Dig Two Graves: Revenge or Honor

by Nick Vellis

  Dig Two Graves

  Revenge or Honor

  Nick Vellis

  Dig Two Graves: Revenge or Honor

  © 2014 by Nick Vellis

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means electronic, mechanical, photographic (photocopying), recording, or otherwise without prior permission in writing from the author except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.

  ISBN-13: 978-1493784691

  ISBN-10: 1493784692

  Kindle Version ASIN: B00HOUD2YO

  Learn more about the author at:

  www.NickVellis.com or

  www.amazon.com/author/nickvellis

  Cover Design: Cover Design: Rick Schroeppel www.ElmStreetDesign Studio.com

  DEDICATION

  For Alex, Margaret, Katherine, Alexis and Kate and all who serve the United States

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  A forgiving group of family, friends, and professionals has encouraged and assisted in the writing of Dig Two Graves: Revenge or Honor. My wife Kate, daughter Alexis, Carol Israel, Emily Hoyer, the Writers Alliance of Gainesville, Larry Brasington, Margaret Mertz, Wendy Thornton, Editor Katie Rowald and Graphic Designer Meryl Klein. I thank you all. I am in your debt.

  FOREWORD

  Thanks to the Internet, not long ago I discovered a family secret. My dad passed away when I was small, but to my amazement, I found him, Alex L. Vellis, mentioned in a WWII online memoir. I learned after months of research that my dad was attached to the Office of Strategic Services (OSS) and had served in Occupied Greece during WWII.

  The OSS sent uniformed units into several occupied countries, including Greece in the latter part of the war. Small units, part of the U. S. Army’s 2671st Special Reconnaissance Battalion, departed for Greece from Brindisi, Italy, through much of 1944, parachuting in or landing by boat. My father was among approximately two hundred men assigned to eight Greek Operational Groups. These Operational Groups or OGs worked with the Greek resistance to hinder the redeployment of German troops and to destroy bridges and railroad tracks and truck convoys.

  My father, Staff Sergeant Alex L. Vellis, was part of OG III and sent to the area around Thessaly, Greece. He entered the country 19 July 1944 and left at the end of October 1944. The Greek OG’s were active in Greece between April and October 1944. The Operational Groups’ activities were some of the best kept secrets of World War II. Like many World War II veterans, these men did not talk about their service. In the case of the Greek Operational Groups, it was not just modesty. They remained silent under orders. Today, few Americans or Greeks know that Greek- Americans fought in Greece during the war. Their record of bravery and excellence and heroism was finally declassified in 1988. The National Archives and some well-researched web sites hold a trove of information about these valiant men. With declassification came slow recognition. Veterans have come forward, books and articles are appearing, and the magnitude of what this small force accomplished is beginning to come out. A statue honoring the Greek-American soldiers was unveiled in Athens’ Armed Forces Park in May 2005. On the base of this statue is a list of names, the names of men who served in the American Army behind the lines in Greece. Almost at the end of that list is Alex L. Vellis.

  My personal journey to learn about my father’s wartime experience took me across the country and around the world. My family had no idea about the details of my father’s wartime service. The book Behind the Lines in Greece, The story of OSS Operational Group II by Robert E. Perdue, Jr. gave me great inspiration. Mr. Perdue graciously helped with my search for information, put me in touch with a number of OSS veterans, and facilitated my obtaining copies of National Archive records about my father. I exchanged letters, phone calls, and emails with a handful of individuals who kindly shared their knowledge. Each bit of information brought me closer to my father and I continue my search today.

  Before you embark on a journey of revenge, dig two graves.

