From Russia Without Love (3 page)

_______

T
hey touched down at Pope Air Force Base in North Carolina, where they rendezvoused with Sonny. They greeted one another on the plane, and Chris immediately noticed how well Sonny was moving after their mission last year when he took a bullet, which lodged near his spine. “You finished with your physical therapy, then?”

“I don’t know,” Sonny said. “The nurses have been giving me extracurricular exercises, but I’m running out of excuses to keep visiting them. My back never felt better.”

“You look great,” Chris said.

“I wish I could say the same for you.” Sonny was wearing a camera on a strap around his neck. He adjusted its telescopic lens.

“Were you out on recce?” Chris asked, assuming it was part of some surveillance training.

Sonny glanced at Chris. “Kind of.”

“Kind of?”

“I know this may seem funny to some people, but I’m a bird watcher.”

Chris and Hannah stared at him as if he were spouting science fiction.

“Yeah, I take photos of birds. What of it?” Sonny said. “Been doing it since elementary school. I was smaller than the other boys and the only birdwatcher, so they beat the shit out of me for it. Now… say hello to the Rat.” With a twinkle in his eye, Sonny pulled out a knife that Chris recognized right away, named after a Team guy named Tom Ratzlaff. “Well, I guess the Rat would be overkill, but you know what I mean.”

Sonny handed it to Chris, who examined it with admiration. With a blade length of three and a half inches, it was small enough to conceal but long enough to stab internal organs and arteries. It had a narrow blade width for fitting into tight spaces between bones, and its narrow spear point could penetrate military clothing. It wasn’t designed to open envelopes or survive in the woods. It was designed for one thing and one thing only: killing.

He returned the knife to Sonny, who put it back in its sheath. “Anyway, bird-watching is about the hunt, challenging yourself to find what’s out there. Improving your skills. I once tracked a golden eagle for five days to get a clear pic of it. If I have a couple hours to get outdoors, I throw my pack in the truck and I’m in the woods. I’m addicted to it. Maybe I need a psychiatrist, but what do I care? Life is short and pleasure is shorter, so you have to seize the moment.” With that, he walked aft and checked the bags waiting for him.

After flying over the Atlantic Ocean, southern Europe, and most of the Mediterranean Sea, they touched down in Athens, where they unloaded. The air outside was hot and dry, and Chris was tempted to loosen his tie, but he waited, expecting that their car would have air-conditioning. He was right. The engine and air-conditioning were already running in the BMW supplied by the Agency. The trio stuffed their gear in the trunk, and Sonny crawled into the backseat and lay down.

Chris took the driver’s seat and adjusted the mirrors. “After we find Michael, who’ll be tasked with the rescue mission?” he asked Hannah, who sat in the passenger seat beside him.

“Your former Teammates,” she said. She mounted a pre-programmed GPS on the dash and turned it on. “Six will be stationed at Minotaur, but we won’t have direct communication with them, and they’ll need permission from Washington before they can launch the rescue.” Minotaur was their code name for the US Naval Support Activity, Souda Bay in Crete.

Sonny groaned. “The Hollywood Whores,” he said in his pained, nasally Queens accent.

“I don’t get it,” Chris said.

“Because you’re slow,” Sonny said, cutting him off.

Chris shook his head and eased out onto the highway, following it southwest.

“Sonny,” Hannah said, “last year, you seemed so excited about the three of us working together again. What gives?”

Sonny wrinkled his face like a dried prune. “
Excited
is such a strong word. Besides, that was last year and I was in the hospital under heavy sedation at the time. Truth be told, I wouldn’t follow you two into a hot tub full of naked strippers.”

Hannah rolled her eyes, and Chris smiled. He followed the violet trail on the monitor, turning right onto another highway that took them northwest through farmland before rounding the northern base of Mount Hymettus. The mountain reached a kilometer in height, topped with a transmitter park for TV and radio stations. It stretched sixteen klicks to the south, running from Athens to the Saronic Gulf.

