Moskva
The only way BratvaVarang Captain Leeds and her twelve-man specialized team cab quickly get to Moscow from Zurich is to fly. But you can’t get to Moscow direct from most airports in Europe. Leeds flies in a private Gulfstream jet from Zurich to Nikola Tesla Airport in Belgrade, Serbia – 1 hour and 35 minutes flight time – and takes off almost immediately thereafter for Sheremetyevo Airport in Moscow, Russia. That flight is another 3 hours and 15 minutes.
They start their trek at dawn in Zurich and ultimately reach Sheremetyevo almost five hours later – and then tack on 2 more hours because Moscow time is 2 hours ahead. Once they land, they observe the rule: Moscow is called “Moskva”.
Leeds’ first order of business is to find Ilsa Sonnerlund’s – now teen-age – daughter, Katya, and toss the “Platinum” skyscraper apartment she shared with her on-again, off-again “family” in Russia. If they tear the place apart, maybe there’s some nook or cranny where Ilse hid a vial of ASTRA Antidote. Another priority is a blood draw from Katya. There’s an outside chance that through cutting-edge spectral serum analysis scientists can isolate a molecular anomaly that shows tell-tale markers it was synthesized in a NordPharma laboratory. Maybe they can then reverse-engineer that substance and nail down a blueprint of – what they hope – is the Antidote.
Of course, if Ilse Sonnerlund never administered the Antidote to her daughter – if she was apprehended before she could inoculate the child – Leeds’ trip is just another shot in the dark.
They deplane and pile into two blacked-out Mercedes panel vans and follow their Russian State Security escort to the Rubiyovka District – Moskva’s most ultra-wealthy high-rises. The cream of Moskva’s solid-gold addresses is the Vostok Tower – an iconic skyscraper in the elite Moskva City Business District. Here, premium residences – like Ilse’s on the 95th floor – can command 50 or 60 million dollars US. Elite owners of these residences call themselves the “Platinum Club”.
Vostok Tower dominates the Moskva skyline. Leed’s BratvaVarang comrades point it out while they’re still at a distance – 100 floors of sleek, glass facade, gated access, private elevators, rooftop terraces and gardens, private gyms and pools. It’s a place for the uber-wealthy – oligarchs, tycoons, international financiers, Middle Eastern oil billionaires. The irony of such a temple to obscene wealth being built in the city where Lenin and Trotsky once rallied the workers is not lost on Leeds. She can see all around her as they drive up the Presnenskaya Embankment Road to Vostok Tower that Russia these days is a different place – urbane, informed, awash in wealth and power. It is a force to be reckoned with. Clearly, the United States hasn’t gotten the memo. Moskva’s architectural diversity and historical presence is breathtaking. It makes Zurich, Switzerland look like a threadbare, worn-out cultural backwash that has seen its day come and go. Moskva is ascendant. Russia is rising.
The two Mercedes vans patently disregard city speed laws and get to Vostok Tower in record time. They sweep around back to where a huge open garage door allows them access to a roped-off staging area. Construction crews are already there – guys are mustering tools and masks for a complete demolition of Sommerlund’s platinum-class pied-a-terre. Leeds and her squad suit up in their standard special forces garb – face shields included – and test their “coms”. Everybody is synced to each other and BratvaVarang Central Command in St. Petersburg. Helmet videos cams are operating.
Central Command issues the “Go” Order.
Leeds and half her crew take a private express elevator to the 95th floor – bypassing the security codes is child’s play for their virtual key systems software. The other half of her crew take the next private express car up with combat impact cases full of x-ray equipment that can see through walls and search out voids – anyplace where the crafty Ilse Sonnerlund could have stashed her ASTRA Antidote vials.
