Pandora: A Harvey Nolan Thriller, Book 2 (Harvey Nolan Mystery Thriller Series)

by S. C. Abbey

  Gary chortled and shook his head. He then picked up a bottle of soju and twisted the cap off, drinking straight from it. He didn’t understand how people could settle for such mundane lives in return for security. He was glad he didn’t. He liked his ‘job’—the heart-thumping risks involved and the fact it was illegal was a bonus. He loved it. He put down the bottle, starting to really feel a little tipsy. Food, all he needed was more food.

  “I thought American politics was screwed up when I was studying over there,” Gary said. “That was until I got back to Korea. Asian societies, they expect you to live and die at the exact same spot you were born in. It’s like a caste system.”

  His phone rang. Gary narrowed his eyes, trying to focus his slightly disorientated mind at trying to figure out who the hell it was calling him from an unfamiliar number abroad. Min-Jun leaned in to see who was it as Gary snatched the cell phone off the table and answered it.

  “Gary,” a male voice called out.

  “I’ll be damned,” Gary said in impeccable, American-accented English as a smile crept up his lips. “Well—if it isn’t Professor Harvey Nolan.”

  The caller snorted. “Cut it out.”

  Gary removed the cell phone from his ear and looked into the screen once more. He then spoke into it again. “The country code looks weird, Harv, where are you calling from? I’m not paying for this call.”

  “Send me the bill, you stingy bastard,” Harvey replied.

  “So, what’s up?” Gary asked. “I haven’t heard from you in months.”

  “Long story short, I need your help, now.”

  “Go on.”

  “A friend’s been murdered, and I’ve got his cell phone with me. Trouble is, it’s locked, and there’s no way I can access it—”

  “Wait a minute, I don’t know what you’ve been up to but I don’t deal with serious crime, man,” Gary interrupted.

  “Relax, I wasn’t involved. I’m merely in Athens to collect the body, but like I said, long story. I really need you to hack into this cell phone and unlock it for me.”

  “And how am I supposed to do that when I’m hundreds of miles away—how’s Katie by the way—”

  “You’re the expert, Gary! You tell me!” exclaimed Harvey, ignoring the part about Katie.

  Gary sighed into his cell phone. “All right. Do you have a computer with you now?”

  “Not at the moment, but I can probably find one at the hotel’s business center—hold on a minute, I’m just stepping into the hotel lobby, let me grab someone—” said Harvey as he trailed off.

  “Find a data cable while you’re at it,” added Gary.

  Silence filled the call. Min-Jun nudged Gary, eagerly curious about what was going on. Gary ignored him. He played with a strip of burnt pork on the grill with his chopsticks instead.

  After about five minutes, Harvey replied, “Back. I’m in front of a computer now, tell me what to do.”

  “Plug the cell phone into the computer with the cable, make sure the computer is connected to the Internet.” Gary almost sounded bored. “Get me the IP and MAC address from the network settings.”

  Gary took out a hand-held tablet from his backpack and started tapping on it. Harvey recited a couple of numbers which he took note of.

  “Now give me a minute,” Gary said when he got everything he needed. He opened an onscreen soft keyboard and started typing on it furiously. Min-Jun seemed to find this whole encounter rather intriguing. Several minutes passed.

  “Harvey, you still there?” Gary asked.

  “Yup.”

  “2-9-5-6-3-3, the passcode,” Gary said. “It’s an iPhone you’ve got there, right?”

  “I’m in, that’s amazing, Gary,” replied Harvey. “Sorry but I’ve got to go now. Thanks again! Send me the invoice!”

  “Nah—it’s all right. I did it half-drunk anyway. Too easy.” Gary chuckled.

  “Cool, catch you later then. I really got to go.”

  “And Harvey, please keep your ass out of trouble, you never seem to be able to avoid it,” Gary added.

  Harvey chortled and a beeping sound signaled the end of the call.