It didn’t take long before they entered the urban sprawl of Athens, though, passing the Olympic Aquatic Center and a mall before reaching Sofias Avenue, where the embassy stood. Hellenic Police were posted on each street corner and at the gate of a three-meter-high steel fence surrounding the embassy. Inside the fence, an armed US Marine stood watch. This was one of the more heavily guarded embassies Chris had seen.

“Why can’t I get Ankara out of my mind?” he wondered aloud. The embassy in Turkey was where Chris and Hannah had been falsely imprisoned by US authorities before Sonny helped them escape. He prayed they never had a repeat of that event.

“This time will be better,” she said.

“Don’t know how it could be worse.” Chris stopped at the gate and handed his passport to the police officer.

The officer motioned for Hannah and Sonny to hand him their passports, too, which they promptly did. He examined each of the passports and studied the trio’s faces before stepping away from the vehicle. Soon, he returned the passports.

“Welcome,” he said, “Ambassador Garcia is expecting you.”

“Thank you.” The vehicle barricade lowered, and Chris drove into the compound. “So far, so good.”

He parked the BMW and then stepped out with Hannah and Sonny. The embassy was closed for normal business, but before they reached the nearest building, a heavyset man greeted them.

“I’m Bob Garcia.”

They each returned the ambassador’s greeting and shook his hand.

The man’s gaze lingered on Chris. “You must be the legal attachés from the States, yes?”

The three nodded, but he continued to stare at Chris. “Do I know you from somewhere?”

While they might have met at a diplomatic function he’d attended with his parents, Chris didn’t remember him. Maybe the ambassador knew his father—there was a strong family resemblance—but admitting his true identity now would blow his cover and that of his teammates.

“No, sir,” he said.

Ambassador Garcia shook his head. “Hmm. I must be mistaken.” He led them around the main embassy building to an annex in the back. “This is our Tactical Operating Center,” he explained as he escorted them inside the TOC where a middle-aged man sat behind monitors looking at multiple views of the embassy. “Jason, here, is part of our diplomatic security, and he’ll help you with whatever you need. My understanding is that you want to see the video of the event on the evening Mr. Winthrop was kidnapped?”

“Yes, sir,” Hannah confirmed. “That would help us gain a better feel for what happened.”

“Jason, can you run that video?” the ambassador asked.

Jason nodded and manipulated the video controls until a blank screen came to life, showing a party at the embassy.

“The Hellenic Police have already been here,” Ambassador Garcia said. “And the British sent over an investigative team, too. You’re the second group from the US, but nobody is sharing information with me about their investigations.”

“I hope you can excuse us if we ask some of the same questions,” Hannah said with a smile. “And we’ll try to keep you informed about new information we find.”

“Thank you,” Ambassador Garcia said with a slight tilt of his head.

“What was the occasion for the party?” she began.

“We held an energy forum earlier that day, and the after-party was a time for everyone to discuss the forum and socialize.”

Chris listened but also kept a close eye on the video monitor. Michael Winthrop’s posture was relaxed on the screen, indicating he was comfortable meeting others. He wasn’t a teetotaler, but he wasn’t a drunkard, either. He drank sociably, and he seemed cheerful. It was ironic to watch him mix and mingle so freely, unaware that he was about to lose that freedom. Chris knew too well what being a prisoner felt like, and he had deep empathy for Michael.

Jason handed them a small stack of files with photos attached. “These are the bios and pictures of known Greek terrorists and suspects who aren’t imprisoned.”

Chris and his teammates compared the photos with people in the video.

“We already did that,” Jason said. When Sonny gave Jason the stink eye, he shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “But you’re welcome to check again.”

The trio continued their comparison but discovered nothing new. Chris looked to Jason. “Do you have background files on everyone who attended the party?”

He sighed before stepping away from the table, then returned with a stack of files. He dropped them on the table with a
thud
.
That attitude won’t get him very far
, Chris thought, and he didn’t bother to thank the man. Instead, he, Hannah, and Sonny pored through the folders.

