Passing the Parliament building, they took Vasilissis Sofias, the main road to the left of the old structure, then turned down Koumbari. They arrived at Kolonáki Square and Burke motioned to a sidewalk café.
“Let’s stop in for a bite to hold us over until we can eat something more substantial,” he suggested.
They ordered coffee and a light dessert. Burke looked at Lyndsey, a half-smile on his face.
She frowned. “Are you laughing at me?”
“Not at all. I was thinking about your code name.”
“What about it? You don’t like it?”
“I think it suits you. Venus, the goddess of love. What does that make Andre? Mars, the god of war?”
“He is kind of intimidating, isn’t he? His code name is Cicero.”
“Venus, Tiger, and Cicero,” Burke mused. “Sounds like a formidable team.”
“I’d settle for successful.”
Burke started to answer, but his voice dropped and he motioned to the table next to him. “The paper,” he said. “Hand me the newspaper on the table next to you.”
“What is—?”
Burke handed her a section of the paper. “Start reading.”
After a few moments, Burke lowered his newspaper and glanced around.
Lyndsey folded her own paper. “What the hell was that about? Develop a sudden craving for world news?”
“Sorry. I looked down the street and saw two people I’d rather not meet right now.”
“Who?”
“They looked a lot like the two goons who tried to make my acquaintance at JFK.”
“Are you still thinking there are three groups at work?”
Burke sat quietly for a moment and arrived at a decision. “Lyndsey, I’m going to put all my cards on the table.”
“Meaning you haven’t so far?”
“Something like that. I was awake for a long while last night pondering this little mission of ours.”
“As was I.”
“And I’ve realized I’m going to have to make a decision.”
“Me too.”
“Would you stop interrupting me?”
“Sorry.”
“Anyway, as I was saying, a decision not entirely comfortable for me.” Burke paused for the expected interruption, but this time Lyndsey waited for him to continue. “I’ve had a difficult time trusting anyone, including you.” He related to her the winding road of thoughts on which his mind had taken him the night before. “As a result, I’ve concluded that, if this mission will be successful, I will need help. Moore is too far away and I know nothing of Andre.”
Lyndsey nodded. “I’ve had my own questions about the mission and the people involved in it. I could have been the one doing the talking here this morning, instead of you. We can’t let distrust divide the team, Burke.”
“Even Andre?”
“Even Andre. Moore must have some level of confidence in him and, so far, he’s given us no reason to suspect him.”
Burke sat in his chair, holding his coffee cup in both hands and swishing the liquid around in a circular motion. “You realize what the problem here is, don’t you? The rampant distrust, I mean.”
Lyndsey remained silent.
“It’s what happened the last time we were on a mission together.”
As expected, she lowered her eyes. “Burke…must we?”
“Yes, I think we do. It’s been hanging over our heads since we had breakfast at the diner back in the States. It’s always there and it won’t go away until we get it out in the open.”
“I know,” she said. “You’re right. I—”
“You feel guilty, don’t you?”
“I know you don’t blame me, Burke. You’ve said that, but I can’t get away from the idea if I had done things a little differently—”
“You had no way of knowing. You didn’t even know he was in the area. If anyone should feel guilty, it’s those clowns over at communications. They should have informed you that a friendly was in your sector. Stu wouldn’t want this for you.”
Lyndsey didn’t respond. They both knew the story, and it hurt them both, although in different ways.
She’d been on surveillance, watching a high-ranking member of the terrorist group Scorpion when she received word her cover had been blown. Knowing she would be targeted, she had prepared to leave the area. As she completed packing her equipment, there had been a swift knock on the door and two men burst into the room. On edge, expecting trouble, and unable to see clearly in the dim light, Lyndsey had cut them down. One man had been Burke’s best friend and top SpyCo operative, Stuart Bentley.
The investigation had revealed nothing and placed the blame nowhere, describing the fiasco as “a regrettable error in judgment for all parties concerned.”
Burke had been furious at the inconclusiveness of the ruling. For Lyndsey, it meant living with guilt and self-condemnation. Few blamed Lyndsey for her actions, and no agents Burke had spoken to. They all knew they were vulnerable to the same nightmarish scenario. Agents often faced situations in hostile environs that required split-second, decisive action. The last message Lyndsey received had stated she was being hunted and her life was in immediate danger. What was she supposed to think when two faceless men entered her room armed to the teeth?
Since the entire incident had been shoved under the proverbial rug, Burke suspected the real error had been made high in the ranks and the investigation had been one enormous covering of collective asses.
“Do you see those two men?”
Burke scanned the crowded street and shook his head. “No. They disappeared on the other side of the square. I should have followed them. It might have given us a lead and goodness knows we need one.”
“It’s a long shot,” Lyndsey said. “But we could walk down the way they went. Perhaps even split up.”
Burke patted the place under his left arm where his gun would normally be. “I wish I had a weapon. Without one I feel unclothed.”
Lyndsey grinned. “I have clothes for you at the hotel. You remember the huge duffel bag Andre used to dispose of the body?”
“We were out interrogating that poor hotel clerk when Andre put the bag into action.”