  Chapter 14

  KATIE CLOSED HER eyes and crossed her legs between the tight gap of the seat in front and the one she was sitting on. Her knees bumped the back of the front seat whenever the car braked or went over a bump on the road. She was starting to feel a little claustrophobic in the small cab she was taking to the airport. Coupled with the horrendous smell in the interior of the vehicle, she felt a little lightheaded from the ninety-minute journey. The smell was a cocktail of suffocating diesel and bad breath, topped with a hint of stale vegetation. It was almost as if something was rotting away in the car.

  The thought of being on American soil in less than fourteen hours comforted her and distracted her from the dreadful ride. She opened her eyes and spotted the approaching architecture—Rinas International Airport grew in size as she got closer. She felt her spirits lift immediately. Nothing could excite her more than that right now.

  The taxi driver opened his mouth and a whiff of crummy breath drifted toward Katie. She rolled down the window instinctively. Why didn’t she think of that earlier?

  “You American?” asked the driver in broken English.

  Katie could see him eyeing her from the rearview mirror as he spoke. He had an extremely forgettable face.

  “Yeah,” answered Katie. “How did you know?”

  “You all smell the same,” he replied. “Like flowers. Perfume.”

  You ought to try some yourself, Katie said to herself, tempted to dispense the advice. She decided that she couldn’t be bothered.

  “You flying back home?” continued the driver.

  “I am.”

  “Holiday?”

  “Yeah…”

  Katie really didn’t feel like talking at all. She just didn’t want to seem rude. Americans have a bad enough reputation abroad, she thought.

  “How do you find our country?”

  A mess. “It’s beautiful. And the food, unbelievable.” Unbelievably bad.

  “Hmm…” The driver seemed pleased at her reply. “I don’t think I’ve ever met an American who’s spoken so well of Albania. You people think we are all radicals and savages here.”

  An awkward silence filled the space of the cab. Well, it wasn’t exactly awkward to Katie, it just felt like the driver was expecting a reply. Needless to say, he didn’t get one.

  The cab turned into the slip road that was the entrance to the airport and stopped at the first empty spot it came to. Katie already had a stack of bills gripped tightly in her hands when the taxi came to a complete halt. She handed the driver enough cash to cover the fare two times over.

  “Well—at least you all are a generous—”

  Katie didn’t finish listening to the comment as she was already out of the vehicle. She let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. The morning Mediterranean sun shone glaringly into her shades as she swung the heavy, well-beaten leather duffel bag over her neck across her shoulders. She had allowed her hair to grow out in the course of her stay here—now long enough to touch the tips of her shoulders, just annoyingly so. Katie pulled the strands up and tied them with a stray rubber band she had on her wrist, approaching the departure hall at the same time.

  As she stepped into the air-conditioned environment, a beeping tone on her cell phone signaled an incoming email. She fished it out of her trousers, checking who it was from. It was sent two hours ago—the wifi from the airport had just brought it in.

  “Katie, where are you? Call me.”

  Funny. Katie felt a strange chill up her spine. I don’t think I’ve ever received an email from him before. Not like this, at least. She scrolled her contact list till it came up to the name she wanted and tapped on the number. The ring tone sounded a little weird. He was definitely not in the States.

  “Harvey—” Katie greeted, as
the call connected. “Is something wrong?”

  A sigh of relief could be heard from the other side of the phone. “Kat—thank God, I wasn’t sure you were going to call.”

  “What’s going on?” Katie frowned. “You sound…exasperated.”

  “I need your help. I need you in Athens.”

  “W-What?” exclaimed Katie. She wasn’t expecting that.

  “Athens, Greece.”

  “I heard you the first time. What for?”

  “Louis Tanner is dead.”

  “Who?” Katie said. She recalled who that was as soon as she asked. “That wacky archaeologist buddy of yours?” Katie immediately regretted saying that as soon as it came out of her mouth. She had actually quite liked Louis as a person. She mentally slapped herself for letting her tongue loose before vetting her speech through her brain, all the time. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”

  Harvey didn’t seem to care. “I have good reason to believe he was murdered.”

