“They have been dishonorably discharged and kicked out of Russia, their families arrested. It was a rogue operation.”
“A Russian operation.”
“No, a Hammond operation done out of some insane sense of spite for a deal gone wrong,” Tarasov said.
SIXTY-THREE
Pete had dark jeans, but McGarvey had to give her one of his black polo shirts, which was so ridiculously large she had to tuck it in her waistband. “I’m not going to win any fashion parade looking like this,” she said on the way out of the house and up to the peak of the hill.
The sun was low on the horizon toward the interior of the island, and McGarvey had wanted to take a look from the highest point on the peninsula before dark and pick the likely path their attackers would take, and from that figure out a defense that made sense.
The late-afternoon ferry from the mainland had come and gone an hour ago, and occasionally, a bit of music drifted across the bay from the town. That had been drowned out a couple of minutes ago by a helicopter coming in from the northwest.
“Tourists anxious for a head start,” Pete said.
“I’m not sure,” McGarvey said, half to himself.
The ground was rocky and in most places covered with a dense scrub brush while at other places almost bare. Here and there were larger boulders, some of them big enough to hide behind. Light brown rock outcroppings fell down the side of the hills in waves like broad stationary waterfalls.
“Not sure about what?”
“It hasn’t headed back.”
“Maybe the pilot needs a little R&R and decided to stay for the night.”
“Maybe,” McGarvey said, but he was skeptical. He’d learned from long experience that anomalies were often the things that rose up and bit you in the ass if you didn’t pay attention.
“Call Otto,” Pete suggested.
“Let’s do our walk around first.”
They stopped at the highest point. Off to the east, the big island of Paros with the smaller island of Antiparos in front of it were shrouded in a distant blue haze as if they were another universe away. Just at this moment, there were no boats under way in any direction and only a dozen or two anchored in the harbor.
Up here, they were totally alone, and Pete got something of that from him. “Okay, now I’m getting really spooked,” she said. “Talk to me.”
“There are only two ways for someone to get to us—from the sea or from the air. It’d be a tough climb up the side of the hill, even using the old mine buildings as a cover, and there’d be too many witnesses. Lots of things could go wrong.”
“A HALO jump, and when they were done, ditch their weapons—assuming they were successful in taking us out. Then what?”
“Stay put up here until it was time to take the morning ferry back to Athens.”
“A HALO jump means military. Or at least ex-military. They’d have to be in dark camos for the night operation, but carrying civilian clothes to change into so they could get to the ferry without attracting notice.”
“Which is why we’re going to make as much noise as possible,” McGarvey said.
“No suppressors. Someone’s bound to sit up and take notice. But I thought you wanted to avoid any collateral damage.”
“By the time the local cops got up here, this business will have been finished.”
“One way or the other,” Pete said glumly. “But if they don’t want to make noise, then why don’t we just make our stand in the lighthouse rather than out here?”
“Because I might be wrong,” McGarvey said.
“If they hit us out here, a lot could go wrong for all of us.”
McGarvey took a knee, and Pete hunched down next to him. “I think that they might be counting on us tucked in bed, and they’ll land as close to the lighthouse as possible and come in fast and silent. We don’t have locks on our front door or the kitchen door to the pool because I never saw the need for it. Which means they won’t have to blow the doors. If they know what they’re doing and there are at least four of them, they can stack up at the doors and come in ready to shoot. They’ll drive us up the stairs, and we’ll have nowhere to go.”
“They’ll have to figure that we’ll call for help.”
“First they’ll hit the cell tower.”
“More noise.”
“If they have access to government-level gear, they can do it electronically.”
“Sat phones?”
“I suspect the same,” McGarvey said. “It’s something Otto’s going to look out for. If our sat link goes bad, he’ll know an attack has started.”
“But he can’t call anyone for help. The local coppers would be hopelessly outclassed, and by the time anyone got here from the mainland, it would be all over but the shouting.”
“He could trace the source of the satellite failure.”
“And?”
“If it’s Russian, which I think it probably is, Taft could call the president, who could call Putin.”
“You think of everything,” Pete said.
“It’s the one bit I haven’t thought of that’s the worst of it.”
“Never happens.”
McGarvey smiled. “More often than I’d care to remember,” he said.
He got up, and Pete followed suit. “Now let’s take a look at what we’re going to be dealing with after it gets dark.”
* * *
A pair of taxis had come over to the helicopter terminal, and Sherman went over to hire one of them while Bender stayed behind to talk the pilot into waiting for them.
“Two hours tops, and we’ll be back,” Bender said.
“I have a fare on Kythnos,” the pilot said.
“Five hundred euros to wait for us.”
“No.”
“One thousand euros.” Before the pilot could object, Bender said, “Each.”
“One thousand now.”
Bender handed him a credit card, and the pilot swiped it on a handheld machine and handed it back. “Ninety minutes.”
“Don’t leave us.”
“Don’t be late.”
