Flamingo Podnyalsya Ch 7

Flamingo Podnyalsya Ch 7

By Phillip Miller

CHAPTER 7

Four days after arriving at the Intensive Care Unit, Inspector Moreau had made rapid progress and had been discharged. He gathered his belongings together and waited for his taxi home. His head was a mass of red, purple, and black and, although the swelling had decreased along his shin bones and ankles, the pain was still grinding on him. His ribs had taken a battering also.

He sat outside the private hospital, waiting for his ride. Ten minutes later a black Mercedes pulled up alongside him and he hobbled around to the passenger door and eased his way carefully into the seat.

“You look well Commander,” said Peter Donyevsky.

“Flattery will get you nowhere. We need to get back to HQ and sort this mess out,” grimaced the inspector as Peter accelerated around a bend. “Did you take care of everything at the farm?”

“Yes,” said Peter.

“May those bastards rot in hell.”

“Who was the Englishman?”

“I don’t know. He arrived with an agent called Mika.” They rode over a speed bump and a pain shot down his right side. “For Christ’s sake! will you take it easy?” He pulled his right elbow in to support his fractured ribs.

“There was no woman, just the Englishman and Kaspersky.”

“Shit!” Moreau shook his head. “Craig! Where is he? Does he know? Did you tell him anything?”

“Don’t worry, we will find him,” said Peter.

“Where are we going?”

“Relax. I have it all under control.” He pointed to the small screen set in the dashboard. “GPS,” he smirked.

Craig Burnett left the Archway and walked over to his open-backed Toyota. Moreau and Donyevsky pulled up beside him and when he saw the tall Russian agent step out of the car, his legs almost gave way. “How did you find me?” he said, as he closed the driver’s door. Donyevsky took his keys and nodded at the car parked parallel. Moreau wound down his window. “Get in the car. We have much to discuss and little time,” wincing as he spoke.

“You look, terrible Sir!”

“No need to call me Sir. I need to tell yo…..”

“I know about Flamingo and I know about Okhrana. It’s a mistake. It’s a big mistake, Sir!”

Moreau looked quizzingly at Craig. “How do you know about Flamingo?”

“Sir!” Craig held out the small USB, then casually aimed it in Donyevsky’s direction. “That bastard in my flat must have dropped it in the scuffle. It contains everything to do with Operation Flamingo.

“Now you know! So, get in. We have to go to the command centre. We will be safe there. The Kremlin will not be happy that one of their best agents is dead and we don’t know how much they know. The woman is still out there so we need to be alert. She will come for you Craig. Donyevsky resumed his position in the driver’s seat and opened his glove compartment to check his small PSS-2 pistol; silent and lethal at close range. Craig sat in the rear. He thought about Cody and Tom; Didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye.

They arrived, two hours later, at an industrial estate just outside Milton Keynes, and made their way to a small factory outlet. The old wooden sign was well worn and impossible to read. Before long the automatic roller shutter creaked and clunked as it rose to reveal an empty facility. Craig’s feet started to itch but he avoided the compulsion to scratch. Peter helped Moreau out of the car while Craig remained seated, overcome by a feeling of extreme consternation but then eased himself up and out of the car to stand alongside Moreau.

The silence was soon broken as the Pit in the middle of the concrete floor began to rise.

“Don’t worry,” said the inspector, “This is where it all begins.” He turned and offered a pained smile to the young officer who followed in behind, head bowed.

The lift dropped for two minutes before reaching level three, and a further two minutes during horizontal shift. The doors slid speedily apart and the injured Chief Inspector hobbled, with the aid of his double agent, over to a woman holding a small scanner. “Good to go. Greenroom please,” she said, directing them to a wall consisting of various coloured doors. As soon as it opened, Craig realised that the nightmare was real. Two armed guards escorted them through the Command floor, eventually arriving at the large office of Major Singha, who cut short his Crypto meeting and turned to face them.

“Sir.” Moreau and Donyevsky saluted.

“Charles. Glad you made it. Peter, good to see you're still with us.” The Major stood and offered his hand to Moreau, then Donyevsky and finally to Craig.

“I suppose this has come as rather a shock to you, young man. Please sit. I’ll order some coffee. This could be a long night.”

Craig felt sick. He had been feeling sick ever since Moreau told him about the deaths of his sister-in-law Cody, and his brother, Tom.

“What does he know?” inquired the Major.

“Pepe Brown tracked him through Ruberov.” Moreau reached for a chair for support.

“Please forgive me, Charles. Please, Make yourself comfortable.” He directed Moreau to his bottle-green wing-backed executive chair and pressed a small button on his desk. “Tea, coffee and sandwiches, double-quick, Thank you.” He then averted his attention to Craig.

“What do you think this is all about?” said Major Navin Singha as Peter Donyevsky pulled up a chair to sit beside them both.

Craig felt embarrassed and nervous. His feet started to itch as he began to talk. “I don’t want any part of this. Without me, you can’t do anything anyway. So, just let me go.”

“Do you have any idea what is happening out there, in the real world?"

“All I know is that I’m just an average copper from North London. I support Spurs and get pissed most weekends. I’m not married and I don’t have kids.” He touched his temple as a small pain started to niggle away at him.”

Singha and Moreau looked at each other nodding as they listened. The door to the office opened. “Sir!” said a young woman, as she eased a trolley towards the Major’s desk. “Anything else, Sir?”

“No, thank you, just pour the drinks. That will be all.” The sandwiches looked very inviting, but Craig suddenly lost his appetite. Moreau, Donyevsky and the Major tucked in. The Russian agent eyed the young girl as she left the room, nodding approvingly.