Minutes later, Sonny pointed to one of the files. “That guy has a thin file.”

“That’s Xander Metaxas, a friend of mine and a close ally of the US,” Ambassador Garcia said. “He owns Athens Sustainable Energy. Xander has both Greek and American citizenship and is popular with many of the locals.”

“Why is his file so thin?” Chris asked.

“I know Xander personally,” Ambassador Garcia said. “I did not think there was a need to investigate him. But if you think thickening his file will be of use, I will help you get the information you need.”

“Let’s look at who came into contact with Xander,” Sonny suggested.

Chris and Hannah nodded.

They rewound the video and played it again, noting the people who came into contact with Michael.

In the video on the monitor, Michael had stepped out of the camera view. Chris rewound and pointed to the tall man. “Xander?”

“Yes,” the Ambassador said.

“When Michael heads for the exit, Xander puts his hand in his pocket,” Chris said.

“What does that mean?” Ambassador Garcia asked.

“It could simply mean he put his hand in his pocket, or it could mean he’s activating a remote signaling device,” Sonny said.

“Not Xander.” Ambassador Garcia shook his head. “Maybe someone else, but not him. He’s not even looking in Michael’s direction.”

“Can you play the video again, from right before Michael leaves the embassy, please, Jason?” Hannah asked.

The diplomatic security officer tapped the keyboard.

As the video played, Hannah said, “There, pause the video.”

Jason did as she’d commanded.

“That woman,” Hannah said, “looks to be in her early twenties, she leaves just before Michael does. Wasn’t she having a drink with him earlier? Rewind the video.”

Jason did.

“Pause,” Hannah said. “Right there.”

The video froze.

Hannah pointed to the monitor. “There she is having a drink with Michael. Who is she?”

“That’s Xander’s daughter,” the ambassador said. “Her name is Evelina.”

“That babe’s got a booty like a Bugatti,” Sonny said.

The ambassador looked at Sonny like he’d just wiped his ass with a linen tablecloth.

“She seems to be flirting with Michael,” Chris said.

“Ambassador Garcia, can you set up a meeting for us with this Xander?” Hannah asked.

“When?”

“As soon as possible.”

Ambassador Garcia took out his phone. “I’ll call him now.”

While Chris and the others watched the video again and reexamined the photos and files, Ambassador Garcia called Xander Metaxas. The ambassador put the call on speakerphone.

“Bob, what can I do for you?” a man’s voice asked.

“I have three legal attachés from the States who were wondering if they might meet you and talk about Michael Winthrop and his kidnapping,” the ambassador said.

“I saw that story on the news and was shocked. Is Mr. Winthrop okay?” Xander asked.

“I haven’t heard anything more.”

“Yes, I will give them all the information I can,” Xander said.

“When would be a good time for them to visit you?”

“Well, right now I am preparing for a cocktail party at my house tonight, so now would be difficult…”

“Could they attend the party?” Ambassador Garcia suggested.

“Wonderful. That is a splendid idea. It is semi-formal. There will be lots of hors d’oeuvres, so tell them to come with empty stomachs. It starts at seven o’clock.”

The ambassador turned to face Hannah. She nodded. “Okay, I’ll tell them. Thanks, Xander.”

“If there is anything else I can do to help, just let me know,” the voice on the line said. “Anything.”

_______

A
fter finding no more clues at the embassy, they parted ways with the ambassador and drove several more minutes to their hotel. Once they checked in and got their rooms, the three met in Hannah’s room to discuss their next steps.

“What’s our plan to find out about Michael Winthrop’s disappearance when we visit Xander Metaxas’s estate?” Hannah asked.

“I can talk to Xander,” Chris offered. “And you and Sonny can try to gain information from others at the party.” His teammates nodded in agreement.

“And if we find ourselves on the wrong side of an unfriendly welcoming committee, what will our E & E be?” Sonny asked, moving on to their escape-and-evasion plans. “I’m not expecting such a committee, but just in case.”

