Harvest Hell

by Gar Wilson

  "Ah, amigo." Encizo smiled. "Am I glad to see you."

  "The colonel offered to work the combination to the control panel," Katz stated. "I just wanted to make certain he got all the numbers right. Gary was ready to blow the door open with a strip of C-4. You know how he is about demolitions."

  "How'd the raid turn out?" Encizo asked as he dragged Vitosho to the door.

  "A couple of Greek paratroopers received minor shrapnel wounds," the Israeli announced. "Otherwise we didn't suffer a single casualty. The entire island is under our control now."

  "Did you kill him?" Kostov inquired, referring to the limp figure of Igor Vitosho.

  "No," Encizo replied. "Although he would have killed all of us if he'd gotten to the lab and released the enzyme."

  "The captain was trying to complete his mission." Kostov sighed. "I imagine he thinks I'm a traitor for surrendering, but the battle was already lost. There was nothing to be gained by more killing."

  "There wouldn't have been any killing if your masters in the KGB hadn't started this fight," the Cuban told him.

  "Perhaps." The Bulgarian nodded. "What are you going to do with us, now that you've caught us?"

  "That's up to the Greek authorities," Katz answered. "I imagine you and Vitosho will be tried for espionage. Probably hold you until they can arrange to trade you for a prisoner from our side who is currently held captive behind the iron curtain. You know how this business works."

  "You could kill me," Kostov remarked.

  "We'd rather you take a message to the KGB," Katz stated. "Tell them not to mistake mercy for weakness. If they start a fight, we'll finish it. If they have any more schemes like the Proteus Enzyme plot, they'd better cancel their plans."

  "Because we'll be waiting to kick their ass if they don't," Encizo added bluntly.

  22

  The Greek paratroopers expertly frisked the terrorists and bound their hands behind their backs with riot cuffs. Calvin James personally guarded Dimitri Krio.

  The Greek tycoon did not seem concerned about the situation. "My friends in parliament won't let me go to prison, you know," Krio stated.

  "You think your cronies at city hall will bail your ass out when they find out you've been charged with treason?" James sneered. "No crooked politician is gonna take a risk like that, dude."

  "I'll stand trial," Krio agreed. "But I'll be released. Probably have to leave Greece, of course. But a man with my wealth and influence will certainly be welcomed elsewhere. South America, for example."

  "You may be right, Krio," Gary Manning declared as he approached. "But you're not going to stand trial."

  "Oh?" Krio chuckled. "So the American CIA wants to make a deal? Very well, I'll listen."

  "We're not CIA," the Canadian told him. "And there will be no deal. We can almost excuse the Bulgarians. After all, they were acting under orders. They've got some pretty warped notions about their country due to the KGB, but at least they thought they were acting in the best interests of their country."

  Manning drew a Makarov automatic from his belt. Krio stiffened, and Calvin James raised his eyebrows in surprise. The Greek relaxed a bit when he noticed Manning's arm dangled loosely at his side, pointing the pistol at the ground.

  "But you don't have an excuse, Krio," the Canadian continued. "Not even a weak one. You were part of this vicious conspiracy for purely selfish reasons. That makes your involvement unforgivable."

  "What are you going to do?" Krio asked nervously. "Kill me?"

  "Not exactly," Manning replied as he reached into a pocket with his other hand. "You don't deserve a nice quick execution."

  The roar of a gunshot startled everyone in the area. Katz and Encizo rushed to the scene, escorting Kostov at gunpoint. Krio was shrieking in agony. Smoke curled from the muzzle of Manning's pistol.

  "Jesus, Gary," James rasped.

  The Canadian had shot Krio in the foot.

  Before the corrupt Greek could fall, Manning's left hand thrust a metal tube between Krio's teeth. He sprayed a mist into the tycoon's open mouth. Krio landed on his backside, moaning and sobbing as he stared at the bloodied hole in the instep of his left shoe.

  "Krio," Manning said, waving the lettle spray can in his hand. "This is your little tube of Proteus breath freshener. Remember?"

