Free Ganglands: Russia: Russia by Ross Kemp Page A

harsh and mysterious dealings; the vileness of the Moscow Eagles – explode to the surface.He wasn’t sure how many more times he hit the wall before he finally stopped.Alexei inspected his right fist, breathing heavily.His knuckles were now a purple mass of bruising, blood running down his hands.Good enough.
    He was about to cross the street when a police car pulled up outside the gym’s entrance.Alexei gasped, and ducked down behind a parked Fiat.As he looked on, a police officer appeared and opened the rear passenger door.Medved hauled himself out.Had he been arrested?What was he doing back here?To Alexei’s amazement, the policeman barked with laughter and patted Medved on the back.The skinhead shook his hand warmly and then disappeared inside the gym.
    Alexei waited until the police car had driven off before following Medved inside.The pre-fight tension had beenreplaced by a party atmosphere: the Eagles laughed and joked with one another as they smoked and drank beer.None of them appeared to have sustained any serious injuries.Viktor had reappeared, and was walking around slapping his men on the back.To loud cheers, Medved shook up a bottle of beer and opened it over the rest of the gang like a victorious Formula 1 driver.
    ‘Alexei!’ called out Marat, a broad grin on his face. ‘Where’ve you been?You get lost or something?’
    ‘I wish,’ Alexei replied.‘Had a run-in with the police – it took me a while to shake them off.’ He glanced at Medved.‘Guess I should have just got a lift back like you.’
    The giant skinhead shrugged.‘Policemen are just like other Russians.They don’t like to see the immigrants dirtying our streets either.They can’t say it in public, but they can show their support in other ways.And it’s not just policemen, either –’
    ‘I think that’s enough,’ said Viktor, interrupting him. The leader of the Eagles said it quietly, but Medved immediately fell silent.Viktor fixed his icy blue gaze on Alexei.‘How did you get separated from the rest of the gang?’
    ‘One of the Uzbeks shit himself and ran away down an alleyway,’ explained Alexei.‘I went after him.’
    ‘And did you catch him?’
    Alexei gingerly displayed his swollen knuckles, earning a nod of approval from Viktor.
    ‘Did he put up much of a fight?’ asked Marat eagerly.
    ‘Not for long,’ Alexei replied.
    ‘This is good work,’ said Pavel, patting Alexei’s cheek.‘These vermin have got to learn that they can’t just run away.We will follow them down whichever rat hole they flee.’ He turned to the rest of the gang, grabbing Alexei’s bloodied hand and raising it into the air. ‘Let everyone take note: This is the fist of a warrior! This is the fist of a White Russian! This is the fist of a Moscow Eagle!’
    The Eagles roared as one.Alexei was submerged beneath a scrum of skinheads, roughly patting him on the head and punching him in the arm.For once, Alexei didn’t have to fake his look of relief.He was in.
    ‘It’s such a shame …’ a voice sighed.
    The gang stopped and turned to look at Svetlana, who was sitting on a weights bench, curling a lock of hair around her finger like a little girl.
    Alexei frowned.‘What’s a shame?’
    ‘It’s just that your story sounded so exciting,’ Svetlana said breathily.‘First you beat up this big bad Uzbek, then you shake off the police.I’d love to include it in my film, but I didn’t see it happen. In fact, no one saw it happen.’ She grinned maliciously.‘How very … convenient .’
    ‘Enough, Svetlana!’ growled Medved.‘Viktor’s said the boy’s OK.’
    ‘Who’s saying he isn’t?’ Svetlana replied, her eyes wide with mock innocence.At that moment, Alexei could have quite happily throttled her.
    ‘You’re such a shit stirrer,’ said Marat.‘Why don’t you keep your gob shut?’
    Svetlana gave Medved an indignant look.‘Are you going to let him talk to me like that?’
    For the first time since Alexei had met him, the