An indistinct form knelt beside him, while another figure, presumably his attacker, was lying on the floor, partially on top of him. He struggled from under the body and sat up, wiping blood from his eyes. He blinked several times before he could finally focus on the face of his rescuer.
It was Lyndsey Archer.
5
“Lyndsey?” Burke struggled to his feet. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“Is that any way to greet someone who saved your life?”
“I’d have gotten out of it. I was waiting for the right moment.”
“You about had your last moment.” Lyndsey laid the gun down on the bed. Burke noticed it was equipped with a silencer.
Burke rubbed his neck. “All right, fine. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. And the name is Venus to you, Tiger.”
“I take it you’re my back-up agent.”
“Is that a problem?”
“Not for me. Why would it be?”
Lyndsey shrugged and looked uneasy.
“It’s because of what happened, isn’t it?” Burke said, moving toward her. “What happened is in the past. I never lost confidence in your ability as an agent. It wasn’t your fault. I don’t blame you. Are we good?”
Lyndsey nodded again. “We’re good.”
“Good--because I’m standing next to a corpse, with blood all over my face, and the door is standing wide open.” Burke walked across the room and closed the door. “Where are you staying?”
“Next door. The two rooms even connect, so we won’t have to be seen out in the hall whenever we want to compare notes.”
Burke fidgeted, uncomfortable that the thought of connecting rooms had implanted dangerous thoughts in his mind. He coughed. “Did Moore give you any further instructions about how to proceed?”
“Wait until all of our party is present and complete the mission in any way necessary.”
“I suppose we’re ready to roll.”
“Not quite.”
“Who’s left?”
“A man named Andre. He’s a local. Moore thought we needed someone who knew the territory.”
“Do you know anything about this guy?”
“I've worked with him. Once during the Slovakia incident and again two years ago in Rome.”
“How did he operate?”
“He seemed proficient. The groups we worked with were larger and not as closely knit as this one will be, so I didn’t get to know him well. But he caused no problems or jeopardize the mission.”
“I assume Moore briefed you on the situation?”
“About as much as he told you, I’d imagine. Not a lot, just outlined the objective. Oh, and he also made it a point to keep him informed about the progress of the mission.”
Burke nodded and motioned toward the body on the floor. “Speaking of the mission, we have a slight problem.”
“I’m sure we can find a way to dispose of him.”
“I was thinking more about why it seems every thug in Athens is already privy to our presence. On my way to the hotel a while ago, someone attempted to use my head for a skeet shoot. I had to play hide and seek with two goons at JFK airport, and I suspect I was being observed during the flight. Obviously, my presence in Athens is no secret.”
“How could they know?”
“And that is the question of the hour. Was Andre privy to this information?”
“Moore briefed Andre and me together and he mentioned nothing. Unless they spoke later, Andre was in the dark.”
“How did you know?” Burke watched her face for any betraying signal. Lyndsey didn’t even blink.
“Moore told me later. We had a more detailed chat after Andre left. He told me who I was to meet with and said you would be staying in the room next to mine.”
“And you haven’t had any welcoming committees appear on your proverbial doorstep?”
Lyndsey shrugged. “I guess they aren’t as well-informed about my movements as they are yours.”
“You probably didn’t have a listening device planted in your home, either.”
Lyndsey’s surprised expression appeared genuine, although Burke knew she could be a cold, calculating professional when she had to be. “A bug?”
“I believe that’s how those two men at the airport knew when to look for me, because I had a conversation with a friend earlier that day and told him I’d be flying out of town from JFK, but I didn’t tell him which terminal. You didn’t know about the bug?”
“You think I had something to do with it?” Lyndsey’s voice had taken on a decidedly cool tone.
“You had the perfect opportunity.”
“Why the hell would I plant a listening device in your house? You’re not nearly as interesting as you seem to think you are.”
“Maybe to find out where I was going and what my plans were?”
“You said the two men who knew about your plans because of the bug didn’t know your terminal. I did.”
“Really?”
“Terminal 5. Moore gave Andre and me our tickets at the meeting. Your information was lying on the desk. I took the liberty of reading it, Mr. Remus.”
Burke grinned. “I’m also married and have two kids. I hope the wife doesn’t find out that we’re alone together in a hotel room.”
“That makes it all the more exciting. Or, it would, if I weren’t so pissed at you for assuming the worst about me.”
“Sorry. Any way I can make it up to you?”
“I’ll let you know.”
“I can’t wait,” Burke said. “But seriously, I’m glad you haven’t had any incidents since you arrived. Hang around me, though, and you will. When is this Andre fellow supposed to arrive?”
“He’s staying at the Electra Palace, but he was supposed to meet me here.”
“Well, as soon as he arrives, I suggest we come up with a plan of action. When it gets dark, we can do something about our unwanted guest.”
At that moment, Lyndsey held up her hand for silence. “I thought I heard someone knocking on the door to my room. That may be Andre.” She unlocked the door and cracked it open. She peered down the hall, opened the door wider, and motioned to someone down the hall. She stepped aside to allow someone to enter.
