The Athena Project

CHAPTER 55

ISTRIAN PENINSULA

CROATIA

As they neared the outskirts of the Croatian town of Pula, Rob Hutton told the team to back off.

“We’ve got them via satellite,” he said. “Unless they drive into a submarine, we’re going to know exactly where they are transporting their cargo.”

It had taken less than three hours to drive from Slovenia to Croatia’s Dalmatian coast, also known as the new European Riviera. It was a stunning mosaic of stone buildings and whitewashed houses with red-tiled roofs.

“So now what do we do?” asked Cooper.

“According to Hutton,” said Casey, “we sit tight here while they decide what our next move will be.”

“Where’s here?”

Rhodes was already pulling up information on her iPhone. “Pula, Croatia,” she stated, “known for its winemaking, fishing, shipbuilding, and tourism.”

“What’s it say about men with full sets of teeth?” asked Ericsson as she leaned in.

“It says Pula attracts large numbers of German, Scandinavian, Italian, and other tourists through early fall,” she replied. “This could be very good for you.”

Julie laughed. “The hell with me. I’m thinking about Coop.”

“Oh, yes,” agreed Megan. “Pula is all about Coopah!”

Cooper threw up her hands. “All I want is a hot shower and an ice bucket full of beer. Maybe some pizza if we can find it.”

“We’ll find it,” said Casey. “I don’t think the powers that be back home are going to have this thing spun up for at least another twenty-four to forty-eight hours.”

The other women nodded in agreement.

“Megs, can you pick out a hotel for us?”

“Already done,” she replied. “Tonight, Uncle Sugar will be putting us up at the Hotel Histria.”

Casey shook her head. “No way. Remember that fleabag we stayed at in Thailand, the Fallopian?”

“That’s not what it was called. It was the Phillipian.”

“And this one sounds dangerously like the Hotel Hysterectomy. Pick another.”

“Remind me again, country girl, who the snobs are in this crowd?” asked Rhodes.

“The Histria looks like a nice hotel,” stated Ericsson.

“Actually, it looks like a very nice hotel,” added Cooper as Rhodes showed her a picture of it.

“All right, all right,” Casey conceded. “The Hotel Hysterectomy it is. It better be good, Megs.”

“Frommer’s gives it five rusted Yugos,” replied Rhodes. “With that kind of endorsement, it’s gotta be good.”

The girls laughed and navigated their way to the hotel. At the front desk, they pushed Cooper into charming the manager into an upgrade, and she actually succeeded in doing it. They were given a stunning two-bedroom suite overlooking the ocean.

“This beats the hell out of Tuzla,” commented Megan when they were shown inside.

Cooper wasted no time calling down for beer and Casey drew a bath. Ericsson, ever the news junkie, flipped on the TV and found an English-language cable news station.

Rhodes stepped out onto the balcony and called back inside to Casey, “They’ve got plenty of boat slips here. You should have Scot sail up. I see a nice place near the beach with shallow water and a bunch of sharp rocks where you can drown Riley if you’d like.”

Casey walked over, slid the sliding glass door shut, and locked Megan on the balcony.

She caught Ericsson looking at her. “You want some?” she threatened with a smile.

Ericsson shrugged. “That’s okay,” she said. “I never liked her much anyway.”

“Good,” replied Casey as she walked into the bathroom and closed the door.

Ericsson went ahead and let Megan back in.

“Some people,” said Rhodes as she stepped back inside.

Cooper lay down on the couch and was asleep before her beer even got there. Rhodes, who never seemed to run out of energy, went downstairs to look around while Ericsson stayed in the room and held the fort.

When Megan came back, Cooper had awakened from her nap and Casey was done with her bath. They each pulled a beer from the bucket and shared a toast.

Gretchen was on her second sip when Hutton called. “So much for downtime,” she said as she reached over and picked up her phone from the coffee table.

“The bombs were delivered to a walled compound about twelve kilometers south of you,” said Hutton. “We believe it belongs to Armen Abressian.”

“Do you think the equipment from the Kammler facility could be there too?” she asked.

“That’s what we need you to find out.”

“How’s his security?”

Hutton paused before replying. “Just the little bit we’ve been able to pick up from the satellites, it’s pretty sophisticated-cameras, laser motion detectors, even a dog team working the perimeter. Overall, we estimate that the compound has a twenty- to thirty-man security force that’s heavily armed, probably with paramilitary training.”

“Is that all?” Casey asked. “What happened? Was the moat-diggers union on strike the day they installed their security?”

“Gretchen, listen,” said Hutton. “We figure we could help you get around some of the intrusion measures, but not all of them. Not without more time. But based on all of the activity we’re seeing, we think they’re getting ready to launch those bombs. We need to move on them right away. Tonight.”

“You want us to hit a walled compound with twenty to thirty heavily armed men, dogs, and electronic sensors and do it tonight?” she replied.

“Yes.”

“Even if we had weeks to surveil the place and piece together how we were getting in, we’d still need to come up with one hell of a diversion.”

“Tell your team to get ready,” replied Hutton. “I think we may be able to get you your diversion.”