“If the threat is nonlethal,” Chris said, “Hannah can use some of her MMA to drop some bodies, and you and I can use our bags of dirty tricks.” For Chris and Sonny,
dirty tricks
meant exploiting any weakness on the enemy’s body to subdue him. And that weakness dictated using the weapon that was most readily available, whether it be a fist, a drinking glass, or whatever. In turn, the weapon influenced how Chris and Sonny would move. For those lacking experience in violent confrontations, such a process might seem complex, but for Chris and Sonny, dirty tricks had become a natural extension of their being.

Hannah raised an eyebrow. “And if the threat is lethal?”

“We’re all armed with pistols,” Sonny said, patting his firearm. “So unless I’m in close and my knife is quicker…”

“That’s a last resort,” she reminded him. “If it gets too hairy, we can E & E to Olympus. Or if that isn’t practical, we can make the journey to Minotaur.”

Chris nodded. “If we get split up, I’ll head for the water and try to lose them that way. Then I’ll catch up with you two at Olympus. Or Minotaur. Whichever comes first.”

“Why doesn’t it surprise me that you’ll head to the water first?” Sonny said.

Chris smiled.

“Okay, then,” Hannah said. “Sounds like we’ve got ourselves something of a plan. I’m going to get ready.” She waved the backs of her hands at them, shooing them back to their room to do the same.

Shortly before 1900 hours, they exited the hotel, got in the BMW, and headed toward Xander’s. They passed the Parthenon as they drove, and Chris wanted to take a longer look at the classical Greek building perched high on the rocks, but there was no time. On the opposite side of the road stood the Temple of Olympian Zeus. No time for that, either.

Hannah sat in the front passenger seat, navigating as they cruised through the streets of Athens. “Did you enjoy being a diplomat’s son?” she asked when there was a lull in the directions.

Chris flicked a glance in her direction. “I enjoyed the different people and their languages and food—the countries. The dressing up and the parties were just something that went with it all.”

“Do you miss the dressing up and the parties?” she asked. He noticed her taking in his Agency-issued suit as she waited for his answer.

He smiled. “It’s nice to wear a good suit once in a while. But at parties, too often I find myself against the wall not knowing what to do. How about you?”

“Why are you two talking about such boring shit?” Sonny piped up from the backseat.

“And what would you like to talk about?” Hannah shot back. She clearly didn’t appreciate Sonny interrupting their conversation, either.

“I don’t want to talk about anything right now,” Sonny said, “but listening to you two talk about boring shit is denting my skull.”

“Maybe you should stick your head out the window, Sonny,” Chris said sharply. “You might see some birds.”

“That’d be a hell of an improvement,” Sonny mumbled.

Minutes later, they reached a white stone mansion perched on a bluff with a spectacular view of the setting sun. Below, the the dark-blue waters of the Aegean Sea contrasted the light-blue sky. Chris parked on the street behind several luxury cars, allowing enough space for their SOG team to make a quick getaway if necessary.

Walking onto Xander’s property, they traversed a cobblestone pathway, past olive trees and grapevines, until they reached a thick oak door. Chris pulled out his cell phone and tapped it until his audio recording app came on, and he pressed
Record
before returning his phone to his pocket.

Sonny knocked.

Chris did a quick scan of their surroundings. If shit hit the fan and they were split up, the ocean was within walking distance, and he’d take to the sea and kick-stroke-and-glide while Hannah and Sonny escaped through the city.

There was no answer at the door, so Sonny knocked harder.

Finally, a tall man opened the door. Chris sized him up as being fit and about his same height, but the gray in the man’s beard marked him as older. Chris introduced Hannah, Sonny, and himself.

“Ah, yes, the legal attachés. I’m Xander Metaxas,” he said, his voice like honey. “Ambassador Garcia told me you were coming. I am so sorry to hear about Mr. Winthrop. Please, come in.”

Inside the entrance hall, the high wooden ceiling was finely carved, and a grand piano stood to the side. The black marble floor looked somewhat dated, but it was shiny and clearly expensive.

“Nice floor,” Chris said.