* * *
The lower limb of the sun was just touching the top of the hills below them, illuminating Livadi in gold streaks across the now deep blue of the water in the harbor, when McGarvey and Pete started back to the lighthouse.
He had spotted several promising sites, a couple of them behind decent-size boulders and another at the west edge of one of the cliffs.
“I want to stay hidden until they get between us and the lighthouse, and then come up behind them, but at different firing angles,” he told Pete as they headed back.
“How wide apart do you want us?”
“Depends on how many of them they are and how widely they’re dispersed.”
“A lot can go wrong.”
“And probably will. But we’ll have three advantages,” McGarvey said. “We’ll take them by surprise, we’ll be behind them, and we’ll be making a lot of noise.”
“If they come.”
“When they come,” McGarvey said.
They came down the hill in time to see a taxi headed on the road back to town, leaving two people standing in front of the lighthouse.
Even from a distance of a hundred yards or so, McGarvey knew who they were, and so did Pete.
“The FBI,” she said.
At that moment, a helicopter lifted off in the distance and climbed over the harbor as it headed to the northwest back to Athens.
SIXTY-FOUR
Bender and Alicia had just walked up the three broad steps to the front door of the lighthouse when they heard the distant sound of the helicopter lifting off. They turned toward the sound in time to see it rising above the town across the bay and heading away.
“Son of a bitch,” Bender swore. He pulled out his cell phone and dialed the number for the helicopter service. A woman answered in Greek on the second ring.
“English, please,” Bender said.
“Yes, sir. You have r
eached Aegean Transport Services. How may I be of assistance?”
“This is Clarke Bender. I chartered a helicopter to take my partner and me to Serifos. The pilot agreed to wait for us, but he just now took off. We’re stranded here. I want him to come back.”
“I’m sorry, sir. Please give me a moment to contact him by radio.”
“Do it.”
“What’d they say?” Alicia asked.
“They’re calling the pilot.”
Two minutes later, the woman was back. “I’m terribly sorry, sir, but there seems to be some difficulty with radio communications. Our pilot does not respond.”
“Never mind. Send us another helicopter.”
“I’m sorry, sir, but that won’t be possible this evening. I can have one for you no later than 0800.”
“We need to get off this island tonight!” Bender shouted.
“Again, my apologies, sir. There are several excellent hotels on the island. May I make reservations for you and your wife?”
Bender broke the connection. “We’re stuck here for the night.”
Alicia shrugged. “We’ll interview the McGarveys and then take a cab into town. I’m sure we can find a decent restaurant and a place to bunk. We won’t even mention it to my husband or your wife.”
“Christ,” Bender said.
He knocked on the door, and after a pause when there was no answer, he knocked again.
“Maybe they’re out back,” Alicia suggested.
The door was unlocked. Bender opened it. “Hello,” he called.
* * *
McGarvey and Pete came around the corner just as Bender shouted hello at the open door.
“Here we are,” McGarvey said.
Startled, Bender and the woman turned around.
“The question is, what the hell are you doing here?” McGarvey demanded, but he knew damn well why they had come.
“We wanted to interview you and your wife,” Bender said.
“You’ve already had your interview.”
“But we have new information, and we want your reaction,” Alicia said. “May we come in?”
“Who the hell are you?”
“Alicia Sherman, FBI,” she said, taking out her ID wallet and holding it open. “I’m the assistant SAC in our New York office. I was handling the investigation into the recent deaths of the Russian UN diplomat and the director of Thomas Hammond’s UN liaison office. We think that there may be a connection with those events and the attempts on your life.”
“You should have telephoned me,” McGarvey said.
“They want our face-to-face reaction,” Pete said. “Standard interrogation tradecraft.”
“May we come in?” Alicia asked.
“How did Hammond react when you talked to him?” Pete asked.
Alicia smiled a little. “We’ll only take a few minutes of your time.”
“You came in by helicopter and it took off, so you’re stranded for the night, I suspect,” McGarvey said.
“We’ll spend the night in town,” Bender said. “We’ve come a long way, not only to investigate the incidents in New York but maybe, if we pool our resources, we might be able to help save your lives.”
“Or get yourselves killed.”
“Part of our job description,” Alicia said.
“And get in our way.”
Bender’s eyes widened a little, and he glanced beyond McGarvey and Pete in the direction from which they had come. “You were out scouting. You think the attack will be sometime tonight?”
“It’s possible, and we don’t want you two getting in the way.”
Bender started to object, but McGarvey held him off. “You have no military background. I checked. And whatever happens, if it’s tonight, it will almost certainly be run like a military operation. It will be very fast, and they’ll want it to be as quiet as possible so they don’t have to deal with the local cops. You two wouldn’t have a chance.”
“I’m a Marine combat veteran,” Alicia said. “Two tours in Afghanistan as a cop. And if you think I was just a dumb grunt, you’re wrong, Mr. Director. I was Lieutenant Sherman. First Lieutenant Sherman. And I almost always hit what I shoot at.”
