by Glenn Smith
Fifteen minutes later, the taxi driver stopped in front of the Bretagne, removed the ignition key and accompanied Flint and Ava to the front desk. He wanted his $60 fare in drachmas, but Flint had not yet changed currency. He handed the attractive woman at the front desk five U. S. $20 bills. As the clerk counted out 247,612 drachmas, Ava looked at four athletic young men who walked confidently into the hotel. None was over thirty years old or under 6'4" tall. Their muscular legs were covered in white tights and Scottish looking knee socks. They wore white fustanellas, short skirts with four hundred pleats each. She assumed they were military. Their Kalashnikovs and red wool berets said they were not to be messed with.
The taxi driver wanted to argue with Flint's 10 percent tip, but one of the four men in white skirts overheard and spoke forcefully in Greek to the driver. The driver decided what Flint offered was just fine.
Flint thanked the officer as Ava led the way toward the elevator. On the roof Ava made straight for Abdu Koriem. He stood, bowed. She hugged him strongly, introduced him to Flint.
"This is my eternal Sat Guru," she said to Flint after giving each man the other's name. "He taught me the most important things I know, including hypnosis."
As Flint felt Abdu's powerful grip, he noticed a miniature being, about six inches tall, that appeared to be on Koriem's left shoulder near his ear. Flint’s double take became more pronounced as he recognized the wispy likeness of his own mother, now deceased.
"Your mother and you," Abdu said with a faint smile, "were close. But she died suddenly and you were not able to be physically present where she was. However, you knew the exact instant when she left her mortal coil." Abdu paused, then continued. "I am directed to tell you that everything was as it needed to be. She is not only liberated for this lifetime but forever. She will not be back in the temporary realm."
Flint seemed always to have a ready reply, but this time he was silent. Abdu continued. "You are wondering if what you saw on my shoulder near my left ear was real. Put it this way. Your mother did not assume a translucent body and talk to you. She no longer exists as the personality you called mom. However the message you have received is real and true. The ultimate nature of reality caused you to see the likeness of your mother in her mid forties when you were seven years old."
Flint, Ava, and Abdu sat at the table. The soup course arrived. For the next hour, conversation never lagged. Dessert was a delightful chocolate mousse, dark and not too sweet. Then fruit, kiwi sliced and grapes. Three kinds of cheese followed, but leftovers of the fruit stayed present as well. Zagori sparkling water was replenished as needed.
Neither Ava nor Flint mentioned the phone call Ava had received on Flint's phone in the taxi coming from the airport. Abdu took one final miniscule slice of a camembert type cheese, chewed and swallowed. "You are here,” he said looking at Ava, “because you and I have a mutual acquaintance whom you as yet barely know." Then he looked at Flint. "Mohammed Bahaar has asked me to apologize to you for his incursion into your room and luggage. He says that his great esteem for Ava caused him concern for her safety."
"And what leads him to suspect that I am not also concerned for her wellbeing?" Flint asked.
"He did not say," was Abdu's reply. "And I did not ask, but something has caused his suspicion to shift away from you."
"And do you trust Mr. Bahaar?"
"I trust him for the moment because I believe it is in his perceived interest to keep Ava safe and well."
"In other words," Flint chose his words carefully, "Bahaar wants something that he thinks Ava can help him get."
"I would not rule that out as a possibility. . . I would not even rule it out as likely."
"Hey," Ava said with force. "Don't I have something to say about whatever he wants from me?"
Ava and Flint were looking intently at their dinner host.
"I can only say," Abdu spoke purposefully, "that you definitely should have everything to say about your role in anything. It has been my limited experience with Mo—I knew him to some extent in Cambridge, Massachusetts—that he believes himself superior. He does not appear constrained by anything having to do with love or generosity." Abdu paused, then finished. "I know him as a self-serving and clever man who wears a façade of idealism as a convenience."
Flint felt a chill as the hair stood up on the back of his neck. "Did Bahaar ask you to meet us? Is this location his choice?"
Koriem stroked his chin. "Bahaar phoned me maybe twenty minutes before the two of you walked in and went to the front desk. He seemed to know that you would be coming here."
Ava interjected, "he called us on Flint's phone in Sorrento, said I should travel to Athens right away. Then again in the taxi after we got here, he directed us to find you here at the rooftop restaurant."
Flint added, "he is deliberately creating the impression that he is watching us continuously now. Why would he rope you into his plot?"
Abdu shrugged. "He is ambitious, powerful, smart, practical, and likes to make up the rules as he goes along. He knows that Ava studied hypnosis with me a few years back. He knows that I hold her in esteem. He suggested that I use my influence with her to persuade her to see him. That likely means that he has booked a room here, though I made no effort to learn whether that is so. He knew already that I am here in this hotel, although I have had no communication with him for several years prior to his call this evening. My trip was impromptu and not advertised but not a secret. He is a rich man who is able to learn many things."
The waiter brought the bill. Abdu glanced at it, touched it, and the waiter retrieved it knowing that Mr. Koriem meant for him to add the usual 25 percent gratuity. Flint and Ava expressed their thanks to the waiter and to Abdu, then moved through the dining room door to the elevator.
