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.
“Who told you to keep track of me?”
“I don’t know where it came from. I was working a case in Sicily and was just told to get to Trapani to catch up with you and keep an eye out.” No need to mention the fact that she had been assigned to find the American woman ever since she first contacted Professor Bretti weeks ago. Or the fact that the Greek billionaire, Petros Caras, was somehow involved.
“Right. I’m guessing our State department had something to do with it. How long have you been looking for Professor Sara Halsey Jones?”
She slumped into her chair just as she heard the boarding call for the flight to Malta. “That’s our flight.”
He stopped her from getting up. “Just a minute. Answer my question.”
Elisa considered her choices. She had to trust this man. Had been told to do so anyway. “Since she first contacted Professor Bretti and then went to Venezia. I lost her after that.”
Jake Adams finally looked confused. “What flagged her as a target for your agency?”
She couldn’t tell him at this time about Petros Caras. “I can’t say. Let’s just say that Bretti used to work with one of our intelligence agencies in the past. He brought her to our attention.” That was close enough to the truth. “Can we catch our flight now?”
He took his hand in hers and said, “Wait just a minute. I want to see if the men from Greece will be with us.”
Now she smiled. “They will. I’ve already reviewed the manifest.”
“Nice work,” Jake said. “Okay, then let’s go to Malta. Where are you on this flight.”
Laughing, she said, “Right next to you.” She got up and pulled him to his feet.
The two of them wandered to the gate like a real couple. She was starting to think she should have simply observed this man from afar. After meeting him, he sounded like trouble.
8
Brock Winthrop walked gingerly down the hospital corridor, his buttocks still sore from riding horse with his boss, Senator James Halsey. Jim knew he didn’t like those beasts. He was more inclined, like the French, to consider them a delicacy paired with a fine Bordeaux, a more exotic alternative to beef. But he would never mention that to Senator Halsey.
He had gotten a call from another Halsey client less than an hour ago. Actually, he had gotten a call from Buck Halsey’s private doctor at this exclusive hospital in Arlington, Virginia, where the senator had transferred his father nearly a year ago. Buck Halsey, eighty years old and failing physically, had been Brock’s client first. Right out of college. Although, he was sure, Jim had made that happen. Jim had gone back to Texas to help with the family business, and Brock had moved to Washington, trying his best to make his fortune off the rich and powerful. That was decades ago.
Brock hesitated outside the elder Halsey’s room, the waiting area resembling that of a high end Fortune 500 company and not a place for the elderly or the rich to pass to the next life — assuming there was something after all this.
Meeting him there was Doctor Plaunt, a professorial looking character with unkempt gray and black hair and beard, giving him the appearance of a mad scientist and not one of the best geriatric physicians on the eastern seaboard.
They shook hands as usual and Brock said, “Is everything all right?”
The doctor’s eyes drifted upward and then back to Brock. “He’s not doing well. But he wanted to see you before we call in the family.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. I can only assume he wants to get his affairs in order.”
Brock thought about that. Buck Halsey had updated his will a year ago when he was first transferred from Texas to this facility. “Then I must ask you the obvious question. Is he mentally able to make this decision?”
The doctor pulled an envelope from the inside pocket of his white lab coat. “This is a letter signed by myself and two other physicians on staff. We all concur that Mister Halsey is of sound mind. It’s his body that’s failing him.”