Twisted Traffick Read online

  Mikhail Glinkov was glad it was Friday, and that it was time to clock out. He liked his work as a security guard at the Mayak Production Facility, but as always by the end of the week, he could not help looking forward to a day or two to rest up and spend time with the family. Though it was now already eight o’clock and starting to get dark, the late May Siberian sun had been warmer than usual, and the weekend promised to be equally nice. He smiled as he thought of the long walk they liked to take on Sunday mornings with his wife, Galina, daughter, Nadia, and son, Yuri, along the shores of beautiful Lake Kyshtym.

  As he made his way out of the locker room, where he had taken off his holster and changed out of his work clothes and into his own much more comfortable casuals, he glanced at a notice on the bulletin board. He remarked on it only because the bright pink paper it was written on stood out from the usual drab adverts offering second-hand stoves or fridges for sale, or piano or English classes for the wife and children. The big bold black letters announced a meeting on Saturday afternoon at three p.m. in Room B of the Ozersk Community Hall, where someone from the European Placement Agency would discuss job placement possibilities in the west for children just finishing school.

  Just then, his boyhood friend, Pavel, who regularly worked with him on the shift, came up behind Mikhail to remind him of his wife, Svetlana’s birthday party Saturday evening. Glancing at the notice Mikhail was looking at, he added, “Yes, I saw that earlier. I was also thinking of going to that presentation. It could be good for the girls to get away from here, finally.” And he looked around, as if to see if there was anybody within hearing range before he continued. “We both know that this is no place to bring up a child, with all the contamination around.”

  Mikhail knew, like everyone else knew. And, although he had not thought about it much before, because he didn’t think it possible, Pavel was absolutely right, Mikhail told himself in the minibus that ferried the workers from the site to Lenin Park in the middle of Ozersk. It would be best for Nadia to get away from here.

  In the last few years, a few reports had appeared in the press about the still dangerous levels of radioactive pollution in and around Mayak. And the serious effects on the health and morbidity of the population that resided in the region. Several of these articles were clear that the average life span here was more than five years less than elsewhere in Russia. And there was that report a few years ago circulating clandestinely among his friends, claiming that over the last thirty-five or so years, there had been a twenty-one per cent increase in the incidences of cancer and a twenty-five per cent increase in birth defects, and that fully fifty per cent of the population of child bearing age was sterile.

  The figures had stuck in his mind. They were staggering, if true.

  Indeed, several of Nadia’s classmates had been diagnosed with cancer already, and Svetlana, Pavel’s wife--whose fortieth birthday it would be Saturday--was being treated for breast cancer. Many of their friends were ill. Some, like Galina’s father, a former colleague--who actually had worked in one of the reactors--had passed away, he with pancreatic cancer. And there were many more. Although they were not supposed to talk about it openly, when they and their friends got together, the deaths, sicknesses, birth deformities often ended up being the subject of conversation.

  So why not have Nadia go to the west, if a good job opportunity, that would allow her to have a better, healthier life, presented itself? In any case, it was unlikely that she would be accepted at the Institute of Physics and Technology in Moscow--even though she was an honors student, and her marks were possibly good enough, Mikhail was sufficiently pragmatic to know that politically he was a nothing. And what was the alternative? Marriage to her boyfriend, Gennady--Pavel’s and Svetlana’s two-year-older son? Who would no doubt also end up working at Mayak. And the standard boxy apartment in one of the Communist era apartment blocks that still housed most of the workers--other than, of course, the bigwigs who lived in the villas by the lake. Maybe two children if she was lucky--and not one of the sterile fifty per cent--hopefully, not deformed or plagued with illnesses. And pray, not an early death.

  He would talk to Galina about this tonight, and perhaps Nadia as well. No, maybe he would go to the meeting first with Pavel, and then discuss it with his wife and daughter afterward. Better to get all the facts and make sure this was indeed a real opportunity. Yes, better that, than just to get their hopes up and then have to dash them.

  ***

  When Mikhail and Pavel got to the Ozersk Town Hall, the meeting had already started. Mikhail had hemmed and hawed during his entire lunch over what he should tell Galina about where he was going. Finally, he decided a little white lie would not hurt, and he would just say it was a meeting concerning some new opportunities at work, and that Pavel was also going. That way, if there really was something worthwhile for Nadia, he could always just say he had misunderstood--and that, in any case, he was really glad that he went. Besides, then telling the falsehood wouldn’t matter anyway since the women would be all full of excitement and anticipation. And if nothing came of the whole thing, they would never need to know the truth.

  A slightly paunchy, well-dressed man sporting what to Mikhail looked like obviously dyed blond hair was speaking as he and Pavel sat down in the back row.

  “We fly the young ladies and young men in a charter plane to our headquarters in Hungary, where our placement experts interview and select them for jobs we have specially identified throughout Europe. In this brochure--” And he started handing around a pile of glossy handouts. “--we have a list of some of the recent job placements we have made, as well as an insert showing the specific employment opportunities now waiting for your sons and daughters.

