Lea Donovan drifted in and out of her nightmares as she watched glimpses of the Adriatic Sea through breaks in the cumulus far below. She felt a terrible sense of foreboding.
She looked over her shoulder and saw that Hawke was asleep. He looked younger now, taken away from reality by the soft glow of unconsciousness. She could see what his wife must have seen in him, but wondered whether a man like Joe Hawke could ever be happy in a real relationship.
He had mentioned Liz, but never discussed anything about her except the most casual detail, and then there was this mysterious woman in New York whom he claimed he knew only by her former CIA codename — Nightingale.
Even though she was more than a little intrigued by this strange American woman with no real identity, she would never give Joe Hawke the satisfaction of asking anything more about her than he had already volunteered. But that didn’t stop her wondering if his story about not knowing her was a lie and whether they had ever slept together.
Next to Hawke was Ryan, her former husband — now a disillusioned dropout and hacker extraordinaire, who used his unfathomable computer skills to keep the wolf from the door. He was several years younger than her and the divorce had hit him like a truck, throwing him off the rails in a big way. Before that he was different somehow, more out-going and confident, but after their marriage collapsed he had changed. It was then he turned inwards and started hacking.
Lea once again blamed herself for everything that had happened between them and slowly fell asleep.
Hawke woke from his sleep and stared out the window of the luxury jet, but all he saw was Liz’s kind, loving face. She had not found it easy to adjust when he moved from the commandos to the SBS. The demands were different, and so were the hours.
Worse, most of the missions he went on had secret or top secret security classifications so he couldn’t talk to her about them, which made it hard on both of them as the years wore on.
But she loved him enough to marry him, and they were married in a small church on the southern English coast. They could never have known what would unfold twenty-four hours later in Vietnam.
When everything changed.
Hawke squeezed the soft leather armrest of his seat on board the Citation and nearly tore the stuffing out. His attention snapped back to reality. Somewhere forty thousand feet below them was the Adriatic Sea. Above a thin layer of cirrostratus clouds the light of the moon reflected back out into space, where thousands of bright stars sparkled more brightly than anything he had seen from the ground.
He turned back to Lea to see she was falling asleep. What was she thinking about, he wondered? Somewhere behind them he heard Ryan begging Scarlet for his MacBook back. Sophie was up front talking to the pilots.
Then his iPhone rang.
Nightingale.
“N, hi.”
“Buenos noches, Joe.”
“You’re calling to teach me Spanish?”
“I’m calling because I’ve got that info you requested on your new friend.”
“I didn’t realize you could phone me on the plane,” he said.
He heard her sigh. “Sure,” she said. “High-capacity ka-band satellites have been in operation on commercial jets for ages. You can have phone calls, internet, whatever you like.”
Hawke got up from his seat and smiled at Lea, mouthing the word Nightingale as he walked past her to the rear of the plane. Lea rolled her eyes and nestled into her seat to go to sleep.
Hawke leaned against the toilet door.
“She has an interesting past. Last name Durand, born 29th June 1985, making her thirty years old. Former officer with the Direction générale de la sécurité extérieure, which is the French version of CIA or MI6.”
“I know all this — I’m not a complete idiot.”
“You’re right, I’m sorry. You’re only partially an idiot.”
“We seem to be veering from the point…”
“Ah yes — Durand. She worked for DGSE for ten years, ending up a very senior rank, but then she left and I’ll be damned if I can find where.”
“She left the DGSE? When exactly?”
“About six months ago.”
“So she’s lying to us.”
Hawke thought for a few moments, and frowned. “She never said anything to me about this — in fact she told us she’d been cleared by the DGSE to work with us.”
“So maybe she’s working alone.”
“No way. She got us a private jet with no notice at all. She’s working for someone powerful and now we know it’s not the DGSE. Anything else?”
“Not really — both her parents are French, all from Marseille in the south — her address is Rue de Berceau in La Mulatière, and not much else, except — wait a minute.”
“What have you found?”
There was a long pause.
“It could be nothing, but given what you’re doing right now it could be relevant. I just took a look at her foreign missions that she undertook for the DGSE before quitting and it looks like she volunteered to work jobs in Switzerland and Greece. Like I said, it could be nothing, but then again…”
“It could hardly be a coincidence that those places are all related in some way to the search for Poseidon’s tomb.”
“Just what I was thinking — from Zaugg’s pad in Switzerland, all the way to Athens, it matches up perfectly.”
“You’re not just a pretty face, N,” Hawke said, deciding to keep the information she had just given him to himself for now. “Why won’t you tell me your name?”
“Ah! This again…”
“We could have dinner. I promise I won’t bring my Glock.”
“What sort of use would you be without that?”
“You might be surprised. I’m serious. Tell me your name.”
“How are you going to stop Zaugg, Joe?”
“You’re changing the subject.”
“Just interested.”
Hawke sighed.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The journey from the airport into Athens was laborious and time-consuming, but it was warmer than Geneva and Lea was able to wind down the window of the cab and enjoyed the breeze until Ryan complained about the engine fumes. She knew what Hawke’s response would be but he was on his way to the museum with Scarlet Sloane.
The taxi driver carelessly negotiated the gridlocked traffic and a couple of student demonstrations, slowly twisting into the ancient city and by the time they arrived at Demetriou’s apartment the sun was high and it almost felt like a summer’s day. She paid the driver and turned to look up at the white stucco façade of the apartment block. A few pots of red geraniums hung from one of the balconies above. It looked peaceful.
They climbed the steps and rang the bell. No one answered the door, but it took Sophie less than two minutes to break into the hall, and they were inside.
“This place is awesome!” Ryan said, marvelling at the bookshelves all around the expansive apartment. “There’s his computer,” he said, rubbing his hands together. “Should I?”
“I see no reason why not,” Lea said. “We know Zaugg has an interest in Demetriou, and we know he’s not answering his phone. There’s no sign of him so either he’s at the museum or maybe Zaugg’s already got to him and we’re behind a step.”
“So let’s get going,” Sophie said.
“Agreed. Ryan — you get into the computer and Sophie can watch the door.”
Lea watched Ryan turn on the computer and connect up the MacBook. Sometimes she wondered what she had ever seen in him, but other times she remembered what it was, and this was one of those times. He was out of his depth, surrounded by ex-military or secret service, in a dangerous environment, and yet he stepped up to the mark and got stuck in.