Black Harvest

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

In Virginia, Harker listened to Nick on her speakerphone.

"No one heard the shots?"

"The first anyone knew was when a nurse found the dead guard. The room was a bloodbath. The Greek cop we were working with was killed. Not much loss there."

"What did the killer look like?"

"Like a cop. He had Interpol ID. The duty nurse had seen one just like it not long before. She thought he was with the others. The receptionist downstairs said he was well-dressed, polite, short hair and cop looking."

"What does that mean?"

"Hard. Cold eyes, like he'd seen too much. Those were her words. The eyes bothered her. He showed her Interpol ID also."

Across the ocean, Nick waited.

"This doesn't feel like a gang hit, someone in competition with the Georgian bunch."

"Silenced weapon, phony ID, clean getaway. More like an agency of some kind. Mossad, CIA, like that."

"If it's an agency, why kill their own agent? "

"Good question. This guy was no ordinary kidnapper. His brother runs the gang. I think he's after Alexander's loot. Someone had to steer him to Greece. Selena thinks we might discover who it was by feeding out information. See what turns up."

"Where would you start?"

"I'm not sure. Gelashvili shouldn't know about us, so why go after Selena? How did he get a photo of her? And who ordered the killings in Greece? Not Gelashvili. There has to be more than one player here."

Sometimes Harker closed her eyes and thought of her father when she needed inspiration. How would he read it? She pictured him sitting in his study in Colorado, sipping bourbon in his green chair. She could almost hear his voice. She remembered when she'd come home after finishing her second year of college. Worried about choosing the right direction for her future.

"What do you think I should do?"

"What do you want to do?"

"That's not an answer."

The Judge raised his glass and drank, the amber liquid making smoky swirls over the ice. He'd been drinking more lately, since her mother had become ill.

"Yes it is. An answer. You know I can't decide for you. I'd always hoped you'd take up law. But maybe that's not for you."

"It might be. I just don't know"

"What else would you do?"

"I thought medicine."

The Judge laughed. "From the frying pan to the fire. You think law is tough…but you'd be a good doctor. Why medicine?"

"Maybe it sounds naive, but I want to make a difference."

"Law doesn't make a difference?"

"Of course it does."

"Okay," her father had said. "Let's try something. Sometimes I do this when I can't decide what's right. Close your eyes."

She'd closed them.

"Picture yourself as a doctor. Go ahead. Check how it feels in your body, good or bad or neither one."

After a minute she opened her eyes. "It feels like…nothing."

"Okay, keep your eyes closed. Now picture yourself as someone who upholds the law, defends it, practices it."

She'd done it and a wave of heat had passed through her, an inner excitement. She'd opened her eyes.

The Judge had nodded. "See? Now you know what to do."

"Nick."

"Still here, Director."

"Go to Sofia. Our only lead is the inscription in the tomb. I'll clear you into Bulgaria and make it official."

"That means everyone will know who we are."

"Think of it as a way to smoke out whoever's making trouble."

"If I liked bait, I would've taken up fishing."

"You'll handle it. I'll send Ronnie to fish with you."