“Thank you.” Xander led them across the hall. “This house has seen a fair amount of remodeling since the eighteenth century, but the floor is original. It is called Ashford Black Marble, imported from England, but it is actually limestone.”

“It’s beautiful,” Hannah said as Xander gestured them into a spacious main room where a cluster of guests stood next to a grand fireplace and a butler served drinks to the guests standing under a crystal chandelier.

“A house as fancy as this,” Sonny said with a snort, “and I’d think you’d at least be able to afford a new floor.”

Chris clenched his teeth, and Xander gave Sonny a quizzical look. The New Yorker was going to get them into trouble before they could find anything out. Chris needed to find some way to build a rapport with Xander. And fast.

Xander was wearing what appeared to be a Yale ring. “I see you’re a Yale grad.” He pointed to the man’s hand.

Xander nodded. “Did you graduate from Yale, too?”

“Harvard, actually,” Chris said.

Hannah smiled at Xander, then at Chris. “Sonny and I will let you two exchange Ivy League stories.” She looped her arm through Sonny’s and pulled him along.

“Yes, please, help yourselves,” Xander said.

She bowed her head graciously, and they strolled deeper into the house, where most of the guests were congregated.

Xander turned to Chris, a calm, carefree smile on his face. “Would you like a drink?”

“No, thank you.” His purpose here was to find out about the hostage’s kidnapping, and having a purpose helped him to relax. He didn’t need a drink to do that for him.

“I had a friend in Harvard,” Xander said. “Which dorm were you in?”

“Wigglesworth Hall.”

“Ah. I do not know it. Sadly, I only visited the campus once.”

Chris directed the conversation back to Xander’s own experience. “Yale is an excellent university. And now you own Athens Sustainable Energy. That’s quite the accomplishment.”

Xander nodded. “The earth’s resources are finite, so we must manage them effectively. Our descendants’ survival depends on it. The twin pillars of my company are energy efficiency and renewable energy.”

“Do you see yourself in competition with fossil fuels?” Chris asked.

Xander shook his head. “Not at all. The human race can only survive off dead organisms for so long. We’re living on borrowed time. Whether Athens realizes it or not, she needs me. If not today, tomorrow.”

“Michael Winthrop is living on borrowed time… if he’s still alive,” Chris said, carefully watching the man’s reaction.

But Xander kept his face tranquil and his words even. “Yes, we attended the same embassy party. I first heard about the kidnapping on the news. It is terrible. And today your ambassador called me. Words desert me.”

“I was hoping maybe you could help us.”

“Of course, whatever I can do,” Xander said. “Though I am not sure I will be of much use.”

“What do you know about 21D? The kidnappers?”

“Only what I hear in the news. They are a pro-Marxist terrorist group with a history of attacks here in Greece. And they oppose the EU and NATO. That is about all I know.” A knock sounded at the door, but Xander ignored it. “I did not know Mr. Winthrop personally, but I hope he will be okay.”

“Do you have any idea what 21D stands for?”

Xander shook his head. The knock came again, but no one answered and Xander continued to ignore it.

“Have you ever talked to Michael before?” Chris asked.

“Not that I recall. There were a number of people at the party. It is possible we exchanged words.” The knock turned into a pounding now. “I am sorry. I am short one staff member. If you will excuse me.”

“Yes, of course.”

Xander left and answered the door. More guests poured in, and he chatted leisurely with them. Chris waited a few minutes, but when Xander didn’t return, he mingled with the other guests, keeping an eye on the host at all times.

The first two guests he approached spoke English as a lingua franca, and despite their European accents, their English was excellent.

“…NATO wants to recruit Ukraine as one of its members, so NATO can box Russia in,” said a bespectacled man.

The woman nodded in agreement, her gaze piercing Chris’s as she made eye contact. “Russia has a right to use its military to help Russophones in Ukraine.”

The man took a sip of his drink. “The Russian government just wants to bring legitimacy and stability to the region.”

“Exactly,” the woman said. “They merely want law and order.”

