"Nice to get a warm welcome," Nick said.
"What the hell were those thugs doing with my picture?" The words spurted out. Selena paced across the room and back again. She was upset.
"We'll find out. Let's go down to the restaurant. No point in trying to think on an empty stomach."
"You're impossible."
"You've said that before. Always eat when you can. You don't know when the next time will be."
"Is that another one of your damned rules?"
"Come on, we'll talk about it over coffee."
In the dining room Nick told Selena what Harker had learned about the men who'd attacked her.
"They came up on Interpol right away. They belong to a gang in Russia."
"The Russian Mafia?"
"Similar. There are about fifteen powerful gangs in Russia. This one is Georgian. The outfit is run by a man named Zviad Gelashvili. The man you kicked in the balls is his brother, Bagrat Gelashvili. Along with the Ukrainians, the Georgians are the worst. That's saying a lot."
"His brother? Why would a crime boss send his brother after me? Why here?"
"Gelashvili must know about the tablets. He's probably after Alexander's treasure. He sent those goons to follow up on the same trail we're looking at. That doesn't tell us how he found out about it in the first place."
"How could they know who I am?"
"Someone sent him who knows who you are and what you're doing here. It has to be someone who knows about the Project. Plus they have to be able to get someone on the scene here the same day you arrive. That means first rate organization and intel. It could be an Agency. CIA, DIA, someone like that."
She sighed and pushed her plate away. "Nothing is ever simple in this job, is it?"
CHAPTER ELEVEN
"Come."
The man who entered Alexei Ivanovich Vysotsky's office was tall. He wore a dark blue suit. He moved with contained energy, like a controlled explosion. He was handsome in a hard way, with blond hair cropped close to his skull. A small enameled flag of the Russian Federation gleamed on his jacket lapel. There was a small scar on his chin.
His eyes were cold blue, the eyes of a man who knew what he was and was afraid of nothing. He had the kind of military look found on recruiting posters. A hint of reddish shadow colored his jaw. His name was Arkady Korov.
He was dedicated and intelligent and lethal, everything an officer of Zaslon was supposed to be. If you wanted a robot there were plenty who could fill that role, but Korov wasn't one of them. He was perfect for the job Alexei had in mind. Korov reached the desk and snapped to attention. Vysotsky carried the rank of Major General.
"At ease, Major." Alexei gestured at a chair in front of the desk.
Korov sat. Alexei handed him an Interpol report of an incident in Greece involving an American woman and Georgian criminals. Interpol thought it was a foiled attempt at kidnapping and ransom. The report stated the woman was wealthy. She was. It didn't mention the Project, but Alexei was aware of Selena's real role.
"What do you think of this?"
Korov scanned the document. "Zviad's brother, Bagrat. This seems to be a kidnapping that went wrong."
"You find nothing odd?"
"Several things. Why Greece or kidnapping? It doesn't fit Gelashvili's pattern. It says one died and Bagrat is seriously injured. How would a woman defeat these men? Bagrat is as bad as his brother. He's an animal, very strong."
Alexei was pleased. "Exactly. The woman is not what she appears to be. She is part of an elite American intelligence group."
Korov raised an eyebrow. "What is she doing in Greece?"
"Looking for treasure. Or perhaps something else."
"Treasure?"
"She is following a trail that has been cold for a very long time." Alexei told Korov about the tablets and murder of three prominent American virologists.
"What will happen now that Gelashvili failed?"
"That is what you are going to find out, Arkady."
Korov noted the use of his first name. It told him this assignment was important. Vysotsky opened a desk drawer, took out a bottle of vodka and two glasses. He poured.
"Na Z'drovnya." To your health. The men drank.
"I need more information. That is where you come in."
"Why are the Americans involved?"
"I don't know. This group is not like other American intelligence units. They are mobile and unrestricted, much as we are. If they're pursuing this there is fire behind the smoke. It is a complication, no more. My concern is Gelashvili. If the Americans bring him down, so much the better. Who knows, perhaps they will help you. Maybe you should look them up and introduce yourself."
Korov didn't smile.
"It's a joke, Major. But in this case, there may be a common goal."
Korov waited.
Alexei thought for a moment. "I think Bagrat Gelashvili will suffer complications from his injuries, even fatal ones."
Korov nodded. He didn't need to ask how that might be accomplished while Bagrat was in police custody. It would be up to him to arrange the details.
"You will proceed at once to Greece." Alexei handed Korov a packet. "You leave at 15:30 hours. This contains your legend, tickets, passport, money, driver's license and Bagrat's present location. Our contact in Athens will provide any weapons and supplies you require. Take care of Bagrat. Investigate. Find out anything you can about the Americans. You have full freedom to pursue your mission in any way you think fit."
Korov knew if anything went wrong, he would be blamed. On the other hand, he had all the freedom he needed to succeed. He smiled.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Arkady's flight landed on time. He took a room in the Plaka, the neighborhood below the Acropolis. His contact ran a shop here that catered to the tourist trade. There were always tourists in Athens. Arkady's passport identified him as Wilhelm Wimmer, a German architect on holiday. No one would think it unusual for an architect to visit Greece. Classical Greek architecture was still admired around the world.
Arkady found satisfaction in buildings like the Acropolis. The neat rows of columns, the perfect proportions, the folly of humans reflected in the actions of their gods. Korov had a genuine appreciation of history and Greek culture. He considered himself an educated man, though most of his education had been in the art of war.
The Russian adventure in Afghanistan was over by the time Arkady received his commission as a Junior Lieutenant. There was no shortage of other conflicts. He'd been recruited into Spetsnaz while serving in Chechnya. After that, things got interesting. Counter-terrorism in Tadzhikistan and Uzbekistan against the Islamic militant subversives. Special Advisor duty in Syria. He'd never married and everyone else was gone. His unit was his only family.
It was night in Athens. The Acropolis was bathed in light on the hill above his window. Tomorrow he would get his weapons and rent a car to drive north. Bagrat Gelashvili was being held under close guard at a hospital in Thessaloniki. His injuries were severe.
They were going to get worse.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Monday morning felt gray and damp with the raw smell of spring. Low walls of weathered stone wandered over ancient fields near the tomb. The land was green with fresh grass, sprinkled with white and blue wildflowers. Mount Olympus loomed in the background, shrouded in dark clouds. If the gods were home, no one cared.
The entrance to the tomb yawned in the side of a large hill. Centuries of overgrowth had been pushed aside to expose a rectangular stone opening. A silent diesel generator sat by the entrance. Cables on the ground coiled into the tomb like Medusa's snakes.
Nick assumed the generator and cables were for lighting. That was good. He'd had enough of dark tunnels and enclosed spaces for a lifetime. Tombs didn't bother him. The shades of the dead didn't bother him, except in his dreams. But lightless caves and tunnels, that was another story.