  Confucius

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  DEDICATION

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  FOREWORD

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4 OCCUPIED GREECE 23 JULY, 1944

  CHAPTER 5 OCCUPIED GREECE 24 JULY 1944

  CHAPTER 6 OCCUPIED GREECE 1 SEPTEMBER 1944

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10 OCCUPIED GREECE 24 OCTOBER 1944

  CHAPTER 11 OCCUPIED GREECE 25 OCTOBER 1944

  CHAPTER 12 OCCUPIED GREECE 26 OCTOBER 1944

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16 OCCUPIED GREECE 28 OCTOBER 1944

  CHAPTER 17 OCCUPIED GREECE 30 OCTOBER 1944

  CHAPTER 18 OCCUPIED GREECE 30 OCTOBER 1944

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  CHAPTER 22 OCCUPIED GREECE 31 OCTOBER 1944

  CHAPTER 23 OCCUPIED GREECE 31 OCTOBER 1944

  CHAPTER 24 OCCUPIED GREECE 20 NOVEMBER 1944

  CHAPTER 25

  CHAPTER 26

  CHAPTER 27

  CHAPTER 28

  CHAPTER 29

  CHAPTER 30

  CHAPTER 31

  CHAPTER 32

  CHAPTER 33

  CHAPTER 34

  CHAPTER 35

  CHAPTER 36

  CHAPTER 37

  HISTORICAL NOTES

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  CHAPTER 1

  Andreas glanced at his Rolex for the fourth time in as many minutes as he paced under the orange yellow glow of the streetlights outside Boston’s Union Oyster House. 11:30. His contact was late. He wasn’t used to being kept waiting. He ran a hand through his shock of bushy white hair as he fumed. The sticky night air pressed in on him as July’s heat seeped out of the sidewalk, despite the hour. Sweat trickled down his back, tweaking his raw nerves. A heavily accented man had called his Miami office two days ago offering to sell critical information, but demanded a face-to-face meeting. Now he was in Boston, literally sweating it out, and waiting for the meeting. The door behind him creaked open. Turning, he watched a young couple emerge arm in arm from the noisy restaurant. They were looking at each other, not where they were going, and walked right in to him.

  The young woman turned to him in surprise. “I’m so sorry, sir. Excuse us. We just got engaged,” she giggled.

  “Congratulations,” Andreas replied with a broad smile, “I hope you have many happy years together.” He recalled his own thirty- two years of marriage. How he missed her!

  Andreas watched wistfully as the couple walked away. A sharp sound pulled his attention toward the restaurant. A scowling bartender was rapping on the window and holding up the phone. Andreas quickly went inside.

  “This is Pantheras,” Andreas said curtly.

  “Are you alone?” It was the same man who’d called before.

  “No, I’m not alone. I’m in the middle of a crowded bar. How am I going to be alone? Why are you calling? We were supposed to meet here.” Andreas replied over the buzz of the busy pub.

  “That is none of your concern. You will walk to Christopher Columbus Park.”

  “You want me to do what? Look, I’m not going to hoof it all over the city. We were to meet here. Where are you?”

  “Mr. Pantheras, if you want what I have, you will do as you are told.” />
  “Tell me what you want and let’s get done with it.”

  “Go to the Commercial Street entrance of Christopher Columbus Waterfront Park. You will see me.”

  “OK, got it, Commercial Street entrance.”

  “You know it?”

  “Yes, I know it. It will take about fifteen minutes,” Andreas said.

  “You better hurry then.” The contact abruptly clicked off.

  Andreas slammed down the receiver. He was annoyed, but sometimes when you can do the right thing, you have a responsibility to see it finished. This was the right thing to do for his client. He put a five under the phone with a nod to the surly bartender and stepped back into the humid night. He walked quickly, passing the young couple he had spoken to earlier. He was used to a regular jog, so the quick pace wasn’t a challenge, despite his nearly sixty-nine years, his Armani suit, and the heat.

  The brisk walk helped clear away Andreas’ impatience. He thought back to the depositions he’d conducted this afternoon.

  He’d caught each of three key defense witnesses in outright lies. The men, overconfident in their hometown, were relaxed and careless.

  Their mistakes, coupled with whatever he got at this next meeting would seal the deal. He could almost taste a big settlement. It would secure his retirement and give him the time to pursue his other project.

