Distant Annihilation. (Tarquin Collingwood Adventures Book 1) by Azam Hossain

FSB. After his conviction he was expelled in disgrace, but he still seems to have good relations with existing and former members.”
    “He’s so rank even the KGB had to get rid of him,” I observed bitterly.
    Ollie who had been listening intently asked, “Is there anything you can tell us about these people in the state security apparatus? Might one of them be Sergei Pavlovitch?”
    “Yes, how did you know?” asked Guy incredulous.
     
     
     
    CHAPTER 8 – SUBTERFUGE AND THREATS.
     
    Guy showed me a photograph of Pavlovitch, which I duly studied for a few seconds: he had coarse facial features and dark hair. The photograph was inside a dossier. It stated that he was in his mid thirties with dark hair and five feet ten in height. Guy explained that he was also known to them, with all the connotations that that entailed. So Pavlovitch and Gromyko knew each other! That much I assumed as soon as I learnt of him from Katarina, now it was confirmed by Guy.
    “I’ve no doubt that these two are acting as pawns on some else’s instructions. Someone is pulling their strings,” declared Guy mixing his metaphors.
     
    Moments later we were travelling through Moscow. The driver and Guy were in the front, with Ollie and me in the back seat. Guy had explained that intelligence had led them to conclude that it was likely that Solomon would be coming here to meet with a client. Now with Solomon’s arrival we might just get closer to discovering who that Mr Big was. If the truth be told I was in a state of great excitement and anticipation. There was so much I wanted to ask Solomon. I had come out to Russia with a degree of foreboding, but as perverse as it may sound I was rather enjoying the suspense and the adventure – I reproached myself for feeling like this, but there you have it.
     
    Our car parked in a street called Povarskaya ul. It was quite an affluent neighbourhood and rather reminded me of Knightsbridge in London. Just then a black Mercedes saloon drew up in front of the luxury apartment block about 20 metres along the road from where we were parked. Three men got out - two larger men from the front who were seemingly chaperoning the smaller man who had alighted from the back seat.
    “That’s Yuri Gromyko,” I announced. His frame and appearance were unmistakable despite the years; although I couldn’t see his scar at this distance. My desire to exterminate him was reawakened, as I recalled all those whom he had killed in the Balkans.
    “The other man is Sergei Pavlovitch,” said Ollie.
    “There’s our man Solomon,” said Guy referring to the smaller man.
    “He looks rather furtive and suspect,” observed Ollie.
    “That’s probably because he’s been coerced here,” mused Guy.
    The three of them then entered the building.
    “So they’re your pawns,” says I to Guy using his own metaphor, “What do we do now to discover their “ King”?”
    “Well we could listen in on their conversation..........” suggested Guy casually.
    “How?” I asked
    “Well my dear Tarquin,” Guy began rather smugly. He then went to explain that having advance notification of Solomon’s arrival in Moscow, even down to knowing which flight he was on, enabled him to be compromised. By which he meant that the authorities in London with co-operation from the airline, could manipulate where Solomon sat on the flight and accordingly who sat next to him; such as the pretty young girl who distracted his attention sufficiently, so as to enable her to plant a small electronic listening device in the upper breast pocket of his jacket. Guy opened the glove compartment and removed an electronic device the size of a small personal radio. He switched it on and we were greeted with a crackle.
    “I must say Guy there’s clearly more to you than meets the eye,” I said
    “Guy is renowned for practising the dark arts,” purred Ollie in approbation.
    “I hope your praise is justified. What we did was risky. Any number if