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.