Believe it or Not: MEGALOMANIA, #1

By hugh macnab

A young girl is kidnapped in the middle of the night - her fingers apparently brutally severed. Is this a gruesome hoax? Detective Sergeant Dan Weissman from the Sheriff's Office in Naples, FLA, must decide - whether to believe it or not.

 

The U.S. Presidnet is commited to further expansion of oil exploration in the alaskan Wildlife Reserve and will risk anything to achieve his goal, even international sabotage.

 

Homeland Security agent Fabia Mendez, must trace the source of a new chemical weapon, but is she destined to fail, and if so, at what cost to the Nation?

 

Senator Theodor White the Third is looking forward to fulfilling a lifelong fantasy, but instead becomes embroiled in a Russian plat to destabilize both the Whitehouse, and World Order.

• Language: English
• Publisher: hugh macnab
• Release date: Dec 1, 2023
• ISBN: 9798621818975

hugh macnab

If you need an underground cable pulled in, a cocktail mixed, a Global technology plan developed, or maybe you suffer from one of many Mental Health concerns - I'm your man. Within my career, I have worked with and helped so many people with such varied and interesting backgrounds that this more than compensates for the lack of specific crime, police procedure and political experience when writing my books. Of course I should also mention that I have read thousands of books since the age of four - and am now ancient - so that's a lot of books. Along with my long-term suffering parter, we have five middle-aged children and ten grandchildren between us. For those who have not yet experienced the joy of grandchildren - yes, it is true - you can give them back after their stay! If I am not writing, you may find me on the tennis court when the aches and pains allow, or walking the golf course pretending I know what I'm doing, or putting my partner in trouble with my erratic bidding while playing Bridge. As for my guitars - they look good, although the dust is gathering.

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As an author, there’s nothing I like more than hearing how people enjoy my books. Your reviews are not only welcome but also really helpful to others who are seeking good books to read.

Copyright © 2020 Hugh Macnab

All rights reserved. This work is entirely fictional, and any similarity to people or places is purely coincidental.

No part of this publication should be reproduced in any form or by any means without explicit permission from the author.

Other titles

Megalomania Series

The Phantom

End of the World

China Falls

Eli Ross Series

Dark Matter

Final Act

Tears of Joy

Sammy Greyfox Series

Russian Brides

Crossing the line

No way back

Head of the Snake

Lost Souls

Believe it or Not

by Hugh Macnab

Copyright © 2020 Hugh Macnab

All rights reserved.

ISBN: B0892J1H4T

Prologue

Dmitri Tsvetkov arrived in Kaluga, on the banks of the Oka river, 150 km to the southwest of Moscow for a second time in a week - a visit which, this time, would change the world.

He was meeting with Boris Svpanski, a former scientist in Moscow’s Russian FSB Secret Service weapons development laboratory. Svpanski was lucky to escape with his life after using the facilities to develop and sell custom narcotics to young Muscovites. Had he not helped to save the life of the daughter of one of the FSB’s most senior Colonels, he would have disappeared without a trace. Instead, he now works alone in a laboratory on a top-secret development, concealed in a desolate former military building, for Yaroslav Zublet, the Chairman of Gazmart - the largest Oil and Gas producer in Russia, but also the former Spetsnaz Colonel in the FSB whose daughter he saved.

The scientist aimed to develop an airborne sleeping agent with a rapid dispersion rate and low toxicity that would endure for at least eight hours without noticeable side effects. If this had been easy to do, the FSB labs would have already achieved it, so Svpanski was invaluable to Zublet, who had his own agenda.

The scientist’s new creation, codenamed agent-Z, claimed to deliver a sleep duration from eight to twenty-four hours, a range from a few meters to several kilometers, while being effective within two breaths - even over the longer ranges.

But this time, Dmitri Tsvetkov had returned for a different reason. While developing agent-Z, Svpanski stumbled upon a second product with a similar range but also with one side-effect, which agent-Z did not have - one hundred percent toxicity.

Instant death.

Svpanski packaged these two products, disguised in aluminum strips as cold-relief tablets, with agent-Z being blue for ‘daytime’ use and the more deadly product being red for ‘night-time.’ The strip from the previous week - with only four blue tablets - was already in New York as per Yaroslav Zublet’s instruction.

This week, each new strip contained two red capsules with the blue. One was destined for New York, while the others would head to France and Germany.

Day One

It was a pleasant seventy-five degrees with the merest hint of a cool breeze from the Gulf - typical February weather in Naples, Florida.

Downtown was busy with offices emptying their employees looking for lunch, and elderly Snowbirds by the thousand filling restaurants and curbside coffee shops watching the World go by. The more people came, the more cafes and restaurants appeared - supply and demand in its rawest state.

