Burke entered a six-digit code, waited, and placed his thumb over a circular reader on the face of the device. It beeped once, and the display announced it was ready to decipher any message using YETI, SpyCo’s coding language.
Burke held the device over the paper, there was a beep, and the decoded message appeared on the screen.
“Tiger, Events have transpired which demand your attention. Call me via secure phone at your earliest convenience, Moore.”
Burke knew “at your earliest convenience” meant “immediately.” He logged back into the device and tapped in the code for Moore’s direct line.
“What the hell took you so long, Tiger? I was beginning to think you’d skipped the country.”
“Sorry, sir. I was detained earlier this morning.”
“Well, no matter,” Moore said kindly, as if forgiving a grievous error. “I’ve received word from one of my field agents a man was blown up this morning by a briefcase bomb at the Green Ridge Motel.”
“Briefcase bomb? Is this significant?”
“Could be. The deceased was an agent affiliated with the terrorist group Scorpion. My man was in the act of surveillance when the bomb went off. Take a tip, Tiger. Never watch a large explosion through a pair of binoculars. Almost blinded the poor guy.”
“Imagine what happened to the man inside the room.”
“Oh, I have. Tiny pieces. Anyway, according to my man on surveillance, the Scorpion agent’s schedule coincides with Willy’s.”
“So, it’s possible Willy was pulling some sort of double, double-cross?”
“Not the way I’d put it, but yes. This enemy agent had been on Willy’s tail for some time and Willy decided it was time to shake the guy. He contacted him and offered a deal. The deal was accepted, and they set a time and place to meet. Willy was going to hand over the rigged briefcase and scram, leaving Scorpion with no lead on the whereabouts of the real prize.”
“A good plan,” Burke remarked.
“Except it didn’t work,” Moore pointed out. “True, Scorpion has lost an agent, but the briefcase is still wandering around somewhere unknown.”
“I’m sure you sent someone to Willy’s apartment?”
“It was my first move. The place was empty of briefcases. Not even an overnight bag to be found.”
“Did it look like it had been searched?”
“Clean and neat. Looked like no one had lived there in a month.”
“Then it would appear we’re back to square one.”
“We never left square one, Tiger. As it was, I was certain Willy had handed it over to an enemy organization. Now it could be anywhere. For all we know, Willy hid it well before attempting the fake switch.”
“What about his car?”
“It was searched, but we found nothing. I have an agent going over Willy’s financial records to find out what banks he frequented. Perhaps he left it in a vault somewhere.”
“That doesn’t sound like Willy’s style.”
“We have to check all the angles. Most likely, Scorpion got one step ahead of us and the briefcase is in their possession.”
“Where do I fit into all this?”
“I want you in an active role on this, Tiger. It’s fast becoming a major fiasco and we need to get a handle on it before the unthinkable happens. Scorpion’s presence in this country is relatively new and we don’t have many solid leads on them. However, we’re certain they operate out of the Mediterranean area. We will try to stop them before they leave the country, but our intel on their North American operations is sparse. If they slip through our fingers, we'll need a player at home base to stop the run. That’s where you come in. I want to warn you, Tiger, this won’t be a cake-walk. Scorpion is a desperate organization. In the past, they’ve used both women and children as pawns in their power plays, so they’ll have no qualms about laying you to rest. Think you can handle a vacation to Athens?”
“A vacation I can handle. I’m not so thrilled about executions.”
“Just make sure it isn’t your execution,” Moore growled. “A man will be at your house at four o’clock this afternoon to pick you up. He’ll pass along all the information you’ll need. In the package of information will be a satellite phone. I’m expecting you to contact me with updates concerning the operation. I’m sending an agent to back you up. They’ll contact you after your arrival in Athens. Don’t worry about taking any weapons. That’s all been taken care of. Your plane leaves this evening out of JFK. Delta airlines, terminal 5. Be there.”
The line went dead.
Burke moved back out to the main office. As he passed his desk, he noticed the calendar on the desk top. One date caught his eye; he groaned. He’d promised to attend a night of barbecue and poker at Bill Carey’s house. He’d been avoiding it for months, but finally caved. It wouldn’t look good to cancel at the last minute.
Sighing, he placed the call.
“Hey Bill. I’ve got some things to do around here today and then I’ll be out of town for a while. I’ve got to catch a flight this afternoon out of JFK.”
Bill sounded pissed and unconvinced. “That sucks. When will you be back?”
“I don’t know. I’ll let you know. Win some hands for me.”
“I’ll settle for winning my own. The good thing about you not attending is I might actually have a chance.”
“Just keep those aces up your sleeves and you’ll be fine.”
3
At 4:00 p.m., Burke stood on his front porch with his travel bag, waiting for the promised ride to the airport. At exactly two minutes past, a yellow taxi pulled alongside the curb and honked.
The driver leaned out of the window. “Hurry it up, we’re behind schedule!”
“Idiot,” Burke muttered. He took his time walking to the cab.
