usually involved the breaking of bones or worse.
None of the three men were expected back in Moscow for at least another day or more, which gave her and Viktor time to plot their assassinations.
The next day, Gise called Mariya. “Have you heard from Viktor?” he asked.
She simply said, “Nyet.”
Gise told her, “I will be back in Moscow late tonight. My train gets into Kurskaya Station at eleven twenty. Can you pick me up?”
“Da, I will wait in my car, somewhere in the north lot. I will find a spot facing the tracks.”
This is what Mariya and Viktor had hoped and planned for.
At 11:00 p.m., Mariya pulled her Pobeda into a spot at the far end of the lot. There were only a few unoccupied cars nearby, and it was poorly lit. Viktor was in the back seat behind the passenger side, hunkered down as low as he could go. Mariya kept the engine running. It was cold, even for Moscow.
At 11:23 p.m., they saw Gise’s train pull in. Minutes later, they saw him walking out of the station, heading to the car. Since the back windows were tinted, they felt Gise would not be able to see Viktor in the back as he approached. Mariya made sure the rear doors were locked so he could only get in the front.
Mariya and Viktor both agreed that if Gise did see him in the back, they would lie about his return, tell Bogdan that Mariya had just picked him up an hour earlier, enough time to get from Vladimir to Moscow.
The strangulation plan would proceed no matter what, but surprise would be best.
Gise got to the passenger side door. His warm breath steamed visible and heavy as if he opened it, threw in his bag, and slid in while holding onto the edge of the cars roof, then he pulled the door shut. Only a few seconds had passed, Bogdan began to speak as Viktor quickly placed the garotte around his neck and pulled back with all his strength and weight.
Mariya had her cell phone out and ready. She hit the film icon and looked through the screen as Bogdan tried in desperation to pull the garotte from around his neck as he was gasping for breath. He flailed and tried to swing his gloved fists behind his head, attempting to strike his attacker, but Viktor’s head was out of reach as he leaned back. It gave him more leverage to pull tighter.
Gise tried to look at Mariya. His eyes were bulging he couldn’t turn his head. If he had seen her face, he would have witnessed the crooked smile and the gleam of satisfaction in her eyes.
She made sure she scanned the filming phone into the back seat to get Viktor’s face clearly in focus. It seemed like the struggle lasted forever, but within a few minutes, both Viktor and Mariya knew Gise was gone.
Mariya put down her phone and the silenced Makarov handgun she held in her other hand, if things did not go as planned, she would have been ready.
They both sat silent for a moment. No one else was in the parking area, so they were not rushed. Suddenly the silence was broken by the buzzing of Gise’s cell. They sat in silence until it quit as if the caller could have heard them.
Viktor was winded and was trying to catch his breath before he could speak.
When he did, all he could say was “Two to go, dear sister.”
Mariya reached in Gise’s pocket and pulled out the cell. She looked at the screen.
“Klopov,” she said.
They drove out of the lot slowly, not wanting to draw attention from the armed security that stood by the exit gate. He waved them through, and a moment later, they were out on the street heading to ul. Zemlyanoy Val. Then north onto A103. They had one more stop before they journeyed to Bogdan Gise’s burial ground.
Seven miles down A103, they were picking up a young man who would be doing all the digging. Viktor was too heavy, and Mariya had given up the hard work involved in disposing a body long ago.
Gorya Bykov was his name. He worked for Mariya doing odd jobs and watching over her girls, taking care of their basic needs while they were in her custody. She paid him next to nothing but allowed him to take favors from the girls of her choice, not his.
He was parked in a turnout off A103, in an older model Aleko Svyatogor, a rusty brown vehicle he had inherited from his father. The Pobeda pulled in behind him, and he quickly jumped out, and into the back seat next to Viktor, he smelled like cheap wine, cigarettes, and dried sweat. Viktor buzzed down his window a crack after a few minutes for fresh air. He didn’t care how cold it was.
Their destination was the isolated and heavily wooded Park Losiniy Ostrov. They left A103 and got onto smaller roads until they reached the narrow and straight Road Proseka Bumazhnaya. They traveled in about five miles until they got to a dirt track off to their right. Mariya pulled into it about twenty-five yards.
Gorya got out, and Mariya popped open the trunk. Gorya grabbed the shovel and the “kit” and went to Gise’s door.
“Viktor, help him,” she said angrily.
Viktor slowly got out and stepped next to Gorya as he opened the door. Gorya spread out the plastic tarp next to the car and pulled the body out onto it.
The next steps were important, and Mariya watched the two men intently as they began to pull all the belongings Gise had on him out of his pockets and place them in a small bag next to the body. He also had on a Rolex knockoff and a gold chain around his neck. Gorya took off Gise’s gloves. There was a ring on his left hand that he struggled to remove.
After a few seconds, Mariya shouted, “Cut the damn finger off.”
Gorya pulled out his knife, and with some effort, he finally removed the finger, and the ring slid off the cut end. Viktor then grabbed a larger bag, and they began removing all the clothing, shoes first. They had Gise stripped down to his underclothing.
Viktor placed both bags in the trunk then closed it. He threw the shovel on top of Gise’s body.
“You get the heavy end,” he told Gorya.
Both men grabbed the tarp from the ends.
Mariya called out, “See you in sixty minutes. Can you get this done by then?”
“Da, see you then.”
Viktor closed the door, and both men started to drag the body deeper into the woods.
Mariya drove off, leaving Bykov and Viktor to finish the job. She would drive through the park to its far end and circle its perimeter until it was time to return to pick them up. At this time of night, she was certain she would not see any other vehicles, at least that was her hope.
In about an hour, she returned to the spot. Both men came out of the woods. Gorya carrying the shovel and tarp, his hands and pants were stained with the black earth from the grave, Viktor was clean.
“Get the sheet out of the trunk and put it on my back seat and remove your shoes,” she barked at Gorya. “I don’t want that dirt ruining my seats.”
He did as she asked.
They headed back to Moscow. Mission accomplished.
Chapter
