Falling Stars

by Tim Tigner

  112

  Revelations

  French Riviera

  ACHILLES COULDN’T BELIEVE he was down to his last card and gambling for Katya’s life. If the Vazov’s couldn’t beat her location out of Ivan. If they failed to get him to talk, to tell the truth, rather than sending them off to Smolensk on a wild goose chase, his odds of finding her in time were slim to none.

  The Vazov party streamed into the central conference room.

  Ripley Zonder followed.

  Vlad walked straight up to Ivan and kicked his bullet wound with the tip of his polo boot. Ivan roared, but quickly stifled himself. “I’m going to enjoy this,” Vlad said. “More than you know.”

  “Oh, good,” Ivan said. “I was afraid I’d get the good guy. The one with talent.”

  Achilles knew what Ivan was up to. He was trying to push Vlad’s buttons and produce an extreme reaction. One that would end things quickly. But Vlad was not so easily played. He picked Ivan up in a fireman’s carry and turned toward the door.

  “Remember our agreement,” Rip said. “I get the body, and it has to be identifiable. Face and fingerprints.”

  “Face and fingerprints,” Vlad repeated. “We can leave most of those.”

  The other three members of the Vazov party moved in to pick up Ivan’s lieutenants.

  Boris blurted, “I know where she is!”

  Everyone turned to face him.

  “He doesn’t know shit,” Ivan said. “None of them do. But go ahead, figure it out the hard way if you must.”

  “I installed the surveillance system on the room she’s in,” Boris continued.

  The look in Ivan’s eyes sent a surge of hope to Achilles’ heart.

  “I can take you to her, right now. But after you have her, the three of us go with Agent Zonder—and Vazov gets Ivan. Agreed?”

  Achilles bit his tongue and turned to face Rip.

  To his relief, Rip nodded. “I’ll still need the face and fingerprints.”

  Achilles turned to Victor.

  “I can live with that.”

  Everyone turned back to Boris.

  Achilles closed his eyes and bowed his head, and asked the crucial question. “How far away is she?”

  “About 500 feet. She’s in the hidden basement beneath Ivan’s house. Michael knows how to access it—and he can still walk.”

  Achilles’ heart leapt. He’d anticipated hours of tortured travel. But if Boris wasn’t lying, Katya was only a minute away.

  Wary of a trap, he, Jo and one of Victor’s bodyguards followed Michael to Ivan’s villa while the others stood watch. Michael led them to a closet. Achilles braced for a booby trap, but Michael’s body language indicated there was none. A reassuring nod from Jo told him she concurred.

  “Open the door, but don’t step inside,” Michael said.

  Achilles complied.

  “Now sweep aside the clothes and twist the rod.”

  Again Achilles complied.

  The floor flipped up, exposing hidden stairs.

  Achilles grabbed Michael by his bound wrists and, without regard for his swollen shoulder, guided him down the stairs. They ended up in a wine cellar.

  “I recognize the bricks from Ivan’s video,” Jo said, excitedly.

  “The next part is a bit tricky,” Michael said. “Easier if you free my hands.”

  Achilles applied zip ties to Michael’s ankles, then nodded at the bodyguard, who produced a knife and slit the ones binding his wrists.

  Michael hopped to the rack beneath the stairs, removed a bottle, twisted a strut, and pushed with both hands. The wall gave way before him.

  They walked into a hidden room containing workbenches, tools and the smell of grease. Katya wasn’t there.

  Achilles and Jo turned to Michael.

  He looked flummoxed. “This is the hidden room. She’s not here. That’s all I know.”

  “This does look like the room,” Jo said. “Except now it has workbenches and tools, while before it had nothing but books, a bucket and a cot.”

  Achilles got a sinking feeling. He didn’t know if he could take much more of this roller-coaster ride without puking. He looked at Jo. Had they been duped?

  “Oh, God,” she said.

  They ran back to the conference room, leaving the bodyguard to contend with Michael.