  His first meeting of the day had revealed totally unexpected information. Complicated and far-reaching, this new project would take time and money. He would have to go to Greece, certainly. He had to know, but first he would have to come up with a plan. His friend had ended their meeting with a warning to be careful. The man was a worrier, but it had helped him grow to be an old man.

  Then he thought of his son, AJ, and how disappointed, even angry he would be. Andreas knew he couldn’t support his son for partner at the vote tomorrow. The people he represented accounted for a huge part of the firm’s income, but they were dishonorable men. He couldn’t support his son or the firm in representing such people, nor condone the things he’d seen AJ do to get his clients off. AJ’s greed, impatience, and shortcuts had gotten him booted from JAG. The Army didn’t like cowboys. One day, those faults would be his son’s downfall. Yes, his son would be disappointed tomorrow, but not nearly as much as Andreas would.

  At midnight, Andreas entered the park. He immediately saw a man down by the waterfront and went right to him.

  “You have something for me?’ he said extending his hand.

  The water’s reflections colored the man’s craggy face, stern with hard, unreadable eyes. Dressed in a dark suit and a black fedora, the enigmatic figure melded into the water behind him. A shudder of doubt ran through Andreas’ when the stranger ignored his outstretched hand.

  “You’re asking too many questions, Pantheras,” he said.

  In his voice, Andreas recognized the man who’d called two days earlier and his doubt turned to cold fear.

  “I’m a lawyer, I get paid to ask questions,” he snapped back. “Are you going to help me or not?”

  The perplexing figure let out a labored sigh. “No, Mr. Pantheras, not help you… silence you.”

  A slender blade appeared out of the darkness. The stiletto sliced into Andreas just below the sternum, stealing his final breath in a ragged gasp as his assailant’s hand smothered any last whimper for help.

  The killer rammed the blade upward, piercing the bottom of his victim’s heart. Wrapped in the thick smell of his killer’s breath, gaping into the man’s cold eyes he fell to his knees then face first to the concrete, all sensation gone.

  The man spit on the lifeless form at his feet. “Quick. Search him,” he hissed. The assassin carefully removed his blade and smiled. He’d done well. The wound was small without a hint of blood. It was easy to miss. He frisked the fresh corpse.

  Quickly, efficiently he checked his victim, removing a wallet, watch, cell phone, and a ring as he methodically patted the body down. He turned off the cell phone to avoid tracking and placed the items in a plastic bag that went in his front pocket.

  Looking up at the older man the killer sighed,

  “It’s not here.”

  “Damn. He must have left it in his room. Dispose of those things quickly. Let’s get over to the hotel.” Soundlessly, the two men walked away.

  AJ was running through the surf in Aruba with Natalie. She embraced him, leaned over to kiss him, and whispered in his ear. He felt her hot breath, heard the magic in her voice as she said his name. The smell of the ocean, the firmness of her body against his left him breathless. He reached for her, but his hands found nothing but air. He felt as though he was falling, awoke, and found himself on the very edge of the bed. AJ forced open his eyes and sat up only to become immediately aware of his pounding head.

  “What was I thinking?” he said aloud as he remembered last night’s tequila shots.

  AJ looked at the clock, 1:30 p.m., then at the empty spot in the bed. He sighed and knew who should be there. He lay down again, trying to recall the dream. It had been so real. Now that his goal was within his grasp, he thought of her. He wanted her with him, but that was all over. Maybe a new Beemer - yes a new 5 Series - would surely make up for the loss, and after today, he would be able to afford it.

  Their argument had been loud and bitter, the last of many. Her objection had been his long hours, but she traveled the world for weeks at a time. No matter how much they talked, it was his fault, and then she was gone.

  The next day she called to say she was off to Brazil on yet another photo shoot. That had been nearly two months ago. His private investigator reported in after only two days in Rio that she was with another man. He should have known.

  AJ got out of bed holding his head and shuffled barefoot toward the bathroom. The aroma of coffee brewing wafted in from the kitchen. Thank God for the coffee maker’s auto start. Turning on the light he scrunched his eyes against the sudden glare, and fumbled in the cabinet for some aspirin. AJ watched as the image in the mirror came into focus.

