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Varchenko was still incredulous.
    “I am just a businessman like you, Valeriy Ivanovich. A simple businessman and I am looking to invest in Odessa. I understand that you now seek a new partner and I am offering to be that very person.” Bull picked up a glass and poured himself a Cognac.
    “How dare you insult me in such a manner? Don’t you know who the hell I am?” Varchenko grabbed the Cognac bottle.
    “Why, of course I do.” Bull drank the dark liquor. “Very good. French? You are Valeriy Varchenko, former General of the KGB and Hero of the Soviet Union. You own several large companies, part-own a bank and four hotels in the Odessa Oblast and you are also responsible for most of the organised crime.”
    “You are well informed if somewhat too concise.” His ego slightly massaged he started to breath more normally. “What, however, gives you the slightest idea that you can strong arm me?” The man had balls, he had to concede.
    Bull placed the glass delicately back in the holder. “It would be a pity if foreign investors were to avoid Odessa. Given the tax zone incentive they should be pouring money into the area and into your pockets.”
    “So you are threatening me, Knysh?” Varchenko now knew how to play this.
    “That is a very crude way to put my proposal, Valeriy Ivanovich. I believe that you have need of a partner who brings in not only capital but a wealth of experience in other business related matters such as, for example, security, and life insurance. Not to mention new export opportunities…”
    Varchenko had now heard enough. He looked into the snake-like eyes of the man who called himself Knysh. “I have no need for another partner, however experienced he may be. You have made a monumental error of judgement in approaching me. I do not want to see or hear from you again. Now leave my car before I personally strangle you!”
    Bull held the old man’s gaze impassively. “My offer is still open. I will give you time to reconsider.” He exited the car.
    The driver and guard got back in.
    “Drive,” commanded Varchenko, “but not fast.”
    The Maybach manoeuvred past the BMW and moved up the road. Its 612bhp V12 Mercedes engine could propel it to 100kmp in five seconds; but he was not running away, this was his Oblast! Varchenko dialled a number and a phone rang in a fast-approaching Mercedes G Wagon. “Ruslan, when you see them run them off of the road. They must not get away. Do you understand?”
    He leant back and poured a large Cognac. This one he savoured. If you are a dog, do not attack the bear.
    *
    Borispil Airport , Kyiv Oblast , Ukraine
     
    The arrivals doors at Kyiv’s Borispil Airport opened and through eager crowds pushing to catch a glimpse of their loved ones Snow spotted a tall, fair haired figure. The man looked somewhat bewildered. He had a large case in each hand and a rucksack on his back.
    “You must be Arnaud?” Snow called out above the heads of an elderly couple.
    Arnaud looked up and smiled. “Aidan?”
    “Correct. Welcome to Kyiv.”
    Arnaud pushed his way forward as best he could and Snow took one of the cases with one hand and shook Arnaud’s with the other. “Travelling light?”
    “I didn’t know what to bring, so I brought two of everything.”
    “Well as long as you’ve brought two pairs of socks you’ll be fine. Follow me.”
    Snow led them through the crowds of hopeful locals masquerading as taxi drivers and out to a waiting Lada. The driver, Victor, leant against the bonnet smoking. On seeing the pair he stubbed out the cigarette and opened the boot.
    “Hello to Kyiv.”
    “I think he means welcome.”
    Arnaud held out his hand, “Nice to meet you old boy.”
    Victor nodded and took the luggage. Once the boot was loaded Victor beckoned them to be seated.
    Arnaud sat in the back behind Snow. “Is this a Lada?”
    “Yep, the Subaru of the former Soviet Union. It’s about forty minutes to the city centre and our place; sit back and enjoy