In the early morning light, the contestants left the hotel, their chatter a mix of excitement and nerves. They headed to the TV station for a crucial rehearsal, each step taking them closer to their dreams.
Meanwhile, in the hotel's dimly lit conference room, a strategic meeting was underway. Bruce, with a furrowed brow, pinned several freshly received photos onto the whiteboard. The images, a stark contrast to the sterile room, carried the weight of urgency and intrigue.
Seated around the conference table were Martin, Alexandrovich, Rebrov, and the formidable security chief, Dmytro. The tension was palpable as Dmytro began his briefing.
The Briefing
"The car and individuals who made contact with Olga were captured by our surveillance team at 10:30 last night," Dmytro began, his voice steady but edged with concern. "Similarly, the team tracking Nikia was photographed by Mr. Davis' bodyguard at 10:00 PM."
Bruce, grasping a carbon pen, circled two photographs with deliberate precision. "Notice this vehicle," he said, his voice cutting through the tension. "The same car, driven by the same person, appears in both encounters. It's evident that the group targeting Nikia and attempting to defraud the contestants are one and the same."
Alexandrovich leaned forward, curiosity piqued. "Are they from Los Angeles?"
Rebrov's expression hardened. "It doesn't matter if they're from Los Angeles or Washington. They're after our territory!" He turned to Martin, his eyes blazing. "We'll cut off their hands before they touch what's ours!"
Martin, ever the strategist, spoke slowly, his calm demeanor commanding attention. "I had my team in Los Angeles dig into these individuals. They're involved in multiple illicit activities: drug trafficking, providing male and female services, organizing underground parties, and even film investment. The latter is likely for money laundering, a common practice in Hollywood. As long as taxes are paid, it often goes unnoticed."
Rebrov, still fuming, didn't fully grasp the implication.
Martin continued, "Their business in providing services involves recruiting people globally, often through trafficking, a serious crime in Ukraine, correct?"
Rebrov's eyes lit up with understanding. "Exactly! These scum should rot in a Ukrainian black prison!"
Martin saw an opportunity. "By following this lead, we could uncover a larger network." He turned to Alexandrovich, a spark in his eye. "How would you like to be a hero of Ukraine?"
Alexandrovich was taken aback. "Me? A hero?"
Rebrov, contemplating the potential, waited in silence. Martin pressed on, "You play a hero in 'Servant of the People.' Why not embody that role in real life? Think of the impact, uncovering a trafficking ring, assisting law enforcement, and rescuing your fellow citizens. You'd be a true hero of Ukraine."
Alexandrovich hesitated, the weight of Martin's words sinking in.
Rebrov, sensing the strategic advantage, jumped in. "Imagine the ratings boost for our finals and the next season of 'Servant of the People!' This could be monumental!"
Uncertainty lingered in Alexandrovich's eyes. Was this leap from star to real-life hero too drastic? Martin's voice softened, "Don't you want to do something meaningful for Ukraine? This could align with your ideals and elevate your status."
Rebrov, eager to cement the plan, added, "Without status and position, your voice won't be heard. This could change everything."
Alexandrovich, despite his reservations, felt a surge of determination. "If it's necessary, I'll do it. I'll be the hero!"
Martin's face broke into a confident smile. "Then we're on the right path."
Rebrov realized Martin was more than a star; he was a tactician who had navigated Hollywood and American politics with finesse. "Tell us the plan, Martin," he urged.
Martin, envisioning the FBI's classic sting operations, proposed, "We set a trap. This group is a network; we bait them and reel them in. With your expertise, it won't be hard to dismantle their operations."
Rebrov and Alexandrovich exchanged determined looks. The plan was in motion, and they were ready to take the necessary steps to protect their interests and bring justice. The stage was set not just for a TV show, but for a real-life drama that would captivate a nation.
Rebrov's grin was as wide as the Dnieper River. "It's easy."
Martin's eyes narrowed with determination. "We'll use Nikia as bait. Alessandro, I need you to communicate with Nikia and come up with a more refined plan."
Now resolved to be a hero, Alexandrovich straightened his shoulders. "Leave it to me!"
Rebrov added with a nod, "I'll make contact as well."
With that, he and security chief Dmytro swiftly exited the room, their departure as brisk as their resolve.
Alexandrovich, a flicker of excitement in his eyes, turned to Martin. "Boss, you've helped me so much. I don't even know how to thank you."
Martin's response was casual, but his eyes hinted at deeper calculations. "You've brought me plenty of benefits too."
Alexandrovich nodded vigorously, understanding the mutual benefits. "I won't let you down."
Martin's gaze softened as he looked at the aspiring hero. "Follow your heart, do what feels right."
For a moment, Alexandrovich's mind flashed to Vassily Petrovich, the protagonist of "Servant of the People." Could he embody such a role in reality?
