The Ionian Paradigm

by Daniel Leston

  “I’ll be damned surprised if its destination turns out otherwise.”

  “Okay, what else do you need?”

  David didn’t hesitate.

  “Everything you can possibly come up with on Andreas Stephanidis. It may not be entirely legal, but please push the boundaries wherever you can. If there are any unscrupulous financial ties or connections between him and the oligarch, we need to find out quickly. I realize it’s asking a lot, Ted, but—”

  “Consider it already in the works. As for bending legalities, let me worry about that. Go catch up on some needed sleep, my friend, and let me do my job. Will be back in touch soon.”

  * * * *

  Aboard the Corrina, Alexei disengaged the speaker feature on his secure private line and replaced the phone into its receiver. His expression was of a man trying to preserve a semblance of calm under extreme pressure. The struggle was difficult to sustain, his effort borderline at best. He then pivoted in his padded chair, the better to see his associate’s reaction to their shared call from the highly agitated Minister of Culture in Athens.

  “Our friend sounded on the verge of panic, Pavel,” he said, “and I for one can’t really blame him. Not that we thought otherwise, but now we at least know it was definitely Manning who boarded the freighter last night.” He paused, drummed his fingers on the glass top of his wide desk. “Have those from pictures from the minister come through yet?”

  Pavel checked his laptop. “They’re in,” he said, bringing it around beside Alexei so they could both see the evidence. After looking through the PDF twice, the oligarch angrily snapped it shut and pushed it away in disgust.

  “How long before Captain Kharov reaches the Black Sea and Russian waters? What’s his best estimate?”

  “Four to five full days from this morning,” replied Pavel. “He says that should be adequate.”

  “Should—? Isn’t that rather vague?”

  Pavel lifted his shoulders before answering.

  “He’s presupposing good weather and no unforeseen breakdowns.”

  “So in other words, Kharov’s covering his ass! I blame him for this debacle. If he’d kept to schedule, none of this would’ve happened. Now we may well be screwed because of it.” He gestured at the laptop. “If Andreas is correct, the most he bought us is one more day before Manning follows through with his threat and takes this to the media—and to God knows who else in the government, as well! And that’s assuming Manning doesn’t act even sooner.”

  Talanov took a deep breath, considered the dire implications of his own words, and then shook his head in exasperation. There seemed but one exit from this dilemma. “I think we’ve no recourse,” he said, “but to have Manning eliminated straightaway! We can’t allow him any opportunity to take this further than he already has. And as for Andreas—”

  “I’m afraid that won’t work,” interrupted Pavel, “even if it’s made to appear that Manning’s demise is accidental.”

  “Why the hell not?”

  “Say we did arrange something, then what’s to prevent Manning’s wife—or those other two—from releasing the same information to anyone who’ll listen? No matter how we set it up, they’re much too clever not to see a direct linkage. We’d have to eliminate them all, which simply isn’t feasible. Killing only Manning would at most buy us an extra day. Maybe not even that. What we really need is a way of shutting Manning down completely—something to prevent him from following through on his threats. Beyond this, I see no other way to assure Kharpov the time he requires.”

  Alexei studied his associate’s face closely, his interest piqued.

  “Go on. If you have a different solution in mind, then tell me.”

  “Actually, I do. And the more I think about it, I believe it’s quite viable. Best of all, it’s something that can be accomplished rather quickly. Within the next couple of hours, in fact.”

  “Explain.”

  As Pavel did so, the oligarch nodded in ever-growing appreciation. When his associate finished, he smiled broadly, thinking this would solve their dilemma. It entailed some risks, to be sure, but nothing either man saw as insurmountable.

  “You have my full approval, Pavel. There’s just one other detail that should be addressed. Regarding this man we’ve been using to tail Manning, I believe it’s about time we severed our relationship with him, don’t you think? He’s fulfilled his purpose and is of no foreseeable value. If anything, he might become a minor hindrance.”

  “When you say sever . . .”

  “I mean permanently.”

  It was Bedev who now smiled.

  “Consider it done.”

  * * * *

  It was twenty-five minutes before noon when Theo Kormos finished his second drink at a small bar on the eastern edge of Benitses. Sitting alone in the mostly empty rural establishment—a place where morning customers weren’t the usual norm—he checked his watch before waving off the approaching bartender. As much as he was tempted to enjoy another, he knew to forego that pleasure until later.

  He then headed outside to his parked green sedan.

  Kormos believed himself on the verge of having a very fortuitous day, one holding the promise of being extremely lucrative, as well. If everything transpired as it now appeared, he’d soon be on his way back to Corfu Town with not only some serious bonus money in his wallet, but also the particulars of a new surveillance assignment required of him by his mysterious employer. No actual specifics had as yet been provided, but future work was strongly hinted at over the phone.

  He’d no reason or suspicion to doubt the man’s sincerity.

  Carefully following the verbal instructions given to him, he drove five miles further east until locating the narrow unpaved side road he sought. He swung left, following it a half-mile north to where it dead-ended in a circular turnaround encroached on all sides by a thick cluster of tall bushes. There he pulled over and got out, again checking his watch.

  He was early, but only by a few minutes.

