The Lure of the Pack (16 page)

Oratz put the gold leaf trimmed envelope in his inside coat
pocket. “I trust the reservation for dinner has been reconfirmed?” he asked.

Irina smiled again, “yes sir! Mister Menkov will be joining
you in the Caviar Restaurant for eight thirty this evening. I am sure you will
greatly enjoy your dinner.”

Again, there was no major response from Oratz, only a slight
nod of the head as he picked up the key to room number 23 and walked off.
“BRING MY LUGGAGE TO MY ROOM,” he shouted.

By this time Nikolai Yosko was standing in the foyer, with
the two suitcases. As Oratz left the reception area, Nikolai turned to Irina,
“he’s fucking hard work, isn’t he?”

Irina smiled openly. They knew each other well, for Irina
was not only on the payroll for the Grand Hotel Europe, but also Vitali
Menkov’s. “So what, that’s life Nikolai, if Mister Menkov wants us to take care
of him, then so be it!” She shrugged her shoulders, “now, do me a favour and
take his bags to his room will you?”

“Of course!”

As Nikolai walked to the lift, Irena gazed at him with a
certain look of amusement in her eyes. Just don’t expect a tip, she thought! 

“Put the bags down there!” Nikolai did so then stood
silently in the doorway of the magnificent, ornately decorated room. “Well,”
muttered Oratz, “just close the door behind you!”

With a certain look of disgruntlement, Nikolai swiftly
vacated the bedroom. Miserable, tight fisted shit he thought. 

With the door closed, Oratz hastily took the envelope from
his coat pocket and carefully opened it. The paper was of superb quality, he
expected nothing less. Pulling off his overcoat, he sat in one of several
beautiful armchairs and with an intense look on his face began to read his
important message.

WILHELM,

I AM HAPPY TO HEAR OF YOUR SAFE ARRIVAL IN ST PETERSBURG AND
LOOK FORWARD TO MEETING WITH YOU TONIGHT. 

20.30 HOURS - THE CAVIAR RESTAURANT.

YOURS: 

V.M.

Oratz carefully tore the letter into small strips and threw
it into the waste paper bin near the large, king-sized double bed. Perfect he
thought, a rare, wicked smile etching its way across his face. He sat back, his
thoughts racing. It was the code he had been waiting for: SAFE ARRIVAL IN ST
PETERSBURG! The device was in the city itself, the device that would soon
transform Europe’s future…for the better.

“…and while many European companies are watching their share
prices fall due to the current terrorist activity across Europe, Von Kurst
Electronics’ have increased dramatically, with the arrival of the Microchip
giant’s Sales Director in St Petersburg. The company, with its head office and
manufacturing base in Dusseldorf, are gaining maximum television and press
coverage for the announcement of their new factory, to be built on the
outskirts of the city. Already there is a great deal of speculation and
interest regarding VKE’s new microchip technology, details of which are due to
be announced on Thursday. Sky News requested interviews with Mister Otto Von
Kurst, the Managing Director and Company Chairman of VKE and his Sales
Director, Mister Wilhelm Oratz. Unfortunately both gentlemen declined, saying
interviews will be conducted as of tomorrow. Meanwhile on the American
markets…”

“Interesting, hey Ash?” The Sky News financial report had
brought Piper over to the large screen in front of Nick Lucas.

“Yes, what time are tomorrow’s interviews with Oratz?”

“From what I can see, everything kicks off at 09.00, local
time. According to his private database, which yours truly hacked into, he
really is a busy man. If he’s not giving interviews he’s attending meetings
regarding their new production site. Its construction begins in July.”

“Mmm,” Piper paused, “is there any information on Oratz’s
database regarding the identities of the people he is meeting, anyone who
appears regularly on his itinerary?”

Nick typed at his keyboard, bringing up recorded notes of
the facts and figures regarding Wilhelm Oratz’s visit to St Petersburg. “Yeah,
one guy…Vitali Menkov. Looks like he’s some sort of businessman.”

Piper patted Nick on his shoulder, “do me a favour my
friend, run a check on him!”

“No problem!”

“Ah, Mister Menkov, welcome…welcome,” Viktor Borzoi, the
Maitre d’ of the Grand Hotel Europe’s Caviar Bar and Restaurant briskly shook
hands with the tall, ruggedly athletic, some would say elegant businessman
standing in front of him.

It was 8.30 p.m. 

“It is good to see you again, Viktor.”

“As always Mister Menkov, it is a pleasure.” Viktor Borzoi’s
smile and handshake were genuinely warm for he had a great deal of respect for
the powerful looking man standing with the two hefty, well dressed men by his
side.

“I take it my special guest is already waiting?” There was a
significant glint of power in Menkov’s eyes, which came as no surprise to
Borsoi, for an aura of power always seemed to follow his most valued customer.

