Assignment- Adventure A SpyCo Collection 1-3

by Craig A. Hart

  “I can imagine it would be hard for him to find clothes that fit,” she said cruelly. “With all those sexy rippling muscles.”

  Burke cast around for a suitable riposte, but came up empty.

  “The car is ready,” Andre said. “If you will follow me, please.” He offered his arm to Lyndsey.

  She took it, winked at Burke, and whispered, “Appearances.”

  Burke growled and followed them to the door. Andre opened it and held it for Lyndsey. Burke was about to step out as well when he caught sight of the car that was waiting. It was a sleek black Mercedes-Benz with tinted windows and an expensive gleam. However, it was not so much the car that arrested Burke’s attention, as the driver. He had the window rolled down and was conversing with a man on the curb. His face was thrown into shadow, so Burke could not make a positive identification, but the man’s blonde hair and facial structure resembled those of his mysterious pursuer at the airport. Burke halted inside the door. Andre noticed the sudden stop and glanced back.

  “Something wrong, Mr. Burke?”

  “Andre, what name did you use when you mentioned me to your Uncle Kotsias?”

  “John Remus, of course. Is that correct?”

  “Yeah, it’s fine. I wondered because I think I may know the man driving the car and wondered if this was a coincidence or a trap.”

  “The man driving is Simon. He has been with Uncle Kotsias seven years.”

  “Well, he looks a lot like the chap who followed me around in JFK airport.”

  “Ah, yes. Lyndsey mentioned that.” Andre paused, thinking. “Likely a coincidence. I know of no way they could know your identity from the name I gave my uncle. If you wish, I will walk out first and you can walk beside me and keep your head down. Simon rarely attends the parties, so if you can make it into the house without being recognized, you should be all right.”

  Andre escorted Lyndsey to the rear door of the Mercedes with Burke staying close beside him to shield his face. Lyndsey got in and slid across the seat to the far side. Andre got in and Burke followed. He was pleased to see tinted glass had been installed between the front and back portions of the automobile, so he didn’t have to worry about being spotted in the rearview mirror.

  9

  The car pulled up in front of a huge iron gate. Burke saw a man standing to one side holding a nasty-looking assault rifle with one hand and a leash restraining two immense Dobermans with the other. Burke patted his side, comforted by the hard, unrelenting form of the USP. He knew Lyndsey had come armed as well, but couldn’t imagine where Andre could have hidden a weapon. The man couldn’t move without endangering his shirt seams.

  The chauffeur pressed a button on the dash and the heavy gate slid open. The car made its way through the opening, pausing only to allow the guard to identify the driver. Then they made their way up a long, winding road that seemed to lead into nowhere. The appearance of the house was so sudden it almost took Burke’s breath away. One moment he was staring at a dark hillside and the next, a towering mansion, aglow with lights. The driver pulled up in front of the house and opened his door. For one tense moment, Burke thought he would open the car door for them. Andre reached up and, pressing the intercom, informed him they would see to themselves from here. The driver nodded and pulled his door closed. Burke waited for the click of the locks, then opened his door and stepped out. The evening air was cool and fresh and he breathed deeply.

  Andre got out and stood beside him. “Invigorating, is it not? Something I miss when in New York—I love it, but this—” He turned in a semi-circle, extending his arm outward to the surrounding countryside. “This is my home.”

  They walked together to the front door. Andre presented his invitation to the attendant who nodded and opened the door for them. Burke stepped inside. Immense chandeliers hung from the ceiling by gold chains, throwing the room into healthy light and illuminating the polished furniture with a ruddy glow. The entryway floor was marble, as was the hallway as far as he could see. As they walked down the passageway, guided by yet another attendant, Burke peered into each room they passed and found each as richly furnished and decorated as the last, with carpets of royal blue, deep purple, maroon, and shades of gold. Each room was brightly lit, with small groups of people standing around conversing in low, friendly tones. Ripples of laughter and the faint sound of a string quartet wafted through the air.