  He leaned back against the car and lit a cigarette as he waited, noting with amusement how this secluded place was clearly popular with area teenagers. The visible evidence indicated it had been such for several generations, for the overgrown periphery was littered with old beer cans interspersed with used condoms.

  Kormos’ wait was brief.

  Approaching up the road was the gray van he’d been told to expect.

  As the vehicle drew up on the opposite side of the turnaround, he flipped his cigarette away and walked over. There were two men visible inside, and he smiled in greeting as the passenger window began to descend. However, the leveled pistol it revealed was the last thing he ever saw—and this only for the briefest moment as a well-placed bullet slammed into his forehead.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  After finishing his daily regimen of laps in the Hotel pool, Jake toweled off and stretched out alone in the warm afternoon sun. With the early start of another school year throughout Greece, the present absence of young people at the resort left the majority of the reclining deckchairs empty and available—which only magnified his growing sense of boredom. Of the noticeably fewer guests around the pool, none was anywhere near his age. Mostly, he missed the companionship of Marko who was now back in Salonika, wishing the passage of the next week prior to his own scheduled return to Boston might somehow become more enjoyable.

  If today was any indication, however, this seemed unlikely.

  For some inexplicable reason—of which Jake was only mildly curious—his mother, Omar, and Lana were all still sleeping, unusual for this time of day, to be sure. But it was nothing he questioned. His father, though awake from his own brief nap, likewise chose to remain in their suite, apparently awaiting a phone call from stateside and preoccupied on his laptop. Given permission to visit the pool, the teenager was instructed to be back no later than 6:15 pm. Dinner reservations had been made.

  So how to fill out the rest of the afternoon?

  Only one op
tion came to mind.

  By his wristwatch, it was now 3 pm, allowing him adequate time for a long stroll around the resort property before his promised return. This beat simply laying out in the sun. Perhaps, if nothing else, he might run into some interesting people. The idea seemed sound enough. Satisfied, he entered the pool’s change room and got back into his street clothes before walking over and unlatching the wrought-iron gate leading out to the narrow road that paralleled the beach.

  Unknown to him, he’d just made the worst decision of his young life.

  As he re-closed the gate, a late model gray van pulled up directly in front of him, partially blocking his way. Two men immediately got out of the cab. Despite being momentarily startled, Jake found the driver to be vaguely familiar as he stepped around and extended his hand with a friendly smile.

  “Jake Manning, right?” he said amiably. “Thought it was you. You probably don’t recall, but I’m Pavel Bedev from the Corrina. I took you and a few others on a short tour of the ship when you were aboard some time back.”

  Jake quickly put a voice with the face as he shook the offered hand.

  Before he had a chance to reply, Pavel quickly added, “And this here is Ivan. He’s a good friend of mine and a valued member of the crew.”

  Jake instinctively reached for the second hand, his eye catching a ragged scar running across its entire width. At that point three things happened almost simultaneously, all catching the teenager by complete surprise. Gripping the youth’s hand firmly, the man jerked him around and off balance while Pavel slid open the van’s side door.

  Though strong for his age, Jake had no time to react as an acrid-smelling cloth was then pressed hard over his face, its invading chemical smell burning deep into his throat and nostrils as he gasped for breath. Now wobbly on his feet, a rapid, enveloping darkness further sapped his strength.

  Within mere seconds he could neither see nor feel anything.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  David took the call on the suite’s hotel line, placing Ted on speakerphone for the benefit of Elizabeth. Now awake and fully dressed, she sat on the couch, listening as she put on her favorite pearl earrings in preparation for their group meal at the Potamaki’s best restaurant.

  “Who else is with you?” asked Ted. His tone was unexpectedly abrupt, a fact that didn’t escape either David or Elizabeth. It was apparent his latest information concerned all of them to some degree.

  “At the moment just Elizabeth. However, Lana and Omar are expected momentarily. I can call you back once they—”

  “No need. I’m going to transfer everything to your laptop so you can all peruse it later. I’ll just touch on the highlights, giving you an overall picture of what my people came up with so far. There’s quite a lot, actually. Even I’m impressed. I scarcely know where to begin.”

  “Wherever you want. ”

  “Then I’ll start with those bad vibes you picked up on the Minister of Culture, Andreas Stephanidis. Our initial findings indicate your instincts were right on the mark.” He cleared his throat. “Realize that this is still a work in progress. As more details come in, I’ll continue to pass them along.”

  “Understood.”

  “Anyway, it appears he’s accumulated a sizeable fortune over the past number of years, an amount well in excess of what his salary would suggest possible. Certainly more than enough to make their origins highly suspect. No surprise, I suppose, considering his efforts to conceal it. The bulk of it is spread across several different bank accounts throughout Greece—and not to mention at least three neighboring countries we’ve so far been able to track. The full extent is still undetermined.”

  “So the inference is he’s probably used his elevated position to elicit—what exactly? Bribes of some sort?”

  “It seems the obvious answer . . .”

  “Anything provable?” cut in Elizabeth.

  “Not in the short term, I’m afraid. And definitely not in time to aid with the interception of that freighter.”