“Indeed so Mister Menkov, Mister Oratz awaits your company
at your…” Borzoi paused, then smiled, “…usual table.”

“Good!”

“Please, follow me!”

Menkov turned to the two men accompanying him, “stay here!”
They nodded their agreement.

With the ever-present smile on his face, Borzoi walked
across the grandiose restaurant, acknowledging various guests as he did so. His
charming smile was always steadfast, his pride apparent, for the Grand Hotel
Europe’s main dining area was splendidly furbished. From the surrounding highly
polished marble décor, to the large mirrors reflecting the beautifully radiant
indoor fountain, the restaurant was truly a sight to behold. “Mister Oratz,
your guest has arrived!”

Wilhelm Oratz quickly left the comfort of his chair and
gazed at the man now standing proudly across from him. “Vitali!”

“WILHELM!” Vitali Menkov’s voice reverberated loudly as he
threw his muscular arms open in a steadfast gesture of friendship. Walking
briskly up to his old friend, he hugged Wilhelm Oratz and kissed him on each
cheek. “HA, MY FRIEND!” Menkov released his powerful grip, “YOU LOOK WELL AS
ALWAYS, BUT STILL A LITTLE TOO THIN. I MUST ASK VIKTOR TO FATTEN YOU UP
TONIGHT!” Menkov laughed, a hearty laugh, making the other guests in the
restaurant smile.

As usual, Oratz kept straight-faced, not caring to return
the Russian gesture of friendship. Instead, he shook hands politely, but
firmly, “it is good to see you again Vitali, I have been greatly looking
forward to this evening.”

Again the booming voice thundered around the restaurant. “ME
TOO MY FRIEND, AH…” Menkov paused, holding the index finger of his right hand
upwards near his cheek, then turned to face a small loudspeaker issuing gentle,
delightful tones of classical music. He turned to Viktor, who smiled openly.
“Viktor,” Menkov’s voice suddenly lowered somewhat, much to the delight of
Wilhelm Oratz, “Alexander Porphiryevich Borodin…”, Borzoi bowed his head in
appreciation as Menkov continued, “…Symphony Number Two in B Minor! Ah Viktor,
you spoil me!”

Wilhelm Oratz looked at the Restaurant’s Maitre‘d, then
again at Menkov.

“Of course Mister Menkov, just for you.” Borzoi was openly
pleased with the token of appreciation.

“And to be followed by…?” There was another glint in
Menkov’s eyes, in particular, his amber one.

“Glazunov and Shostakovich, Mister Menkov.”

“PERFECT VIKTOR, PERFECT!” Again the loud booming voice,
showing all in the vicinity that Vitali Menkov was in a very cheerful mood.

“Please gentlemen, your seats!” The two businessmen sat down
as Menkov’s favourite classical music played pleasantly in the background.

“What more could we ask for, hey Wilhelm?” The Russian
businessman gazed deeply into the eyes of Von Kurst Electronics’ Sales Director
as Oratz returned the gaze, noticing the tell tale sign of adrenaline pumping
through his Russian friend’s veins. Vitali’s eyes thought Oratz; they were
always so fascinating. Amber on the left, dark brown on the right.

“Now then Wilhelm, we cannot begin the evening without a
toast. Viktor!”

“Vitali,” Oratz had a slight tremble in his voice, “please
remember, I do not drink alcohol.”

“Nonsense my friend, you shall have one glass, to toast our
joyous reunion and of course…” Menkov paused and smiled, “our business
arrangement!”

There was no need for Viktor Borzoi to ask which vodka would
be ordered for the toast, he knew perfectly well. Within minutes the Maitre‘d
had returned, with two small crystal glasses filled with clear liquid,
“Sinopskaya, Mister Menkov, only the best, as usual.”

“Excellent, now please…Wilhelm,” Menkov passed a glass to
his friend and brought his to face height, “I propose a toast!” Oratz brought
his glass to face height, not bearing to think of the taste that was about to
assault his senses. “To free enterprise my friend, long may it continue!”

“Amen to that,” replied Oratz, with a certain look of
trepidation on his face. Within a second Menkov’s glass was empty as Oratz’s
touched his thin, dry lips.

“Down in one Wilhelm, don’t disappoint me!”

Oratz flipped the vodka into his mouth, the burning of the
strong, intoxicating liqueur seemingly setting his tongue and throat on fire.
He coughed and put the glass down.

“EXCELLENT WILLHELM, I WILL MAKE A RUSSIAN OF YOU YET, HA!”
Again the hearty laugh as Oratz tried to recover his voice. “Otto would not
approve…” he coughed, “of you…drinking vodka, Vitali.”

There was silence then Menkov spoke. “I know! Normally I do
not drink alcohol, but one glass will not hurt us and we are here to celebrate
as well as to discuss business, let us not forget that!”