“You told him to make sure the bag looked full and heavy when he brought it in. The inbound freight wasn’t simply junk.”
They returned to the hotel and Lyndsey presented him with his weapon. Burke turned it over in his hands. He hefted it and then nodded his head.
“It will do,” he said, and placed the Heckler and Koch USP in a leather shoulder holster he had found at the bottom of the stack of equipment. “Thorough as usual,” he said, gazing the pile.
“Most of this stuff we’ll never use,” Lyndsey said, “but better to have artillery you don’t need than wish you had it later.”
Burke bent down and retrieved two small gadgets, each about the size of the average driver’s license. “Maybe we should take these along,” he said, passing one of the little two-way radios to Lyndsey. “Neither of us knows this city well.”
They split up at the front of the hotel.
“We’ll report every few minutes and give our position,” Burke said. “That way the other person will know where to go looking. Got your map?”
Lyndsey nodded. The chances of coming up with anything were slim, but sometimes, Burke thought, you had to scare up your own action.
At the fifteen-minute mark, he punched the call button and Lyndsey answered immediately.
“Nothing so far,” she said. “There is some great tourist stuff around here, though.”
“Where are you?”
“In the Pláka, standing outside the Hellenic Children’s Museum.”
“Okay, I’ve got your position. Ready for mine?”
He heard the rustling paper as she pulled out her map. “Ready.”
“I’m outside of the war museum on Vasilissis Sofias.”
There was a pause while she searched the map and then, “Okay, I’ve
got it.”
“Back in fifteen.”
They signed off and Burke continued his walk. A minute later his satellite phone rang. He reached down and snatched it from his belt.
“Tiger.” It was J. Carlton Moore.
“Yes, sir.”
“How is the operation?”
“Nothing major to report.”
“Perhaps what I have to tell you will give you a lead. I’ve received additional information on a man we’ve been watching for the past several months. His name is Kostas Kotsias. He’s a wealthy and influential man there in Athens. The new information I’ve received suggests he may be more involved with Scorpion than we had thought. Check him out, Tiger, he may be important.”
Burke waited for a few moments to make sure Moore was gone, then placed the phone back on his belt. The information Moore had provided was not much, but at least they had something to go on. He beeped in to Lyndsey.
“I got a call from Moore. He gave me the name of a suspected Scorpion contact here in Athens. Wants us to check him out. I thought maybe I would ask Andre about him.”
“Does this mean this pointless search is over?”
“Yes. I’m headed toward Andre’s hotel right now.”
Andre was awake and working out when they arrived at his room. He answered their knock with sweat streaming down his face. He had a towel thrown around his neck and a jug of water in his hand. He grinned when he saw them.
“Ah, come in. I was finishing my workout. It will not take me long.”
They seated themselves on a small couch and watched as Andre walked back to his exercise equipment.
“How did you get that stuff in here?” Burke asked.
“I took it apart and carried it in piece by piece.”
“And the management didn’t mind?”
“Nobody asked me to stop.”
Gazing at Andre’s incredible physique, Burke could understand why. Grabbing an iron pole, Andre stacked weights on both ends with reckless abandon. He clamped the weights in place and flopped down on the weight bench. Methodically, he lifted the weights. Burke waited for him to labor, but Andre pumped iron with the ease of the average man bench-pressing feather pillows. Finally, he rested the heavy pole in the safety brackets and rolled off the bench, coming to his feet with one easy motion.
“I am going to order more weights,” he said apologetically, as if embarrassed at his own weakness. “If one wishes to improve, one must challenge oneself.”
“Yes, mustn’t one,” Burke said. “How much were you lifting there?”
Andre waved a dismissive hand. “It is of no importance. Only a few hundred pounds.” He took a deep swallow from his water jug and wiped his mouth on the towel. “Would you like to have a try with the weights?”
Burke shook his head. “No, thanks. These are my good clothes and I don’t want to get them all sweaty.”
Beside him on the couch, Lyndsey stifled a small snort of laughter. He gave her a stern look and turned his attention back to Andre.
“Have you heard of a man named Kostas Kotsias?”
Andre, who had been putting away the equipment, paused in stacking weights for a moment. He put down the weight he had been about to stack and straightened. “I know of Kotsias, yes.”
“I understand he is an important man in Athens.”
“He is very influential and very rich. He throws many parties and all the important people in Athens and the surrounding area desire invitations to them.” Andre stacked a couple more weights and looked back up at Burke. “Why do you wish to know about Kotsias?”
“I was told he may have connections to Scorpion and thought it might be wise to check him out.”
“It would be very difficult for you or Miss Archer to see him. He lives in a well-guarded mansion with security systems and armed guards. He is not a man whose house you walk up to and knock on the door. He sees by appointment only.”
“I see,” Burke said, a little depressed. This was not good news. Even if they got in to see the man, they would learn nothing from him. They needed to mingle with those acquainted with him or, better yet, investigate the premises. Not an easy thing to accomplish with state-of-the-art security systems and trigger-happy guards working against you.
Burke coughed. “I don’t suppose there’s any way of getting an invitation to one of these parties, is there?”
