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

by S. C. Abbey

  Maksim approached the back of the white room door inaudibly and drew a pistol from the holster strapped to his ankle. He really didn’t like the idea of killing an old woman—he imagined how Sophie would act if she knew. Sigh. But if he had to, he would.

  “What’s all that noise you’re making…?” The sound drew nearer, and it didn’t seem like she was going to turn back.

  Maksim flicked the safety off and tightened his grip on the weapon. He whispered a silent prayer, and stretched out his arm, pointing the gun at the door.

  Chapter 30

  THE BLACK SUV came to a gradual halt upon the driveway leading from the main road to the mansion entrance. The gravel beneath the four-wheel drive protested with a crushing, grainy sound before the car ceased moving completely. Both front doors swung open and out came the two men, their boots hitting the gravel, producing the same grainy sound, albeit a softer one. The passenger strolled toward the driver.

  “Dude lives here? What a snob,” said Agent Linard as he looked up at the extravagant estate in front of him.

  “Jesus, have some respect for the dead, will you?” said Agent Michel, thought he did agree the house looked awfully over the top. Director Panayiotis was a public figure, however—a symbol of exemplary morality. Of course he needed a dwelling befitting his status, reasoned Michel. “C’mon, let’s greet our host for the night.”

  Linard shrugged. They hobbled over the gravel driveway till they reached a manual cast-iron gate that came up to their waists. Michel reached over to the inside and unlocked the bolt, pushing it inward and stepping into the estate grounds. Linard wordlessly followed behind him, swinging the gate back into position after he passed it. They found themselves standing in the middle of the beautifully manicured landscape with trees so smoothly shaped, they practically looked like they came out of Alice in Wonderland. Michel didn’t stop. He hurried across the garden, following the neatly placed granite stone blocks lining both sides to create a path leading to the door of the mansion. They climbed up the stairs, scraping their boots on the coarse, outdoor mat before approaching the door.

  “Michel,” Linard said, “the door, it’s open.”

  Michel stared at the slightly ajar door, the darkness within peeking back. He started to frown.

  “Should we—?” asked Linard.

  Michel reached out to tap on the huge wooden door with his knuckles, two times. There was no response.

  “Really, Michel?” said Linard, shooting his partner a blank look.

  “Do you have a better idea?” rebutted Michel. “It really wouldn’t help to break into an old woman’s house, scare the hell out of her, and then tell her her husband is dead, would it?”

  He raised his arm again, planning to give it a second try when the sound of a gunshot came from within. Michel drew his gun at that instant and turned to meet his partner’s gaze. Linard was as ready as he was. Michel turned back to the door and advanced toward it, pushing it slowly as he stepped into the house. They were met by an unlit first level—the only light that could be seen came from the second floor. Michel approached the stairs on the left, the only seeming way up. They hurriedly but silently scaled the polished parquet steps. It didn’t take long before they reached the second floor. Michel glanced toward the source of the light—it was from the room at the end of the corridor, where a door was half open. He cast a knowing look at Linard, who nodded in return. They walked with their backs against the wall and set their course toward the room. When they reached the outside of it, Michel turned to Linard and pointed his thumb at himself and then the room. Linard nodded again. Michel kicked the door sharply, throwing himself into the room with his gun pointing forward.

  The blow to the back of his wrist came brutally. His pistol flew from his hand and skidded across the room. Reflexively, Michel quickly shielded his face in a defensive posture, but the second impact came even stronger than the first. He found himself thrown onto the parquet floor by the sheer force of the blow. He turned to see Maksim pointing a gun at him.

  Oh shit.

  Linard entered and pointed his gun at Maksim and shouted, “Don’t move!”

  Maksim froze, his gun still pointed at the NIS agent on the floor. Michel continued to hold his breath. Maksim swung his body suddenly in a semicircular motion. Linard managed to bring his arms up just in time to brace for the impact. The roundhouse kick connected with his forearm. He dropped his gun in the process. Linard took a step back before lunging forward, swinging his fist at Maksim’s left cheek. The punch didn’t land. Michel watched Maksim step toward Linard with speed that shouldn’t be possible for a man his size.

