Read Ganglands: Russia: Russia for Free Online

wood, a grand building appeared on the horizon, crowned by an onion-shaped cupola supported by a cluster of narrow bell-towers.A golden cross stood proudly on top of the dome.The people carrier crunched to a halt outside the front porch, and Valerie gestured at Alexei to get out.On closer inspection, the building had fallen into disrepair,its whitewashed walls covered in grime and graffiti, its arched windows boarded up.
    ‘What is this place?’ asked Alexei.
    ‘Couple of hundred years ago, it was a monastery,’ replied the Englishman.‘Right now, it’s Trojan Industries’ HQ.’
    With a loud bleep, he set the vehicle’s alarm, then led Alexei and Valerie through the front porch and inside the building.The monastery was cold and dark, and it took Alexei’s eyes several seconds to accustom themselves to the gloom.He was standing in a narrow passageway with a ceiling so low it brushed his head.
    ‘Mind your footing,’ the Englishman warned. ‘Don’t want you injuring yourself before you’ve even started.’
    Alexei followed him along the corridor, careful to avoid the potholes and loose flagstones that lay in wait for unwary footsteps.At the end of the passageway, the Englishman pushed open a heavy wooden door.
    Alexei blinked.
    The vast hall beyond was in a ruinous state, cluttered with piles of rubble and rotten planks.The religious paintings on the walls had been chipped away until only glimpses of wide-eyed saints’ faces remained.Holes gaped in the roof like missing teeth, and as Alexei entered the hall he had to weave a path through a series of buckets laid out on the floor to catch rainwater.Up in the rafters, there came the sound of beating birds’ wings, and wind whistled viciously through the gaps in the boarded-up windows.
    Despite the musty atmosphere, the contents of thehall were decidedly twenty-first century.A bank of slim laptops was ranged along a workbench, with a row of young operatives tapping away on the keys.Large flat-screen televisions cut from live news feeds to CCTV footage and satellite images of Moscow. Portable spotlights on stands hummed as they lit up the room.At the centre of it all stood Darius Jordan, stroking his chin thoughtfully as he studied a large electronic map of the Russian capital.At the sight of Alexei, he smiled and strode over to give him a bone-crushing handshake.
    ‘Good to see you, son,’ he said, his baritone voice echoing around the hall.‘I hear you’ve decided to work with us.’
    Alexei glanced at Valerie.‘Word gets around fast.’
    ‘We’re used to working against the clock,’ replied Jordan.‘Let’s meet in the briefing room.Ten minutes.’
    He turned back to the map, and Alexei realized that their conversation was over.The briefing room turned out to be a dilapidated antechamber leading off from the hall, kitted out with a conference table, a projector and a screen, which was hanging down from the far wall.As he waited alone for Darius Jordan, Alexei nervously poured himself a glass of water.Up until now, a part of him had been convinced that all this was some kind of elaborate hoax, but the scale of the operation in the monastery left him in no doubt: this was for real, all right.
    It wasn’t long before Jordan returned, carrying a laptop, which he connected up to the projector.Valerie and the Englishman followed him into the room, the driver closing the door behind him.Jordan nodded towards them.
    ‘Alexei, you’ve already met Valerie Singer, head of Human Resources, and Richard Madison, head of Technical Support.They’ll be your main contacts here at Trojan.Valerie is ex-Mossad – Israeli secret service – and Richard worked for the Secret Intelligence Service in Britain, so rest assured you’re in safe hands.’
    ‘What about you?’ Alexei asked Jordan.‘Where do you come from?’
    The American gave him a gleaming smile.‘Let’s just say I’m a man of the world.’
    ‘I don’t understand,’ Alexei said.‘If these guys are