On the second floor of the Sheriff’s office, Lieutenant Cosby stuck his head over a cubicle wall and startled Sergeant Dan Weissman, who was staring at a photo of his late best friend and himself on a fishing trip.

‘You got a moment, Dan?’ he asked, shaking Dan out of his pensive state.

‘Sure, Lieutenant. You want to grab lunch?’

But, as Dan found out, lunch wasn’t on the Lieutenant’s mind.

Pulling a chair into Dan’s cubicle and sitting, the Lieutenant shrugged and explained that he had an upset young couple in one of the interview rooms but wasn’t exactly sure what was wrong with them as they kept arguing. ‘He’s pissed at his wife for being here and is screaming that she will get her killed - so the wife has clammed up, and now neither of them is saying squat.’

Dan had worked for Lieutenant Cosby for twelve years and long ago accepted that while he was a brilliant detective and an exceptional guy to work for, he was at a loss when dealing with upset people.

‘You need me to talk with them?’ he asked, noticing the flood of relief on his Lieutenant’s face as he made the suggestion.

‘Yeah, give it a shot, Dan. But tread lightly, and for God’s sake, don’t mention you’re a homicide detective.’

‘Sure, boss.’

As the Lieutenant left, Dan looked back at the photograph on his desk and remembered the day they took it. He and his friend, TJ, had both been under pressure at work and although the best of the fishing season was over, they took a couple of days and went into the Glades. They had agreed on a friendly competition, with the rules being that they could only choose one type of lure, and the one who caught the greatest number of different fish would win.

TJ caught three. Snook, Redfish, and Large Mouth Bass and claimed the prize - an all-expenses-paid night at Hooters. All the chicken you can eat and beer you can drink.

Shaking his head and returning to the present, he closed the open folder in front of him, and as he made his way downstairs, he wondered what he might find.

Entering the small interview room, a man, likely in his mid-thirties, sat to his left. Straggly hair bunched at the back, unshaven and disheveled in appearance, wearing dark-rimmed glasses and sporting a Sixties-Still-Rock T-shirt and dark blue jeans.

On the other side sat an attractive, similarly aged woman, her face drawn tight, with red eyes and tear tracks on each cheek. She was mousy-blonde and wearing a long-sleeved red shirt and a knee-length denim skirt - with no jewelry or makeup.

Both pairs of eyes turned towards him - one challenging, the other appealing. One wanted to be there, the other didn’t.

‘My name is Dan Weissman, and the Lieutenant has asked me to talk with you. Will that be all right?’

The couple looked at each other, daring the other to speak, leaving Dan to break the ice.

‘Can I ask your names?’

‘Charlotte Oatts,’ replied the woman. ‘And this is my husband, Adam,’ she finished, nodding towards him.

‘So,’ said Weissman. ‘How can I help you?’

The couple remained silent, the husband glowering, the wife undaunted but wary.

‘Okay, said Dan. Let me start with a few simple questions. How long are you married?’

It was the woman who answered. ‘Twelve years in two weeks.’

‘And where are you from? You're not from these parts?’

‘No. I moved here from New York when we got married?’

‘But that’s not where your accent comes from, is it?’

‘No. My Grandparents are from Italy but came to America before I was born.’

‘Where in New York did you live?’ asked Weissman.

‘When my Grandparents immigrated after the war, they moved to East Harlem. Others from their home village lived all around them, which helped them settle. That's where my parents met and married before moving to Harlem, and they raised me in the lower Eastside.’

‘Familiar territory for me,’ said Weissman. ‘As a patrol officer, I worked out of the Sixtieth Precinct in the Bronx, then moved over to the Twenty-Sixth in East Harlem.’

After acknowledging his familiarity with her home district, she continued. ‘I’m a registered nurse, and back then, I worked at the Metropolitan, down on 1st Avenue.’

‘I know it well. We often had to take people to the ER,’ replied Dan. ‘Did you enjoy working there?’

‘It was a job, let’s put it like that. And I’m here now.’

Turning to the husband, Dan asked where he was from.

Adam Oatts replied after a moment’s hesitation. ‘I’m local, born and raised here in Collier County, East of Immokalee.’

Turning back to the wife, Dan asked. ‘And do you folks have any family?’

‘Don’t do it!’ shouted the husband, glaring at his wife. ‘We can’t say anything. You know what will happen if we do! We should never have come here.’

Fresh tears formed in Charlotte Oatt’s eyes as she sobbed.

‘Look,’ said Dan firmly. ‘Why don’t you sit and relax for a moment? Who wants coffee?’

Neither looked enthusiastic, but both agreed to take one. Dan collected the details and left the room only to find the Lieutenant hovering around the corner.

‘What do you think?’ he asked.

‘I think nothing yet,’ replied Dan. ‘But I have a hunch. Can you get the coffee while I take care of something?’