  “As you will see, these are all well paying positions with strong, bona fide companies. We, at the European Placement Agency, will take care of all the necessary paperwork to make this a reality for the families that place their trust in us. We will work with the companies to secure working visas and make sure your children are eligible for health and other benefits.

  “Of course, I am happy to answer any questions you may have.”

  Mikhail put his hand up. “Please, I would like to know how we can make ourselves and our wives absolutely comfortable with the idea of sending our sons and daughters to a foreign country to work in a strange environment. How do we know they will not be exploited? And even if you do succeed in getting them good jobs, where and how will they live? It’s not just about the jobs--”

  “Yes, I am glad you asked that question, sir, and of course that is all explained in the brochure. On page four there are testimonials from parents around Russia whose children we have placed. Also, on the page inside the cover, you will note that Deputy Prime Minister Malensky has given a glowing endorsement to this project to place Russia’s young adults in meaningful jobs in the West where they can learn about capitalism first hand. With respect to where your sons and daughters will live, that is also treated in the brochure: arrangements will be made for them to be housed with families that are trusted by the program and have worked with us before. You can rest assured your loved ones will be in good hands.”

  “How do I secure a place for my daughter?” a reedy voiced, bespectacled man, whom Mikhail recognized as one of the doctors in the hospital facility at Mayak, stood up and asked without seeing the need to raise his hand and wait his turn.

  “I was just getting to that.” The man on the podium maintained his composure. “Now I know most of you will want to talk this over with your wives and children. It is not an easy decision for you to part with your young loved ones. But this will be a terrific experience for them in great surroundings, I can assure you. The loose page in the brochure is a form you and your teenager will have to fill out and get back to me before the end of next week. Full names of you and your wife, occupations, dates of birth, a photo of the loved one being sent, highest grade completed in school, any special trades or training, languages, etcetera--you will see o
n the form. I am at the Ozersk Hotel until next Sunday and happy to meet at your convenience. My cell number and email are at the bottom of the page.”

  ***

  “So, Pavel, what do you think?” Mikhail asked his friend and colleague as they went out onto the sunny sidewalk.

  “Well, I am convinced it’s a worthwhile opportunity for Sasha. Anything, to get her away from here.”

  “I don’t know...” Mikhail was pensive. “The guy--Kalinsky or whatever his name is--seemed a little sleazy to me. I just don’t know if I am ready to trust Nadia to him and his outfit.”

  “But, Mikhail, the Deputy Prime Minister is behind them. And there are all those families who gave this European Placement Agency a very favorable endorsement. What else do you want?”

  “Yeah, but--”

  “And that doctor, you know from the hospital, he is jumping at the chance. He, if anyone, would know that it’s best to get his children away from here. And the sooner, the better.”

  “Yes, I guess you are right.”

  “In fact, I am concerned there may not be enough places. I think I will contact this Kalinsky today, right after we talk it over with Svetlana. I wouldn’t want Sasha to miss out.”

  ***

  Galina received the news of the opportunity for her daughter with mixed feelings. She agreed with Mikhail that they needed to jump on it for Nadia’s sake--any-thing, anywhere to get her away from this godforsaken contaminated place, she told herself--but all the same, she was not too happy about having her little girl go so far from home and her motherly love. She would just have to bear it, she told her husband, but the reality and the suddenness of it made it all that much more painful.

  Nadia, of course, was ecstatic. She had been wanting to travel, to get away from the parental home, and see and experience the big wide world. Although, she assured her parents, she would miss them and her little brother, Yuri, and all her friends.

  Mikhail tried to do some more checking on the European Placement Agency on various internet search engines, but there was not much on them. He did see some contact details for them in Hungary, and copied down the phone number with the intention of trying it on Monday.

  The last hurdle Mikhail brought up with Galina that night was the money. It would not be cheap: right there in the brochure it said they would have to pay the representative of the European Placement Agency 250,000 rubles.

  That was more than six months of his salary, and, in fact, almost all of their savings.

  “We will just dip into our emergency fund,” Galina answered, not hesitating an instant. “This is why we have been putting that money away all these years. So that we can provide a better future for our children. Mikhail, you know very well this is no place for them, especially our daughter. We do want to have grandchildren after all, don’t we?”

  ***

  So the next morning, even though it was Sunday, before they went on their walk, Mikhail called the Ozersk Hotel and asked for Gospodin Kalinsky.

  “Delighted, Gospodin Glinkov, that you are giving this serious thought. We are only doing this here in Ozersk now, and I don’t know when we might be back.”

  “Of course. Of course.” Mikhail did not know what to make of the implied pressure. “I will bring the form all filled out.”

  “Good. And, ahem, please, half the money--without that, we cannot reserve a place for your...is it son or daughter?”

  “Daughter.”

  “Splendid. The rest is payable before departure. Oh yes, and a full body picture please, as it says in the form.”

  “What time?”

  “Shall we say...five o’clock? Here in the hotel bar, Gospodin Glinkov. I would be pleased to invite you for a drink.”

  “Good.” That’s the least you can do, you slimy bugger. With my money!

  Mikhail was still not certain that he was doing the right thing.

