by Joseph Badal
“Are you watching the news?” Ray asked.
“No. Why?”
“The citizens of Athens are in full-blown panic. There are news reports about a rumored nuclear attack by terrorists.”
“Sonofabitch!”
“What?” Ray said.
“I can’t be certain, but I wouldn’t be surprised if my guy in Athens read between the lines and figured out that all my questions about insurance policies against terrorist attacks were more than just rhetorical.”
“Do you have the name of the boat owned by Farouki Holdings?”
“No, Ray. I’m sorry.”
“Keep at it. Call me if you get anything.”
A couple minutes after getting off the line with Zeller, Ray’s desk telephone rang.
“Gallegos,” he answered.
“Mister Gallegos, this is Valery Hebert in the Cyber Section. You wanted to trace the location of a cell phone in Athens, Greece.”
“Don’t tell me you couldn’t ping the phone because the cell towers were overwhelmed.”
“That was a problem. But the NRO had already tasked a couple extra satellites over Athens. They were able to detect the phone in question. It’s turned off but it’s pinging loud and clear. At the last reading, five minutes ago, they were right on the south edge of the Acropolis.”
“Give me the exact coordinates. I want updates every time the phone moves more than fifty yards.”
Ray wrote down the coordinates and immediately called Bob Danforth. He got a recording that his call couldn’t go through.
“Damn! Damn! Damn!” Ray cursed. What the hell do I do now? Then a thought hit him: Michael Danforth’s satellite phone. He called the phone and connected within seconds.
“Mike, it’s Ray. Where are you now?”
“At the safe house.”
“We’ve got a situation there.”
“Tell me about it. The roads are in gridlock. How did word get out about a terrorist attack?”
“I’ll explain about that another time. I tried to get through to your dad but all the cell towers are screwed up because of massive call volume. I—”
“What do you need from my father?”
“He can’t find Robbie, who apparently is on a sightseeing excursion with a friend in Athens. Your dad needs to find him so they can all leave the city.”
“And . . . .”
“And I know where Robbie is. The friend he’s with shut off her cell phone, but we got a ping on it on the Acropolis. Can you get there and get him and the girl to Piraeus?”
“There’s no way I can get through traffic. The entire city is either a parking lot or moving at a snail’s pace. Unless you can get me a chopper.”
“Where’s the closest helipad to your location?”
“On the roof.”
“Be there in thirty minutes. I’ll arrange for a chopper off one of our ships. Here are the coordinates of Robbie’s location. I’ll call you with any change.”
“Got it,” Mike said. “But how will you justify using military assets to fly out an American teenager?”
“What teenager? This is a recon mission that’s part of an anti-terrorist campaign. Besides, I’m an expert at managing this sort of operation.”
“Thanks, Ray. I owe you.”
“You’ll more than pay me back if you’re able to discover if there’s an attack planned.”
“This place is amazing,” Robbie told Sofia as they stood side-by-side with their backs to the Parthenon and looked down on Athens. “I’m surprised there aren’t crowds of people up here.”
Sofia looked around. “I was thinking the same thing. Usually there are mobs of tourists at this time of year.”
Robbie pointed at a boulevard far below. “Man, look at that traffic. Is it always like that?”
Sofia looked where Robbie pointed. “Traffic is always bad here but I’ve never seen it this bad.” She pivoted and looked to the left. “Look, it’s just as bad over there.”
The sounds of vehicle horns blared so loudly that Robbie could barely hear Sofia’s words. “It’s like people are totally panicked,” he said.
Sofia hadn’t taken her eyes off the avenues below the Acropolis. “I think you’re right. Something’s wrong.” She pulled her cell phone from her purse and turned it on. But when she tried to reach her father, all she got was a recorded message about the circuits being busy.
“Maybe we should catch a cab and go back to Piraeus,” Robbie suggested.
Sofia pointed downward. “We’ll never get through that traffic. Let’s go down to the Plaka and ask a storekeeper what’s happened.”
“Lead the way,” Robbie said.