‘You think I’m your coffee fetcher?’ said the Lieutenant.

‘If you want me to make progress, you are,’ replied Dan, not waiting for a reply.

***

Ten minutes later, Dan distributed the coffees and sat in the conference room, allowing everyone to take a sip before tossing his hand grenade. ‘So, tell me about your daughter - Kim?’

Adam jumped out of his chair and rushed round the table’s far side towards his wife, shouting, ‘You told him!’

‘I didn’t, I swear,’ she replied, pushing herself back from him.

‘Stop right there!’ shouted Weissman. ‘Nobody has told me anything. Damn it, I’m a Detective!’

Both husband and wife turned and stared at him, startled. Then Adam sat next to his wife, put his elbows on the table, and lowered his head into his hands.

‘Someone has taken her,’ whispered Charlotte, tears flowing freely now. ‘Someone’s taken our daughter.’

***

Since arriving at her papa’s from Berlin a week ago, an unexpected turn of events turned what should have been a peaceful family reunion into a frantic time for Mischa Kasakova and her ‘minder’ Stepan.

For twenty-four hours, things went well. Then, papa asked her to walk the Brighton Beach promenade with him, and everything changed.

As they strolled together, the wintry wind blew in from the lower New York Bay, and they both tugged the collars of their coats tight under their chins. She had seen so little of her papa in the past ten years, although she didn’t know what he may talk to her about, that it was her long-lost sister - it was a surprise.

‘You can never forget a lost child,’ he announced without preamble.

Devoid of what others referred to as empathy, Mischa struggled with her papa’s statement and concentrated hard on figuring out what she thought he was feeling.

Here, it seemed like sadness because of the loss of his daughter almost twenty years ago. But his still being upset was a mystery, and why he would bring it up now was confusing.

But Papa had always understood her difficulty relating to emotions and clarified what he meant for her.

‘Nikki,’ he told her. ‘Your eldest sister.’

Even realizing he was trying to help her understand, her logical assessment of what he should have wanted to talk about trapped her. Things that happened in her childhood were never discussed. Or how she had been in the past ten years since she saw him last. Instead, he wanted to talk about someone gone for twenty years!

At that moment, she suffered complete disassociation - similar to a panic attack, but without the physical symptoms. This had happened before, but not for many years. It was a strange sensation where she was aware of certain things - like who she was with and where she was, but without context, these meant little to her because Papa had not led her into the twenty-year-old topic.

‘Do you recall much of your eldest sister, Mischa?’ papa prompted.

‘Nikki?’ she said, snapping back into the present.

‘Yes. You were very young when we lost her.’

‘I remember her well, papa, although I have not spoken of her for so long. I wanted to be like her. She was amazing.’

‘Tell me, Mischa. What do you remember?’

‘She was so carefree. Always willing to try new things or to go where others wouldn’t. Did you know, at school, they considered her fearless.’

‘Yes, an independent spirit, for sure.’

‘But she wasn’t fearless,’ said Mischa, recalling one fact she knew about her sister that no one else did. ‘Spiders would scare her.’

‘Nikki?’

‘Yes. But I told no one. I wanted her to be fearless.’

At that, papa smiled, apparently surprised by this more caring version of herself - in reality, she was merely recalling forgotten memories.

Mischa continued.

‘But the trouble with a fearless big sister, older than both Svetlana and myself - we were disappointed all the time trying to do what she did, not to mention the injuries we both suffered.’

‘You remember her much more than I expected, Mischa.’

‘Papa. Nikki would have had a glorious life full of drama and excitement. She was like a wild tiger - a free spirit needing to live in the wild.’

‘You loved her?’

‘No, papa. But she was like me in some ways, and I liked her for that.’

‘Did you miss her after she was gone?’

‘I did, but you helped me, papa. You spent a lot more time with me after she disappeared.’

‘Yes, Mischa. Spending time with you helped me, too. I also missed her.’

‘But Svetlana became so jealous.’

‘Yes, but you needed my help more than your other sister did. You being so young.’

Thinking about her papa’s words, she realized her memories from that period were very puzzling. At five years old, without being able to recognize emotions, life was complicated, and she didn’t have the vocabulary other people would use to describe their feelings.

When Nikki was still there, each night at bedtime, papa spent what he called his special time with either her or Svetlana, and Mischa could only wonder about the sounds coming from their rooms and why no one would talk about what happened behind their closed doors.

But after Nikki disappeared, papa stopped going into Svetlana’s room and spent every special time with her instead. He was always gentle with her.

Over the following years, as this progressed, she found his behavior more and more confusing, but Papa seemed to enjoy being with her, and having his attention pleased her. It helped her forget her eldest sister.

After Papa stopped visiting Svetlana, she seemed jealous, although even now, Mischa wasn’t sure about that description. Then she became angry, which was much easier to recognize.

