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“Ruslan Imyets.” The name meant nothing to Snow and Brovchenko noticed this fact with shock. “Ruslan Imyets is a Verhovna Rada Deputy with the Party of Regions for Donbas.”
    Snow nodded satisfied that he’d got all he needed. “Officer Brovchenko, were you responsible for the abduction of Brian Webb?”
    Brovchenko saw a way out. “No. There were others involved.”
    Snow nodded, the man had taken the bait. “Your group has made a serious error in kidnapping Mr Webb and attempting blackmail his wife. Now I understand that you perhaps are naïve enough to have been caught up in this, coerced into becoming part of this criminal group.”
    “Yes that’s what happened.”
    “So in that case I can offer you a deal.”
    For the second time that evening Snow was asked “Who are you?”
    “I am the person who if he wished could drown you here like a rat but I’m giving you the chance of a clean break.”
     
    Obolon Rayon, Kyiv
    An odd buzzing awoke the Ukrainian from a much needed sleep. He picked up his mobile and looked at the screen. The number was withheld. The average person may have ignored the call or let it go to voicemail but Vitaly Blazhevich was not an average person and his number was anything but public.   The Ukrainian Intelligence Service (SBU) anti-corruption & organised crime operative pressed the accept button. “Allo?” His voice was thick from sleep and his mind still dulled but this instantly changed when he heard the English voice at the other end. “Aidan, where are you?”
    “Left bank.”
    “Kyiv’s left bank?”
    “I’m not in Paris if that’s what you mean.”
    Blazhevich sat up, looked at his clock and shook his head. It was just after Midnight, he’d been in bed for forty minutes. His wife groaned next to him and he wisely decided to leave the room to continue the call. The last time Blazhevich and Snow had ‘worked’ together they had prevented a terrorist attack. “Ok so I guess it’s important?”
    “Important and personal.”
    “Let me have it.” Blazhevich padded to the kitchen, poured a glass of water and then entered his own balcony. A new high-rise development in Kyiv’s Obolon district it too had a river view. He sat on a plastic chair as Snow re-counted the day’s events.
    “Well?” Snow asked.
    “Aidan you have an uncanny knack of walking into things. There is an on-going investigation into Deputy Imyets. If we can implicate him in this then I am sure even Dudka would be happy.”
    “How is the old man?” Snow had a soft spot for the elderly SBU Director.
    “Grumpy.”
    Both men chuckled.
    “So when can I expect you?”
    “I’ll be there in half an hour.” Blazhevich replied.
     
    Levo Berezina, Kyiv
    Officers Brovchenko and Klyuyevs were both gagged. Brovchenko stank of his own urine whilst Klyuyevs stank of alcohol and fear. Snow had taken great pleasure in informing the senior officer that their operation was blown and that they were now the one’s in trouble. Neither of the Ukrainians knew quite what to expect but when Vitaly Blazhevich arrived it certainly was not the SBU. Both had watched in shock as the newcomer had identified himself to Webb’s wife as a member of the SBU’s Main Directorate for Combating Corruption and Organized Crime and then joked with the Englishman. They then felt their hearts sink even more when the Englishman produced a recording of their attempts at extortion. Although inadmissible, as all audio recordings were in Ukrainian courts, it could be leaked to the press and posted on the internet. In short unless they co-operated fully they either faced lengthy jail sentences or ran the risk of being ‘taken care of’ by their own group.
    “I’ve checked the address you gave me. I thought it sounded familiar and as you would say it has ‘come up trumps’.”
    “How?”
    “It is the address of Ruslan Imyets’ new Kyiv ‘dacha’. If that is indeed where Mr Webb is being held then I can-not see how Deputy