The apartment front doors are massive. Leeds foregoes the knock-knock approach – her crew just blows the intimidating portals open with Centex. A hysterical servant woman is cowering against a wall jabbering loudly in Russian, tears streaming down her face. She’s obviously from Chechnya or from Turkmenistan – probably working under a precious executive work visa. Leeds’ Assistant – Command Sargeant Boris Andruchkov – roughly explains why they’ve blown her front door open. Leeds hears the conversation in real time translated into English over her coms link.
SERVANT: “Why do you attack in this manner? I’ve done nothing wrong! I have work permit! Please!”
ANDRUCHKOV: “We seek the young girl Katya – where is she? Is there anyone else in this residence at this time? What is your name? You’ll have to produce identification.”
SERVANT: “My identification papers are in my purse – there, on the table. Katya is not here! She is in Valdai!”
ANDRUCHKOV: “Where in Valdai? Where? Do you want to go to prison? Do you want to lose your work visa? TELL ME! TELL ME NOW!!”
SERVANT: “At the Dacha of the Prima Ballerina Magda Kuznetsova – she trains for the Bolshoi Theatre All Russian Ballet Competition to take place next month! Madame Kuznetsova has taken a personal interest in our little Katya – she calls Katya the “Next Svetlana Zakharova!“
ANDRUCHKOV: “Tell me where the Dacha is! You must have an address – a record – a phone number. Tell me!”
SERVANT: “I’ve only seen pictures of it. Kuznetzova’s Dacha is called the “Marble Palace” on Lake Uzhin deep in the Valdai Hills outside the Valdaysky National Park. It is supposedly all made from pink Italian Marble. Katya goes there by Helicopter – she is picked up on our roof terrace here. That’s all I know! I swear! Please don’t arrest me! I have children here in Moskva! I’ve no husband to care for them! There! In that book on the table – there are phone numbers. And keys. Maybe there is something for the Kuznetzova Dacha…”
LEEDS: “Sargeant Andruchkov – take the keys and phone book. Katya’s blood remains our primary mission. Have a helicopter pick us up on the roof terrace and take us to Valdai. It’s about a half-hour away. In the meantime – Engineering Officer Tabacs, you take charge of the construction crews we have mustering in the garage level and make digital record of every nook and cranny behind every drywall, pipe, toilet trap, sink trap, roof tile, floor pipe access – anyplace where Sonnerlund could have hidden vials of ASTRA Antidote. Have your second in command X-Ray every square millimeter of the premises for computerized topographical analysis. If the Antidote is here, you must find it! Send the Servant woman home – caution her to say nothing of what happened here today, or her entire family will be killed while she watches – and then she will be strangled.
Within thirty minutes, Leeds, her Command Sargeant Andruchkov and eight of her team is flying above the M-10 “Moscow – St. Petersburg Highway” into the Novgorod Oblast (Region). They’re flying in a new Mi38 VIP Executive “Kazan” Helicopter exclusively reserved for use by the Kremlin General Staff and the President of Russia.
Valdai is at the geographic center of the Valdaysky District in the Oblast, situated on the scenic Southwestern shore of Lake Valdayskoye and nestled in picturesque “uplands” – hills, forests and pristine lakes. Valdai lies roughly midway between Moscow (360-400 Kilometers Northwest) and Saint Petersburg (300-350 Kilometers Southeast).
Their Helicopter Pilot, Russian Air Forces Captain Sergei Bogomyr, already has entered the navigation coordinates for the “Pink Marble Palace” of Prima Ballerina Magda Kuznetsova. Once Russian State Security Services clears their flight route on Russia’s “friend or foe” radar network – so many high-level Russian officials maintain Dachas in Valdai that this is one of the most monitored executive flight paths in the country – they’re airborne.
After a half-hour’s worth of wild cowboy turns and punishing updrafts, Captain Bogomyr calls Leeds into the cockpit and points to his right. A pinkish, almost Middle Eastern style structure is coming up at them fast. It’s thoroughly Byzantine in theme – and huge. Palace is the proper word to describe it. Captain Bogomyr sets the sleek rotorcraft down on a large, magnificently appointed Helicopter Landing Pad with a bevy of uniformed maintenance personnel already running towards it. Since it’s a new Mi38 Executive Kazan Helicopter, they’re expecting high-level Russian Government visitors – and are shocked when Leeds and her tactical group leap out of the craft armed to the teeth.
