The Stone of Archimedes (6 page)

Demetri turned to the man in the back. “Niko, get out and follow him on foot. But keep back and don't let him know you're there.”

Niko nodded quickly and did as he was told, getting out the sliding door and casually taking up the pursuit. He would first move fast to close the gap and then keep a discreet distance. The three of them had all served in Greek army intelligence, trained for this type of work. Observe without being observed.

Back in the van, Demetri glanced at Adams through small binoculars as he crossed the street ahead. “I'll bet he's going to the main train station. If Niko loses him there, he could hop a train to anywhere in Europe. Let's go. We'll move out and get to the train station first.”

The driver started the engine and they rushed off down the highway. Demetri could keep an eye on the American the entire trip through the streets that led to the main train terminal. They would have to dump the van, which they had stolen that morning.

Just as they pulled up behind a line of taxis and got out onto the sidewalk in front of the train station, Demetri's cell phone buzzed in his pocket. He considered ignoring the call but saw that it was Zendo's number. “Yes, sir,” he said, keeping his eye on the American, still two blocks from the front entrance, where dozens of passengers were coming and going. He listened carefully and smiled with the news from Greece. “Understood. Then we will simply verify where he's going, keeping our distance.” He hit the off button and put the phone away.

“That was Zendo?” Kyros asked.

“Yes. We know where he's going. Our orders are now to let him go and only verify.”

“How does Zendo know this?”

Demetri smiled. “The bug we placed on Professor Bretti's phone has paid off.”

“Isn't that how we knew the American woman was going to Istanbul?”

“Yes. Now hurry and pass off with Niko. You follow the man into the terminal and pass him off to me.”

Demetri watched as his men passed each other, with Kyros just a few feet from the American as Niko continued down the sidewalk to his position.

Demetri stopped for a moment to talk with Niko. “Our orders have changed,” Demetri said to Niko. “We know where he's going. We just need to verify and then get ahead of him. Have you ever been to Malta?”

Niko shook his head. “I hear the women there are quite beautiful.”

“We're about to find out. Take a taxi back to the hotel, grab our bags and meet us at Di Vinci Airport.”

“Yes, sir.”

Watching his man get into a taxi, Demetri checked his watch and then casually headed into the main terminal to pass off with Kyros, and Demetri thinking their moves were like a fine Swiss watch.

Santorini, Greece

It was late afternoon and Svetla Kalina had been given a quick ultimatum by Petros Caras—either stay there at his villa overlooking the ocean by herself and then he would fly her back to Prague, or she could come with him on his yacht for a little adventure. She wasn't sure what that meant, but also had no time to make contact with her handler to find out what to do. But something was up. She could feel that based on the whispers in Greek, which she caught some of, and the speed with which all those around Petros were reacting. Of course she would love to travel on his yacht.

Now, the anchor pulled and the yacht turned to the west, they began picking up speed swiftly.

Svetla, wearing a pair of short shorts and a white T-shirt tied just below her braless chest, exposing her tanned dark stomach, sat in a lounge chair sipping a glass of Greek red wine in the aft section of the massive yacht.

Petros Caras came outside carrying a bottle of Ouzo and two glasses. He opened the bottle and poured them each a small glass of the clear anise-flavored liquid.

She didn't want to tell Petros this, since she knew it was not only their national drink but the man actually owned the factory that made this drink, but she wasn't a big fan of anything that tasted like licorice.

“This will ruin my wine flavor,” Svetla complained but took the glass nonetheless. Maybe if the man drank enough he would tell her where they were going.

They clanked their glasses and Petros drank down the entire glass with one swift motion. She forced down about half and tried not to react negatively.

“Where are we going, Petros?” she asked him.

“With this yacht, does it matter?”

He had a point, she knew, but it was her job to keep track of his movements. Much of that could be accomplished by the GPS in her phone, and if that failed, she had placed a back-up tracker on the huge craft just after arriving on the yacht this time.

“Well, my mother in Prague is not feeling great. I was hoping to give her a call. She might need me.” This was a lie, of course. Her mother had died years ago.

Petros looked somewhat confused. “I thought I read that your mother died in a skiing accident when you were a child.”

She thought quickly now. “She did. But I meant my step mother. My father married again and she helped raise me.” In reality she hadn't talked with her step mother in more than two years. They hated each other.

“You should still have cell service for a while,” he said. “After that you can use our satellite phone.”

She got up to go inside to her cabin but he stopped her.

“But first have one more drink with me.”

Looking at her half-full glass, she nearly choked when he filled it to the top again. Then they clicked their glasses again and this time they both downed everything. She nearly gagged. Then she started off toward her room.

“Be careful,” Petros said. “We will be cruising all night at a very high speed. It could get rocky.”

She nodded and went back to her room. Closed off by herself, she picked up her phone and thought for a moment. She was told only to call if something was wrong. But she wasn't sure that was the case. Who knew what drove a billionaire to suddenly pull up anchor and speed off to the west. Maybe there was a sale on capers in Israel.

Svetla decided to call anyway. She waited as the phone rang, her eyes glazed over as the island started to disappear out her porthole. Her head was starting to swirl from that rotten licorice Ouzo, making her stomach lurch with each wave the yacht hit hard.

Finally, her contact picked up on the other end. “
Pronto. Come va
?”

“
Grazie, va bene cosi
.” Any other phrase and her contact would know something was wrong. Svetla knew the woman's Italian was flawless, but guessed she was actually an American. They had only met a couple of times in Rome, and the woman's fake blonde hair and real blue eyes made her appear more Slavic like her than Italian.

“Where are you?” her Rome contact asked, switching to English. She had said her name was Elisa, but that was probably as fake as her hair color.

“I have to make this quick,” Svetla said. “We're on his yacht heading fast to the west.”

