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appreciate your honest feedback.” He tossed Snow the keys to his diplomatic Land Rover defender. “You drive, I’ve had a few.”
     
    Berezniki Rayon, Kyiv
    Snow parked the Land Rover Defender in front of the Berezniki Rayon Militia station and Vickers got out. They had decided that Snow would stay with the car, him potentially being seen by the same two officers who had questioned Katya earlier would raise questions. Snow opened a can of ‘Burn’ energy drink and observed life passing by.
    Vickers entered the Militia station and was greeted by the desk officer berating an elderly woman. She was pleading with him to let her son go as he was innocent, but the officer would have none of it. In an angry voice and using no uncertain terms he told her to get lost. She left talking to herself. The desk officer looked up from his papers and was surprised to say the least to see Vickers standing in front of him. His mouth creased up a little as he asked, “Can I help?”
    “Yes.” Vickers answered in Ukrainian. Like Snow he was a fluent Russian speaker, unlike Snow he had also started to learn the real language of the country he lived in, Ukrainian. “My name is Alistair Vickers. I am the Commercial Attaché at the British Embassy and I believe you are holding a British Citizen without the due authority.”
    The Militia officer’s mouth dropped open and he struggled for words. “Wh…What is the name of this Englishman?”
    “Brian Webb.”
    The Ukrainian swallowed. “I see.” He stared at his computer and wished it would engulf him. “He was here but he has now been transferred.”
    “What?” Vickers started to ‘ham it up’. “Has Mr Webb been charged with anything?”
    Again the Ukrainian looked, too hard, at his computer screen. “No. Not yet but he is being questioned in relation to a serious incident.”
    “Which is?”
    “I’m sorry I can’t say.”
    When Snow had approached Vickers earlier, Vickers had thought this all to be a commotion over nothing. A drunken episode perhaps that had done no ham but now he was starting to feel that something indeed was not as it should be. “So correct me if I am wrong. Mr Webb is being held, but not here for something that you say he may have been involved with but that same something you cannot confirm to me the nature of. Correct?”
    The officer paused, confused. “Yes, that is so.”
    “So where is he now?”
    The officer again checked his screen. “He is under the authority of Captain Budt.”
    “Now we are getting somewhere. Where is Captain Budt?”
    “In transit with the prisoner.”
    “But Mr Webb has not been charged.”
    “But sexual assault is a serious matter.”
    “So are you confirming to me that Mr Brian Webb is being accused of sexual assault?”
    The Militia officer had been forced into a corner and had made a mistake. “No, not at this time but perhaps.”
    “So where is Mr Webb in transit to?”
    “I am sorry I cannot say.”
    “What is your name officer?”
    “Brovchenko, Yuri.”
    “Well Officer Brovchenko, first thing on Monday morning if Mr Webb does not reappear or is released I shall be lodging a complaint with the head of the city Militia and the Ministry of Internal Affairs. Am I making myself understood, Yuri?”
    Brovchenko nodded. “Yes.”
    “Good. Goodbye.”
     
    Snow watched Vickers leave the Militia station and was irked to see he was alone. Vickers climbed into the Land Rover, the look on his face showed confusion. Snow asked. “Where’s Brian?”
    “That’s the thing, they won’t tell me.”
    “What? I don’t get it?”
    “Drive and I’ll explain.”
    Snow shook his head after Vickers repeated the conversation and said. “Have you ever heard of this happening before?”
    “Never. That is what’s so strange. He is guaranteed access to a representative from the Embassy yet we weren’t informed and now he is moved without being charged?” Vickers massaged the bridge of his nose between his thumb and