Rostov is both happy and afraid at the same time. He repeats: "A spy?"
I try my most reassuring smile: "Yes, I'm a spy. It's my daily job to escape from the CIA and the MI6 and all those other secret services. I'm with the LSD…"
"LSD? What's that? Lazy Stupid Dickheads? Lustful Sexual Desires? Long Silly Discussions?"
"LSD stands for Lëtzebuergesch Sécherheet Departement, in English: Luxembourg Spy Department. I'll tell you about that later. We have to go to room 2503, the suite of your boss, but we'll have to do one thing first…"
I take my spiPhone, start the Tracker app, and scan the room. No microphones. When I come closer to Rostov, the indicators turn red. Tracker devices. In Rostov's clothes.
"You're bugged."
I take one of the bathrobes out of the bathroom and throw it to him: "Undress, bare naked, and leave your clothes on the ground. I don't want the one who bugged you to know where we're going. Put on the bathrobe and do it quickly. We have to go."
"But…"
"I don't want to see your butt. Go to the bathroom and do as I told you."
"Can I take my phone with me? My life is in it.", Rostov asks.
I have a better idea. I connect the phone to the Internet, browse for the secure virtual backup disk that I have in the cloud, and transfer the whole content of his phone memory to my secret webspace. Meanwhile, Rostov gets out of his clothes and into the soft white bathrobe that the hotel supplies to every room.
I scan him again: he's clean.
"African and Latin-American spies often put tracker devices in your food. They are as big as a rice grain, so you won't notice it when you eat your soup. They are very efficient and impossible to get rid of, but they can only track you for 36 hours; then you'll lose the tracker via the natural way. That's why American and European spies prefer to plant bugs in your clothes or in personal belongings like your wallet or your pen."
In Rostov's clothes in the bathroom, I find two tracking devices. The first one, in the pocket of Rostov's shirt, looks Chinese or Japanese. It stops working when I try to open it. The other one, in the heel of his shoe, was planted there quite some time ago: "110 volts, rechargeable. That's CIA. The good news is that these are not microphones, just positional trackers. The people who placed them don't consider you important enough to spend valuable resources and devices on hearing what you have to say to yourself. They just want to know where they can find you, and I suppose at least one of them already did." I put the American tracker back where I found it and put the Asian tracker in the pocket of my jacket.
"Now you've found all the bugs, can I put on my clothes again?"
"When you found and killed a flea in the hair of your dog, are you confident you've killed all the fleas? Or does that make you run to the animal shop for chemical weapons for mass flea destruction to kill all the others that you didn't find? I found two bugs, but that's no guarantee that I've found all the bugs. I don't want to take any risk and I don't have a flea collar to put around your neck, so we leave your entire wardrobe here. We go as soon as the backup of the data on your phone has finished."
The data-transfer takes another minute, during which I stand in the corridor to see if danger is coming around the corner, but nothing happens. When Rostov confirms the end of the data transfer, I disconnect the phone. The I-Spy-Smartphone App already deleted itself after completing its job. I leave the phone on the table in the room, so everyone who enters can see it, put the «do not disturb»-sign on the door and we take the lift to the 25th floor.
Being a spy who works undercover as a chamberboy, I have the master key that opens the door of every room. I knock on the door of room 2503, but there is no answer. I open the door. The first thing I see is a small card on the ground. I pick it up and read what's written on it: 'KamaGraBsky, call room 1311'. I put the card in my pocket and start my search.
The room is a mess: two empty vodka bottles, clothes everywhere, the bed not made, and the curtains look like Tarzan and Jane had rehearsed for their latest jungle-film.
"It looks like your boss has been kidnapped. Do you see anything that might be of importance?"
"No. Not that I notice."
I take another look at the card I found and share my thoughts with Rostov: "KamaGraBsky… That's KGB."
"Impossible. The KGB was shut down in 1991."
"If you have a secret service and everybody knows about them, what would you do? You create a decoy. You tell the world that you shut them down and started something new. The truth is that they went undercover and became secret again. They had the organization and they had the people; all they needed was the marketing to make the world believe the lies. Apparently, it worked. The KGB is still operational.