The driver laid on the horn. Opening one of the back doors, Burke tossed in his bag and followed it inside. He hadn’t even closed the door when the driver pressed the accelerator and rocketed away from the curb. Pressed back in his seat, Burke thought a group of bloodthirsty terrorists might be the least of his worries. In the rearview mirror, Burke saw the driver’s forehead creased with concentration. He held the steering wheel in a death grip and never took his eyes off the road.
Burke leaned forward. “Hey, buddy.”
The driver ignored him.
“Would you mind slowing down a little?”
“Shut up.”
Assuming this meant his driving companion was not a great conversationalist, Burke sat back and tried in vain to relax as they blew through stop signs, red lights, and sped through residential neighborhoods. The highway proved even more terrifying, and Burke decided not looking out the window was a solid strategy.
When he looked up, the sign for Kennedy International Airport loomed ahead. He breathed a sigh of relief.
The driver checked his watched and hooted, “Eighteen minutes and thirty-two seconds!”
Burke wiped his sweaty palms on the legs of his jeans. “Is that good?”
“Is it good?” The cabby looked back at him in disgust. “Is it good! My best time from your part of town until today was twenty minutes flat.” Shaking his head, he turned around and muttered, “Is it good.”
“You mean to tell me you drove like a demon to break your own record?” Burke was a little annoyed his life meant so little to this unfeeling man. The cabby looked unconcerned.
They arrived at the terminal and Burke grabbed his bag. He opened his door, but hesitated when the driver bellowed,
“Whoops! Almost forgot. Fella who called the taxi told me to give you this.” Reaching across to the passenger seat, the driver picked up a small package wrapped in brown paper and handed it over.
Burke took the package and tucked it under his arm, leaving his hands free. He got out of the cab, hauling his bag along with him. “Thanks for the—” The cabby punched the gas, the forward surge of power causing the rear door to slam shut. “—ride.”
Once through s
ecurity, Burke went immediately to the men’s bathroom. Choosing the last stall, he took advantage of the solitude to tear open the package. Inside were all the necessary items for travel, all inscribed with the name John Remus. There was a wallet containing a New York driver’s license; business cards, which proclaimed him to be a representative of the Apple Ridge Insurance Agency; euros worth $2500.00; two credit cards bearing his new name; and pictures of a woman and two children.
“The wife and kids,” Burke mused. Removing the pictures, he read the names on the back. His wife’s name was Lisa and his children were Taylor, age 5 and Ashleigh, age 4. They were cute kids, and Burke almost wished his new identity were real. The package also contained his airline tickets. Burke distributed the different items, moving his real wallet to one of his carry-on bags and sliding the new one into his back pocket. He crumpled the brown paper into a ball and was about to step out of the stall when the restroom door opened and he heard the footsteps of two men. Burke backed slowly away from the door and made his way to the back of the stall. He sat on the toilet seat and propped his feet on the side of the stall. He grabbed his travel bag and held it on his lap.
The door closed and the two men stopped.
“Is it empty?”
Burke heard scuffling sounds. The other man must be bending down to peer down the line of stalls.
“Yeah, it’s empty. Have you seen him yet?”
“Not a sign. By my watch, he should board in half an hour.”
“A damn shame he didn’t mention the terminal.”
“That would have been too easy. Let’s get out there again and meet back here in thirty, unless one of us spots him.”
Burke heard the two men turn to leave the room. Stepping to the stall door, he opened the latch and stuck his head out, hoping to glimpse the men. They were both of medium height though powerfully built. One, blond-haired and tanned, wore a light brown suit. The other, dark-headed with cropped hair, was dressed in a dark grey suit and wore glasses. Then the door shut, cutting them off from view. Burke waited for a few seconds, then went to the door and peered out. The dark-haired man was strolling down the corridor to his right. The other man was walking down the left passageway. Glancing around, Burke saw a sign reading “Terminal 5” with an arrow pointing right.
He picked up his bags and walked along behind his dark-haired predator. Had they been talking about him back there? If so, how had they known his plans?
A cold chill shot up his spine as he remembered Lyndsey’s request to use the bathroom at his house. He’d thought nothing of it at the time, but she’d taken longer than he would have expected—long enough to install a simple bug device.
Burke spotted Terminal 5 ahead and saw his pursuer duck inside. Moving behind a kiosk, Burke kept a careful eye on the terminal entrance, glancing behind to make sure the blond-headed man had not doubled back. After a minute or two, the man reappeared and, glancing backward down the hall, continued along the corridor. Burke waited for a few seconds before moving toward the terminal. There was a crowd there where he could find a measure of security in numbers. Reaching the terminal, he stopped to check-in and then made his way through the crowd. He found a bench from which he had a view of the large room and the passing corridor.
Some time later, he looked up and saw the blond man enter the terminal and make his way through the crowd. Burke picked up a crumpled newspaper some harried traveler had left behind and pretended to skim the headlines while keeping the corner of his eye on the other man. He watched as the man drew closer, scanning the faces of people as he passed. When he was a few feet away, he stopped and looked at Burke. Then he turned away and put his hand up to his mouth as if to stifle a cough, but more than likely, the man was wired and had signaled to his companion.