About to descend the ancient marble path from the Acropolis to the Plaka, the whoop-whoop-whoop sounds of a helicopter suddenly cut through the manic sounds of blaring horns. Robbie turned and shielded his eyes from the sun. “It’s a U.S. Navy chopper,” he said. “Maybe we can hitch a ride.”
Sofia laughed. “Sure. Why don’t you wave at it; see if it will pick us up.”
Going along with the joke, Robbie waved his arms over his head and shouted, “Hey, we need a ride.”
The chopper suddenly descended toward them and dropped to just about two hundred feet over their heads.
“Holy—”
Sofia looked at him, her eyes wide with amazement. “How did you do that?”
Robbie shrugged. Then the chopper dropped even more, scattered dirt and pebbles that pelted them like stinging insects, and landed one hundred feet away. Robbie was already at a total loss for words, but when his father, dressed in jeans, an untucked white dress shirt, white sneakers, and a blue baseball cap, jumped from the helicopter’s cargo bay and waved them over, he couldn’t have uttered a word even if his life depended on it.
Bob quickly gave up on hailing a taxi and ran through the narrow stone streets of the Plaka. By the time he’d gone three blocks, he gasped for breath. After five blocks, he felt as though a metal band had been placed around his chest and tightened by the second. He slowed his pace to a fast walk and cut across to a lane he remembered led to the base of the Acropolis. As he approached the old city, he pulled out his cell phone and tried to get through to Sofia. No luck.
Bob’s calves had cramped painfully by the time he reached the path to the Acropolis, which forced him to slow down even more. He made a silent pledge to exercise daily as he walked to the ticket kiosk. His heart sank when he noticed the entrance gate was closed, the kiosk empty. He shook the gate and was surprised when it flew open. Bob huffed and puffed his way uphill to the plateau where ruins of ancient buildings cluttered the ground. There was no one in sight. He moved to the right, toward the ruins of the Parthenon, and worked his way around the Acropolis. At the far side of the plateau, two hundred yards away, he saw two figures. He moved in their direction. From one hundred yards away, he recognized Robbie and Sofia, just as a U.S. Navy helicopter descended toward them. He yelled at the kids but his words were drowned out by the aircraft’s rotors.
Bob was shocked to see the chopper land. It blocked out his view of the kids. The aircraft went airborne again in less than fifteen seconds. Robbie and Sofia had disappeared.
Exhausted, Bob sat on a chunk of marble shaded by a large carved marble pillar and rested until his leg cramps stopped. While he sat there, he thought about Liz and Miriana. He’d told them to leave the hotel in time to reach Piraeus by 7. The traffic below him was still at a standstill. There was no way they would get to Piraeus in time.
After the Navy chopper was airborne, Michael hugged Robbie and shook hands with Sofia. He couldn’t resist a laugh when he saw the shock on her face.
“You guys act as though you’ve never been air evac’ed off the Acropolis before.”
Robbie shook his head. “How’d you know where we were?”
Michael pointed at Sofia’s purse. “We tracked Sofia’s cell phone signal.”
“Wow,” Robbie said. “Way cool.”
“What’s happeni
ng in Athens, Mister Danforth?” Sofia asked.
“There’s a rumor that a terrorist group plans to detonate a nuclear weapon somewhere in Athens. That’s all I can tell you.”
“That’s why traffic is jammed up?”
“Yes. People are fleeing the city. Obviously, the road system can’t handle the traffic.”
“Is there anything to the rumor?”
“Let’s change the subject,” Michael said. He looked at Robbie. “Where are your grandparents?”
“I guess they went back to our hotel.”
“What’s the name of the hotel?”
“The Athens Hera.”
“You know the telephone number?”
Robbie pulled a keycard from a jeans pocket and read aloud the number off the back.
Michael used his satellite telephone to call the hotel number but the call didn’t go through.
“Is the address on that keycard?”
“Sure,” Robbie said, and provided the street number.
Michael went forward to the cockpit. “I need to make another stop, Lieutenant.”
