Hetman Read Free

lift doors opened and Snow was jerkily taken to the top floor. As the doors closed Snow turned left and found the correct flat. He pressed the bell, which sounded like a strange kind of Chinese bird and waited. The door remained closed. He listened, heard nothing, and then rang again. There were noises from inside and then it was suddenly pulled open. Snow could not help but smile at the vision of Katya dripping wet clad in nothing but a bath towel. He still had no clue how Brian had pulled her.
    “Aidan!” Her frown turned to a smile and she stepped forward and hugged him.
    “Katya.” He dropped his holdall. He could feel her curves through the thin towel and had to remind himself that although she was gorgeous she was his friend’s wife.
    She moved away and looked up at him. “You look good. Come in.”
    “Thanks, so do you.”
    She smiled mischievously and as she turned he caught a flash of her bum as the towel rose up. Snow closed the door and followed her into the lounge. She sat and lit a cigarette.
    “Is Brian here?” Snow thought he already knew the answer but had to ask.
    Katya exhaled angrily. “No, he’s bloody not.”
    In any other circumstance Snow would have laughed at Katya’s use of language, clearly influenced by her husband. “Do you know where he is?”
    She shrugged. “He was meant to pick us up from the central railway station this morning. We had to drag our bags to the taxi rank.” She noticed Snow was frowning. “We went to Yalta for a week; Vika and I. You remember Vika?”
    Snow nodded, she had big breasts and Brian had a nickname for her which he couldn’t repeat. “So he wasn’t with you and he didn’t turn up at the station?”
    “Yes. Aidan what’s wrong, what are you doing here? I haven’t seen you since after…”
    “Arnaud was killed? It’s OK, it’s been four years. Look, Brian called me this morning and said he was in trouble, I’ve never heard him speak like that.”
    Katya now seemed more concerned that angry. “He’s not come home some nights when he’s been out drinking. Euro 2012 was awful, he met up with a group of England fans and Michael Jones; well you know Michael. I just thought that he’d done the same. I thought you were him at the door. Do you think something has happened to him?”
    “That’s what I’m trying to find out.”
    “You are a good friend Aidan for coming here.”
    They were both startled by the doorbell. Katya looked at Snow. He nodded and made for the door. He looked through the peep-hole and saw two men in uniform. He sensed something was not quite right; he put the chain on and opened the door.
    “Hello can I help you?”
    The two officers reminded Snow of Laurel and Hardy and looked a little confused by being faced by a foreigner. The nearest and much thinner of the two spoke. “Is Webb, Katya at home?” He asked in Russian before adding in English, “Please.”
    Snow continued to play the dumb foreign visitor. He did not want to let on that he spoke Russian fluently. “You want Katya, ‘da’?”
    “Da.”
    “Ok.” Snow called back into the flat. “Katya the police are here and want to speak to you. I don’t understand as I don’t speak Ukrainian.” He was telling the truth, Russian was different enough.  
    Katya looked at Snow; eyebrows raised but made no comment. She had pulled on a long t-shirt dress. “Tak?” ‘Yes’ - she asked in Ukrainian.
    Stan Laurel persisted with Russian and said. “Can we come in?”
    “What is this about?” Katya too now used Russian.
    “Your husband.” Oliver Hardy stated.
    “Come in.”
    Snow stepped aside as the two uniformed men entered the flat. They all went into the lounge. Katya took up her previous seat and lit a new cigarette.
    “Who is this?” Oliver Hardy the older, more senior officer asked as he tilted his head towards Snow.
    “A family friend. Now what is this about?”
    “Your husband has been taken to our station for questioning.” It was Stan Laurel,