  “I’d hate to pay the electric bill for this place,” Burke mumbled. Ahead, he heard a larger crowd and guessed they were approaching the main room. He was right. The large room was full of milling people. In one corner, the quartet played while waiters circulated around the room, refilling glasses and pointing people toward the food.

  Their guide stopped and beckoned to a tall, well-built man standing with a group of prosperous-looking individuals in one corner. When the man turned, Burke knew this must be Uncle Kotsias; the family resemblance was unmistakable. Kotsias excused himself from his other guests and walked toward them. Lyndsey leaned over and whispered to Burke,

  “I hope you know something about boxing. Since Kotsias is a fan, I’m sure he’ll have lots of questions.”

  Uncle Kotsias reached them and clasped Andre’s hand. “Andre! It is good to see you again! How has America treated you?”

  “Very well, Uncle. Very well.” He turned to his two companions. “I have the pleasure of introducing Miss Archer and Mr. Remus.”

  Kotsias gave Lyndsey a hug and kissed her cheek. “A beautiful girl, Andre. You have chosen well.” He turned to Burke. “So, Mr. Remus, you are the one responsible for Andre’s boxing career. Later in the evening, we must take time to discuss the matter. Boxing is a hobby with me.”

  Burke nodded and managed, “I look forward to it.”

  “Excellent! Well, I must welcome the other guests. Make yourselves at home and enjoy yourselves. I’ll be back to check on you.” Kotsias walked away as straight and regal as a king. In fact, his entire appearance—the carefully styled grey hair, impeccable attire, wire rim spectacles, along with his bearing and strong features—made him appear a monarch in his castle.

  “An impressive man,” Burke remarked after their host was out of earshot.

  Andre nodded. “He is also a powerful man. With wealth and influence, he manipulates others with ease. Those he cannot persuade to do his will, he crushes.”

  Lyndsey was staring after Kotsias with interest. “He seems so gracious and hospitable.”

  “Outward appearances only,” Andre cautioned. “He can be kind one moment and cruel the next.”

  Burke could believe it. The man seemed benevolent, but his eyes held a quietly dangerous quality, unreadable and menacing. He excused himself and walked to the drink table. The attendant looked up, smiling.

  “What can I serve you, sir? We have the finest wines Greece offers.”

  Burke sampled the wine, proclaimed it worthy, and wandered away from the table. Lyndsey and Andre were on the other side of the room, trying their best to appear happy and eager as an engaged couple should. He caught Lyndsey’s eye and signaled he was going to go exploring. Her expression suggested she wanted to accompany him, but there was no way for her to leave Andre’s side for any length of time without arousing suspicion, so she turned back to face another congratulatory guest.

  Burke exited the main room and found himself in the same long, marbled corridor they had used earlier. He took a few paces, then paused and glanced about, before turning and walking down the hallway in the opposite direction. He followed the corridor as far as it would go, memorizing each turn so he could find his way out.

  The hall ended suddenly. He navigated a turn and faced a closed door bearing a sign proclaiming access only for authorized personnel. Burke grasped the knob, turned it, and pushed the door open. Half expecting an ear-splitting alarm to announce the intrusion, he stepped through the opening and closed the door behind him. No alarm sounded.

  The corridor in which he now found himself was not well lit, as had been
the previous one, and what little light ventured in served only to enhance the gloominess of the setting. As he made his way along, Burke felt as if he were living inside a black-and-white photograph of a medieval castle. Paintings lined the walls and, although not an expert in the field, Burke recognized enough of the signatures to know they were valuable. Ahead, he made out the dark outline of a staircase and walked toward it.

