Gemsicuted

Written by Julian Robov


Twenty Nine


Troublov rushed back to his suite and opened the briefcase eagerly. The contents included a gun, a rope, a map, several gloves, a diary, and a few photographs.

He took the gun first and held it in his hand playfully, and aimed at the vase rehearsing a mock execution. He thought of something, and suddenly put the gun back in the briefcase.

The diary was the next intriguing part. It had several addresses, which didn’t concern him. But a few pages were folded to indicate something important. He opened the pages and read the notes.

Page fifty had detailed descriptions of Tito’s and Miko’s daily schedule. Tito frequented Pathumwan Princess hotel’s health club. An exercise freak. The timings were marked in black ink.

While Miko loved to hangout at Taurus club on Sukhumvit Road, his mission was to silence them at these spots. Miko’s schedules were marked in green ink. Then his inquisitive mind moved to page sixtytwo. It had a detailed record of the secret meetings between Goldie and Sanders at her SV City condo on Rama 3 Road.

Sanders’s business dealing with Tito and Miko too were detailed in red ink. He had a deadline of one week, before being spirited out of the country on a fake passport with a new identity. He had no problems executing Roman Pavlov, but the present mission lacked the same commitment and resolution. There was something missing. He had a contract with Papov, and the job had to be executed before the deadline without fail. Troublov was given a freehand to choose either of his targets, first or last. The only requirement Papov demanded was their confirmed dead bodies. After the delivery, he was a free man with more than enough cash to start a new life in Russia or Finland. Four heads in one week!

He put the diary back in the briefcase, and walked to the window for a view. The same old view of countless cars and motorcycles occupied Lad Phrao Road, and the people seemed to tolerate the chaos. After taking a deep breath, he got back to the serious stuff: the execution plan.

He tore a page from the diary, and wrote the dates and times to start the job. But first, he decided to start with Sanders and Goldie, and then Tito. Troublov preferred Miko to be the last.

It was a dream come true. The money and the freedom to do what he liked the most, becoming a politician had to do with the new change in Moscow. The politicians knew how to fill their stomach at others expense, and Troublov decided politics was the best profession in the country, if other endeavors failed. He had no more interest in geology or gemstones. The passion was gone. The sudden turnaround at his job and the personal relationship among his friends also began to wane with time. But he had never killed a woman before. He was too scared to tell Papov the truth, instead he agreed to the conditions due to the timely pressure.

From the photograph, he realized that she was a real knockout. She was blonde, tall, and packed inside a beautiful body. He wriggled in ecstasy just looking at her photograph. He never had any relationship with a woman in Russia or Thailand. For reasons he couldn’t explain, he had no interest indulging in such activities. He had a score to settle on behalf of his comrades, and he went the extra mile to meet the goal. That was over.

But the sudden urge from within, after watching her half-naked photograph at some God forbidden beach tickled his mind. He theorized, if she looked beautiful in the picture, then she was something far beyond description in the flesh. And Sanders loafing with her made him angry and jealous. Thinking of Sanders brought back the memories of Pavlov. He too had a good time with his blonde wife, Katrina. Papov had shown their pictures before the execution in Pathumthani. At that time, he was more focused to finish Pavlov at any cost. He had a personal vendetta against Pavlov, but never bothered about their natural sex life. Papov had the best photographer in the world secretly record their bedroom gymnastics for a different reason. Though he was shown the video of one such night, Pavlov having sex with Katrina, it didn’t really bother him too much. Instead, Troublov kept drinking vodka to prevent himself from falling asleep.

Now after seeing Goldie’s picture, old memories began to flood back like yesterday. He didn’t want to kill her. His mind wasn’t into it. But he had made a promise to Papov. The more he thought about it, the greater it was apparent the guys in Pattaya meant business whether he agreed or not. They were too powerful and well organized, and he was just a messenger in a unique way. He wiped the photograph several times with his hand to feel her face, as if she was in front of him, a typical Russian woman.

The thought of Miko and Tito just disappeared into thin air. They no longer became his priority, even though his instruction was specific. He wanted her to remain alive.

With that sunken feeling, he slumped into the sofa thinking of rescuing her and living with her forever, if possible. Though the idea looked stupid at first, he got the feeling that the money he had already accumulated in a bank in Cyprus was enough to start a new life, away from the influence of crimes and gangs.

A few moments ago, he was thinking of becoming a politician like Zuganov, the communist or Yavilinsky, the reformer, all in a split-second.

Suddenly a smile began to flash across his face. He returned to the diary and read the details regarding Goldie and Sanders. Troublov couldn’t believe his eyes, the way the meetings between Sanders and Goldie were recorded in the logbook. Someone was living in the building watching their movements closely or some insider was feeding the info at cost. But there was no video of their activities inside the condo. He would have loved to watch that erotic experience. That thought itself induced a bulge in his pants instantly. He looked at it first casually, and then laughed repeatedly.

A crazy thought. He couldn’t get away with it. Her face began to appear in his mind. He tried to push it aside, but kept coming back. He didn’t know why. He thought there must be a reason. What reason? He hadn’t a clue.

And there it was. He flicked the pages, and on page 102 there was a detailed account of her business activities in Bangkok. She was a rich woman, but in a different way. Now Troublov realized, he hadn’t the remotest chance of living with her. He hated that and out of disappointment and anger, he hit the wall with his fist several times.

No machete! Just the gun! He stuck the photographs of Sanders, Goldie, Tito, and Miko, on the sofa separately for mock execution. Deep in his mind there was a little voice in him moaning in silence about what he was doing. And that little voice kept coming back repeatedly with each gunshot. Instead, he kept chanting ‘Papov’ steadfast to avoid distraction. And, he wanted to win this time.