Burke heard the first boarding announcement. He got to his feet, gathered the small pile of bags at his feet, and walked toward the ramp. He took his place in line and waited as the endless goodbyes began. He wanted to lean forward, tap the young couple in front of him and say, “Your out-pouring of love and affection is touching, but there are two gentlemen who have adopted killing me as their burning passion in life.”
They shared one last ardent embrace before moving apart. The young woman walked toward the jetway with Burke close behind. She stopped every couple of steps to turn and blow kisses to the young man, who grinned and returned them with equal vigor.
Burke glanced back one last time and saw his two pursuers standing in the terminal, watching him disappear into the plane. From the looks on their faces, he had made them very unhappy.
4
Burke reached down between his feet and withdrew the packet of information that had been included in his package from Moore. In a separate envelope, he found reservations for the Astor Hotel. According to the included brochure, the Astor was a four-star hotel located in the heart of Athens a mere half block from Syntagma Square. Rooms on the upper floors possessed balconies with great views of the Acropolis on one side and Mount Lycabettus on the other. Burke read everything on the brochure, even the smallest of the small print, and glanced at his watch. Nine hours left.
Burke noticed a man sitting two rows up from him on the opposite side of the plane. Except for the fact he kept glancing back in Burke’s direction, there was nothing inherently suspicious about him. When he saw Burke looking his way, he hastily returned to his paperback novel. Another Scorpion agent? Burke kept an eye on the man for some time until sleep overcame him and he dozed off.
The pilot made the final approach, and the airliner made its way down and landed. Once the aircraft taxied to the terminal, the passengers rose, many of them groaning as they stretched cramping muscles. Burke gathered his belongings and made his way through the crowded aisle. His observer had risen before him and was now disappearing through the door. Burke followed along behind, trying to keep him in sight. Perhaps he was being too suspicious. Other than the surreptitious glances in his direction, Burke had noticed no suspicious behavior, and he obviously was not too concerned with keeping Burke in sight. Deciding to let the man go his way, Burke exited the building and saw a bus arriving. He boarded and sat down for the twenty-five mile ride to Athens.
The ride to the Astor Hotel was uneventful. As the brochure had promised, his room was clean and comfortable and sported a grand view of the Acropolis.
Burke checked his phone for car rental agencies and discovered one not far from his hotel. Walking down the crowded streets, he found the agency with no difficulty and, putting his new credit card to the test, discovered it worked beautifully.
The red VW Polo he rented was not his idea of a dream car, but he drove it away feeling independent. There was nothing more annoying than having to rely on public transportation when on a “vacation.”
A cracking noise jolted his thoughts. Burke swerved to one side. Looking over, he saw a small, circular hole in the side window. The rest of the glass was a mass of spider web cracks. Following the logical trajectory, he looked from the hole in the window to the passenger door. The window was still intact, but the door handle was cracked and hanging loose. For one brief instant, he had the insane urge to stop the car and find the shooter. He had no idea where the shot had come from, however, and exiting the car would only make him an easier target. Burke stomped on the gas and made a beeline for his hotel. Once there, he hurried to his room and stepped inside.
A shadow fell over him.
He wheeled in time to see a large fist swinging toward him. Having no time to ward off the assault, Burke rolled his head with the blow. It grazed across his cheekbone with a force that made him grateful it had not landed solidly. As it was, the jolt caused the house lights to blink inside his head. He backed away, buying time, but his attacker gave him no chance. The dark figure advanced; Burke saw an upraised fist. Burke grabbed his opponent’s wrist with both hands and pulled the man down with him. They rolled away from each other and came to their feet, both waiting for the other to make the next move.
The man lunged and Burke unleashed a sweeping left hook. The man staggered sideways, his face contorted with pain, and Burke moved in to finish it, but was met with a stiff punch to the midriff. Fighting the sickness that washed over him, Burke struggled to stay focused. Sensing victory within his grasp, the man followed up with two jabbing blows to the body. Burke dropped to his knees, gasping for air. His enemy lashed out with a booted foot, catching Burke in the chest. He toppled backward and strained for a breath as all remaining air was forced from his lungs. Through tunneling vision, he saw his attacker standing over him.
He rolled over on his side and, getting his arm under him, came off the floor with a lunge, but was met with a crashing blow to the face. Blood stung his eyes.
He knew it was over.
Another kick sent him back to the floor and he was turned on his stomach. Something slipped over Burke’s head and around his throat. It cinched and tightened with relentless force. Burke felt as if his head were about to explode. He struggled, but his strength had gone.
Through the roaring in his ears, he heard a pop and then a grunt from the man standing over him. The pressure on his throat lessened and then disappeared as the bandanna was torn away.
Burke lay on the floor, limp, reveling in the luxury of oxygen. He rolled over, squinting through blurred vision.
Assignment- Adventure A SpyCo Collection 1-3 Page 2
