Zero Hour - By Andy McNab Page 0,28

it would still go bang and kill people. ‘In our business you need these things. If Irina wants to go, let her. She knows what to do.’

Irina was back in pose mode, still waiting for Anna to do her David Bailey number.

I pointed at her bag. ‘Have you used that thing?’

‘Three times. And if I ever see the friend who sold me, it will be four.’

13

19.55 hrs

The border crossing into Transnistria was at a place called Bender. It would get us into Tiraspol, the capital of this breakaway state, just thirty minutes later. As Viku said when he replied to Anna, he was chilling out at home for a while. Why didn’t Anna come and spend some time with him, see some sights?

That was exactly what a much younger Anna was going to do tonight. Irina had taken over the communication on Anna’s iPhone. She said she was new at the university. She was coming in from Moscow and was suddenly getting cold feet because she had no friends in Chisinau. She’d come across him on Facebook and wondered if he’d help her out. He looked a fun kind of guy.

Anna had been at the wheel of Lena’s Skoda estate for the best part of an hour.

Irina bounced around on the back seat. The roads were unsigned, potholed and totally unlit. We’d had close shaves with tractors, pedestrians and livestock. Anna’s eyes were glued to the small pool of light in front of us as yet another minibus taxi overtook us on a blind corner, packed to capacity with people and suitcases.

‘You have the presents?’

I patted the four hundred US dollars’ worth of lei in my jeans, two hundred in each pocket. Irina had changed some for us both. She’d lost ten per cent on the deal because her USD bills weren’t in absolutely pristine condition.

The headlights picked out a sign that said we were coming to the border. Anna slowed. A pool of light bathed the rutted tarmac about two hundred metres ahead.

‘Look bored, Nick. Who knows? They might just let us through. Irina, be asleep.’

Six or seven guys were sitting in the middle of the road on fold-up chairs. One got slowly to his feet as we came into view. He indicated for us to park up behind them.

‘Shit.’ Anna wasn’t impressed. ‘We’re visiting a friend in a bar, remember. Use his real name, Irina.’

I nodded. I’d leave it to her to explain why her boyfriend was British and didn’t speak a word of her language.

Two older guys stepped forward. They had parkas with the hoods up, and orange armbands to show they were official. One of them came round to her side of the vehicle. Anna powered down the window and tried being short, sharp and aggressive.

They didn’t buy it.

Irina produced an ID card. Anna pulled her passport out and I followed suit. My guy had a grey beard but I couldn’t see much else of his face. With his hood up, he looked like something out of South Park. I smiled as he took it away. I couldn’t tell if he’d smiled back. I doubted it.

He walked round to the front of the wagon. I hated this. I hated losing control of a passport, even for a few minutes.

We were held as a couple of people-carrier buses screamed straight through. The bearded one was joined by his mate. They had a chat about the passports. He came back and gobbed off in Russian at Anna. He handed Irina back her ID card, but he pointed at me. Then he pointed at the bonnet.

‘Give me two hundred, Nick.’

I passed over the two notes from my right pocket and the passports were slipped back through the window. Transaction complete. Simple as that.

Up went the windows and we moved off.

‘All that nonsense just for a bung?’

Anna manoeuvred between two trucks. ‘They said it was a car tax to cross the border. That’s a new one on me. Normally it’s a fine for some kind of driving offence.’

‘Why do they sit in the middle of the road? They got a death wish or something?’

Irina’s head appeared between us. ‘Moldova refuses to build an official checkpoint because it considers Transnistria a break-away province. But at the same time they’re not too thrilled about having their eastern border wide open. So …’

No sooner had Anna accelerated than she had to slow down again. We entered a massive concrete anti-tank chicane.

Irina stayed in tour-guide mode. ‘These were put here by Transnistria in case

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