Chapter 13
Irina Kanchelskaya was living in the Arab Emirates since the end of 2009, leading the double life of a secret agent and a top class whore. She was born in Tambov, Russia in 1985, and by the time she graduated in Astrophysics in 2007 from the University of St. Petersburg she had realized she could make a much better living accompanying rich foreign and Russian businessmen in the night clubs than working as a teacher or an engineer.
She also felt a deep sense of sorrow, not so much for herself but for her country, which despite the progress made by President Putin, was still far away from being as strong and respected as it used to be.
She would have liked to find a way to serve her motherland - the Rodina as they called it in Russia - also to feel closer to her father. She knew him only through the stories her mother shared. He had died in Afghanistan in 1986, when his helicopter was hit by a guerilla rocket.
One night, in February of 2009, a man who introduced himself as Gennady had approached her at the club pretending he had a job for her. She immediately noticed he was not even slightly drunk and he did not order any drinks while asking some questions about her customers. When he left, without trying to ask her to spend the night, Irina understood that she had an opportunity she could not miss.
It has been almost three years now, since she agreed to three careers. Her official profession was as a public relations worker in a small Russian company that used to work in the oil and gas sector. The insignificant company served Gazprom, one of their most valuable clients, and tried to do business with the local energy and utility companies.
Everybody knew it was a cover up for a model agency, managing a steady flow of girls between Russia and the Gulf monarchies. The “maskirovka” - or what the Russians call, the art of masking - did not end there though. Many of the models were actually informants and some outright illegal agents of the FSB, the Russian secret service. In the Foreign Operations Directorate, better known as ‘Moscow Center’, the handlers were using the girls to extract information from the rich and the powerful of the Arab countries.
Irina had quickly moved from simple informant to lieutenant of the FSB, and although the pay was not much higher than the one of a mathematics teacher, she felt she was doing her country a far more valuable service.
As she put the finishing touches to her makeup, preparing for the $5,000 stay arranged that night, Irina thought about how smartphones have made her job so much easier. The technology department of the FSB had managed to install a number of backdoors in the most popular applications, so all Irina had to do was to leave her iPhone switched on during the date.
An invisible application would automatically search for all smartphones within range, activate the backdoors, and silently sync all data onto her own device. To safely send the data to the Russian Embassy, she just had to connect to wi-fi for an hour. The data was downloaded onto the Embassy’s secure database, transferred onto a memory card, and then flown to Moscow Center, where it was analysed and stored.
Sometimes her customers would turn off their phones completely or not bring any electronics. When this happened, she got excited, because it was up to her own detective skills to help her country and not some technical wizardry. She had to figure out how to gain his trust and steal his secrets.
So far, she had dealt with four such customers. One of them was Rasim Al-Manna, who had introduced himself as Ibrahim, and never talked about his work.
Irina decided to meet him immediately after two of the girls from her team, simple informants, told her there was a client that kept asking them sneaky questions to figure out if somebody else was trying to extract information about their clients. First and foremost, she had to protect her team and she decided to meet the potential intruder herself.
So when Rasim called the agency looking for a tall, red-haired Russian beauty, she decided it was time to face the threat. Somehow they actually liked each other and started dating on a regular basis, and after six months, he was engaged enough to give Irina some details of his family and personal life.
However, he was also discreetly enquiring about her colleagues and model friends, if she suspected any of them were working with the Russian secret service. If the Arab Emirates secret services had found out, she could easily face expulsion from the country.
Irina said nobody had ever questioned her, but she met lots of interesting subjects and maybe Rasim was interested in hearing a few stories.
In Moscow, Major Olga Kirillova, her superior, disapproved Irina’s boldness. She was taking too many risks. The most dangerous one, was falling in love. So they agreed that Irina would leave the Arab Emirates before the beginning of 2013. She was needed in Egypt more, at the time.
When Irina met Rasim a few days before the Christmas of 2012, at the Intercontinental Dubai, she thought it would be the last time. She was about to leave the room, waiting for one last kiss from Rasim, when he took out a small envelope. She felt pills inside and it totally threw her off course. She stared at him with a puzzled expression.
“Darling, you know I do not use this crap, and you don’t need chemicals either....”
“Oh, habibi, don’t get me wrong. I am giving you this small Christmas gift because I need to know what it is, exactly. Our experts are lost. Maybe some of your geniuses at the Moscow headquarters in Lubjanka square can sort it out.”
“I am not sure we can start working together.” Irina said sadly.
“I know you can present it in the right way to your boss. You have been helping me for a while, after all. You can tell your boss that your courage has saved your organization and yourself. I think it is time to proceed. Or start a brand new career in another country.”
Irina switched on the phone. Rasim frowned, but she quickly reassured him, “Do not worry. I am calling Emirates to book my return ticket to Dubai next January.”