  Reaching the top of the staircase, Burke found himself on a small, circular landing. It was not as dark here as it had been in the lower hallway and, turning to his right, he discovered a partially open door, out of which light spilled across the landing. He heard talking. It sounded like two people having a heated conversation. He crept forward, pressed himself flat against the wall beside the open door, and peered around the doorframe. The door opened into a large room as ornate as the ones on the floor below. This room, however, held no partying guests, but only two men, standing close to one another, each gesticulating and speaking vehemently. When Burke saw them, he froze. They were the men from JFK airport. The blond, who had served as chauffeur, was speaking now, and this time Burke made out enough to realize the conversation was about him. They were discussing the best method of disposing of Mr. James Reagan Burke. From the fact they were using his real name and had made no reference to John Remus, Burke decided they must not know of the alias. Moreover, they must not know of his presence inside the house or he would have heard from them by now.

  Burke took his USP from its holster. He reached his hand around the doorframe and felt along the inside wall for a light switch. His fingers brushed against the raised surface of a switch cover. He squeezed his eyes shut for a few seconds to lessen the shock of the sudden darkness and flipped the switch.

  Instead of abrupt darkness, he was surrounded by brightness. Glancing up, he saw a chandelier above him had illuminated, throwing the landing into bright light.

  He had thrown the wrong switch.

  He looked back into the room and was relieved to find that neither man appeared to notice the change. Fortunately, the door had been open a mere crack and the room they were in was already well lighted.

  Burke had not removed his hand from the light switch and he pushed his luck a little further. Perhaps there was another switch beyond the first. He leaned forward and shifted his position to gain a further reach. As he did so, he was thrown temporarily off balance and in the process of regaining his equilibrium, his foot kicked the doorframe with a sound that seemed as loud as a thunderclap. The men pivoted and caught sight of Burke’s arm and shoulder. They moved toward him, their hands diving inside their jackets and reappearing with weapons.

  Burke lunged into the room, running his hand down the wall as he did. The room plunged into darkness as the lights went out in both the room and landing together. Blinded, Burke scrambled to one side and moved in at an angle, hoping to cut off their advance and stop any attempt to relight the room. He ran into one of them and struck out blindly, grunting in satisfaction as his fist connected. He heard the man fall and, jumping over him in the dark, began a sweeping motion with his arms, searching for the man’s companion. His fingers brushed cloth, and he snatched at it, only to receive a sharp blow on the wrist. He stepped forward and swung his foot in a wide arch. His opponent cursed and scrambled away. Burke followed the sound and struck out again. The man gasped and fall backward. Burke found the man’s shirtfront and, grasping it in one fist, delivered an uppercut to the chin with the other. The man became deadweight and Burke let him slide to the floor. He was turning back to check on his first victim when that ambitious individual clubbed him on the shoulder. By now, Burke’s eyes had adjusted to the darkness and he could make out a shadowy form. He ducked as another blow breezed by his ear and swung outward with his right arm, catching his adversary on the side of the head with the bottom of his fist. The man grunted and charged. Burke met him with a knee to the face and felt the nose break. Gasping in pain, the man staggered back and dropped his weapon. Burke followed and delivered two quick jabs before finishing the fight with one cracking blow to the jaw.

  Struggling for breath, Burke went to the wall and flipped the switch. He blinked and stood still while his eyes readjusted, then glanced around the room for a rope. How long his vanquished foes would be asleep, he didn’t know, but if they woke up soon, he would rather they be tied. Along one wall, there hung red velvet tapestries, with long, ornamental cords hanging on each side. He walked over and, taking out his pocketknife, cut off a sizable portion and tested it for strength.

  “Gaudy, but one can’t be choosy in these situations.”

  Burke tied both men and retrieved his weapon. Then he crossed the room to the far door, and put his hand on the knob. Locked. Looking around the room, he found it was the only other door. He bent to inspect the lock. It was not complicated and he might be able to force it open, but he was a little hesitant to try. Locked doors had the nasty habit of being rigged with alarm systems and he had no desire to interrupt Kotsias’ party. Leaving the door for the moment, he walked across to the draperies and drew them aside, revealing several huge windows and a door leading out onto an ornate balcony. Disengaging the latch on the door, he walked out. The night air was clear and cool. Faintly, he heard the partiers; some of them must have ventured outside to enjoy the evening. Looking down, he discovered this side of the house was built flush with a cliff. It was too dark to see the bottom, but judging from the portion he could see, Burke could tell it was a long way down. The sound of running water reached him from below. There was a stream or river down there somewhere. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a coin and dropped it from the window ledge. Once he heard the splash, he calculated the drop to be about two hundred feet. He leaned out and looked along the side of the building. There were several windows and two or three more balconies farther down.