  Katie could see why Harvey didn’t mind. She paused in silence, contemplating Harvey’s comment. “Do you have any evidence?”

  “Only deductions,” answered Harvey. “But you know me. I only conclude when I’m quite certain. I think the Hellenic Police might be involved in a cover-up.”

  Katie didn’t reply. She thought deeply about the situation and her options. Sigh. Looks like the barbecued ribs have to wait. “You’re in luck. I’m only about a ninety-minute plane ride away from you.”

  It was Harvey’s turn to sound surprised. “Where—”

  “Albania.”

  “What—”

  “Work—don’t ask.” Katie was really starting to feel a little tired from talking.

  Harvey didn’t reply. He waited for Katie to resume the conversation. “Where are you staying?” she asked.

  “The Divani Caravel Hotel.”

  Katie glanced around to look for a ticketing counter, she spotted one and walked toward it. “Give me four hours. And stay right where you are, Harvey. If the authorities are trying to cover up something—like what you said—they probably wouldn’t like someone sniffing around the city.”

  The woman sitting at the ticketing counter cast a gaze upon Katie as she approached.

  “In other words, you might be in danger already.”

  Chapter 15

  “THAT USELESS PIECE of crap!” cried Agent Linard. His face was a deep shade of crimson with an angry-looking vein pulsing at the side of his forehead. Agent Michel was certainly used to the stocky man’s temper, considering the years they had worked together. But even an outburst of this scale was uncommon. Michel maintained his silence, though his normally stoic expression was replaced by one that reflected the same displeasure his partner exuded.

  “Seriously, Michel—” Linard continued, his rage enduring. “Why do we have to work with a bunch of idiots? How could they have allowed them to claim Tanner’s possessions?! We haven’t even had a chance to examine them ourselves! Darn it!” His volume increased as he spoke.

  Michel didn’t reply immediately. He was clearly disappointed with Linard for not admitting it was partially his fault. He didn’t like people making mistakes. ‘To err is human’ was not something he believed. At least that was what his late father—a celebrated ex-NIS agent—always preached. His father had often mentioned that every little act of carelessness in their line of work could be the difference between being alive and dead. Michel was not interested in the latter.

  “I’ll make sure that imbecile responsible for the blunder remains a custodian officer his entire career—if that’s the last thing I do—”

  Michel shrugged. He was angry too, but his mind was still clear. “What’s the point? He’s an old man, doing a job he couldn’t care less about.”

  “I don’t care!” Linard said. Michel was starting to think Linard was overreacting. He didn’t understand the point of throwing a tantrum. “For starters, I would very much like to shove my leather boot up his—”

  A series of eager knocks on the door of their office interrupted the NIS agent. The sounds swallowed the end of the sentence.

  “What?!” shouted Linard.

  A timid-looking man entered the room with an expression that showed he regretted being there. The tremor in his voice confirmed it. “Sorry, Agent Linard, the background check you wanted me to do on Harvey Nolan—here it is.” He reached out his hand with a brown paper folder.

  Linard stood up from the desk he was leaning on and walked toward the shorter man. He snatched the folder from his hand and waved him off. The man went out in a jiffy.

  “Moron,” Linard said. Whether he was harping on the situation they were talking about before the interruption or referring to the colleague who had interrupted them—Michel couldn’t tell. Linard flipped open the folder and started to skim through the details of the American he had met earlier at the morgue.

  “Dude’s a professor, at Columbia University. Wherever that is—” he said, continuing to flip the pages.

  Michel reached out in an attempt to take the folder from his partner. Linard let him.

  “It’s an Ivy League institution, man. In New York,” Michel said. “Which world are you from?” He proceeded to flip the pages just as Linard did before.

  Linard ignored his partner’s snarky remark. He took out a gold coin from his front trouser pocket and started to roll it across his knuckles effortlessly. He always did that when he was pissed.

  “Both parents deceased…brought up by a man named Bertram Moore—familiar name, where have I heard of it before…?” Michel added. “Winner of a Nobel award…hmm…” He shut the folder and threw it on his desk.