Andre grinned in his warm, friendly way. “That might be arranged.”
“You act like it would be an easy thing,” Burke said. “A man as security conscious as the one you described wouldn’t let just anyone attend his parties. How do you propose to get an invitation?”
“That is easy. I will ask him for one.”
“I beg your pardon?” Burke thought perhaps he had misunderstood the big Greek. “Did you say, ‘ask him for one?’”
“Yes.” Andre’s eyes twinkled.
“And this Kotsias will hand one over? An accommodating chap, is he?”
“We Greeks hold family in high esteem,” Andre explained. “You see, Kostas Kotsias is my uncle.”
8
Burke met the revelation with grand enthusiasm. A difficult task, though still challenging, was at least looking halfway conceivable. Andre informed them Kotsias was throwing a party that night.
“Convenient,” Burke remarked.
“Not really,” Andre said. “A rare week passes without one, sometimes more. A man in his position accumulates adversaries. Generosity is his way of staving off hostility. He has been threatened several times, but nothing has ever come of it. Everyone is too much in favor of the parties. If anyone ever harmed him, the villain would be most unpopular and disposed of.”
“It sounds like old Uncle K is pretty safe.”
“And there are the guards. They keep a close eye on him.”
Burke huffed. “I can’t tell you the missions that could have been completed in an hour or less if there hadn’t been guards running about. Pesky little things.”
“Do you wish I get permission from Kotsias to attend the upcoming gathering?”
“I certainly do. How is it you and your uncle have gone such separate ways but still maintain a healthy relationship?”
“Kotsias does not know of my activities. He believes I am in America training to be a boxing champion. He is a big fan of boxing.”
Burke nodded. “An understandable error.” He stood up. “Well, I’m sure you’ll want to contact Kotsias right away, so Lyndsey and I will leave you to it.” They started to walk out when Burke thought of something else. “Oh, and what sort of clothing do these festivities require?”
“They are usually informal.”
Once out in the hall, Burke turned to Lyndsey with a grin. “What luck, eh?”
Lyndsey appeared skeptical. “That remains to be seen. We don’t know this Kotsias guy has anything to do with this case.”
“We don’t know he doesn’t either. And this is the only lead we have at this point. I suggest we make the most of it. Maybe it will even be fun.”
They went back to their own hotel to prepare for the evening. No sooner had Burke walked into his room than his phone rang.
“Hello?”
“It is Andre.”
“What’s the good word?”
“Kotsias was overjoyed to hear from me and suggested himself I come to the party. He was a little more hesitant about two other people he did not know, however.”
“Is this where the story turns ugly?”
“No. I told him who you were and after that he would not hear of you staying behind.”
“You, uh, told him who I was? And who am I?”
Andre sounded pleased with himself. “My boxing manager.”
“How did you sneak Lyndsey by the screening process?”
“Uncle Kotsias is under the impression Miss Archer is my intended.”
Burke’s eyes narrowed. “Your intended?”
“I apologize, Mr. Burke, but it was the only way I could get her in.”
“Hey, don’t apologize. She means nothing to me.”
“Of course.” Andre’s tone suggested he wasn’t convinced.
“Where does this Kotsias character reside?”
“Uncle Kotsias lives in Delfoí. A car will be around to pick you up at eight. I suggest you be prepared to leave when it arrives. Uncle Kotsias’ driver is very impatient.”
“Sure thing,” Burke replied, thinking he knew a cabby in New York who could give Uncle K’s driver a run for his money.
Burke was waiting in the lobby of the hotel when Lyndsey appeared, dressed for the evening. In the name of casual and out of fear of being conspicuous at the party, they had both striven to stay neutral: not too dressy, not too informal. Burke had dressed in black pants and shirt, overtop of which he had thrown on a gray sport coat.
When Lyndsey appeared, wearing an outfit of white silk blouse and black slacks, he took a second look. And so did every other man in the hotel lobby. Stunning in the simple apparel, she had pulled her blonde hair loosely back, held at the nape of her neck by a small, golden clasp. She halted at the bottom of the stairs and looked around for Burke. He waved to her, and she walked toward him, smiling.
Burke watched her approach, the familiar twinge in his stomach, feeling like he used to when preparing to escort her out for the evening. He hated what the incident with Stu had done to her. Convinced he would blame her for what had happened that night, she had withdrawn from him without explanation. It had taken him weeks to find out what had happened, after which he had tried to convince her that his feelings had not changed. She’d refused to listen and cancelled their pending engagement. Two years passed by without so much as a postcard. Then suddenly, she had appeared in his garage.
“Has the car arrived?” Her words brought him back to reality. She was standing there casually, as if unaware of the effect she was having on the room’s male population.
“Not yet,” he said, checking the time. If Andre’s prediction of punctuality had been accurate, their ride should appear soon. As if on cue, the door opened and Andre stepped in, looking smart in gray pants and a dark blue pullover.
“It looks as if your intended has arrived,” Burke said caustically. “I wonder how many pounds of grease he had to slather on before he could get into those clothes?”
Assignment- Adventure A SpyCo Collection 1-3 Page 4