  He scanned the rock wall. Not a rock-climber’s picnic, but not impossible. The part he could see had several good hand and foot holds. He considered hopping up on the ledge and having a go at it, but changed his mind when he looked down at his clothes. The climb would tear them to shreds. He still had to return downstairs and mingle before they left, a difficult task to accomplish without raising suspicions, if one attempted it with bruised skin and tattered clothing. Burke checked his watch. He had been gone too long already. It was time to return.

  He reached the bottom of the stairs and had walked down the hallway when a hand fell on his shoulder. His heart leapt. He pirouetted, then sagged with relief when he saw it was Andre.

  Andre grinned apologetically. “I did not mean to startle you.”

  “Simply practicing my ballet.”

  Andre frowned.

  “Never mind.” Burke decided it was better not to explain his weak attempt at humor. “Did you want something?”

  “Miss Archer has been looking for you.”

  “Is something wrong?”

  “I do not think so. I think she was a little upset you left her behind.” Andre grinned again. “Miss Archer impresses me as the kind of woman who does not like to be left out of the action.”

  “Your impression is accurate, Andre. Where is our heroine?”

  Andre pointed toward one of the side rooms. “She tired of the crowd and told Uncle Kotsias she had a sick stomach.”

  “A ruse?”

  “I will only say that upon leaving the room, she experienced an impressive recovery.”

  Burke walked toward the door Andre had indicated. “How long are we required to remain in attendance at this shin-dig?”

  “Let me know when you are through and I will make some excuse to Uncle Kotsias. It should not be a problem.”

  Lyndsey was sitting in a fireside chair looking bored. She sat up when she saw Burke. “Did you find anything?”

  “Nothing at all.”

  Lyndsey’s eyes narrowed. “Your knuckles are cut and bleeding. What happened, did you fall down the stairs?”

  Looking at his hands, Burke saw they were oozing blo
od. “Oh, that. I had a minor scuffle with a couple of brutes. It wasn’t anything.”

  “Any brutes we know?”

  “The two men we saw earlier today and the same two who followed me around in the airport.”

  “Did they recognize you?”

  “I’m not sure,” Burke said. “The room was dark.”

  “So, they’re working for Kotsias. This ties him to our mission.”

  Burke lowered himself into a chair next to her. “Moore said they knew Kotsias was involved with Scorpion. If those men are after the briefcase and belong to Scorpion, logic would suggest Scorpion is not in possession of the briefcase after all.”

  “Then who has it?”

  “The question of the hour. I still like our theory there are more factions than just SpyCo and Scorpion involved here. In fact, I am of the opinion Scorpion, probably one or both men I fought with, was responsible for bugging my house. After all, Scorpion has known only information they would have gotten from my conversation with Carey and no more.”

  “And this development would show Scorpion isn’t the group who seems to have infiltrated SpyCo.”

  “How so?”

  “Remember the dark-skinned man on the plane?”

  “Distinctly.”

  “And the sniper who shot at you when you first arrived?”

  “How could I forget?”

  “They were the main reasons we decided there were more than one group working on this, because of the lack of coordination in the efforts. The dark-skinned man knew what flight you were on and the sniper knew what hotel you would stay at, but the two men at JFK knew none of that.”

  “Are you saying since the two men, now known by us to be Scorpion agents, were in the dark concerning the details of the case, it must be some other organization that has placed a mole in SpyCo?”

  Lyndsey nodded. “Do you have a problem with that reasoning?”