  The Greek's eyes swelled in horror. His mouth remained open, but terror overwhelmed pain. It froze his vocal cords in an icy death grip.

  "That's right, Krio," Manning remarked dryly. "Hope you enjoy malnutrition, you bastard."

  "Bravo, Gary," Encizo said with heartfelt satisfaction.

  "We'd better get out of here," Katz declared. "The real battle is waiting for us back in Athens."

  "What do you mean?" the Cuban asked.

  "McCarter is recovering from a minor wound, so we didn't bring him on the raid," Katz answered. "He's going to be furious when we tell him what he missed."

  * * *

  "We've got the Proteus Enzyme, Mr. Premier." The President of the United States spoke into the red phone. It was not a telephone but a transatlantic communications device, a direct line to Moscow. The President sat alone in a tiny soundproof room with the contraption. At one time a Russian interpreter had to assist the President on the hot line. Technology now improved security. The premier's reply was translated into English by a language computer hooked up to the red phone.

  "What is the Proteus Enzyme, Mr. President?" the premier asked.

  "You already know about Proteus. Let's not play games, sir. Certainly you've been informed about what happened at Krio Island yesterday."

  "Dreadful business," the premier stated. "Apparently Dimitri Krio was harboring a large number of international terrorists. For some reason a battle erupted and the Greek military had to take rather drastic action. According to reports, Krio was seriously wounded. He's in a hospital in critical condition and not expected to recover."

  "That's the official version," the President confirmed. "The Greeks are certainly happy with it. They're describing the incident as their Grenada."

  "How droll."

  "But you and I know the truth, Mr. Premier. We've both got Proteus now. The formula is in the hands of American scientists, as well as the Russians."

  "Congratulations," the Soviet boss said. "I see you've got some very good clandestine people."

  "The best, Mr. Premier. The very best."

  "And you're calling to let us know if we use Proteus, you're prepared to retaliate with it." The Premier was not asking a question.

  "The balance of power, Mr. Premier," the President confirmed.

  "I understand," the premier assured him. "Are we going to have to discuss this business at the United Nations?"

  "That could be embarrassing for both of us. You don't want to admit you developed Proteus, and we don't want to talk about reproducing it."

  "I appreciate your tact, Mr. President."

  "So you want to keep a lid on Proteus?"

  "Obviously. Moscow has more to fear from publicity than Washington. We need not discuss Proteus again."

  "If the subject comes up again," the President explained, "we won't just discuss it on the phone. I trust you understand."

  "Of course. We all act in our own best interests. I believe that concludes our business for now, Mr. President."

  "I agree, Mr. Premier."

  "Oh, you might tell those very special people of yours that I'm quite impressed by their work. Some of my people hope to meet them someday... professionally."

  "They'll be ready, should that occur."

  "It will, Mr. President. Sooner or later. It will."

  "Good day, Mr. Premier."

  "A good day to you, sir."

  The President ended transmission.

  The Gar Wilson Forum

  Throughout history, assassination has been used by the lunatic fringe as an instrument of self-styled political change. The word "assassin" itself derives from an Arabic word meaning "hashish eaters," as it was believed that the p
olitico-religious Islamic sect who became known as the Assassins took hashish before undertaking their barbarous acts of terrorism.

  This cancerous activity, that in the end must be perceived as an act of madness and desperation, is no stranger to the United States. The names Lincoln, Garfield and Kennedy remind us just how vulnerable our elected leaders are to the homicidal whims of the politically and emotionally unbalanced. Gerald Ford faced two assassination attempts, and Ronald Reagan was the target of an assassin's bullet in 1983.

  But we continue to insist that our politicians be accessible to us, and that the day-to-day details of their lives be made into public property. Because we demand that our elected and chosen leaders reveal their private and public lives through the press, on radio and on television, shouldn't we, as citizens, shoulder some of the responsibility when a gunwielding fanatic takes murderous advantage of our demands to carry out an ill-conceived plan of cold-blooded murder? This responsibility is part of the price of democracy.