  Michel quickly spotted his gun on the floor about a meter from him. He made a side roll and picked up his gun, turning to aim at Maksim. Maksim had Linard back against the door and his neck held in his enormous hands, as he lifted his gun and pointed it at Michel. The three men stood, unmoving.

  “Move, and I’ll break his neck,” said Maksim, breaking the silence, speaking for the first time.

  Michel couldn’t quite make out his accent. Was it Russian? Baltic? He tightened his grip on his pistol. From the left corner of his of his vision, he could make out a body lying on the ground. He didn’t dare move his eyes to identify it.

  “And I’ll land a bullet in your face,” Michel replied.

  Maksim chuckled. “And you’ll have one in yours, too. Maybe two, if I’m fast enough.”

  “And then we’ll all die here, like cattle in a slaughterhouse,” whimpered Linard as he continued to struggle against the iron grip on his neck. “I don’t think you’d like that.”

  Another angel’s passing caught the men unmoving.

  This time it was Michel that broke the silence. “Who are you?”

  “Who wants to know?” asked Maksim.

  “Agent Elias Michel, NIS.”

  “The National Intelligence Service…” muttered Maksim. “Spies?” he said a little louder.

  Michel ignored him and repeated himself, “I told you. Now, your turn.”

  “Trzebuchowska was what my father gave me, I am Maksim.”

  “Who do you work for?” Michel asked. He could feel a bead of sweat rolling down the side of his face.

  “I’m here on business for the Greek government,” Maksim replied.

  “Bullshit—”

  “Believe it or not, I’m here to facilitate a deal with the Greek government.”

  “We don’t work with terrorists or hired killers,” said Michel.

  Maksim laughed. “You know nothing, boy. I have no quarrel with you. You work for the government anyway. I am done here. If you don’t wish to die today, you let me walk out of here.”

  “You killed a hundred and sixteen people today. A hundred and seventeen if you include the dead body in that corner.”

  “And it will be a hundred and nineteen when I’m done here.”

  Michel didn’t reply. He cast a quick glance at Linard and then back to Maksim. There was no way this was going to end well if he took the shot. Besides, the man didn’t look like he could be brought down with a single bullet. He reluctantly nodded at Maksim.

  “Smart choice, boy,” said Maksim with a condescending smirk. “Ready?” he taunted. He then flung Linard toward Michel, then picked up his duffel bag from the bed, all the while keeping his gun pointed at the NIS agents. Maksim slowly tracked toward the door and said, “Keep off my tail. The next time I see you, I’ll kill you.”

  He then slipped into the shadows of the corridor without another word.

  Chapter 31

  KATIE AND HARVEY stood restless, the soft glow of the old street lamp casting a faint shadow of them on the concrete pavement under the rapidly darkening night sky. Katie shifted her weight from her one foot to another. She’d been doing that ever since they got back to the street outside the Motel Athina. She gazed over at her companion. He was still studying the austere-looking jewelry box they had finally found at the pawn shop�
�only to find it empty. However, Katie knew what was really on Harvey’s mind.

  She broke the silence. “Penny for your thoughts?”

  “I’ve thoroughly concluded that this is just an ordinary box,” said Harvey with a dull frown on his face. “And I have no idea what the words ‘Our game isn’t over’ mean at all. Totally.” He waved his right hand in an outward motion.

  “We’ve got to take a look at the room,” said Katie.

  Harvey’s eyes narrowed and turned to Katie. “What? The crime scene?” he asked. “And how do you expect to sneak past the reception now that the gray-shirt employee’s back? I highly doubt he’ll just invite us in for a quick look.”

  “We could ask nicely?” suggested Katie. “Threatening him may work, too.”

  Harvey’s glance softened as a smile snuck up his face. “I’d rather not. Once a day is more than enough.”