  David considered the implications, wondering what his next move should be. If this was truly the case, the odds tilted heavily toward Stephanidis merely stalling for time when he requested twenty-four hours to act. It also raised another troubling possibility that couldn’t be discounted. Who else within the Greek government might likewise be corrupted by the Russian’s seemingly bottomless pockets? Not knowing for certain created a definite conundrum.

  “Are you still tracking the freighter by satellite?” he asked.

  “And the Corrina, as well. It’s clear both are heading toward Turkish waters and eventually into the Black Sea.”

  “If no interdiction is made, how soon before they leave Greek territory and enter Turkish waters?”

  “Our best estimate is around another twenty-two hours. Possibly even less.”

  David sighed and shook his head. So where did this leave him? It now appeared his threat of going public to the media was fast becoming the only viable option. Not at all what he initially intended. But what else remained to him?

  “So you agree their destination is ultimately to reach the security of Russian waters?”

  “Sure as I can be, David. And we’ve acquired corroborating evidence to back it up which I’m also transferring to your laptop. It appears Talanov now has the perfect place to house all of his ill-gotten treasures. He’s apparently been building a virtual palace for himself over the past several years roughly thirty miles inland from the port of Novorossiysk.”

  “The port where the Varna was refurbished . . .”

  “Exactly. Hardly a coincidence I think. Plus, there’s additional evidence now tying him to the freighter’s actual ownership. Not completely irrefutable, mind you, but in my opinion a very significant and positive linkage.”

  “Tell me.”

  “When you compare this list of companies involved in building his mansion with the previous one I sent regarding the revamping of the freighter, you’ll see a familiar name pop up. Deker/Schmidt out of Zurich. It’s a privately run Swiss investment entity of some sort I believe is owned and financed entirely by Talanov. If I had to guess, my suspicion it’s a glorified ‘piggy bank’ he routinely uses to draw out and dispense available cash whenever and wherever he finds it expedient for his various ventures. The company’s activity is damn near untraceable due to its complex structure, yet we’re working hard on it.”

  “Anything else?”

  “Not at the moment. My people are continuously coming up with interesting information, but I’ve given you and Elizabeth a lot to think through. Where you go from here is your decision, of course. Needless to say, we’ll do whatever we can to assist from our end.”

  “Much appreciated, Ted. Keep in touch.”

  “Will do.”

  Now what? wondered David. He replaced the hotel phone just as Lana and Omar arrived. This would all have to be thoroughly discussed over dinner.

  Meanwhile . . .

  “So where’s Jake?” asked Elizabeth. “I expected him back by now?”

  “He should be, hon. I told him not to be late.” A look at his wristwatch showed it was already well past the deadline—and since this wasn’t like Jake, he suddenly felt a vague twinge of uneasiness. Just then the cell rang in his pocket, its ringtone identifying Jake’s phone as the source.

  His relief, however, was short-lived.

  “Son, where the hell are—?”

  His heart froze in his chest as an image immediately filled the phone’s screen, forcing him to stop and blink in stunned disbelief. A prone figure—unquestionably Jake—lay on a single cot with his ankles, wrists, and mouth tightly bound with duct tape.

  The look of panic on the boy’s face was haunting.

  “Listen very carefully, Prof. Manning,” said an unfamiliar male voice, “for I won’t be repeating myself. If you wish your son returned unharmed, then you will do exactly as I say.”

  A slight pause.

  “Am I completely understood?”
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  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  The following hour was little short of a nightmare as David struggled to keep Elizabeth from descending into an emotional breakdown. Though likewise deeply shaken by this unforeseen development, he knew it was critical they both stay focused. Now, as in the past, he needed her in control of the key faculties she routinely possessed whenever confronted by difficult situations. Nothing less would suffice if they were to navigate through this—for this particular instance made all previous ones virtually pale in comparison. And how could it not? Their son’s very life depended on what they did next!

  Once the initial shock receded enough to allow for reasoned evaluation, David carefully reviewed the short list of demands placed upon them. It was unquestionably Talanov behind Jake’s kidnapping. His identity and purpose were clear, doubtless driven by an urgent warning from Stephanidis. Collusion with the aged Greek minister was self-evident, for he must’ve contacted the oligarch immediately after David’s initial call. What other rational explanation made sense?

  So how were David and Elizabeth to respond?

  Per instructions, Jake’s safe return would only take place in five days—not before. In David’s mind, this was a telling detail, and one apparently not negotiable. Five full days would put the Corrina and the treasure-laded freighter well through the Bosphorus and out into the Black Sea. Did Talanov have any actual intention of releasing Jake once he was safely inside Russian territorial waters? It somehow seemed unlikely.

  Still bordering on the edge of panic, Elizabeth argued strongly in favor of doing absolutely nothing, simply taking the oligarch on his promise to return their son unharmed. David instinctively disagreed, yet all his efforts to persuade her were unconvincing.

  It took Omar to eventually break the stalemate in David’s favor.

  While the debate went on, he used the opportunity to go to his suite and place an overdue phone call back to one of his associates in Egypt. What he learned from it came as a surprise—one that didn’t bode well for Jake’s safe release. Not in five days. Probably not ever.