CHAPTER 60
Admiral Silas Wyncourt had ordered a continual series of drills on board the aircraft carrier, including readiness, radiological, and gunnery drills. He observed them in between reading message traffic. The last message from the Secretary of the Navy to flag officers had been troubling in the extreme:
To: CinCTaskForce 60, Fleet Commanders
Fr: SECNAV
RE: Intel confirms possible terrorist threat to fleet in the Aegean, Ionian, and Mediterranean Seas. Reports indicate possible nuclear incident. All ships to go to DEFCON 2 status. No definitive ID of attack vehicle, but possibly an oil tanker.
Wyncourt called his direct superior, Rear Admiral Alan Bowden.
“Alan, it’s Silas.”
“You read the message from SECNAV?”
“Yes. If preliminary intel is accurate, we could be in real trouble here in Piraeus Bay.”
“I told you before,” Bowden said, “that SECDEF and SECNAV want us to fly the flag in Piraeus.”
“In other words, POTUS wants us here. I can’t see any other reason why an old Navy flag officer like the Secretary of the Navy would order the Andrew Jackson to drop anchor inside this bay.”
“Ours is not to reason why,” Bowden said.
“Don’t forget the last part of that saying.”
Bowden released a strained chuckle. “I’ve already conveyed my concerns to SECNAV. He’s just as frustrated as I am.”
“What the hell is POTUS thinking?”
Bowden went silent for a few seconds, then said, “This is my opinion only, but I think Garvin is still pissed about the Greeks cozying up to Putin. They’re in negotiations with the Russkies to allow them to dock their warships in Greek ports. So, Garvin wants the Andrew Jackson to fly the flag. He’s using the Andrew Jackson to tweak the Greek prime minister’s nose. We’ve already stopped buying supplies from Greek vendors. He wants the Greeks to feel economic pain.”
“That’s all well and good under normal circumstances. But once the threat of a terrorist nuclear act became part of the scenario, we should have stopped acting like kids on a playground. I’m responsible for thousands of men and women.”
“I’ll call you if anything changes.”
“Thanks for listening. I’m just pissed off at the moment.”
“I understand, Silas. Maybe all this talk about terrorists and nuclear weapons is bullshit.”
“Yeah, wouldn’t that be nice? But if I was a terrorist and wanted to make a statement, I’d go after the biggest American ship available. That’s the Andrew Jackson. And parked here in this bay makes it an easier target.”
“You know what to do if you’re attacked. Blow the bastard out of the water.”
“What if that bastard is a fully-loaded oil tanker? You realize the environmental disaster a ruptured tanker hull would create here? And what if that bastard detonates a nuclear weapon in the process. The wind will carry radioactive dust all over Piraeus and Athens. Even with our counter measures, many of my crew would be contaminated.”
CHAPTER 61
The sign on the roof of the Athens Hera Hotel was large, with broad blue letters on a white background. The chopper’s co-pilot spoke into his headset microphone: “General Danforth, we’ve got the building in sight but there’s no helipad anywhere close.”
Michael removed his headset and moved into the open cockpit. He looked out over the nose of the aircraft and spotted the hotel sign. Out beyond the hotel was the expanse of Constitution Square.
“Looks as though we’re two blocks from Constitution Square. Land on the square. You can drop me off there and give me twenty minutes. If I’m not back by then, take the kids out to the ship.”
“I can’t wait to explain them to my captain.”
Michael grunted and moved back to the cargo bay.
The helicopter landed in the middle of the square, destroying part of the garden there. Can’t wait to see the bill the Greek government will send Uncle Sam, Michael thought. He jumped to the ground and ran away from the Greek Parliament building, passed the Grand Bretagne and King George hotels, and rushed a block toward the Plaka. He found the Athens Hera. The side streets were now almost devoid of vehicles and pedestrians. Shops were closed up. He’d never seen a metropolitan area in daylight look so much like a ghost town.