  A man in a black jacket approached from Harvey’s back. He muttered for them to make way as he skipped by, from the butt in his hand came cigarette smoke that clouded the air. He headed in the direction of the pub. Judging from the lights and noise, one could see that it certainly seemed a lot livelier than earlier.

  “Or perhaps we could try to scale the building, from behind?” Katie studied the shabby structure that was the motel. “It really doesn’t look that high, you know…”

  The door of the Motel Athina swung opened, and out came the very man in the gray shirt they had followed. “Oy, Buros—!” he shouted after the man in the black jacket with the cigarette.

  The man cast a quick look back but didn’t stop walking. “Piss off, Felix, not today,” he said, flicking his hand.

  Felix pushed his way past Katie to approach the other guy. “It’s been weeks, man. When are you gonna return my money?!”

  Buros carried on walking, ignoring the man who stalked him as he entered the bar. Felix caught the handle of the door before it fully closed and trailed Buros into the drinking hole.

  Katie and Harvey stared at the exchange, which Katie found absolutely amusing.

  “I must say,” she said. “I didn’t see that coming.”

  Harvey nodded instantly. “Nor did I.”

  She swiftly approached the glass door of the Motel Athina, pushing her way in, as Harvey followed close behind.

  “Third floor,” said the Interpol agent, taking the now-familiar stairs up, hopping from step to step—eager to get out of sight from the entrance of the motel. The sign on the wall of the third floor’s corridor pointed her to the right, where her destination was. She soon ended up in front of the room where Louis had stayed in his final weeks.

  “Room 03-03, this is it,” said Katie.

  Harvey finally caught up, and he too stood still and stared at the door. “Nice number.”

  Katie cast a funny look at him. Harvey smiled sheepishly.

  “Oh crap,” she said, suddenly realizing, “we totally forgot about the keys from the counter.”

  “Shit—” Harvey’s eyes widened. “I could still run down now, grab the keys—”

  The sound of the radio sitting behind the reception counter being turned up signaled the man’s return.

  “Too late for that,” whispered Katie as her hands appeared with a black hairpin after ravaging through her pocket. “I can try to pick the lock?”

  Harvey gave her a blank look. “Are you any good at it—?”

  “Do you have a better idea, Einstein?!” whispered Katie, her pitch raising slightly.

  “Not really—”

  “Then shut up!” She cast an annoyed look at him before looking back at the lock.

  “Erm—”

  “What?!”

  “You might wanna see if the door is even locked in the first place?” said Harvey in an innocent manner.

  “Harvey, I don’t—”

  Harvey reached out to twist the door knob. The door clicked open. Katie didn’t move. A short pause ensued.

  “You must have gotten off the right side of the bed this morning,” she finally said.

  “Hear, hear.” Harvey pushed the door wider gently. He entered the almost pitch-black room. “Where’s the light switch?” He reached out like a blind man.

  “I don’t know,” replied Katie. “It’s not by the wall.”

  The only light bulb in the room lit in a blinding flash. Katie found herself staring at a wall.

  “Holy shit—” She heard Harvey exclaim. Katie quickly turned around and spotted Harvey staring at a man in an impeccable charcoal business suit, with a hairstyle so neatly combed, it would put Elvis to shame. The man sitting on the couch spoke.

  “Funny how they designed this room.” He pointed to the light bulb with its dangling chain. “I’d have to stumble over my bed to switch on the light every night when I return.” He chuckled.

  Katie froze. Something about the man told her she wouldn’t want him to be their enemy. He reeked of blood. Or perhaps it was just the room.

  “I was wondering how long you guys were going to take to bicker before you came in,” he continued. “Professor Harvey Nolan. Agent Katie Moulin.”

  Katie reached for her gun at her back. But the man in the fine suit was faster. He already had a gun—which wasn’t there before—pointed at the both of them before she could even feel for the butt of her pistol. Katie didn’t even see him draw it—it was just a flash of motion. A blur, like a slow shutter speed photograph.

  “Ah-ah, not so fast, my dear. Hands where I can see them if you would, please?”