» Room 1311 does not exist. There never is a thirteenth floor in any high hotel. People are superstitious. Of course, there is a thirteenth floor, but we call it the fourteenth floor and it is reserved for personnel and staff services. My room is 1407. As far as I can see it, we have two options. The first one is that the KGB entered here and left with Mister Nikolai after a good fight. They left the card for us so they can tell us what we should do if we want him back. If that would have happened, they would leave their card on the table instead of on the floor. The KGB doesn't have Mister Nikolai. They knocked on the door and, when nobody answered, they slipped their card under the door, so Mister Nikolai would find it when he returned. In that case, we should contact them so they can help us find him. I'll call them, just to find out what they want."
"Call the KGB? Don't you know Russians shoot first and ask questions later? Do you want us to get killed?", Rostov complains.
"Shut up, Rostov. Why are you so worried? Don't you remember that you tried to kill yourself about ten minutes ago? I won't waste our time. If we want to find that suitcase, we'll need all the help we can get."
I pick up the phone and dial number 1311. The phone rings twice on the other side. Someone picks up and says: "Da."
I ask: "Can I speak to your superior, the one who can guarantee safety?"
Silence. Another Russian on the phone: "Do you have the information?"
"Yes, I have the information. What are you prepared to give in return?"
"Nothing."
"Not good enough. We want you to repay us our investment, multiplied by two. We're not a supermarket, giving discounts. We want to earn something ourselves too. And we want you to release Mister Nikolai."
"We don't have Mister Nikolai."
"In that case, we're wasting your and our time. Without Mister Nikolai, we can't make any deals. You've just made it clear to us that your colleagues from the Company (that's the CIA) have Mister Nikolai, so we'll deal with them. Sorry. We thought you were in control of the situation. Too bad to hear that you're not."
The Russian tries to win time: "Wait a second… We get Mister Nikolai. You give us the information."
"That depends on the state Mister Nikolai is in and it depends on the time it takes to find him. We can call you back in 24 hours, to give you a time limit, but if we find him first, the project goes to the highest bidder. Nothing personal. Just business, as you'll understand."
At that moment, the door opens. Two armed men enter. They point at us with a PP-2000, a Russian weapon that is used by Special Forces. Both are handsome, tall and blond. The first man looks dumb and dangerous. The second man looks mean and murderous. In his left hand, he has the mobile phone that I was talking to. No business cards needed: this is the KGB.
"Where's the suitcase?", the man with the phone asks.
"We don't have it, but we know where it is.", I say in what I hope is a businesslike tone.
"Sit down.", the man with the phone says.
I'm not impressed and keep standing up: "We're on your side. You better put the guns down or you'll all end up dead sooner or later."
"Are you threatening me?", the man with the phone asks.
"I'm giving you advice. There's a difference."
"What's the difference?"
"Good advice is expensive. You should give me 10.000 rubles for it."
"HA! I should give you 10.000 blows on the nose."
"You see? Now you're threatening me. 10.000 ruble, against today's exchange rate, is about 160 euros. Giving me 10.000 blows on the nose is a lot of work for 160 euros. Blows on the nose would hurt both my face and your fist: nobody would benefit from that. Working together with us might give you the info you're after without doing any work. Finding Mister Nikolai is on your To-Do list anyway, and sharing the code with us doesn't cost you anything, except for the 10.000 rubles for my advice, of course."
The man with the phone puts a grimace on his face. Thinking is not a part of the training of Russian intelligence.
"He does have a point.", the other KGB-man adds.
"Shut up, Sergey." The man with the phone makes up his mind: "We can't do it. We don't work together. That's not KGB policy."
"You work together with Sergey.", I add.
"That's different. He's Russian."
"My friend Rostov here is Russian too. Look at the map. You'll find Rostov on the right side of the Krim, on the border of the river Don."
"Rostov-on-Don is Russian…", Sergey adds.
"Nobody needs to know about our deal. We keep it between the four of us. We're all secret service. We do each other a service and we know how to keep it a secret."
"He does have a point with his service, Andrei. An ace and a match-point, if you ask me.", Sergey adds. He is definitely a tennis fan.