  This just keeps getting better and better.

  Linard’s gold coin scrambled across his left knuckle from his index finger down to the last and just when it was about to fall off his fist, it vanished into thin air, only to appear again in his right hand. Michel wasn’t impressed.

  “Keep an eye on this…Nolan guy,” he said. “No more hiccups.”

  Linard sniffed. “Already did. Pachis and Iordanou are on him—twenty-four-hour shifts, they will take turns, till he leaves the country,” he replied. He didn’t look up from his coin. A silence fell among the two NIS agents.

  “Did he say anything about the timber box?” asked Michel. Perhaps his partner had done something right.

  “No. He looked genuinely baffled when I asked him about it. Then again, I don’t trust Americans—actors, the whole lot of them.”

  Michel nodded slowly. “We better get our asses out there then. Director Sanna was very persistent about us not screwing this up. That’s why he chose us—we are the best.”

  Linard cocked his head slightly to the left.

  “The boss implied that this goes all the way up to Raptis,” Michel added.

  Linard stopped playing with his gold coin. “Minister Raptis? The one in charge of all of Greece's public security services? The Raptis?”

  Michel smiled a crooked smirk. “Now you see why you should have been more meticulous.”

  Linard fished out his cell phone in response and dialed. “Pachis. You’ve got your eyes on Nolan? Good. Don’t you dare let him leave your sight, you understand me?” he said. “What? Okay. Got it.” He ended the call. “He’s back at the hotel. Looks like he’s really taking my advice.” Linard pocketed his gold coin.

  “I hope so, though I doubt it,” Michel said as he grabbed his jacket from his chair and put it on. “C’mon Linard—Time is catching up with us.”

  Chapter 16

  DAMALITIS PANAYIOTIS STROLLED through the entrance of the Acropolis Museum Café and decided to settle at a corner table by the alfresco section of the coffee shop since the Mediterranean sun was nice and toasty enough for an outdoor seat. The smell of freshly brewed coffee never failed to improve his mood in the mornings, which he sorely needed, considering that he was not a morning person. Today, however, was special. Panayiot
is was in an extraordinary mood due to recent events—he didn’t need the smell of coffee to perk him up. He stretched out his left wrist and pulled back his cuff, revealing his rose-gold Audemars Piguet watch. The time was 8:15 a.m., and he was still early for work—he decided he could afford to sit and enjoy a cup of coffee.

  Maybe I should order something to eat as well.

  “Sir, you are early today,” said the approaching waiter in Greek. “What can I get you? The usual?”

  Panayiotis pondered over the menu—the look of contemplation and glee was a weird combination on his face. “Yeah, I think I’ll just have the usual.” He patted his bulging paunch. “I really should be going on a diet.” He cracked into a laugh.

  The waiter collected the menu from the table. “You seem to be in a good mood, sir.”

  Panayiotis smiled at the table in front of him even though it was empty. “I am.”

  “Something good happened?”

  “That would be the understatement of the century, Kaminis,” he said, still smiling. The job had been too easy.

  Kaminis nodded and left the man in his blissful stupor.

  The Acropolis Museum concentrated on the discovery of the archaeological area of the Acropolis of Athens. The museum was designed to showcase each and every artifact discovered on the cliff and adjoining hills, from the Bronze Age to Roman and Byzantine Greece. It was founded in 2003 but only unveiled to the public in 2009 with more than three thousand priceless antiques displayed in the building. The museum’s management ever since its inception was headed by Aristotle University of Thessaloniki’s Professor of Archaeology, Damalitis Panayiotis, who was also the one who headed the excavation of the Acropolis of Athens since day one.

  Kaminis returned with a piping-hot cup of double Greek coffee and placed it on the table. “Enjoy your drink, Director Panayiotis,” he said before leaving once more. Panayiotis sighed in pleasure as he brought the cup to his lips, sipping the rich brew and inhaling its perfume. The coffee smelled particularly good this morning.