  He looked into the face of a man he hardly knew and didn’t much like. The face was angular but delicate, a complement to his muscular frame. Dark, deep-set eyes peered inquisitively from beneath heavy brows a half shade darker than his curly hair.

  At thirty-two, that hair was showing a touch of grey at the temples. He was tall, lean, and fit. Even to an untrained eye, his physique shouted athlete. He had broad shoulders, a trim midsection, and muscular legs. He had no trouble keeping up with the younger guys on the squash court or attracting attention from the ladies but they didn’t hang around.

  Today, the firm would vote AJ Pantheras a full partner of Gold, Pantheras, and Echeverria at the ripe old age of thirty-two. He had worked for this his entire career. As one of only three criminal attorneys in a firm known for civil and contract law, AJ had made a splash landing a long list of wealthy criminal clients. Granted, they were drug dealers, embezzlers, tax cheats, and smugglers, but they paid well. AJ had tripled the income on the criminal side of the firm in just two years. They would make him a full partner as a reward.

  Picking up the phone, AJ dialed his office. Carol Bailey answered on the second ring.

  “Law offices. May I help you?”

  “Good morning, Ms. Bailey, any messages?” AJ said with some effort. His hangover was really starting to get to him.

  “Good afternoon, Mr. Pantheras. Yes, sir, you’ve had a few calls. Mr. Clarke called about Friday’s depositions. He arranged for the court reporter you requested. The other calls were routine. I took care of them. It’s a quiet Wednesday here, sir. Will you be in later?”

  Ignoring the question, AJ asked, “Is the partners’ meeting still going on?”

  Used to her abrupt and overly formal boss, Carol Bailey replied, “Yes, sir. They’ve been in there since early this morning. One of the girls told me they sent out for sandwiches.”

  Carol kept up with the office’s goings on and gossip but didn’t share her knowledge. Bette
r to know and keep quiet. She knew her boss was up for partner, which would mean a big raise and maybe even an assistant for her.

  “It’s gone longer than scheduled,” the young secretary added.

  “OK. Thank you. Ah, can you find out if my father’s called in to the meeting?” AJ asked, unsure if he should trust his secretary.

  “Yes, sir. I can find that out. Will you hold for a moment, please?” Carol put AJ on hold, so he took the opportunity to sip his coffee. The coffee was hot, but bitter. Maybe they were Brazilian beans.

  A moment later, Carol was back on the line.

  “Mr. Pantheras, your father has not called. Mr. Echeverria has tried his cell phone and his hotel but hasn’t reached him.”

  “Hummm, Ms. Bailey, I am going to work from home for the rest of the day.”

  Looking at his watch, AJ guessed Carol had figured out that startling fact on her own. “I want to do some preparation for that deposition. Fax me the Perez notes, please. They’re in a labeled folder in my top right drawer. Call me on my cell if anything comes up,” AJ said with some effort. Why do I keep drinking tequila?

  “Yes sir. I’ll have those notes to you shortly. Please call if you need anything else.”

  “Thank you, Ms. Bailey. See you tomorrow,” AJ said.

  “Good-bye, sir.”

  AJ threw back the heavy drapes and opened the sliding glass door. The brilliant Miami sun jolted him, and he wished he’d stayed in bed. Still barefoot and wearing his long pajama pants, AJ padded out to a chaise lounge next to the pool and curled up, his coffee on the deck beside him.

  He wasn’t sure how long he’d been asleep when the cell phone rang. He got up, stiff from sleep. He kicked over the coffee mug and dashed to catch the ringing phone.

  “Hello,” AJ said. He looked at his watch, 4:30 p.m.

  “Hi, AJ Luis Echeverria here.”

  “Hi Luis, I’ve been waiting for your call,” AJ said. He tried to clear the fog from his head, blinking his eyes several times and stretching his neck from side to side.