Martin watched as Alexandrovich left, determination etched on his face. The actor wondered if the newfound heroism might awaken the leader within him prematurely, but then reconsidered. "I'm part of the American empire now. By their rules, I won't stop until every last threat to Ukraine is dealt with..."
As Martin exited the meeting room, he turned to Bruce. "1+1 TV station is part of the Privat Group, one of Ukraine's oligarchs. After this, Alexandrovich will likely align closer with them."
Bruce shook his head, bemused. "You've got a better shot at running for U.S. President than he does. Why am I only now realizing your ideas are a bit... unconventional?"
Martin chuckled. "Given Washington's stance, it's only natural for America to involve itself in Ukraine."
Linqi stood by the French window, eyes fixed on the distant American Embassy. The door behind him creaked open, and he turned to see Andre enter. "Have you come up with a solution?"
Andre, after days of intense thinking, finally had a plan. "We'll deal with Nikia first. I tracked down a childhood friend of hers from her hometown. She'll help us lure Nikia out, then we'll kidnap her."
Linqi nodded approvingly. "That's a start. Proceed immediately."
"I'll mobilize all our resources to focus on Nikia," Andre said resolutely.
"Good," Linqi replied, his voice a mere whisper.
Andre left the room, went downstairs, and got into his car. He soon arrived at another hotel and entered a lavish suite where Leonid, with his striking blonde hair, was charming a brunette girl named Ivana, making her laugh with ease.
Leonid had visited Nikia's hometown, wooing Ivana with his looks and lavish spending, convincing her to come to Kiev.
Andre sat on the plush sofa. "Ivana, can you help us with what we discussed?"
Ivana hesitated. "You're sure you won't harm Nikia?"
Leonid leaned in, his voice sincere. "Of course not! We just want to reclaim the money she owes us. We were business partners, and she took off with funds that were supposed to be for safekeeping. We just need it back."
Ivana, swayed by Leonid's charm and the story, nodded. "No wonder she was so flashy with money when she came back. I thought she hit it big."
Leonid smiled reassuringly. "You won't go unpaid for your help."
Andre handed Ivana an envelope. "There's $2,000 in here."
Ivana quickly peeked inside, her eyes lighting up at the sight of real cash. "It's genuine!"
Andre added, "Help us get our money back, and there's another $2,000 for you."
Leonid, catching Andre's approving glance, added, "If you want to come to America with us and strike it rich, the offer's open."
Ivana, tempted by the prospect but also cautious, replied, "I'll think about it."
Leonid's demeanor was warm. "No rush. For now, let's call Nikia and arrange a meeting."
The three of them exited the room, moving swiftly through the hotel lobby. Andre glanced at his watch, calculating that the contestants would have wrapped up their training by now. Spotting a public telephone booth, he motioned for Ivana to step inside and make the call to Nikia.
Ivana dialed Nikia's number, but the first attempt resulted in a busy tone, Nikia's phone was turned off. They waited a few tense moments before Ivana tried again, this time successfully connecting.
"Nikia, it's me, Ivana! Guess where I am?" Ivana began with a cheerful lilt, masking her nerves. "I'm in Kiev! I arrived yesterday to do some shopping."
Her tone shifted, dropping to a more somber note. "But you wouldn't believe it, my wallet was stolen. I've only got some loose change left, and I don't know anyone here. I saw your poster for the finals and thought I'd try calling you. Can you lend me some money? Just enough for a return ticket?"
A few responses came from the other end of the line, and Ivana listened carefully.
"Sure, I'm free whenever you are. I'm at the Dnieper Café on East 15th Street. The owner's nice—you don't have to buy anything, and he won't kick you out."
Nikia, trusting her childhood friend, agreed. "I'll be there as soon as I can. I just need to get leave from the show."
Ivana hung up, turning to Leonid with a satisfied smile. "She's coming."
Leonid opened the car door with a flourish. "Get in."
Meanwhile, Andre was busy rallying his crew, planning to bring everyone to deal with Nikia. In Kiev, the disappearance of a few women wasn't likely to draw too much attention.
The trio jumped into the car and sped towards the Dnieper Café, an old, almost defunct coffee shop that Andre had rented out as a temporary base. At the same time, bearded Victor and his team were also making their way to the location.
While on the Other Side of Town
Nikia, riding the bus back to the hotel, rummaged through her wallet and pulled out some cash. Ivana had been a close friend since childhood, and Nikia felt compelled to help her in this time of need.
Per the program's rules, any prolonged absence from the hotel required permission from Alexandrovich himself. Nikia dialed his number, but he was in a meeting and asked her to wait a few minutes.
Alexandrovich, just about to discuss baiting the criminals with Nikia, sensed something was off when he received her call. He immediately sought out Martin and Rebrov, explaining the situation in brief.