“And peace,” the man added.

“Yes!” she agreed.

Chris listened quietly. Both of them sounded too socialist for his blood, and although he agreed Russia had a right to defend its land and its people, he firmly opposed Russia’s military intervention in Ukraine. He politely excused himself and roamed the room looking for someone who might actually be willing to help him find Michael.

He suddenly remembered his recording cell phone, took it out, and pressed
Stop
. Then he used his phone to upload the recording to a colleague’s website. The colleague, who was also a dear friend, was Young Park, a brilliant Agency tech who’d left the CIA but still did contract work. Then Chris sent an encrypted message requesting a voice-match analysis. Young ran a twenty-four-hour service, so he or one of his assistants would respond soon.

Hannah emerged from behind a group of people.

“Where’s Sonny?” Chris asked.

“Eating,” Hannah said with an eye roll. “Did you learn anything from Xander?”

“He claims he doesn’t know much.”

“With all his connections?” She quirked a brow. “That seems unlikely. Greece is attempting to recover from massive debt, and Xander is living like a king. Look around you. He spends his money freely, but he’s stingy with information.”

“He did invite us here,” Chris said.

Hannah frowned. “So we wouldn’t suspect him of any wrongdoing.”

“And he was kind enough to talk to me,” Chris countered.

“A small sacrifice on his part,” Hannah said. “The cost of retaining information.”

“This might be easier if you try to enjoy it,” Chris said.

Her voice was cold. “For some of us, life has never been easy.”

He frowned. Somehow the topic had changed very quickly. “You mean growing up in East LA?”

“The haves eat the have-nots,” she said. “My mother and I were the have-nots.”

Sonny appeared then, chewing a mouthful of food and tugging on his tie. “I’m tired of this monkey suit, and I’ve lived in better zoos.”

Hannah put her hand on Sonny’s shoulder. “I need you to come help me with something.”

Sonny grinned at Chris, as if to emphasize that Hannah had invited him to go with her rather than Chris.

“We’ll be right back,” Hannah said.

Before Chris could ask where they were going, she and Sonny were gone. Chris was grateful to her for keeping Sonny occupied, though. Operators like him were game changers to have in combat, but when the bullets weren’t flying, they could be difficult to keep out of trouble.

Chris surveyed the room, his gaze landing on a woman in her twenties who was smiling at him. She had an easy-going expression and blond highlights in her light-brown, shoulder-length hair. He returned the smile before he realized who she was. The woman in the video of the embassy party… Xander’s daughter, Evelina.

She disappeared in the crowd; his heartbeat quickened as he searched for her, and it continued to hammer steadily. She could have information about Michael’s disappearance. He spotted her again, and she smiled at him again before exiting the house through a pair of French doors.

As Chris followed her outside, a brief panic grew in his chest. These same people were at the party where Michael was taken. If they were involved…

Will someone try to kidnap me, too?

No. That was silly. And even if they tried, he was well armed and had his team here for support. He took a deep breath and approached Evelina, who now sat in a lounge chair near an infinity pool. The sun had dropped behind the mansion, casting a shadow on the backyard.

“Mind if I join you?” he asked.

She gestured for him to have a seat. “Please.” Her miniskirt exposed most of her legs, and she held a handkerchief in her lap. “I noticed you the moment you walked in.”

He sat down across from her. “Have we met before?” he asked, worried for a second that maybe she knew him from somewhere and his cover as a legal attaché was in danger.

“No, this is the first time.” She pulled her handkerchief farther up her lap, exposing the gap between her miniskirt and her thighs, showing the white triangle of her panties.

Is she showing me this on purpose, or is this an accident?
Pastor Luther had told him,
Look once, you’re human; look twice, you’re not a pastor.

Chris lifted his gaze and focused on her eyes. “Are you a friend of Xander’s?” he asked, pretending not to know the answer. By asking a question she could answer truthfully, he could establish a baseline for her posture and speech when she was telling the truth. Then he could use deviations from the baseline to help him detect her lies.