From Russia Without Love

2

They 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.”