“Just what?” He peered into her eyes, as if that look could pry the truth from her. He stroked her dark auburn hair gently, letting his fingers comb through the smooth locks.
She loved it when he did that. It calmed her, and she knew he knew that. “I just keep getting the feeling that something bad is coming.”
“Well, something bad already came. It’s still here.”
“I’m not talking about the virus,” she clarified. “I…It’s weird, but….” She still couldn’t get it out.
“Hey,” Alex soothed, keeping his eyes locked with hers. “It’s me. You can tell me anything.”
She took in a deep breath and sighed. It didn’t matter if she sounded crazy. Tara knew Alex wouldn’t judge her. He would listen. She needed him to listen, to hear what had been driving her crazy in the months following the incident.
“Before the explosion,” she began, then stopped abruptly as a light on her desk to the right alerted her that the elevator was descending to the basement level. Tara reached over and hit the Esc key on the keyboard and the glass case dimmed. She hurriedly tossed her jacket onto it and minimized the screen with the analysis, then stood up and walked over to the coffee pot bubbling in the corner.
“Subtle,” Alex quipped, turning his head in time to see Tommy emerge from the elevator doors beyond the glass wall.
“You could have helped me,” she insisted. She picked up a white coffee mug and filled it with the steaming liquid.
“You didn’t ask,” he offered with a smirk.
She rolled her eyes. “Part of me thinks you wanted me to get caught.”
Tommy opened the door and stepped inside.
“Maybe,” Alex admitted, then spun around to face their boss. “How’s it going, chief?”
“Uh…it’s going okay. How are you guys today?”
Tara checked her watch. “Not bad for nine thirty in the morning on a Tuesday. Nothing exciting going on here, although we did get the analysis done on that Bronze Age piece in the corner over there.” She pointed past the tables festooned with ancient artifacts ranging from clay pots and vases to eroded swords, knives, shields, helmets, and even a fifteenth-century crossbow. The ages of the various pieces spanned millennia, which was one of the reasons the climate in the lab had to be precisely maintained, right down to the steam coming out of the coffee pot. The International Archaeological Agency made that simple by storing most of the delicate items in airtight cases.
Tommy looked beyond the collection to the bronze helmet in the corner. “The one from Ireland?” he asked, following her finger to the other side of the room. “We just got that in—”
“Two days ago. I know,” Tara said. She didn’t hide the cocky sound in her voice.
“We are good, boss,” Alex reminded with a shrug and then crossed his arms in a way he hoped might have made him look like a rapper.
The gesture flew right over Tommy’s head. “Well, that’s impressive.”
Tara rolled her shoulders and took a sip of coffee.
“So, what’s going on?” Alex asked. “I thought you were supposed to be speaking in Sweden tomorrow.”
Tommy took on a grave expression. “Yes, I’m leaving here in a few minutes to head to the airport. An old friend, Magnus Sorenson, has asked me to speak at an event they’re holding to open a new wing to their historical center. You two should be the ones speaking. You did most of the work getting the artifacts ready that will be on display.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t like being on stage,” Tara confessed.
“I’m not a fan of it either,” Tommy agreed. “Still, I need you guys to look into something for me, if you can.”
“Sure. What’s up?”
“A colleague…Actually,” he corrected, “a guy who doesn’t like me very much was conducting a dig in Russia. He thought he found the location of the ancient city of Sarai.”
“Home of the Khans?” Alex asked. “People have been looking for those two places a long time.”
“Yes, I know. And this guy thinks he found it.”
“Which guy?”
Tommy sighed and crossed his arms. “Dr. Kevin Clark.”
“Ooooh,” Tara said through pursed lips. “Yeah, you’re right. That guy doesn’t like you. Or any of us here at IAA, from what I understand.”
“What was it he said we do? Pseudo—”
“Archaeology, yes,” Tommy finished the thought. “He thinks we’re just treasure hunters with guns.”
Tara snorted. “Well, if the fedora fits.”
Alex laughed at her joke. Even Tommy let out a chuckle and shook his head. “Anyway,” he elongated the word to drive the conversation back on track, “I got an email from him. Said his dig site was attacked, and he feared his team was dead. Apparently, he barely made it out alive.”
“Oh, wow,” Tara mouthed. “Where is he now? Who attacked them? Terrorists?”
“The Russians?” Alex offered.
“We don’t know. In fact, I haven’t been able to confirm anything yet. What I do know is that he was heading to Bulgaria, to Plovdiv to be precise.”
“Sean was close to there, wasn’t he?”
“Not really,” Tommy said. “He was in Croatia.”
“Croatia? Why was he there?”
“He claims,” Tommy emphasized the word, “he was working with one of the local historical societies to get a new museum up and running.”
“Wasn’t he?” Tara wondered.
“Yes. He was. Two weeks ago. The museum work has been done for twelve days.”
“Soooo, what’s he doing?”
“My guess is he was working on his tan. Split isn’t super close to Bulgaria, but he said he would get there right away. I haven’t heard back from him yet.”
Alex looked concerned. “You don’t think anything happened to him, do you?”