“Here,” said the Major, as he offered a small plate of cakes around.

“I’m not hungry at the moment,” sighed Craig.

“You know why you’re not hungry,” said Major Singha, as he licked a blob of fresh cream from the corner of his bearded mouth.”

“Yes! I’m bloody scared shitless, that’s why! So, pick someone else for the job. Its sounds easy enough. Invade Russia, establish Flamingo and regain the imperialist dream. Just leave the Russians to themselves. Nothing to do with me. Just let me go.” He sat down satisfied with his little outburst. Donyevsky stopped chewing and stared intently over at him, frowning aggressively.

The Major clicked his fingers and a voice immediately answered, “Sir!”

“Send them both in.” The Major stood, as did Moreau, uneasily, as he indicated to Peter to go over and stand by Craig.

“Don’t be alarmed,” said Major Singha, as the door slid open.

Craig was staring at the ground, sliding his foot back and forth, trying to alleviate the itching.

“Hello, Craig.”

The voice was very familiar to him, but he couldn’t quite believe his ears. He looked up and blinked repeatedly as if a mirage had appeared. It was his brother, Tom. Then in walked Cody. He looked around in complete confusion and shock. He couldn’t talk or move. Then, she spoke. “Hi Craig, good to see you.” She offered a small smile; the one he remembered, curling up at the corner, causing one of her dimples to appear. “Same here Craig,” said Tom. Both were dressed in military uniform.

Too weak to move and too emotionally and mentally exhausted to confront the scene before him, he placed his head in his hands and began to sob, uncontrollably. Cody wanted to hold him. She could finally tell him how she felt about him. But not yet. More important things to do.

“Major! I think we should get moving. Arkhangel-M2 is now at the Kamchatka Peninsula. They have also massed forces along the Border with Latvia and Estonia, stating military manoeuvres, but already skirmishes cross line, Sir.” Cody saluted as she finished her report and stepped back, quickly grabbing a peek at Craig.

“Thank you. Initiate all Trojans and inform Bletchley.” The Major pulled his chair closer to the crushed figure before him. “I know it’s a shock, but you were destined for this. Ok! you were designed for this moment. You are going to be the next Tzar of Russia. Everything is in place.

“My life has been a lie. My whole life has been a lie.” He looked over at Tom and Cody and shook his head.

“These are two of the best special service agents in the business. They looked after you and protected you for this precise moment Craig. The Russian church has agreed. The Okhrana have agreed, along with the USA. It is now or never. Russia has to be stopped before it takes complete control of the East. It is causing too much instability. We must not fail. But, if it does fail, we have a little secret weapon of our own. It is all set. Now! I suggest you get some rest. We have a long journey ahead. Forget your old life. That is dead and buried. Show him to his quarter’s.”

Peter Donyevsky walked over and helped Craig up. Moreau sat quietly, observing his reaction, before reaching for another sandwich.

Moreau and Major Singha sat facing each other. Both took a deep breath and then sat back.

“Tridents one, two and three are in place. Okhrana is standing by and, if the shit really hits the fan, then HADES is in place also. I will leave you to engage your team within Okhrana. Let’s hope we don’t have to unleash it,” said the Major.

“I hope not. If that works like it should then just a thimble full would wipe out the entire Russian capital,” said Moreau as he slid the last bit of ham and cucumber sandwich into his mouth. “I want Craig to have access to Ruberov’s files. He needs to know.” He stood and poured a large brandy for himself and the Major. They raised their glasses. “I will see to it,” said the Major.

Craig was taken to his room and given an injection to help him sleep. He began to feel tired very quickly and it wasn’t long before his head found the pillow. The injection made him drowsy and he tried to force his eyes open but it was no use. Just as he was about to enter the realms of fantasy the door to his unit opened and in walked Cody. He was too far gone to acknowledge her as she sat on his bed and cradled his head as he drifted off. She held his face in both hands and kissed him, softly.

The next morning Tom entered Craig’s quarter’s with a small tray of food and a hot drink, placing it on the bedside table. He stood over the man that had been his younger brother, feeling the compulsion to hug him, but simply withdrew and left the room.

The aroma of the fresh ground coffee ignited Craig’s senses. He stirred slowly then rose to his feet and picked up the cup but ignored the food. It’s like a bloody prison. He tried the door and found it was unlocked so pulled it open and walked along the small corridor to the next door, which opened automatically. Two armed guards followed him to the next door which again, opened automatically. The vastness of the next room took him completely by surprise. It was the size of two football pitches and was filled with a mass of military personnel, giant screens, sections for hospitalisation and decontamination, weaponry and logistical areas. It was a hive of activity. Nobody noticed him. He spotted a woman with a scanner and asked if there were any showers. She obligingly guided him to a male wash-room facility, the guards ever-present. When he got to the showers he turned to his chaperones.

“You’re welcome to watch me boys but I’d rather do this on my own. I promise to wash behind my ears.” He expected some sort of response, but there was none. He turned on the hot water and stepped in. The power of the shower invigorated him, and he had never felt so happy to carry out his ablutions; it had been almost an entire week since he last bathed. He could not wait to eat but needed to stave off the hunger just a bit longer. Once finished he stepped out, dried himself down and looked for his old clothes but they had been taken. “ Hey! where are my………..?” The door opened and in walked Tom with a set of military overalls, boot’s and socks.

“Try these on. I think I have an idea of what size you are.” He set the items down next to Craig who grabbed his forearm.

“Tom, you have to help me. Get me out of here, please, get me out.” Tom swallowed hard and broke away, shaking his head. He turned and looked up at the camera locked onto them and then back at Craig. “Get dressed. It’s a big day.”

 Copyright Phillip Miller