"Dnieper Café?" Rebrov checked the location on Google Maps. "It's pretty secluded."
Martin drummed his fingers on the table. "My bodyguard just informed Bruce that the men surveilling the hotel suddenly left, and now Nikia's received a mysterious call and wants to leave. What does that tell us?"
Alexandrovich's eyes widened. "Are they planning to strike?"
Rebrov's face lit up with grim determination. "Perfect. Our security team's been itching to use their AKs."
Martin made a swift decision. "Since the fish has bitten, there's no time to lose. Mobilize our people to follow her. Rebrov, you've contacted the Security Bureau, right? It's their turn to act."
Rebrov nodded. "My people will coordinate fully with the security services."
Alexandrovich hesitated. "Should we inform Nikia and ask her to cooperate?"
Rebrov shook his head decisively. "If she knows the truth, she might hesitate or act suspiciously, which could tip off the other side and ruin everything."
"Got it." Alexandrovich dialed Nikia again, granting her leave but instructing her to return by nine o'clock.
Simultaneously, Bruce picked up his phone. "I need two men to follow Nikia."
Rebrov gestured towards the door. "Let's go see for ourselves."
The group descended to the street, piling into Rebrov's black bulletproof Hummer. The engine roared to life, and they sped eastward, towards the Dnieper Café, ready for whatever lay ahead.
After leaving the hotel, Nikia pulled the brim of her hat down low, hailed a taxi, and gave the driver the address of the Dnieper Café. As the taxi pulled away, Martin's two bodyguards discreetly began their pursuit in separate vehicles.
These two had been with Martin for years. While their other skills were unremarkable, their tracking and counter-tracking abilities were unparalleled. The taxi driver remained blissfully unaware that he was being followed.
Keeping a safe distance, a convoy of five cars trailed the taxi. Among them was Martin's bulletproof Humvee. As they passed two intersections, three vehicles from the Security Bureau seamlessly joined the convoy.
Despite the rush, the Security Bureau's turnout was smaller than Rebrov's TV station security team. The Dnieper Café was a small, standalone building. During the journey, several phone calls were exchanged to finalize the plan of action.
Martin remained silent, choosing to stay in the background. This operation's success would be attributed to Alexandrovich. He was the one who uncovered the gang, detected Nikia's unusual behavior, and coordinated with the Security Bureau to save many lives. Even if no one else was rescued, they could always stage a few actresses for cameo appearances to bolster the narrative.
As the convoy approached its destination, the vehicles split off, surrounding the café from all directions. Nikia's taxi stopped in front of the café. She paid the driver, stepped out, and, after confirming the sign, pushed open the wooden door and entered.
Inside, the café was nearly empty, with only seven customers. Sitting in the innermost corner was a brown-haired girl whom Nikia immediately recognized as Ivana. Ivana spotted her and waved eagerly.
Nikia hurried over. "Ivana, I—"
Before she could finish, bearded Victor, standing near the door, moved to close it. Andrei signaled, and five men, including Leonid, closed in around Nikia. The cash she held slipped from her fingers, scattering across the floor. She looked at Ivana in shock and betrayal.
Ivana couldn't meet her eyes, her gaze fixed on the table. Andre stepped forward, a menacing smile on his face. "Miss Nikia, you've made this all too easy for us."
Nikia's voice trembled. "Who are you?"
Andre dismissed her question. "Restrain her!"
Just as two men lunged at her, Victor, attempting to shut the door, was kicked violently back into the café, stumbling several steps before collapsing to the ground. Andre's hand shot to his holster, drawing a pistol and aiming at the new intruder. The others followed suit, weapons drawn and pointed at the door.
But the man who had entered remained unfazed. More than a dozen heavily armed men stormed in behind him, the clatter of their boots echoing through the café. From the kitchen, another seven men burst forth, wielding AK-47s and submachine guns. The black muzzles of their guns trained on Andre and his men, ready to fire at a moment's notice.
"Drop your weapons!" Dmytro commanded coldly. "Anyone who moves gets shot!"
Andre's hands shook as he processed the situation. Leonid glanced at Nikia, his desperation driving him to turn his gun toward her, intending to take her hostage.
But this was Ukraine, where quick, decisive action was part of the playbook.
Bang, bang, bang!
The rapid gunfire was deafening. Leonid's head exploded, his body crumpling to the ground like a discarded rag doll. The bloody scene stunned everyone into submission. Andre was the first to drop his weapon, followed by the others who quickly surrendered.
Uniformed security personnel poured in, swiftly taking control of the scene. Alexandrovich entered the café next, flanked by photographers from 1+1 TV station, cameras rolling to capture every moment.
In the spotlight, alongside the security officers, was Alexandrovich, the hero of the hour.