starting to take the cartons of meat out of the containers and some just holding guns and looking out for trouble. As the second and then the third truck reversed through the steel shutters a man whistled loudly and beckoned Nikolai to drive towards him.
Nikolai slipped the clutch and followed the man's directions until he was best placed to reverse into the loading bay. Hearing another whistle from behind he glanced in his wing-mirror and saw a second man waving towards him.
Stall it,' said Grushko. They mustn't bring that shutter down behind us or the squad won't be able to get in.'
Nikolai engaged gear, took his foot off the gas and then released the clutch pedal. The big truck jerked spasmodically as the engine cut out.
He turned the key in the ignition and without touching the accelerator he made a show of trying to get started again. With a Russian-built truck he might have succeeded in flooding the engine. But the Foden had electronic ignition and started first time.
Isn't that just great,' said Nikolai. A reliable truck.'
Where the hell's Sasha?' said Grushko.
Nikolai started to move the truck back into the cold store. When he was only half way through the door, he stalled it again and this time he removed the keys and pocketed them.
Behind them there were shouts and someone started to beat impatiently on the side of the truck's container.
You'd better find your party invitation,' said Grushko.
Nikolai took out his automatic and worked the slide.
Here comes our friend,' he said, glancing in the mirror.
What the hell's going on?' said a voice outside the driver's door. C'mon. Move this thing.'
Grushko and Nikolai stayed put.
Through the armoured louvres Nikolai saw the man frown and then stand back as he began to realise that something was wrong.
The electronics have gone,' Nikolai shouted. Everything's stuck. We can't even get the door open.'
But the man was already drawing his own weapon. He shouted something to another man and then levelled his gun at the driver's door.
What do we do now?' said Nikolai.
Sit tight,' said Grushko. Let's hope this thing is as tough as they said it was.'
Nikolai leaned across the seat, out of the line of fire.
They heard a burst of automatic gunfire but nothing hit the cab. Then there was another volley of shots and some shouting.
Either this thing is tougher than we thought, or that's Sasha,' said Grushko.
Gradually a voice began to make itself heard with a loud hailer.
This is the militia. You are surrounded. Put down your weapons. Walk into the open and lie down with your hands behind your heads. I repeat, you are surrounded.'
About time,' said Grushko and reached for the door handle.
He opened the door a crack and peered out. Men were already dropping their weapons and raising their hands as, from every side of the cold store, came the men of the OMON squad.
Grushko jumped down from the cab and walked towards one of the trucks. The rear doors were open and inside the container he could see hundreds of cartons of meat, some of them still carrying the distinctive EC roundel of yellow stars on a blue background. Beside this same truck was a group of two or three men with their hands raised and among them, wearing a smart suit, his fingers studded with gold rings, was a face Grushko recognised from his own briefing. It was Viktor Bosenko. In his hand he was holding not a gun but a walletful of money.
Well, well,' smiled Grushko, not just the caviar. We got the whole rotten sturgeon.'
Behind him the OMON squad started to kick the feet away from under some of those Mafiosi who were not quick enough to lie down. Bosenko remained standing. He grinned and took a step towards Grushko and away from his own men.
I think there's been some sort of mistake here,' he said. We thought you were the Mafia.'
That's a good one.' Grushko laughed. You thought we were the Mafia.'
Sasha appeared at Grushko's shoulder, scanning the gangway near the cold store's ceiling for signs of further resistance.
Viktor Bosenko took another step forward.
But, thank God, you're the militia,' he said. Look here, officer, I'm sure I can explain this to your satisfaction. We're just businessmen trying to protect what's ours, that's all.' He shrugged as if he was trying to seem accommodating.
Maybe we can come to some kind of an arrangement?' He lowered his hands carefully and, opening the wallet, took out a whole fistful of dollars.
Some compensation for you and your men. For your time and trouble. And to thank you for your protection. You know, there's nearly five thousand dollars here. What's that to you and your men? Maybe two years' salary for everyone?'
Grushko looked at Bosenko with growing incredulity. Then he snatched the dollars from his hand and threw them in the Ukrainian's grinning mouth.
To my face?' he snarled. You'd try and bribe me to my face? In front of all my men?'
The punch came up from Grushko's waist and caught Bosenko flush underneath the jaw. As Bosenko hit the ground Grushko sprang forward to catch him by the lapels and hit him again.
Arriving on the scene it seemed to me that Sasha was moving to restrain Grushko. His yell of warning was lost in the larger sound of a gunshot and Grushko found himself supporting the man who had seemed to be holding him. He turned and saw one of Bosenko's men escaping through the back door, gun in hand. Grushko let Sasha slip on to the floor and went after him.
There was blood running out of Sasha's mouth. Nikolai dropped down on his knees and tried to turn his friend over on to his stomach in the coma position, to stop him drowning in his own blood. Sasha winced and held Nikolai's arm.
I told you,' he wheezed. I told you these flak jackets are no good.'
Then he jerked convulsively, as if hit by a small bolt of electricity, and was dead.
Stepan Starovyd, the Wrestler, came out of the cold store on to a cobbled alleyway. Seeing a distinctive blue OMON squad uniform he fired once again, and caught his man in the leg. Then he ran toward the Yekateringofka Canal and a pier where he knew Bosenko kept a small boat. Hearing the sound of running footsteps behind him, he spun round and squeezed off a couple of wild shots. The slide locked open on the last of them.
Grushko picked himself off the street and moved towards the Ukrainian.
The Wrestler could see that it was quite useless. There were men from the OMON squad behind the man he had fired at. But instinctively he continued to back away from Grushko towards the canal. He grinned sheepishly and started to raise his hands.
He was still backing away when Grushko shot him. The .45 calibre hollowpoint hit him square in the chest and carried him across the edge of the canal. The Wrestler was dead before he hit the dirty water, with such a look of surprise on his big, strong face that it was still there when, the next day, they put him on the section table at the Bureau of Judicial Medical Examinations.
Grushko walked over to the canal's edge and looked down at the floating body. Then he spat into the water.
Nikolai met him as he walked back towards the cold store.
Sasha?' said Grushko.
Nikolai shook his head.
No, I thought not.'
Inside the cold store the OMON squad had lined up all the Ukrainians against the wall and, filmed by Dmitri, were searching them for concealed weapons.
Grushko stood over Sasha's body, hardly caring that his feet were surrounded by a spreading red flag that was the dead man's blood. I went over to him, hoping to think of something kind to say and, finding myself