Assuming this was Andre, Burke found himself blessing Moore’s sense of preference. Andre was huge, well over six feet, with a thick neck that disappeared into massive shoulders. The man’s immense chest was guarded on either side by well-muscled arms. Overall, he had the well-toned physique of a body builder, not the rough-hewn build of a brawler. For all his stature, the man’s wide, flat face wore a pleasant expression and when he saw Burke standing beside Lyndsey, he grinned, exhibiting large, white teeth.
“Our contact?” he said, with a slight accent.
Lyndsey nodded. “This is Mr. Burke or, as he will be known on assignment, John Remus.”
Andre stepped forward, graceful on his feet for such a large man. He stuck out one meaty palm. “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Burke. I am Andre.” He took Burke’s outstretched hand in his and gave him a firm handshake. Burke grimaced as he imagined every bone in his hand being crushed to splinters. In a desperate attempt to save the use of his right hand, he attempted to return the pressure, but succeeded only in tightening Andre’s grasp. Just as he was about to suggest they part company, Andre released his grip and stepped back, grinning.
“You have a strong grip, Mr. Burke. We should arm wrestle sometime.”
Burke laughed shakily and changed the subject. “I’m glad you’ve arrived. We have quite a bit of work to do.”
“Including a way to get this body out of the room,” Lyndsey said, motioning to the prone figure.
Andre looked down at the body, seeing it for the first time. He observed the twin holes in the man’s back and nodded. “It should not be too difficult.”
“We’ll have to wait until dark, of course,” Lyndsey said.
Andre waved his hand. “Nonsense. I have an extra-large gym ba
g at my hotel. I will get it and bring it back here. Then we put the body inside and I carry it out.”
Burke frowned. “A gym bag? Are you sure the body will fit?”
“We will make it fit,” Andre said ominously.
“If you say so,” Burke said. “Be sure to arrive with something inside the bag. We don’t want anyone watching this hotel to see you come in with an empty bag and leave with a full one.”
Andre nodded, turned, and left the room. Lyndsey locked the door behind him and looked at Burke.
“Well, what do you think?”
“A good friend to have in a dark alley, but a bad one to shake hands with,” Burke replied, massaging his throbbing hand. “I’ll never play the violin again.”
“You don't play the violin.”
“And now I never will.”
6
While Andre was disposing of the body, a procedure neither Burke nor Lyndsey wished to have explained to them, they walked down the street to the place where the assassination attempt had occurred.
Burke pointed to a place in the road “It was about right here. I was driving along, minding my own business, bothering no one, when some insensitive lout took a shot at me.”
“I suppose it would be impractical to search each of these buildings,” Lyndsey said, “but it would be useful to know where the shooter was hiding.”
“We might narrow it down. The bullet took a straight path through the window, since the hole in the glass and the mangled door handle are across from one another, save a slight downward angle. If I had been about right there, and I believe I was,” again he gestured to the street, “the shot should have come from one of these buildings.” He made a sweeping gesture that encompassed three structures: a hotel, a restaurant, and a small souvenir shop. “The bullet traveled downward through the window, so the shooter must have been at a higher elevation than I was. The souvenir shop has only one level, so we can scratch it out. There are two levels to the restaurant, so that’s a possibility and there’s always the hotel.”
“I wonder how likely it is the shooter could make his way to the second floor of the restaurant without being spotted?”
“Not very.”
“The hotel has four floors.”
Burke nodded. “Right. And we can forget the top floor. Too high. The bullet would have gone through the roof at that height. I’m estimating the second floor.”
The two entered the hotel and took the elevator to the second floor. They walked down the hall, with Burke stopping at each alcove to gaze at the street below and estimate their position. Halfway down the hall, he stopped. In his mind, he pictured his little red VW making its way down the street. Raising his arm, he extended his forefinger and aimed downward. He nodded in satisfaction. “I’d say it’s either the room to the left or to the right of where we’re standing.” Glancing at the two doors, he made a note of the numbers, 216 and 218. He stepped from the alcove and, motioning Lyndsey to follow, made his way back to the elevator.
Once back at the lobby, Burke approached the man behind the reception desk. “Excuse me,” he said, employing his most charismatic smile. “I was wondering if you could tell me who is staying in rooms 216 and 218?”
“I’m sorry, but I cannot give out that information,” the clerk said, unmoved by Burke’s charms.
Burke sighed and pulled out his wallet. He pushed a few bills across the desk and looked at the clerk, eyebrows raised.
The clerk stared back, his face blank.
Burke added more bills.
Still the blank stare.
“Oh, go to hell,” Burke said, tossing two more bills onto the stack. “That’s all you’re getting.”
The clerk sniffed and gathered the money. “No one is staying in either room.”
“Vacant?”
“There was a man in 218 earlier today, but he is no longer there.”
“When did he check out?”
A look of anger passed over the man’s face. “Earlier today I left the desk for a few minutes and when I came back, the key for room 218 was lying on the desk. I checked the computer and discovered he still owed the hotel money.”