I decide to toss Sergey a small fish, to see if we can get ourselves an ally: "Do you like Maria Sharapova?" His surprised smile indicates a yes. "If you want, I can arrange you a meet and greet with her at Wimbledon next July. Book yourself a secret mission in London around that time and give me a call. A service from Maria Sharapova, as a service for you, from the Luxembourg Secret Service, exclusively for our business partners."
I scribble a 10-digit number on a piece of paper and hand it over to Sergey. His smile and his firm handshake confirm that he's on our side.
Andrei notices that it's three against one and he decides to surrender: "Okay. We have a deal. We find Mister Nikolai and you call us when you have the suitcase."
I offer my hand for a deal-closing handshake and I say: "We're on your side."
Andrei is careful: "You might lie."
"Have I ever lied to you?"
"Usually, we shoot first and ask questions later. But recent studies from our best scientists show that is not the best tactics. So now we have instructions to torture you first. Then we do the test with the lie detector, to be sure. We can always shoot you later."
"No need to torture me. No need to put a gun in my face either. I ain't gonna lie and I ain't gonna cry. We're business partners. I'll tell you everything I know."
Andrei is disappointed: "Are you a coward?"
"No, I'm not a coward, just underpaid. You are KGB. You should know that in capitalistic countries, governments pay their employees as little as possible; their only reason to give me a salary is that I need the money to pay their taxes. Do you expect me for such a lousy income to spend my working day on the other end of some electrical wires while you pull the strings? I'm not stupid. I'm just convinced of your skills. But we don't have time to waste and I don't like you enough to do you that little favour of letting me suffer for a while, so I suggest we skip the torture. What do you want to know? Next week's results of the Russian Football League?"
Sergey gets a sparkle of financial profit in his eyes: "Yeah!", but Andrei makes it clear who pulls the electric strings here: "I decide what we want to know. We use the lie detector. I don't trust you."
I think for a second: "It looks like a fair deal. Where do you want me to sit?"
Sergey looks at Andrei, not sure what to do, but Andrei is the leader and looks self-assured: "You sit over there, on the chair."
That's what I thought. If there is only one chair, it's a stupid question to ask where I have to sit, but it's a nice trick to make the Russians believe they are in charge and that I will cooperate. Sergey takes a device out of his pocket and puts it on the table beside me: "Put your right index finger on this screen."
The device is an old Nokia N75, the mobile phone everybody in Europe had about fifteen years ago. It doesn't even have a touchscreen, but I put a face as if I'm impressed.
Andrei starts the interview: "The first two questions are just to check the set-up. For the first question, you'll need to tell the truth. What is your name?"
"I can't give you my name. It's so secret that I don't know it myself. You can call me Luxembourg, or Lux if you like."
Andrei looks at the screen, which shows no sign of a lie: "That's a correct answer. Next question, and now you should lie: Did you ever climb Mount Everest?"
"No, I didn't."
The phone gives a beep as if its battery is low, and Andrei looks satisfied: "Okay. We go on. Do you have the suitcase?"
"No."
"Do you have the code to open the suitcase?"
"No."
"What does your partner know?"
"You should ask him that yourself. You're the one with the lie detector."
"Good answer. You. Sit here." Andrei points with the gun to Rostov and the chair. Rostov sweats like a pig when I stand up and let him take my place.
"First question: what is your name?"
"Lux calls me Rostov.", Rostov says. The lie device keeps quiet.
"The second question. Now you should lie. Did you ever climb Mount Everest?"
"I have already fear of heights when I put on an extra pair of socks. Why would I climb Mount Everest?"
"You have to lie, for the test."
"Yes, I did climb Mount Everest."
A small beep indicates again that the lie detector needs connection with the electricity red, but Andrei ignores the request and goes on with the interview: "Do you have the suitcase?"
"No."
"Do you have the code to open the suitcase?"
"Mister Nikolai has that code."
"Do you know where Mister Nikolai is now?"
"I thought you had him."
Andrei has heard enough: "You have no value for us. We better shoot you." He lifts the gun and puts the barrel between Rostov's eyes.
Sergey tries to help: "The instructions are that we shoot him in the back of his head, twice. That makes it look like a suicide."
I try to help too: "Are you going to kill him?"