  ***

  “She is a very pretty girl, your daughter, Gospodin Glinkov,” the dyed-blond-haired man who called himself Kalinsky observed as he studied the picture Mikhail had handed him. “We shouldn’t have any problems placing her. The job at first may be...umm...secretarial, but judging from her marks, she will have no difficulties moving into something more challenging.”

  Downing his second shot of Putinka vodka, Mikhail felt a little comforted, but he still did not like this man. “Where will you take her?” he asked, again seeking reassurance.

  “We fly to Hungary, as I said. But we don’t know yet where we will place her. The employment experts in our office there will look through the list of opportunities and weigh what is best for her. Maybe something in Germany or Austria would be appropriate, since I see she is learning the language.”

  “Good. At least her German will get better.”

  “Well, Gospodin Glinkov, you will be pleased at the opportunity we will provide for your daughter. We do not put this in writing, but we know that for children, the odds of growing up healthy here in Chelyabinsk province are much reduced. And for girls, it is much worse, I am sure you are aware.”

  “Of course.”

  “That is one of the reasons I try to come to Ozersk, at least once every couple of years. To help the families here. After all, part of my family, too, was originally from Chelyabinsk Oblast, so I do try to make a point of coming here. But the demand for our services throughout Russia is so big that we can only take a small number from this region. So, I am pleased to say that Nadia will be one of the few...ahem...provided, of course the finances are in order.”

  Mikhail reached inside his jacket and pulled out an envelope. “Here, Gospodin Kalinsky. The money is all here. Half, that is, as agreed. The rest will come with Nadia.”

  “Thank you. You will not regret this, Gospodin Glinkov.” Kalinsky put the envelope away without opening it. He knew that his clients were not in a position to cheat him. Since they would be handing over their most prized possessions: their daughters and sons.

  Chapter 3

  “Can you get the phone, Greg?” Anne Martens yelled to her husband, as--still dripping after her morning shower--she reached for her towel, exasperated that he had already let the phone ring four or five times.

  “Hello! Martens residence.” She heard his voice in the neighboring bedroom, where, still lounging in bed, he had finally lowered the volume of the Liszt Second Piano Concerto he was listening to on Vermont Public Radio. “Anne? You want to speak to my wife? Of course, she’s here. May I tell her who is calling?” A pause. “John? John who?”

  Then much louder, as Greg’s well-toned naked form loomed in the bathroom door, and he reached the cell phone toward her: “For you, dear. John Demeter.” And putting his other hand over the microphone, he added, “Geez, I never thought you would hear from him again.”

  She finished tying the towel around her body and, took the mobile. “Hello, John. What a surprise! Are you coming to visit?”

  Her former boss at Interpol was the last person she expected to be calling her on a beautiful Sunday morning in Vermont.

  “Anne, I am glad I finally found you. Sorry, but I will get right to it. We need you to help us out. You must come back to Vienna.”

  “Why, John? I quit my job when I married Greg. I no longer work for Interpol--”

  “I know, Anne. But you are the only one who might be able to get to the bottom of this. You, and Greg, of course.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Julia Saparova has disappeared. Your friend from that Russian uranium heist business a few years back.”

  “What?”

  “She hasn’t shown up at work for almost a week now. No trace at all, no clues whatsoever. The head of security at the International Atomic Energy Agency called a little while ago. They are extremely concerned over there.”

  “That is really weird, John. So--just like Adam--Kallay, who had the same job before her--”

  “Yeah, I remember. The guy from the IAEA told me she was the one now in charge of monitoring nuclear securit
y in the successor states of the former Soviet Union. Disappearing is an occupational hazard, it would seem.”

  “Hmm.” This was too much, too fast. Anne needed time to process all this information.

  “But come to think of it, didn’t Kallay feign his death?”

  “Yes, that’s right, John. But I can’t see Julia doing that. Do you think, though, that this could be related? Or could there be another heist in the making?”

  “Don’t know, sweetheart. But that is what the IAEA is worried about. And not just them. We at Interpol, too, are very concerned. That is why I need you here, with your charming husband. Pronto. You guys got to the bottom of that Kallay disappearance act, so I am hoping you will be able to figure this one out as well. And find the lovely Miss Saparova.”

  “John, I am no longer--”

  “She’s your friend, Anne.” In fact, she had been Adam’s friend, and Greg’s, but Anne too, had become friends with the Russian girl through that ordeal. “And don’t worry, I will make sure it is worth your while.”

  “Well, I’ll talk to Greg.”

  She knew he would not be happy. They had made plans to go on a big hike up near Smuggler’s Notch. And now that classes were over at Middlebury, he had wanted to catch up on his writing. He had shown her the synopsis of the next thriller in his trilogy, and he was keen to get going on it. There was also the vegetable garden they needed to plant, and the dinner party at the Gladstone’s...Anne’s mind wandered.

  “We’ve booked you two on a KLM flight from Boston via Amsterdam, then Vienna. Tonight. I think it’s around nine p.m. Hope you can make it.”

  “John--”

  “Let me know in two hours. I’ll arrange a car to drive you to Logan. Four p.m., how is that? And someone will pick you up at Schwechat. Bye for now.”