“How long has he been staying here?”
“The room was reserved for him a day or two ago, but he arrived to occupy it today. He stayed such a short time and then he left!”
“Could you describe this man?”
“My memory is terrible.”
“Nice try, pal, but you already broke the bank. This man is wanted by the authorities. It would be in your best interest to cooperate.”
The threats had the opposite of their intended effect. The clerk reddened and drew his shoulders up like a tiny bull preparing to charge a matador.
“Why should I help? What is in it for me?”
Burke ground his teeth, but reached back and again withdrew his billfold. He took out a credit card and waved it in front of the man’s face. “If I pay the bill will you give me a good description?”
The man looked at the card suspiciously and then reached for it. Having deemed it credible, he nodded and proceeded with the transaction.
“He was a little man with a small, black moustache. Not a Greek; too dark.”
“What name did he give?”
After consulting the register for a moment, the man looked up. “His name was Mr. J. Carlton Moore.”
“Well, that was productive,” Lyndsey said, once they were outside in the open air. “At least we know he has a sense of humor.”
“The man sounds like the one who was watching me during my flight. I lost sight of him once we landed and it wouldn’t surprise me if he came straight here to wait for me.”
“But how would they know which hotel you were staying at?”
Burke pondered this. These coincidental occurrences were getting rather unnerving, and he was beginning to think they were not coincidences at all. Would Scorpion, or whoever was behind this, leave what had happened up to chance? He doubted it. He could understand how the two men found out about his plane and the airport, because he had mentioned that to Bill Carey. However, he had mentioned nothing about which hotel he would be staying at or which flight he was taking. If the dark-skinned man had known which flight to take, why had not the two others who had been looking for him in JFK known out of which terminal he would be flying? Surely, they would have traded information…unless there was more than one faction working toward the same goal. The more he thought about it, the more sense it made. What was to say SpyCo and Scorpion were the only two groups after the briefcase? The thought both excited and chilled him. He turned to Lyndsey.
“Do you remember our talk about Willy not being the mole?”
Lyndsey nodded.
“I think we were both right and wrong,” Burke said. “Willy wasn’t a mole. I think his death proved that. However, it appears there is a mole somewhere in the organization. Someone who has access to classified information.”
“Information they’re passing to Scorpion?”
“Maybe. But maybe not. Perhaps it’s not only SpyCo and Scorpion who are interested in this case. Someone else has thrown their hat into the ring. The tough part is going to be figuring out that someone.”
“And who belongs to whom,” Lyndsey said. “We have no way of knowing if the assassin was a Scorpion man or if he belonged to this other group, assuming there is one. In addition, what about the men after you at the airport? Who were they working for?”
“Those are questions we’re going to have to answer. And soon.” Burke ran his fingers through his hair. “I want to ask you to do something. Will you?”
“Will it get me into trouble?”
“I want you to suspend your reports to Moore.”
“Suspend them? Why?”
“Not suspend them, exactly. Make them as general as possible. Don’t give specifics, such as where you’re planning on being or what information you’ve gathered. Give him enough to keep him quiet and I’ll do the same.”
“You
don’t trust him, do you?”
“The stakes are too high at this stage of the game, Lyndsey. Things are happening that should have no way of occurring, at least not this quickly. I’m not accusing Moore of anything, but until we know for sure, I’m asking you cooperate with me on this.”
Lyndsey nodded. “I don’t like it, but I agree.”
“One more thing. Mention none of this to Andre. Neither of us knows him well and the fewer people who know what our real plans are, the better.”
7
Burke lay in bed that night, unable to sleep for thinking about the mission. He felt like a worm, distrusting Lyndsey, but knew under the circumstances he had no choice. It would be difficult to keep her out of the loop. She had her own satellite phone and instructions to file her own periodic reports. That had likely been Moore’s idea of quality control. By getting two reports from different sources, he could compare them for discrepancies. Could it be Moore did not trust them either?
And what of his own suspicions of Moore? If the head of SpyCo wanted him dead, there would have been a thousand easier ways to do it, other than all this meticulous planning.
It was apparent there was a security leak somewhere in the organization, but Burke was beginning doubt it was either Lyndsey or Moore. This awareness came as something of a comfort to him and he realized how much he hoped neither was involved. Was this clouding his judgment?
The next morning, Burke met Lyndsey outside the hotel.
“Are you ready for a little jaunt around Athens?”
Lyndsey grimaced. “As long as it’s a ‘little’ jaunt. I’m starved.”
“Have you spoken to Andre?”
“No. He informed me never to contact him early except in an emergency. I’m getting the idea Athenians like to stay up late.”
“If so, it doesn’t stop them from getting up early.” Burke looked around at the many cars, buses, and people hurrying about. He walked away. A little reluctantly, Lyndsey followed him.
“Where are we going?”
“I told you, a little jaunt.”
Assignment- Adventure A SpyCo Collection 1-3 Page 3