The hotel entry doors were locked; the lobby empty. After he rapped on the glass doors for a minute and received no response, Michael removed his M9 Beretta from the holster clipped to the top of his jeans. He flicked off the safety and fired one round. The bullet punched a hole in the glass, which then shattered and cascaded in a million shards onto the lobby floor and the sidewalk. With his mother’s room number memorized, he ran to a house telephone on a small table at the back of the lobby. He held his breath and dialed the room number. He released the air in his lungs when his mother answered.
“Mom, it’s Michael.”
“Michael, where are you? I’ve tried to reach your father a hundred times, but the phones—”
“Mom, I’m downstairs in the lobby. I’m on my way up.”
Bob figured he was at least three blocks from his hotel. He prayed Liz had made it to Piraeus but he needed to stop by the hotel to make sure she’d left. He trudged along now-vacant side streets and sidewalks, amazed at the abandoned city. Solitary vehicles or motorcycles periodically sped by. Otherwise, the streets were silent trails between vacant building canyons.
By the time he reached the hotel, the sun had dropped below the tops of the buildings and the temperature had dropped to the point of being uncomfortable. His heart leaped when he saw the broken glass front door. He stepped through the door and made his way to the elevators and pushed the call button. As one of the elevator doors slid open, he turned momentarily and glanced around the lobby. The marble-tiled area was eerily quiet.
On the sixth floor, he ran to his room, used his keycard to open the door, and shouted, “Liz!” No response. He carefully searched the bedrooms and sitting room and discovered that most of their suitcases were piled in a corner of the sitting area. It appeared that Liz and Miriana had carried off their jewelry, cosmetics, and some clothing.
Bob sighed. If Liz and Miriana had grabbed a cab before all the craziness started, they would have taken all of their luggage. He meandered through the suite and stopped in the bathroom off their bedroom where he noticed a satellite telephone on top of a piece of paper on the counter. He expelled the air from his lungs in a loud blast when he saw that Michael had signed the note.
“Thank God,” Bob muttered. “Thank God.” Michael had written that he had helicoptered Liz, Miriana, Robbie, and Sofia to a U.S. Navy ship in the harbor. He’d written a satellite telephone number on the bottom of the paper. “Call me,” the note read.
Bob turned on the sat phone and dialed the number.
“Lieutenant Campbell, Sir.”
“Lieutenant, it’s
Bob Danforth. Is—”
“One moment, sir.”
“Where are you?” Michael asked a few seconds later.
“At my hotel.”
“Mom, Miriana, Robbie, and the Vangelos girl are on board an aircraft carrier in the bay. I’m back at the safe house in Glyfada.”
“Can you get me out on the carrier?”
“No chance. The Navy’s already pissed off about my little rescue mission. But I have a vehicle here. I’ll pick you up in less than an hour.”
“How will you get through traffic?”
“I’ll find a way, Dad. Besides, traffic has improved a lot.”
CHAPTER 62
“You people get some sleep,” Andrew Garvin said. “We’ve got more of these fundraisers ahead of us.”
A couple of the White House advance team staffers laughed as they all left.
Garvin looked at the three Secret Service Agents still in his Beverly Hills Hotel suite. “I’d tell you guys to get some sleep, too,” he said, “but I know you’d just ignore me.”
Linda Petrovich, the head of the Presidential Protection Division, told the agents, “You guys know your stations. I’ll be with you in a few minutes.”
The agents left the suite.
Petrovich smiled at POTUS. “You raised another million bucks for the Party tonight, sir. That should help you sleep.”
Garvin shucked his tie and tossed it on a couch. “The Party’s an insatiable, primordial eating machine. It’ll devour every dime I raise and then roar for more.”
Petrovich nodded. She knew Garvin was a congenital complainer. She also knew that his announcement about needing rest was nothing more than a way to get the room cleared. She turned toward the door and said, “I’d better leave you alone.”
“You walk out that door,” Garvin said, “and I’ll order the men out there to shoot your ass.”
Petrovich wheeled around, pulled her pistol, and aimed it at Garvin. “You want to play rough tonight?”
Garvin laughed. “I wouldn’t want it any other way.”