Command Sargeant Andruchkov barks to them in Russian – and Leeds gets simultaneous translations over her “com”.
“WHERE IS PRIMA BALLERINA KUZNETZOVA? WHERE IS THE GIRL KATYA? TAKE US TO THEM NOW OR YOU WILL PAY DEARLY!”
Two maintenance guys hold their hands up in a universal “Don’t kill me” signal and announce they will lead the way to Kuznetzova and the “Young Lady”.
Command Sargeant Andruchkov thrusts his AK-12SPK short-barreled assault weapon forward to signal his impatience and growls “GET GOING!”
Leeds and her team beak into a trot to keep up with the – very motivated – maintenance workers and soon are weaving in and out of high-ceiling halls and chambers that look like they were designed for a Saudi Crown Prince. Authentic art works and sculptures blur by them as their feet impact exquisite mosaic floors, the likes of which can be found only in the Hagia Sophia in Constantinople. The Prima Ballerina’s “residence” is a country palazzo from Czarist times where royalty would entertain nobility and idle away country days and nights eating rich foods and drinking imported French wines.
Finally the maintenance workers – literally – bust into two imposing floor-to-ceiling oaken doorways and there, standing before them – in an enormous, oval and completely mirrored ballerina work-out amphitheater – is Prima Ballerina Magda Kuznetsova and a young girl, approximately age sixteen. They’re decked out in sweaty ballerina gear, their hair pulled back in tight ponytails. They’ve obviously been working out hard. The girl has a toned, athletic physique and is the very image of what you’d expect an up-and-coming Ballet ingénue would look like. Thin, lithe, perky and innocent. A beautiful young lady – a Princess – full of promise, being molded by the very Master of the craft she is devoting her life to.
Madame Kuznetzova wastes no time to scream, “WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS???” She instinctively wraps her arms around Katya. The girl just looks stunned and nestles herself close inside the arms of her mentor. She’s petrified and her eyes instantly glisten with tears.
Leeds barks orders.
‘MEDIC BOGDANOVSKY – BLOOD DRAW, NOW! FIVE VIALS!
MADAME KUZNETZOVA, PLEASE BACK AWAY FROM KATYA. NEITHER OF YOU WILL BE HARMED. THIS MEDICAL OFFICER WILL DRAW HER BLOOD AND THEN WE WILL LEAVE. IF YOU BOTH COOPERATE, ALL WILL PASS QUICKLY. THINK CAREFULLY BEFORE YOU SAY ANYTHING FURTHER”.
Ballerina Kuznetzova gently releases her embrace of Katya and nods at her to cooperate. Katya dutifully complies.
No further words are spoken. Medic Bogdanovsky expertly draws Katya’s blood and securely packs each vial away in a medical field satchel. Once he nods at Leeds, she calmly looks at Madame Kuznetzova and Katya and quietly utters one word.
“Goodbye”
Leeds hustles back to the helicopter with her men in tow.
The Madame and Katya are left in their regal amphitheater just as they were found – unmolested and uninformed about what just befell them. Leeds has decided that less explaining is more in this peculiar situation – and turns her focus to what’s happening in Moskva.
She will scrutinize the demolition project at Vostok Tower and search for any telltale crevasses or pipe drops where Ilse Sommerlund could have secreted vials of ASTRA Antidote. She’s executed enough Search Warrants at Mexican Cartel stash houses to know what to look for. There’s always a clue – something out of sync – to a trained eye. And her eyes are some of the best trained of all.
Copyright, 2026 Jon Croft
www.bogironslav.com
Email: vlchek1@gmail.com
