happened in Alaska a few years ago.”

“You mean Exxon Valdez?” Nikolai said.

“That’s the one. Whoever was doing it got into all kinds of little details about it, from water quality to the way the oil spread and traveled, to all kinds of graphs and charts about contaminants and what not.”

“Luna Oil is an oil company, so somebody might be interested in other oil companies, what’s so strange about it?”

“That’s what I thought at first, too.”

“And then what?”

“I kept looking at their browsing history, and what seemed odd that there were no traces of any other research, about anything, just that oil spill.”

“Do you think Luna Oil is somehow involved with Exxon?” Nikolai said.

“I wondered about that. What do you think? Could it be?”

“Highly unlikely.”

“I agree. It’s something else, but I can’t figure out what it can be.”

“I think I have an idea,” Nikolai said and turned on his laptop. There was research he needed to do.

In the office next morning, Nikolai asked Pyotr Alekseevich to see the latest environmental reports. When Pyotr Alekseevich heard Nikolai’s request, his expression registered surprise with a hint of annoyance.

“Nikolai, I appreciate your interest, but what can you do with the environmental reports? The numbers show high contamination, with all the graphs and charts to support it.” Pyotr Alekseevich shook his head. “You’re a great bodyguard and an excellent security expert, but you’re not a petroleum engineer and not a chemist.”

“Just let me see them, and I’ll tell you more.”

“Fine.” Pyotr Alekseevich handed him the folder. “Just don’t ask me to explain anything. I understand about a third of this report. I’m not a chemist either.”

Nikolai opened the folder and compared the numbers and the graphs to the information he downloaded from the Exxon Valdez oil spill report. And he saw exactly what he had expected to see after talking to Viktor.

“Pyotr Alekseevich, you have to look at this.”

With obvious reluctance, Pyotr Alekseevich got up and walked over to the desk where Nikolai spread out all the information.

“Exxon Valdez? What does that have to do with us? That spill happened a few years ago in Alaska,” Pyotr Alekseevich said.

“Take a closer look,” Nikolai said.

Pyotr Alekseevich leaned over the table and started looking at the charts and graphs.

“This is our data. And this one is from Exxon’s spill,” Nikolai said. “Compare them.”

Pyotr Alekseevich studied both documents carefully for a few minutes, then looked up at Nikolai. “They are identical. Very odd. How could this be? You aren’t telling me that their oil got into our river? That’s impossible.”

“No, that’s not it,” Nikolai said, letting Pyotr Alekseevich process this information.

“So, it’s some mistake?” Pyotr Alekseevich said.

“It’s no mistake. I don’t think MENDAX did any testing. They got the numbers and graphs from the Exxon Valdez report and sent them to you,” Nikolai said.

Pyotr Alekseevich looked straight at Nikolai. “But why would they do such a thing?”

“Do you know who owns MENDAX?” Nikolai said.

“No, but it sounds like you do, and it means something. Just tell me.”

“MENDAX is owned by a large conglomerate company, and Denis Fedorovich Petrenko is on the board of that company.”

“Denis is? The brother-in-law of the old director?” Pyotr Alekseevich’s expression registered amazement and disbelief. “I knew that they owned Luna Oil, but I thought that their other business was toy stores and other retail stuff.”

“They have that, too. But they also own MENDAX.”

“Let me see those results again,” Pyotr Alekseevich said and pulled the graphs closer. For a few moments, he inspected the graphs quietly, then he pushed them aside and looked at Nikolai. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

Nikolai nodded. “I’m pretty sure. MENDAX wanted to make it look like there was a major leak so that the company got in more trouble with the government, on top of the unpaid taxes. So, they copied the Exxon data, changed the labels, and sent it to you just before the board meeting.”

“And a copy to the government, of course, providing another reason to sell the company,” Pyotr Alekseevich added. “Nikolai, I’m impressed. How did you figure it out?”

“I had some help,” Nikolai said. “Viktor, the computer guy who works for Centurion, poked around and found some of these graphs on Luna Oil computers. Somebody there is very interested in bringing your company down. And now we know who.”

Pyotr Alekseevich nodded. “I expected a lot of things from Denis, but I certainly did not expect this. I didn’t think he would go that far to destroy my company.”

“What are you going to do now?” Nikolai said.

“Order an independent environmental evaluation,” Pyotr Alekseevich said and reached for his phone.