One night, Svetlana burst into the room during Papa’s special time and shouted at him, even punching him on the shoulder.

But Papa slapped her hard with the back of one hand, knocking her back against the wall where she stood shocked, blood seeping from the corner of her mouth.

Gathering herself, she shouted at him again and flew out the door, banging it behind her.

After that, even though she tried to talk with Svetlana, an icy barrier had grown between them, and everything changed. But that didn’t matter. She had papa.

Only now did she question whether she should have known what he taught her at that age.

***

And here she was again, satisfying Papa’s needs. This time, she was in Florida, and for a second time, he had asked her to kill.

***

Kim was asleep in bed when a hand gripped her firmly across the mouth and startled her awake; a bright light from a cell phone a few inches from her face, almost blinding her. A video was running. It was her mother asleep in bed with someone holding a knife to her throat. As she stared in horror, the screen moved to reveal her father, also sleeping with a knife at his throat.

A muffled voice whispered close to her ear, ‘Quietly, my little one and no one needs to die tonight.’

Whoever had spoken gradually released the pressure of the gloved hand over her mouth, ready to clamp it back if she uttered a sound, and only then did she realize she’d been holding her breath and felt relief as she drew fresh air into her lungs, then let it out with a sigh.

It was dark in the room, and the cell phone light shone directly in her face, making it difficult to see much of her attacker, but it was definitely a woman.

Handed a small holdall, she was told to get dressed quickly and pack sufficient clothes for a few days.

She threw random items into the case, worried about her parents, concentrating on doing what she had been told so they would come to no harm. When she was ready, the woman hustled her through the house and garage, then into the rear seat of a car parked in the driveway.

As she settled, two men climbed in, one on either side, and she felt a pinprick on the side of her neck.

***

His youngest daughter, Mischa, had proven how effective she could be by planning and executing the move to Florida with the small team he had given her within a week.

Today, Grigor Kasakova needed to talk with his other daughter, Svetlana. So, he invited her to join him for black tea at a small Russian cafe on the boardwalk. It annoyed her that Mischa had left for Florida, and he knew that. It was time she understood more about her little sister.

Svetlana looked so different from her sister. Where Mischa had long flowing red waves, Svetlana’s hair was jet black and straight, trimmed above shoulder height. Mischa’s eyes are dark brown, Svetlana’s green. The differences were stark.

Personality-wise, there were more similarities, although Mischa’s difficulties in understanding emotions confused the comparison. Both intelligent, determined, and intense, but as ruthless as Svetlana was, Mischa was deadly, and that day, he needed to explain why that was important.

As they waited for their tea to arrive, and he was considering how to start the conversation, he glanced out the window to see the Rockaway ferry carve through the choppy waters, making its way from Sunset Park to Lower Manhattan. While he was watching, Svetlana started the conversation.

‘Why Mischa, papa? I’ve dedicated my life to helping you with the business. While she’s been swanning around the world having a wonderful time. Then, she turns up out of the blue after ten years, and you reward her by sending her to Florida on some secret mission - and don’t even tell me? Why papa?’

Grigor sat back, surprised by the venom in his daughter’s words.

‘Why not me?’ she challenged.

‘There are things you don’t understand, Svetlana.’

‘Because you don’t tell me!’ his daughter almost shouted, drawing attention from the room.

‘But, I will tell you now.’

‘After you’ve chosen Mischa over me!’

‘Yes, but you will understand. If you will listen.’

Now Svetlana sat back to consider, and Grigor realized she was ready for his explanation.

‘You remember my old friend, Anatol, died a few weeks ago?’

Svetlana nodded.

‘Before he died, he told me about your sister.’

Svetlana’s puzzled expression made him clarify what he meant. ‘Nikki.’

‘Nikki? You’ve found out what happened to her all these years ago?’

‘Yes. Anatol and my cousin - Vladi Popov - picked her up on the way home from school, and she propositioned him.’

‘Your cousin?’

‘Yes. Like the little madam that she was, she made Anatol get out and climb in the back while she sat beside Popov in the front seat. Then she started playing with herself and teasing him.’

‘Nikki did that?’

‘Yes. Popov gets upset and tells her to stop, but she doesn’t. So, he pulled the car over and told her to follow him if she wanted to learn about genuine pleasure. Then walked off into the woods.’

‘What did Anatol do?’

‘He stayed in the back of the car and said he tried to stop her, but Nikki ignored him. She got out and followed Popov into the woods.’

‘Your cousin killed her?’

‘Yes. Anatol says she laughed at him in the woods, and he hit her. That he didn’t mean to hurt her, never mind kill her. And I trust that to be true. But instead of telling me, they covered it up.’

‘For twenty years?’

Grigor nodded and sipped his tea.

‘So, how does this explain