“No. The plane landed safely; that much I know. Sean is in Plovdiv; I just don’t know where. He went dark on me, and I don’t blame him. If Dr. Clark was attacked, someone must have wanted something he found or simply wanted his dig shut down.”
“But to kill the research team?” Tara sounded despondent.
“I know,” Tommy said. “Which is why I need you two to see what you can find out. All the calls I’ve made to Russian officials have come up empty. No one seems to know anything. See what you can find out and let me know. I’ll be on the plane to Stockholm in a few hours. You know how to reach me if you hear anything. Or if I hear anything, I’ll let you know.”
“Sounds good,” Alex said.
“Thank you. And great work on the helmet back there.” Tommy pointed at the bronze piece. “Still amazes me how fast you two are.”
He turned and started out the door. When he reached it, Tara said, “Fly safe, boss.”
Tommy turned back to her and gave an appreciative nod. “Thanks. You, too.”
6
Plovdiv
Sean led Kevin up the sidewalk and to the right. They’d made no effort to hide the bodies in the alley, and Sean knew it would only be a matter of minutes before some drunk pedestrian happened to glance down the side street and see the carnage.
And that was the best-case scenario.
A screaming drunk would draw attention and, eventually, the cops. But if a cop saw it, they could lock down streets and start asking more questions that Sean cared to answer.
“You’re not hurt, are you?” Sean asked as he ushered Kevin around a corner to the left.
Straight ahead, the Hotel Grand Garden’s alabaster façade shone like a beacon, brightly illuminated by ground lights on all sides. A crimson awning jutted out from the main entrance. Bright lights shone from within, and a man in a dark red uniform stood at the door to open it for patrons coming and going.
“No,” Kevin answered as he huffed. “I’m okay, as much as can be expected anyway.”
“You’re okay now,” Sean reassured, though he glanced back over his shoulder to make sure they weren’t being followed. “
Do you have any idea who those guys were?”
Kevin shook his head, keeping his eyes forward and directed at the sidewalk.
A man with a guitar sat against the wall of an apothecary. He played “American Pie” as he stared out toward the street with unseeing, vapid eyes.
Sean fished a bill out of his pocket and tossed it into the man’s guitar case as they passed.
Kevin glanced at him askance. “Who are you?”
Sean returned the expression. “Sean Wyatt. I thought I told you that already. I work for the IAA? Remember?”
“I know that. What I mean is, you come in out of nowhere—how you got here so fast I have no idea—and then you take out four guys in a matter of seconds, all of them armed, by the way. That’s not normal.”
Sean huffed. “I guess not.”
They stopped at the next intersection and waited for the light to change. When it did, they continued through the crosswalk and paused to cross the adjacent street. The hotel stood just on the other side.
While the building’s grandiose design suggested it was something magnificent, the hotel was relatively small compared to some of its more luxurious rivals around the world. While Plovdiv remained a decent tourist destination, it seemed the secret about tourism in Bulgaria remained safe—for now.
Sean had visited the country once before, though it hadn’t been on vacation or to see the sights. He’d been here to take out a threat.
He remembered enjoying the food and the people, especially the culture that had settled in after the fall of communism. He loved the vibrant, traditional dresses the women wore with colorful flowers in their hair and bright smiles on their faces. Both the men and women were friendly, and that included total strangers, who seemed to be curious to speak to people from foreign countries. At the time, however, Sean hadn’t wanted to talk to anyone. During a mission for Axis, he needed to keep a low profile, and his level of trust remained low. Once the mission was done, however, and the threat eliminated, he spent a day in Plovdiv, learning as much as he could about the city and its people.
It was that day—so many years ago—that began pulling the thread on Sean’s career with Axis.
Now he was back, working for a different organization, but on a mission nonetheless. This time, his job was to save someone. But the end result was the same. Someone else had to die for his mission to succeed.
Over the years, he’d come to realize that a tiger couldn’t change its stripes, no matter how hard the animal tried.
The light across the street changed, and the two men started walking.
“You’re not going to tell me, are you?” Kevin pressed.
“I could,” Sean said with a wry grin.
“But you’d have to kill me?”
“Your words.” Sean passed him a cryptic glance and then shook his head. “I used to work for a special agency. Very covert. That’s all you need to know.”
They reached the other side of the street, passing a couple of younger women, probably in their twenties. The two could have passed as twins with their matching dark curly hair that cascaded over their shoulders. The women smiled at Sean as they walked by, both looking back over their shoulder at him.
Sean kept his eyes forward, but Kevin looked back and then stared at Sean, who veered left toward the hotel.
“Does that happen often?” Kevin asked.
Sean looked at him, puzzled. “Killing four guys in an alley?”
Kevin felt a knot return to his throat at the recollection of the earlier events. “No. I was talking about those two women that just walked by.”
“Oh,” Sean said and turned his head. He saw the two giggle. The one on the right waved. He inclined his head in acknowledgement and then returned his focus to the hotel. “I don’t think so. I honestly don’t know. I’ve always been a little aloof when it comes to that stuff. Plus, I’m happily married.” He held up his left hand to show off a gray silicon wedding band.
“And…does your wife know about all this stuff?”