  To their relief, they found everyone as they’d left them, with the Vazovs taunting Ivan and Rip looking blissfully satisfied.

  “She’s not there!” Achilles yelled.

  Ivan grew a crooked smile despite his circumstances, but Boris looked dumbfounded. “No, I saw the same video stream you did. The underground brick room. The converted wine cellar. She was there.”

  Achilles turned to Jo. “I didn’t see the video. Was it live, or could it have been a recording?”

  Jo scrunched her face and twisted her neck. “It looked live, but I guess it could have been a recording. We didn’t interact. She didn’t know we were watching.”

  “Was the mattress still on the floor?”

  “No mattress. Just workbenches and tools.”

  That drew a reaction from Boris. He turned to Michael. “You looked in the wrong room. There’s another hidden room on the opposite side.”

  “I didn’t know,” Michael said.

  This time Achilles threw Boris over his shoulder and ran. He ran to the villa and down the secret stairs. He placed Boris in front of a different wine rack, one kitty-corner from the one Michael had moved.

  The bodyguard freed his bindings.

  Boris performed a similar set of operations, then Achilles pushed the rack inside.

  Katya was waiting. She was chained so she couldn’t run to him, but she was standing with a big, broad grin and open arms.

  EPILOGUE

  Palo Alto, California

  ACHILLES THANKED the Uber driver, ran up the driveway, and rang the bell of his own front door. He had not been home since the day before Director Rider died, so his keys were long gone.

  Katya opened the door and he walked into a wonderful embrace. This moment was what he’d been fighting for. Was there anything better than coming home to the woman you loved? Maybe if it also involved kids clinging to your waist. He wasn’t sure, but he was ready to find out.

  Six days earlier, they had flown from France to Virginia on Victor Vazov’s jet. Victor had been eager to score a few preemptive points with law enforcement, and Rip had been happy to make a grand entrance. Given the reception they received upon landing at Marine Corps Air Facility Quantico, you’d have thought they were carrying nuclear ordinance. In a sense they were. Their cargo included Ivan the Ghost’s three lieutenants and the sole surviving Raven drone—the one left in the secret lab to frame Vazov, along with its command module.

  Achilles had been detained for five full days of questioning, quarantined no less. Katya, by contrast, had been released after two days. One for medical exams, and a second for debriefing. Their home smelled like she’d spent a good chunk of her three-day head start cooking.

  “Achilles, I can’t breathe.”

  He released the hug and followed his fiancée into the kitchen. Two plates and a chilled bottle of Twomey Sauvignon Blanc waited on the table. “Chili-glazed barramundi with coconut jasmine rice and sautéed summer vegetables from the farmer’s market.”

  “It looks heavenly and smells divine.”

  Katya poured him a glass of wine, then raised her own. “They just made the big announcement while you were en route from the airport.” She proceeded to repeat it with a news anchor’s inflection. “Breaking news. The FBI has apprehended the man who was behind both the assassination of CIA Director Wiley Rider, and the drone kidnap and ransom attacks that terrorized our nation. The cunning culprit is none other than the world’s most infamous architect of crime, Ivan the Ghost.”

  Achilles and Katya clinked and sipped. She said, “I was surprised they waited so long to announce it.”

  “Brix didn’t want to go public befor
e they had Ivan in custody.”

  “In custody or …?”

  “The Vazov family worked Ivan over for a full 48 hours. I don’t want to imagine what that was like. I heard veterinary stimulants and blood transfusions were involved. But when they dropped him off he was still alive. Apparently Victor decided that Ivan would suffer more from life in a maximum security prison than he would from another few hours of … his team’s best work.”

  “I’m glad,” Katya said. “I agree with Victor. Where did they turn him over?”

  “Paris. The FBI has an office at the embassy. They had him delivered in a crate to the attention of Ripley Zonder and Robert Brix.”

  Katya met his eye and Achilles knew something serious was coming. “Now that we know that, let’s never speak of him again.”

