Head Of The Snake. G. Rehder

      Chapter 1

      And the Lord said unto the serpent,

      Because thou hast done this

      Thou are cursed above all cattle

      And above every beast of the field;

      Upon thy belly shalt thou go,

      and dust shalt thou eat

      all the days of thy life

      —Genesis 3:14

      The Pobeda M20 had a faint trail of condensation coming from its back-tail pipes. It idled quietly as it sat next to a small runway at the CemR3Nho Airport, northeast of Moscow in the city of Vladimir. In the front seat sat Bogdan Gise and Matvej Klopov, and in the back seat, their boss Viktor Bardzecki.

      Bardzecki sat quietly, his eyes closed, his hands folded in front of the fat body that was stuffed into an Armani three-piece suit. Gise and Klopov were vigilant. Their eyes scanned the tarmac and the fields that surrounded it. It was their job, as Bardzecki’s security detail, to keep the man safe.

      After ten minutes of waiting for the Sarnev International jet to arrive, Bardzecki spoke to his men in English. He was trying to get his speech transitioned from Russian for the upcoming meeting.

      “You know vhat to do if I do not return?” he asked them.

      Gise answered, “Da, glavny” (boss).

      Klopov just nodded his head.

      “Gud, dat is gud,” Bardzecki answered.

      The inside of the car returned to silence. Bardzecki’s mind bounced from one thought to another. He feared two men only, Joseph Lehan and his father, Leontiy Bardzecki, the head of the Solntsevskaya Brotherhood. He knew his father may forgive him, not without a price, but Lehan may not. If he did, his price would be higher than his father’s.

      A few minutes later to the south, the lights of an approaching plane could be seen in the distance. This airport was not used very often for commercial passenger flights, so air traffic was light. All three men assumed it was the Sarnev jet, a Cessna Citation Sovereign. As it got closer, they knew they were right.

      The plane touched down on the runway; it made a 180-degree turn at its end and moved toward the side tarmac where the Pobeda was parked. It taxied to within fifty feet of the waiting car and kept its engines running. The stairs came down, and a man in a pilot’s uniform stepped out and waved at them.

      Both Gise and Klopov got out first. Gise opened the back door for Bardzecki, and he moved his body slowly out of the vehicle. He looked at his men.

      “Vit luck, I see you bot in few days.”

      He turned and walked slowly to the plane. Tomac, the copilot, gave him a hand up as he struggled up the steps.

      Bardzecki entered the cabin and greeted Simon Percy, the head of the London Division, the only other occupant in the nine-seat compartment.

      “Simon, it gud to see you, my frund.”

      “It’s been a while,” Simon responded as he looked up from his laptop.

      “Da, very long,” Viktor said.

      Tomac closed the cabin hatch and told Viktor that Eric Mackey was the pilot today.

      “There is no attendant on this flight, so when we get in the air and the captain gives the okay, you’ll find the galley is freshly stocked, so help yourself.”

      Viktor nodded as he sat down in one of the larger seats at the back of the cabin. “Thank you,” he said.

      The jet was quickly able to get back on the runway and start its takeoff. When it was in the air, it banked and headed west. Its next stop was Bern, Switzerland. It got to cruising altitude quickly. Mackey told his passengers they were free to move about the cabin.

      Bardzecki got up and moved forward to the planes galley. There were K-Cups for coffee and fresh pastries. Viktor opened several cabinets until he found what he was looking for, the bar stock.

      He made a cup of coffee pulled out a miniature Absolut twisted its cap and poured it into the cup.

      As he was returning to his seat, Simon remarked, “A little early, is it not?”

      Viktor just said, “I’m Russian. It’s never too early for wadka.”

      After Viktor was seated, Simon spoke again, “So, Viktor, rumor has it that your personal security detail was responsible—”

      He got cut off. Viktor held up his hand to stop him. “Enough of rumors. I not care ’bout dem. Please, I am tired.” Viktor had dismissed the conversation, and Simon went back to his laptop and his writing.

      Viktor sipped his coffee and stared out the window. He could only see clouds, but it was better than conversing with a man he barely knew and probably would detest.

      Hours later, they landed in Bern. The plane needed to refuel. Mackey stepped out of the cockpit and told his two passengers, “If you want to get out and stretch, it would be a good opportunity.”

      Their next landing would be at Kindley Field across the Atlantic in Bermuda. Simon got up and deplaned, along with Tomac and Mackey. Viktor remained on board.

      A new passenger boarded, Fredrick Haus, the head of the Bern division.

      All three had been ordered, along with every other Sarnev Division head to attend the first company meeting since the disappearance of Andre Sarnev. They were all a bit nervous Joseph Lehan was known as a ruthless operator. They were uncertain what was coming, especially Bardzecki. He knew there was unfinished business between him and Lehan, business that would not bode well for him.