Oratz nodded his head as Viktor returned with two thickly
bound menus. “Gentlemen, please take your time and enjoy savouring the delights
we have here tonight. Now then, drinks, what can I get you both?”

“The usual for me Viktor,” said Menkov.

“Ice cold water, Mister Menkov?”

Menkov nodded.

“Fresh orange juice!” As usual there was not a hint of
courtesy from Oratz.

“Of course sir, I will return soon.”

Wilhelm Oratz opened his leather bound Menu and gazed at the
delicious choices in front of him. Vitali Menkov did not. He knew exactly what
he was going to order.

“So Wilhelm,” said Menkov, “you had a pleasant journey to
the hotel, with Nikolai?”

“Pleasant enough,” Oratz gazed intensively at the menu.

“He is a good man, is he not?”

“He talks too much, and asks too many questions.”

“Ha! I shall tell him that, when I see him tomorrow.”

Oratz looked up, there was something about the way Vitali
was talking that intrigued him. “So, I take it Nikolai is someone special, is
he?”

Again, there was a glint in Menkov’s eyes, only this time
the glint was slightly menacing. “Nikolai, my dear Wilhelm, is…how can I say…my
right hand man, my…lieutenant. Yes, he is very pleasant when you first meet
him, but believe me, he is also a psychopath. Nikolai would think nothing of
skinning you alive, if I asked him to.”

“How charming.”

“Nikolai told me, in his own words, you were…fucking hard
work! HA!” Menkov brought his large hands down heavily on the table, making the
crockery jump, “YOU ARE STILL AS MISERABLE AS EVER WILHELM! WHY DON’T YOU EVER
SMILE?” Oratz did not reply as, for a few brief seconds the restaurant fell
quiet.

“Your drinks, gentlemen.”

“Excellent Viktor.” Menkov passed the large glass of chilled
fresh orange juice to his friend.

“Are you ready to order, Mister Menkov?”

“Indeed I am Viktor and I will ignore this menu, even though
there is a great deal to tempt my taste buds. No…I will have my usual. For my
appetizer I require the large portion of Smoked Venison Loin, with no extras
and for the main course…the best steak you have, again, with no extras!”

“Of course Mister Menkov and cooked as usual…blue?”

“Yes Viktor, five seconds on each side, that is all I
require!”

“Of course sir, and Mister Oratz?” Wilhelm Oratz looked up
at the Maitre d’, a slight look of irritation set firmly on his face. “I am
sorry Mister Oratz, if you require more time I can return a little later.”
Vitali Menkov noticed how Viktor seemed genuinely embarrassed.

“No! I will order now.” Slowly, Oratz turned the pages of
the large menu once again.

“For appetizers, the Coquilles of Kamchatka Crab and
Scallops and for the main course, the Beef Fillet Stroganoff.”

“An excellent choice if I may so, Mister Oratz.”

“Yes, you would, wouldn’t you,” replied Oratz,
sarcastically.

Viktor gathered the menus from the two businessmen, his
cheeks red with embarrassment. “I trust the music is to your satisfaction,
Mister Menkov?”

Wilhelm Oratz looked carefully at both men, his instincts
telling him something was not quite right.

“It is perfect Viktor, I take it the volume setting will
stay the same…throughout our meal?”

Yes thought Oratz, something is going on here!

Viktor smiled and bowed his head once again, “of course
Mister Menkov, of course.”

As Viktor walked away, Menkov returned his powerful gaze
towards Oratz. “Nikolai warned you of the people following the Jaguar this
afternoon, didn’t he?”

“Yes,” Oratz took a slow sip of his orange, its taste
refreshing his senses after the pungent assault of the vodka, “why do you ask?”

Menkov sat back in his chair, “are you, shall I say,
concerned about possible eavesdropping on tonight’s conversation?” There was a
tense look in Menkov’s amber and brown eyes.

“To be honest Vitali, yes I am.”

“Don’t be my friend.” The tense look suddenly eased as
Menkov smiled, “I can guarantee you Wilhelm, somewhere in this fine restaurant,
an agent, or agents from our Federal Security Service, the FSB, will be trying
to listen in on our conversation. This happens all the time, but they are
fools.” Oratz looked quizzically at his colleague, his head slightly tilted as
he became ever more intrigued. “Viktor is a close confidante of mine. Like many
of the staff here, he is not only paid by his employers, but by myself, for,
shall I say…certain little favours.” Again, the smile returned as Menkov looked
full of mischief. “My dear Wilhelm, the beautiful classical music you listen to
in the background gives no hint of what lies in the speaker itself. Whenever I
eat here, and believe me I eat here a great deal, Viktor always makes sure a
certain, small electronic device is switched on inside the speaker. This device
disrupts any electronic surveillance equipment within a one hundred-metre area.
So anyone trying to listen in receives only garbled static. Clever, hey?”
Menkov took a sip of his water and folded his arms.