  “As you wish. Are you okay? How are you feeling? I’m sorry we didn’t get nearly enough alone time before the quarantine at Quantico.”

  “We’ll talk about me in a minute. Please finish your debrief first. I’m sick of being in the dark. I’ve had way too much of that. What’s going on with Jo?”

  “You’re not going to believe this,” he said with a lopsided smile.

  “Tell me.”

  “She’s back at the CIA.”

  “No way!”

  “Apparently Rip Zonder got on Director Riddle’s good side during the investigation, and he called in his chit to get Jo’s job back. I heard there wasn’t much resistance. Word has it that Riddle got a MiMiC call from Ivan too. It wasn’t just Rip who got duped.”

  “She’s happy to return to government service?”

  “It’s a great fit. She’s really talented. Our country is lucky to have her. And now that she’s in the good graces of the Director himself, she’s golden. As is Rip, by the way. He got the assignment of his choice at the FBI: SAIC of San Antonio, Texas.”

  “You mentioned MiMiC. What will the FBI do with it and the drones?”

  “The existence of gun-toting drones will be kept quiet. Same for MiMiC. They can’t put the K&R drone idea back in the bag, but they can conceal the know-how to build it. Hopefully, they’ll come up with countermeasures before the next guy figures out how to create one. If not, we’ll be looking at a new world.”

  Katya raised her glass again. “A world that will need more people like you.”

  They dove into the fish and vegetables. Both were a bit cold, but they still tasted delicious. The secret to a great meal wasn’t so much the food as who you ate it with.

  Achilles cleaned his plate at embarrassing speed.

  Katya put down her own fork when he finished. That was her habit. One of the ways she stayed so slim. He felt guilty for forgetting to pace himself. He was just so wrapped up in the rhythm of catharsis.

  “What about the money?” Katya asked. “Any chance it will be recovered?”

  “Already done. I gave Rip the Bitcoin accounts for Ivan’s lieutenants. They were written down in code, but I overheard the key while on the yacht. Then Victor pried Ivan’s personal account information out of him—once they were alone.”

  Katya shuddered as she pictured that conversation.

  Achilles plowed on. “The FBI confiscated the $600 million Ivan forwarded to Vlad Vazov. Vlad also lost Silicon Hill, which was seized as a criminal enterprise. So Little V is broke, and Big V is apoplectic. He’s making Vlad move back to Russia, and putting him to work. No more polo for the playboy.”

  “Will people get their ransom and insurance payments back? Or will the money end up funding Homeland Security?”

  “Good question. And not one I’m too concerned about. What I am concerned about is you. What did they say at Moscow State University?”

  “The Mathematics Department Chair received a call from the U.S. Secretary of State. Professor Kushlinski was quite impressed, and called me to say so. I’m welcome back any time.”

  Achilles felt a rock roll off his shoulders. “Well, that’s a relief. Director Brix must have spoken to the Secretary. I hadn’t heard.”

  Katya didn’t look relieved.

  Again, Achilles asked the crucial question. “How are you feeling?”

  She set down her wine glass and placed her hands in her lap. Her ebullience melted into a faraway expression.

  He walked around the table, took her hand, and pulled her gently up into his arms. “What is it? What can I do? How can I help?”

  She began to shake. Her tremors were barely perceptible, but enough to melt his heart.

  He held her in silence, hoping she could feel the love bursting from him. Willing her soul to sense the security he would forever provide. No matter what, or when, or where. Always.

  Katya’s shakes grew stronger.

  Achilles hugged her tighter.

  He began stroking her hair. Long, slow strokes from the top of her head to the small of her back. Soft and tender.

  She eventually stopped shaking. Shortly thereafter, he felt her muscles relax.

  He waited another long minute before speaking softly. “Would you like to talk to a counselor, a therapist? I can get you into the best of the best. I’ve got an in. We’ll go to her office in the morning.”

  “No, no. Thank you, but that’s not it.” She pulled back and met his eye. Her face was fraught with mixed emotions.