As Flint and Ava stepped off the elevator on the ground floor, a well-dressed man engaged Ava in conversation. She recognized his voice as that of the person who had conveyed Bahaar's telephone invitation to the Houston party. He had said then that his name was Jafe. She paused courteously to acknowledge him as he reintroduced himself to her.
As Jafe caught Ava’s attention, Flint headed for the front desk to inquire about room availability. His phone began to ring. He did not answer because two men in suits suddenly were walking on either side of him. They made sure he saw the Colt semi automatic .45s in their shoulder holsters. "Come with us," one of them said, "or Dr. Milan will be hurt." The accent was not Indian but from somewhere in that region. Flint’s phone kept calling. The two men ushered him through the front doors into the back seat of a waiting Mercedes.
The car, with Flint sandwiched between his guards in the back seat, was already disappearing from view by the time Ava looked away from Jafe as she tried to spot Flint. At that moment Mo Bahaar materialized, greeted Abdu Koriem as he emerged from the elevator.
"Have you seen Flint?" Ava asked Abdu.
"A couple of minutes ago. I saw him leave the restaurant with you. Have you lost him?"
"He was walking toward the front desk to check in. But he has vanished," Ava declared.
"Perhaps I can help," Bahaar suggested smoothly. "He seems to have abandoned you in favor of a delightful looking young blonde woman who got into a taxi with him. You won't see him for hours I'm sure. Why don't you join me for a drink while you await his return?"
As Bahaar spoke, Ava heard the sound of a mobile phone in her purse. But the only phone in that purse was Mary's, and it was turned off and locked. Still, she fished it out of the handbag, welcoming the distraction while she decided what to say to Mo. Sure enough, it was Mary's phone, on and ringing. Ava said hello and listened.
"Dr. Milan, this is Zeta Chu. I have just called Flint but there was no answer. I know from Laura Syms that you have Mary Simpson's phone. I have learned the code for turning it on and unlocking it from a distance."
"Yes, that is correct," Ava said. "I am standing here in the Grande Bretagne Hotel in Athens. I am speaking with Mr. Mohammed Bahaar and Mr. Abdu
Koriem."
"Does Bahaar know that you are speaking with me?" Zeta asked.
"I think not."
"Then listen carefully. I am tracking Flint's phone GPS. He is south and a little west of the Parthenon in an area called the pedestrian walkway to the acropolis. It’s about 400 meters from the Parthenon. I have a satellite camera photographing him. He is in a Mercedes which just now stopped moving. Try to get him some help immediately."
The call ended. As Ava put the phone away, she realized that Abdu was walking out of the hotel going past two of the white skirted military men who were smoking just outside the hotel entrance. Bahaar caught her arm, but she pulled away and walked immediately to the smoking soldiers. "My friend has been abducted and is at the pedestrian walkway south of the acropolis. He is in danger." Before she could add "please help him," Bahaar was escorting her back toward the bank of elevators.
Ava could not see what the two soldiers did because Bahaar’s body movement crowded her into an open elevator as he entered it close behind her. His left index finger touched the button for floor five. Once there, he inserted his key into a locked door which swung open and revealed the woman from the dining room, the bronzed one daringly wearing the small white cloth as a dress. Her tuxedoed companion slouched on a sofa. Standing nearby was the man who had just reintroduced himself to Ava as Jafe.
Chapter 11
Harry Johnson noticed that his watch said it would shortly be 4:00 P.M. Monday afternoon. Zeta was at the next desk watching a satellite feed on her notebook computer. It showed Flint and his two guards getting out of a Mercedes not far from the Parthenon, the hill top ruin that overlooks all of Athens. Even though it was midnight, artificial light flooded the ancient pillars of Athena's temple. This allowed the camera in space to see details.
Just then, Laura walked into the Texas Ranger facility after having dropped Shana at the Driskill for her first day of work. Harry said hi, joined Laura starring at Zeta's monitor.
They saw the Mercedes stopped. Both guards and the driver got out with Flint. The driver opened the trunk, removed a tube looking object about a meter in length and handed it to the guard standing with him at the car’s open trunk. Flint and the other guard had just emerged from the right-hand door of the car’s back seat. They were isolated from the other two and partly blocked from view by the car’s body and by the trunk’s open lid.
That moment presented a better chance than Flint might have again. His right shoulder slammed hard into the left arm of the man next to him, sending him sprawling to the ground. At the same time, Flint’s left hand deftly slipped the pistol from its owner’s shoulder holster. Flint pulled the slide back and released it on the model 1911 .45 caliber army Colt, ejecting the cartridge in the chamber. Better to waste a round than not know for sure whether the gun was ready to fire. The guard on the ground thought better of trying to get up. The one holding the tube decided not to try for his own pistol. The driver did not have a gun, but pressed an auto dial feature on his phone.
Bahaar’s expensively dressed enforcers were speaking Urdu, including the one talking to his phone. Flint silenced them, hung up the driver’s cell phone and smashed it on the ground, forced all three of them to form a circle with their backs to each other. He then forced them to link arms and sit on the paved walkway.