  Chapter 32

  SPECTOR HELD THE gun with a rather annoying smirk on his face, his Prussian blue eyes unblinking. He seemed to find the whole situation amusing.

  Harvey and Katie slowly raised their hands facing Spector. Katie looked positively pissed at the plight they got themselves into, while Harvey looked more puzzled than troubled. He found the man remarkably familiar, though he couldn’t remember where he had seen him. That British accent. And of course having a gun pointed at him didn’t exactly help with the recall.

  Spector gave a chortle before he lowered his gun. Harvey turned to look at Katie. Her angry frown was still in place, though her eyes widened slightly in surprise. Spector opened his mouth and looked like he was about to say something when the sound of a phone ringing interrupted him. He sighed as he fished his cell phone from the inside of his jacket and stared at the screen. He snorted before he answered the call.

  “Seriously, Bertram? Why do you always have to steal the spotlight?” Spector chuckled. “You managed to do it even from five thousand miles away, I always wondered how—cameras?” He looked at the ceiling of the room.

  “Don’t move,” said Katie as she took the chance to pull her gun on the man.

  “C’mon, really?” Spector said to Katie, covering the mouthpiece of his cell phone, before returning to his call. “Oh it’s nothing, just someone pointing a gun at me—I’m kind of in the middle of something, what do you want?”

  Katie frowned at the man’s insouciance. She kept her gun pointed at Spector. Harvey stood still as a statue.

  “Yeah…I guess it’s inevitable. As a matter of fact, Harvey’s standing right in front of me with his girlfriend,” said Spector. “I wasn’t planning it to be like that you know, me pointing a gun at him, after so long—”

  “I’m not his girlfriend,” uttered Katie.

  “Ex-girlfriend, whatever,” rebutted Spector before returning to his cell phone again. “—not that it would be all fireworks and champagne, but at least…I don’t know—”

  “Erm—” Harvey chimed in.

  Spector raised his palm in an outward motion. “How did you even know I was in Athens—argh never mind, forget I asked. No one can fathom your ways—actually, can we carry on this conversation later? I really have to go, there’s an audience watching us talk, to cry out loud, it’s rude to keep them waiting—”

  “Is that—?” continued Harvey.

  “Ha
-ha, that’s not funny at all. Piss off, buddy, later,” Spector said as he finally ended the call.

  “Is that Bertram? Bertram Moore?” asked Harvey.

  Spector slipped his cell phone back in his jacket. “The one and only. My sincerest apologies, Mr. Moore does like to be the center of attraction, I’m afraid.”

  “What’s all this about?” asked Katie with the same frown on her face, her gun still aimed at Spector.

  “Sweetie, put the gun down. If I wanted to kill you, you would have been dead long ago,” said Spector before looking at Harvey. “Harvey—”

  “It is you,” blurted Harvey, interrupting the man in the couch. “You were the one who broke me out of the FBI holding cell—”

  “W-What?!” Katie stammered.

  “I recognized that voice—cover your mouth!” commanded Harvey. “Say something!”

  Spector shocked at the sudden demand, nodded his head and put a hand up to cover his lips with his palm, acting like a mindless drone. He then said, “Hi mate, pardon me, but do you like a spot of tea and a crumpet—”

  “There!” cried Harvey as he pointed at the man. “That’s him!”

  Katie looked noticeably confused.

  “He was wearing a mask the other time!” explained Harvey. “And he sounded exactly like that.”

  Spector put down his hand. “I ensure you I don’t normally walk around in that dreadful-looking thing. It was Bertram’s—”

  “Who are you?!” interrupted Harvey. “And what are you doing here?”

  Spector blinked blankly. “I’m on a mission, by order of Her Majesty Elizabeth the Second, Queen of the United Kingdom, Canada—actually I think I’m not supposed to say that. Let’s just leave it at, I’m on a mission. Period.”

  Harvey and Katie simply stared at the man.

  Spector continued, “Which incidentally converges with your path when your friend—the dead one—took something he—”

  “What has Britain got to do with this?” asked Katie.