  “Hawaii? How about a couple of weeks on the Garden Isle? I know just the resort. Unbelievable beach, fantastic food and luxurious surroundings guaranteed to make you walk around with your mouth half open in wonder. Oh, and I hear the spa is amazing.”

  “This was the third time, Achilles.”

  He felt the muscles in his throat constricting. What Katya said was true. They hadn’t even known each other for two years, but their association had put her life in grave danger three times. “I know.”

  “It was tough.”

  Should he have flown to her? Forgotten about chasing Ivan and taken care of his fiancée instead? Would that have been less risky? The CIA might have called ahead. Would have called ahead. They’d have been waiting. But he could have put his efforts into outwitting them, rather than Ivan. And he would have discovered the tracking devices. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

  “Ivan’s goons grabbed me outside the tiny village grocery store. They picked me up and threw me in a van like I was livestock. Then they stuck a needle in my arm. I’ve never been more terrified than I was the moment that syringe punctured my flesh.”

  She paused to take a deep breath.

  Achilles stayed silent.

  “The next thing I knew I was chained to the wall in a room with nothing but some books, a mattress and a bucket. I had no idea where I was. It was silent as a tomb.”

  He was crying.

  She was crying.

  “But I knew you’d come for me. I knew it with all my heart. I knew you’d move heaven and earth and wade through the fires of hell. So I was all right. A bit hungry and a bit thirsty, but all right. Good even. Lying there on that moldy mattress in that solitary cell, I was good because one truth became crystal clear to me. A truth I’ll carry with me forever. It’s not what surrounds us that matters in this life, it’s who. I love you, Kyle Achilles.”

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  Dear Reader,

  THANK YOU for reading FALLING STARS. I hope you enjoyed it. If you would be so kind as to take a moment to leave a review on Amazon or elsewhere, I would be very grateful. Reviews and referrals are as vital to an author’s success as a good GPA is to a student’s.

  You might be interested to know that the first few drafts of FALLING STARS had a significantly different ending. If you are curious about the road not taken, kindly email me at tim@timtigner.com and I will forward a copy to you.

  Thanks again for your kind comments and precious attention. All my best,

  Amazon Review Link for FALLING STARS: US

  AU CA DE ES FR IN IT JP UK

  NOTES ON FALLING STARS

  The idea for FALLING STARS came from the conclusions described during t
he flashback scene where Ivan was on the beach in Cannes. In my case, I was talking to my brother on the phone rather than kicking sand, but in an instant I knew I had my next book.

  There are drones that can carry people, although individual helicopters are getting more commercial attention. Here’s a video of one such DRONE. And another video documenting multiple futuristic flying inventions.

  My novels all center around devices I invent. When creating them, I look for things that are near enough to the realm of possibility to be credible. A few times they’ve actually been invented while I’m writing the book. That was the case with MiMiC. You’ll find a similar software program here: LYREBIRD.

  The DREAD gun was a military project that died. I don’t know why. You can buy a similar air gun that shoots BBs rather than ball bearings.

  Unfortunately, there already are drone-mounted guns. Here is one from Russia.

  I received numerous notes from my beta readers correcting AFIT to AFIS for fingerprint identification, even though the former replaced the latter in 2011 (I blame reruns of NCIS for the confusion.) To avoid review backlash, I added a clarification in the text. The upgrade was part of the FBI’s transition to Next Generation Identification. You can read more about NGI here.

  All these links and more can also be found on the Pinterest Board I used to store my research for FALLING STARS. (There’s one for each of the Kyle Achilles novels.)

  WANT MORE ACHILLES?

  Visit my website, timtigner.com, where you can download CHASING IVAN for free. Chasing Ivan, a 150-page novella, is the story of a pivotal mission in Achilles’ career while he was still at the CIA.

  Achilles #1, PUSHING BRILLIANCE, and #2, THE LIES OF SPIES, are on sale now at Amazon and Audible.

  Links to Tim Tigner’s other thrillers