Andrei explains: "KGB doesn't kill people. KGB fulfils wishes. It's the wish of our boss that we leave no witnesses. It's the wish of his superiors that nobody knows who has the suitcase. It's the wish of our President that nobody finds out why we're so successful at the Olympics. Dead people don't talk."
Rostov doesn't like to be dead yet. He tries to say something as long as he can: "In Hollywood movies, dead people do talk. Haven't you seen «World War Z»?"
Andrei walks around and puts the barrel of his gun at the back of Rostov's head, ready to fulfil his wish for a painless suicide.
"You will regret this.", I say.
"Why?"
"One of the wishes of your boss is the suitcase, and without Rostov's help, I can't get it. He's the one with the connections."
Andrei hesitates: "Connections? We don't use that word in Russia. We only know gonnextions: connections that are eliminated after being useful."
"Then give him a chance to be useful first. Let him prove to you we're on the same side."
Andrei thinks about that for a few seconds and then asks Rostov: "What is your connection with Moscow?"
"I live there and I work there, in Moscow. The black half of all the city's money goes through my hands."
"Hm. What is your connection with Washington?"
Rostov looks secure: "I have Washington in my pocket."
Now Andrei looks impressed: "Can we make use of that?"
I interrupt: "You have to find Mister Nikolai first. He has the code. We made a deal. We're on your side. You pay us back our investment and we share the information with you. Everybody wins."
Andrei does some deep thinking now, decides that I have something that he wants, but he likes to fulfil wishes too. He points his gun at me.
I'm not impressed: "You'll need us both if you want the suitcase. I told you to put away the guns if you want to survive: we have filled this room with explosives, connected with a detonator that goes off at the sound of a gunshot. If you're as good as we think you are, you should expect that we didn't invite you to come here without preparing first. You make one false move, you make one mistake, and you pay with your life. Do you want me to repeat that with my finger on the lie detector?"
Andrei hesitates. He doesn't pull the trigger, but he doesn't take away the gun either: "You don't have the suitcase. You just told the lie detector and you told the truth."
"We don't have it now and we don't have it here, but we know where it is and who has it. The problem is that getting the suitcase is a risky operation, some kind of mission impossible. If you want to try that yourself, you shoot us first and then go ahead."
Andrei has lost his confidence. Sergey tries to be some kind of help: "We better let them do the impossible. We also have to find Nikolai. Remember? I have only two hands and one of them ended up between the doors of our room when I tried to close it. It still hurts, so I can't really use it."
I try to help: "We found two empty vodka bottles. That's a valuable clue."
"Fingerprints?", Sergey asks.
"None."
"DNA?"
"None."
"So what's the clue?"
"There is lipstick on one of them. There might be a woman involved, a beautiful woman."
Sergey's face clears up like the sky in England after a summer rain: "Ah, vodka and a beautiful woman. That is a good clue. I know where to start. Club Escandalo. Einbahnstrasse 35."
I tap him on the shoulder: "Good thinking. I knew we could count on you. We'll call you in… 24 hours. We have your number."
The Russians leave without saying goodbye. Learning good manners is not part of the KGB-training either.
I ask Rostov: "How could you trick the lie detector, telling those Russians that you have Washington in your pocket?"
He smiles and says: "George Washington. The face on the one-dollar bills. We tip the waiters with Washington."
"But you lied: you don't have your wallet in your pocket. We left it in your room."
Rostov feels in the pocket of his bathrobe and starts to panic. I put my hand on his shoulder to calm him down: "Don't worry. They believed you. They will not come back to shoot you for it. In fact, they believed that you control the US government. That's what they meant with Washington."
"The US government? Washington D.C.?", Rostov wonders: "I thought…"
"Welcome to the world of spies, where nothing is what you think. I'm happy that you are able to trick the KGB. We'll need every trick we know if we want to solve this mission impossible."
"Mission Impossible? Like the films?"
"Like the films, Rostov."
"I like films. I like you too. You saved my life. Thank you. You're a good friend."
I take a candle from the desk drawer, put it in the bathroom and light it: "This is our wake-up call, to warn us when trouble arrives. And now we have to get out of here. We have to get you out of here. You're in danger. You must disappear."