“To where?”

“Not sure.”

“Listen, his man Zendo was sent to Rome to follow an American named Jake Adams. Does that mean anything to you?”

Long pause on the other end. “How do you know this?”

“I overheard their conversation in Greek. They said this Adams was a dangerous man and had been sent to find the American professor.”

“Thanks for the intel. Anything else?”

“Yes. How long do I have to have sex with this pig?”

“I'm sorry about that. But there was no other way to get close to him.”

Easy for her to say from the comfort of Rome. “Well, I'm having a hard time faking orgasms. The man has the penis of a ten-year-old.”

She heard a slight laugh on the other end.

“As soon as you reach your destination, we'll find an excuse for you to fly back to Prague. Until then do your best to gather as much intel on the man as you can. Fake a period if you must.”

“Understood.”

The line went blank and she quickly deleted the call from the phone's history. She lay down onto her bed and the room seemed to be spinning around. The drinks were not settling in her stomach right. Neither was this assignment. Seconds later and she passed out.

●

Petros Caras had been forced to come inside the yacht because of the speed they had reached and the rocking of the boat. He sat now in the lavish sitting room with a cigar in his left hand and a satellite phone against his right ear. Zendo was giving him an update.

“So Jake Adams went directly from the professor's office to the train station?” Petros asked him.

“Yes, sir. I had three of my men keep track of him until I arrived in Rome. I just stayed at the airport waiting to see which flight he would get on.”

“And?”

“As suspected, he caught the first flight to Valletta. Flight leaves in about an hour.”

“Will the four of you fly to Malta on the same flight?”

“There were only two extra tickets, so I'll take Demetri with me and have the other two catch up to us on the next flight. That makes more sense tactically anyway. Adams would have seen Niko and might make the connection. Besides, we're still just following, right?”

Petros thought about that. He needed to find the American professor and Jake Adams was their best lead. “Just follow for now. Once we find this Sara Halsey Jones we can get rid of him. Call me when you get to Malta. We'll be there by morning.”

“That fast?”

Laughing, Petros said, “This is the fastest yacht of its size in the world. We can cruise at over forty knots. My captain assures me we will be there before brunch.”

“Great. I'll let you know if he leaves the capital city.”

Without saying goodbye, Petros simply clicked off the phone and threw it onto the leather sofa next to him. He considered the progress of this case and felt like everything was progressing as planned, except that his men should have really found this American woman weeks ago. How in the hell can they not find one woman in Europe? Especially now, where everyone must use credit cards to fly. He also wasn't sure he fully trusted that sloppy Czech slut who was probably sleeping by now in her stateroom. She better be after all the drugs he'd put in her Ouzo. He wasn't sure he wanted to screw her again without strapping a board to his ass to keep him from falling in. God, she had the biggest vagina he'd ever experienced. Maybe he should go to her room right now and take her up the ass. That was bound to be tighter, since she had refused him access to that hole so far. No, near necrophilia was no fun. He preferred willing accomplices, especially when he could reach around and grab onto a hard cock.

●

Elisa Murici shoved her phone into her purse and glanced across the airport terminal at the man sitting in the leather chair, his eyes closed. She had been tasked by her boss at AISE, Italy's External Intelligence and Security Service, to track the movements of this man since his arrival in Rome. But now, after her conversation with her agent undercover in Greece, she felt like she needed to warn this man. Checking the clock on the wall, she knew his flight would leave for Malta within the hour. It was now or never.

She walked casually toward him and took an open seat next to him.

Without opening his eyes, the man said, “Let me guess. DIS? AISE? Or perhaps AISI?”

“
Mi scusi
?” she asked.

The man opened his eyes but still didn't look at the woman. “You heard me.”

Frustrated, she said softly, “My name is Elisa. External. You are Jake Adams.”

He turned to her now, smiled and gave her a full kiss on the lips, which she accepted without reluctance.

He pulled away and smiled. “If you look over my right shoulder, you'll see a man in a white linen suit with dark hair to his shoulders. I'm guessing he's not with you. But is with the man he's trying his best not to look at, the guy across the corridor wearing the black jeans and the muscles bulging his gray shirt.”

“I heard you were good. Anyone else?”

“Not at this time. There were two others who followed me from the university to the train station, first in a Fiat van and then on foot. Pretty decent tactics with their pass off technique, but not flawless. So, tell me why you just exposed yourself to scrutiny?”

Now she was embarrassed and confounded. “I needed to let you know that you were being followed. Your cell phone no longer works.”

“My cell phone is probably in a landfill in Sicily by now,” Jake said. “I sure hope you haven't been trying to call me since Trapani.”

“I'm sure you did not see me that far back,” Elisa said.

“Let's see. When I got off the ferry you were wearing a dark green top and black slacks with nice leather pumps, pretending to read a map of Trapani. On the plane this morning you changed into your current ensemble. I really like how the tan slacks accentuate your fine backside.”

She shook her head, a cross between further embarrassed and totally pissed off. “So, I'm a total. . .how do you say it. . .hack?”

“Not at all, Elisa. Your tactics are far superior to those men. You did a nice job of staying under the radar. But let's face it. With your stunning good looks, did you expect me not to notice? Of course I don't think you could do anything to disguise this.” He smiled and motioned his hands in front of her, meaning the whole package.

God he was frustrating. But she had read that about him also.

“What's your interest in me?” he asked her and then before she could answer, he gave her another kiss. This time she embraced him like an old friend.

She pulled back reluctantly, with a coy smile. “Would you please stop that?”

“Hey, I want these Greeks to finally notice a beautiful woman. I suppose if you had been a young boy, they would have been on you like a priest on an alter-boy.”

“That's offensive,” she said. “But probably true.” She tried her best not to smile but failed.