Zeta, Harry, and Laura cheered as if they were watching a football match. A German made, Greek army G-Wagen SUV arrived. A very tall man wearing a pleated white skirt stepped out of it; so did his driver. Flint eased the hammer down on his weapon as the Greek officer cocked his 9 mm Heckler & Koch P7 and aimed it at the trio on the ground.
As three enlisted Greek MPs arrived in another G-Wagen, Flint's phone sounded. "Way to go cowboy!" It was Laura. "You didn't even need the cavalry, did you?"
"Glad to see them," he said back. "Who sent 'em? You? Zeta? Harry?"
"None of us. Not enough time. Might have been your friend Doctor Ava. Zeta told her you got nabbed, where you were, and to get you some help. Ava was in that hotel, the Grande Bretagne, with Mohammed Bahaar. Zeta is trying to phone her now but not getting an answer. Wait. Harry has something for you."
"Flint. Something that your friend Zeta came up with. Do you know something called the DSM Four? It's the bible for shrinks and clinical psychologists."
"Yes. I know the DSM Four. It has a numeric code for every named mental disorder—either four or five digits. Psychiatrists and psychologists use the numbers when they bill insurance companies."
"Well, Zeta has discovered a report by a team of researchers at Rice University in Houston. These people have identified a particular configuration of code numbers with people who kill with no remorse and make their victims suffer in the process. She searched Dr. Milan's patient records. By the way, she found those records so easy to hack in to that she needed only a few seconds. She found that Dr. Milan describes Freddy Gambini with the exact DSM Four number configuration that the research study says is a problem. Also she believes that Mohammed Bahaar has the same characteristics—though he has not been evaluated by a clinician."
"Is she available to talk?"
"I'll check."
"Flint," Zeta said with a glad tone in her voice.
"Hey Zeta. Thanks for getting Ava to save my hide. Tell me more about Mo Bahaar and the DSM Four."
"The report I read focuses on a particular combination of asocial and antisocial traits. Bahaar was a loner as a child. He has a suppressed sadistic tendency, and he has never met anyone who knows as much as he knows. He is for real exceptionally well read and has a phenomenal memory. He has concluded that he is exempt from all laws and rules. He has so far not been caught fracturing the rules; however, if he ever is cornered, he knows that he can out think anyone who tries to curtail him. Flint, do be very careful because he wants to find someone who is a worthy opponent. He likely thinks Dr. Milan is a challenge. If he gets to know you, you will inevitably provoke his competitive jealousy. He will automatically try to annihilate you. He will torture and kill Dr. Milan simply to annoy you. That is his nature."
"I'll stay alert Zeta."
"Flint. You ever read Arthur Conan Doyle's Sherlock Holmes stories?"
"I've indulged in a few."
"You know the character named Professor Moriarty?"
"Yes, the personification of evil in some of the stories."
"Bahaar seems to be a real life Moriarty. He looks benign but pleases himself by causing pain to others. But he doesn’t get caught at it."
"I hear you. Thanks again for watching my back.”
Flint hung up. The military police officer questioned Flint. The other white skirts took the minions of Bahaar behind one of the G-Wagens. As Flint answered the officer's questions, loud protests came in Urdu from one of the captives. The officer left Flint for a few minutes, then returned.
"Our captives wanted to claim diplomatic immunity, but a couple of my men have persuaded them to talk instead. Seems you were being set up.” He pointed to the olive drab colored tube. “They were instructed to shoot this shoulder launched, multipurpose assault weapon into the Parthenon. It will fire an explosive rocket accurately from this distance. Then they were to kill you and make it look as if they interrupted you destroying a sacred Greek temple.”
“You got a lot from them quickly,” Flint said.
“That’s the other interesting thing,” the officer said smiling. “We found a vial of what appears to be a Russian developed truth serum. The Russians call it SP-117. Tasteless, odorless, quick acting, without obvious side effects. It is highly effective, and the person on whom it is used doesn’t remember afterwards that he swallowed it. The Russian secret service has used it extensively, including on its own agents and a couple of politicians. More reliable than sodium pentothal or sodium amytal. At least that is what my brother tells me. He's a forensic specialist."
Flint asked, "and were they planning to use it on me?"
"Yes, it seems so. They want to know everything you know ab
out the woman psychiatrist at the Bretagne who asked me to help you." The officer paused. "We used the truth serum on all three men and they are talking nonstop.” He led Flint around a vehicle to where the white skirts had them cuffed with their legs tied. They were seated on the ground and were speaking in Urdu. One of the Greek soldiers translated.
“Ask them what Bahaar wants from Dr. Milan,” Flint requested.
“I have asked. They don’t know, but they know that she is important to his plans.”
“What do they know that might help.?” Flint inquired.
“Does it help to know that their employer wants you to hurt before you die?”
“No big surprise.” Flint gave a phone number to the translator and the officer in charge. “Call me if you learn anything I need to know.” They both entered his number into their cell phones. Flint turned to the officer in charge. “I need to get back to the Bretagne Hotel to locate Dr. Milan.” The officer agreed, sent two English speaking soldiers to drive him in one of the G-Wagens.