McGarvey had to laugh, though without any real humor, only resignation. “Okay, Lieutenant Sherman, the two of you might as well come inside and ask your questions. When you’re done, you can go back down the hill.”
* * *
It was twilight and getting dark when McGarvey led them through the lighthouse and back to the pool. He did not turn on the lights even though he was sure that the attack would come in the early-morning hours, maybe two or three.
Pete got beers for them and brought them out.
Bender shook his head and held up a hand. “We’re on duty,” he said, trying to be sanctimonious.
“Not tonight,” Pete said. “Glass?”
“No,” Alicia said, and she took one of the beers and drank deeply. “Good.”
“What did Hammond say to you?” McGarvey asked when they were settled.
“He called you a son of a bitch and said that you screwed him out of a lot of money,” Bender said. “He told me that you pissed him off.”
“Fair enough from his side of the fence.”
“He’s holding a grudge.”
“Strong enough to pay to have me killed?”
“I think it’s a real possibility,” Bender said.
“I agree,” Alicia said.
“We’re looking into his recent financial transactions, but most of them are from blind accounts or third- and fourth-party signatories who are lawyers, and whose orders are almost certainly verbal, which would give them attorney-client protection.”
“We’ve done the same thing,” McGarvey said.
“Mr. Rencke?” Sherman asked.
McGarvey ignored the question. “Hammond’s a person of interest, but just that.”
“Then who do you think is coming after you, and why?” Alicia asked.
“In this case, what I think is irrelevant, because there’d be nothing the Bureau could do about it,” McGarvey said.
“We’re listening,” she said.
“Some of the bits and pieces we’ve managed to come up with suggest to me that the Russians may be involved, but strictly on an unofficial level.”
“Can you share some of the bits and pieces?”
“No.”
“Have you shared any of it with the CIA?”
“Some,” McGarvey said. “Finish your beer, and we’ll call a cab for you.”
“We’re staying,” Alicia said.
“No,” McGarvey said.
“We’re just doing our job, Mr. Director. Protecting witnesses in a murder-for-hire plot.”
SIXTY-FIVE
Otto met Mary at the cafeteria in the covered walkway between the Old Headquarters Building and the New Headquarters Building, floor-to-ceiling glass windows looking out onto the courtyard. It was well after normal lunch hours, but the place was still fairly busy.
They got their trays—Mary a salad, and Otto a burger and fries—and found a table with a view of the Kryptos statue, with the coded inscription Otto had deciphered a couple of years ago for an operation that McGarvey had been involved with.
“It’ll be getting dark over there pretty soon,” Mary said. “Does Mac think it might happen tonight?”
“He thinks it’s a possibility. He and Pete went out on a scouting trip to look for some decent defensive positions.”
“Lord almighty. Just the two of them against what’ll likely be a Russian op.”
“What makes you so sure it’s the Russians?” Otto asked.
“Most of the time, I don’t have Lou, but I do have my sources. And it’s a fairly sure bet that Mr. T. Hammond has got himself involved with a southern European pipeline deal for Gazprom.”
“That’ll be an uphill battle.”
“At least that tough,” Mary said. “But Hammond has a lot of very solid business connections in France
and Belgium, places that the Russians aren’t exactly welcome with open arms.”
“Granted, he may have a Russian connection, but what does that have to do with the attacks on Mac?”
“Hammond’s angry because of the bitcoin deal that you and Mac cooked up last year, and added to that are the murder of the Russian UN diplomat whom a Hammond moneyman was involved with. And then the supposedly accidental death of the Hammond guy. A lot of coincidences, don’t you think?”
“Too many,” Otto said. “After lunch, we can talk to Lou.”
“Way ahead of you, sweetheart. She upped a Hammond connection to 48 percent after I gave her the new data. That’s almost fifty-fifty, close to betting odds.”
“Do we have a name, someone in Moscow we can prove Hammond is connected to?”
“I haven’t gotten that far, but between us, I think we might be able to come up with something this afternoon. Maybe in time to give Mac and Pete at least a slight edge tonight.”
“Whoever the Russian is would have to be connected with the SVR or GRU, so maybe we can reverse engineer the thing.”
“My bet would be the GRU. They’re the people who control the general staff.”
“Who control the Spetsnaz.”
* * *
It was just before nine when Hammond took a seat at the baccarat table with a one-million-euro marker he’d established with the pit boss. He was well known, and his credit was without limits. All he had to do is say the word.
Susan stood behind him wearing a stunning off-the-shoulder slinky yellow dress with a strip of fabric around her narrow neck like a choker. The dress was cut low and loose enough so that when she bent forward to say something in Hammond’s ear, her nipples were momentarily exposed. All the men in the private salle loved her, the women despised her. It was exactly the effect she loved.
First out, Hammond took the banque for €200,000, winning it with a five and a four, and spilled his champagne. The win, the wine, and Susan’s dress all made for an unforgettable alibi, something he thought they needed.
Gambit Page 27