Sean didn’t look at him, instead keeping his eyes locked on the front door as they approached the hotel. “She’s probably more dangerous than me.”
Kevin stared at him, expecting more, and tripped over a crack in the sidewalk. He caught himself, stumbling forward just before they reached the red carpet extending out from the entrance under the awning.
“Easy,” Sean said with a chortle.
The doorman greeted the two in Bulgarian and pulled the door open. Sean thanked him, and the men passed through into the lobby.
The interior of the hotel looked exactly like what it was—an old hotel that had gone through nearly a century of communist apathy, only to be refurbished in the last few decades with the return of capitalism.
Sean strolled over to the concierge desk and stopped short. He smiled politely at the thin, chalky-skinned young man with black hair in a red suit that matched the doorman’s.
The concierge greeted Sean in English. “Hello, sir. How may I help you? Checking in?”
“Yes, thank you. We have a reservation.”
Sean gave the man the details, one of his IAA credit cards, and his identification. After the concierge confirmed the details, he passed Sean a pair of room keys. “Will you be needing anything else, sir?” The concierge looked as though he hoped he could be of more service.
“No, thank you,” Sean said. “I appreciate it.”
“You’re most welcome, sir.”
Sean turned, handed one of the keys to Kevin, and made for a set of four brass elevator doors to the right of a pair of white columns.
Kevin’s head spun around as he took in the lobby. An ornate chandelier hung from the high ceiling, full of glimmering crystals that sprayed light in a thousand directions. The second floor featured an exposed balcony seating area, where a restaurant and bar treated guests to drinks and dinner. Several well-dressed patrons sat along the railing, engaged in conversations as they drank or ate or both.
The white marble floor looked to be recently installed, though it was always difficult for Kevin to tell how old marble really was. It tended to maintain its newness well compared to other surfaces, especially if properly cared for.
He and Sean reached the elevator doors, and the one on the far right opened. A young man in an expensive gray suit stepped out with a gorgeous woman on his arm. Her red dress splattered with white flower patterns fluttered in the breeze as they passed, and her perfume left hints of peaches in the air.
Sean ignored the two and stepped onto the elevator with a gawking Kevin in tow.
The doors to the lift closed when Sean pressed the button for the eighth floor. The lingering perfume tingled his senses, and he thought of his wife, wishing she were here with him. Alas, Adriana was back in Madrid, tending to a few family affairs with her father’s winery.
“How did you find me?” Kevin asked, slicing through the silence.
Sean looked backward as if he could see through the walls of the hotel and onto the streets. “Back there?” He shrugged. “We knew which flight you were on from Russia and which hotel you were going to. After that, figuring out the route you’d take to your hotel was easy enough. I arrived in Ancient Town before you and your entourage. Then all I had to do was watch.”
“What if I’d gone another way?”
“You know,” Sean exhaled, “you’ll drive yourself crazy if you think about stuff like that. I find it’s best to just be thankful you didn’t go a different direction, and that you’re still alive.”
He slapped Kevin on the back as the elevator doors opened. Sean poked his head through and looked in both directions, then stepped out.
The two men ambled down the corridor, past the brass light fixtures that held flickering faux candles.
“What was with the tattoos those guys had on their necks?” Kevin asked just before reaching their room.
Sean stopped, pressed the key card to the reader, and the lock clicked. He pulled down on the latch and pushed the doo
r open. “The ankh?” Sean lifted an eyebrow at the question and stepped into the hotel room. “It’s an ancient Egyptian symbol for life. I thought you’d know that, given your profession.”
Kevin drooped his shoulders and his chin fell. “No. I mean, of course I know what the ankh represents.” He followed Sean into the room and let the door close behind him. “What I meant was, why did all of them have that same tattoo on their necks?”
“Oh, that.” Sean stopped at the nearest of two queen-size beds and sat down. “You don’t mind if I take this one, do you? I like to be closer to the door.”
Kevin shook his head, bewildered at the reasoning as well as the juxtaposition of the conversation.
“No, by all means. Do you have luggage or something?”
“Airline is delivering it. Normally, I would have taken the company plane, but Tommy had to use it to get to Sweden for some speech he’s giving there.” Sean crossed one leg over the other and stared suspiciously at Kevin. “You and he don’t get along, do you?”
Kevin shifted uncomfortably. He took the satchel over to the desk and set it down gently. “Not particularly. I haven’t always approved of the IAA’s methods. Particularly yours.”
Sean’s lips creased to one side. “Change your mind on that yet?”
Kevin surrendered a breath through his nose in mild laughter. “Yeah, I guess I have.”
“Good. So, in my experience,” Sean stood and trudged over to the desk, “when multiple people have the same markings or tats, they’re part of some kind of group or gang.”
“You think they were gangsters?”
“No. Not based on what I saw. I’d say more likely a secret organization.”
Kevin’s eyes widened. “Like a secret society?”
“Probably. Your dig site was attacked, right? And you don’t know why? No signs of trouble before that?”
“No, nothing.” His dejected tone lowered a pall over the room.
Sean could tell the memories were working the archaeologist pretty hard. Kevin was a scientist, a researcher, a historian—not a warrior.
The Milestone Protocol Page 6