But that still didn't solve the problem.
Jesus, how do we deal with them?
The simplest method would be to let Akira keep leading them around until the promenade was deserted, the passengers asleep. Then Savage could try to stalk the stalkers, incapacitate them, and throw them over the side.
But was the surveillance pair under orders to use the ferry's sea-to-shore telephones to call their superiors and make reports at regular intervals, even if they'd found nothing? In the SEALs, that was basic strategy. If a team failed to check in at its scheduled time, their commander would first conclude that the team had logistical problems and been forced to rash toward a safe location. If the team persisted in not reporting, the commander would then conclude that the team had been captured or else been killed.
Maybe preventing these men from checking in would tell Papadropolis where to focus his search.
As Savage analyzed the problem, a corollary disturbed him. Suppose they'd already made their report? What if they'd told their superiors that they'd spotted a Japanese who might be Akira? In that case, Papadropolis would order additional men to board the ferry tomorrow morning when it made its first stop farther up the Greek coast at Igoumenitsa.
Too many unknowns.
But the present situation couldn't be allowed to continue.
Something had to be done.
Through a window, Savage saw Akira in the restaurant, sitting at a table, dipping a tea bag into a cup. The two men watched unobtrusively from a distant table. One of the men said something. The other nodded. The first man got up, leaving the restaurant through a door on the opposite side of the ferry.
Savage straightened. “Rachel, let's go.”
“But where are … ?”
“I don't have time to explain.” He led her through the crowded smoke-filled bar beside the restaurant, peered out toward the promenade on the opposite side of the ferry, and saw the man standing at a row of phones. The man inserted a credit card into one of them and pressed a sequence of numbers.
“Rachel, lean against this railing, the same as before.”
Savage quickly walked toward the man, stopped next to him, and picked up a phone.
“We don't know yet,” the man was saying. He sensed Savage beside him, turned, and scowled.
Savage pretended not to notice, going through the motions of making a call.
“Yes, Japanese,” the man said. “He fits the description, but we weren't given many specifics. Age, height, and build aren't enough to be sure.”
“Hi, dear,” Savage said to the phone he held. He'd pressed numbers at random and was getting a busy signal. “I just wanted to let you know I managed to catch the ferry out of Patrai.”
“Then make sure?” the man asked. “How the—?”
“Yeah, we dock in Italy tomorrow afternoon at five,” Savage said.
“Question him?” The man scowled again at Savage, unable to speak as freely as he wanted. “But if it is him, I thought the point was to see if he contacted his associates. From what I've heard about this man, the two of us won't be enough to persuade him to cooperate.”
“I'm looking forward to seeing you, dear,” Savage said to the phone.
“Yeah, that idea's a whole lot better. Send more negotiators.”
“No, everything went fine. I saw every client on my list,” Savage said to the phone. “They gave me some very large orders.”
“Corfu?” The man sounded baffled. “But that's the second stop. Why can't they board at Igoumenitsa? Yeah, okay, I see that. If the team's already at Corfu's dock and the airport, they might as well stay in place. Besides, there's no way for them to get off the island at this hour. They'd never be able to cross the channel from Corfu to Igoumenitsa in time to meet the ferry.”
“I love you, too, dear,” Savage said to the phone.
“Right. I'll see you at nine tomorrow morning,” the man said. “If anything develops in the meantime, I'll let you know.”
The man hung up and returned to the restaurant.
Savage replaced his phone and walked toward Rachel in the darkness along the railing.
“Change of plans,” he said.
“I don't understand,” she said.
“I'm not sure I do either.” Savage frowned. “I'm still working out the details.”
5
At one A.M., the promenade was almost deserted. Most of the passengers had gone to the sleeping areas on the lower decks, though a few still remained in the bar and the restaurant.
One of those in the restaurant was Akira. He'd ordered a meal and taken so long to savor every mouthful that his two watchdogs, still sitting at a corner table, had begun to look conspicuous—and looked as if they knew they looked conspicuous.
Any moment, they might decide to find a less exposed vantage point from which to study their prey.
“It's time,” Savage told Rachel. While she'd been standing out of sight from the restaurant window, he'd periodically glanced inside. For all he knew, he had begun to look conspicuous. Yes, he thought. Definitely time.
“You're sure this'll work?” Rachel's voice shook.
“No. But it's the only plan I can think of.”
“That doesn't exactly fill me with confidence.”
“You'll do fine. Keep telling yourself, it's another chance to prove you're a better actress than your sister.”
“I'm too terrified to care.”
“Hey, impress me. Get in there.”
Savage smiled and nudged her.
She studied him, returned his smile, breathed deeply, and entered the restaurant.
From the darkness at the railing, Savage watched the two men. They glanced toward Rachel and almost dropped their coffee cups. In contrast, Akira kept eating with deliberate calm.
Rachel sat beside him. Akira put down his knife and fork as if she was exactly the person he'd expected to see. He said something, then said something else, leaning toward her. She responded, elaborated, and gestured toward the lower decks. He shrugged and nodded.
In the background, the man who'd made the earlier phone call stood and left the restaurant.
Savage was waiting in shadows when the man, his eyes bright with victory, veered toward the row of phones.
A quick glance right and left showed Savage that there weren't other passengers on the promenade. He grabbed the man's left arm, thrust his right leg upward, and threw him overboard.
The fall was five stories. The water would have felt like concrete. The man was too surprised to scream.
Savage spun toward the window, remaining in darkness. In the restaurant, Akira stood, paid his bill, and left with Rachel on the opposite side of the ferry.
The watchdog hesitated, seeming to wonder how soon his partner would return from making the phone call. But the watchdog couldn't allow Akira and Rachel to get out of his sight. Savage knew. As expected, the man rose hurriedly, threw money on the table, and followed.
Savage proceeded along the deserted promenade. It wasn't necessary for him to get to the other side of the ferry and track the stalker. After all, he knew where the man was going.
Taking his time, he descended the stairs to the A deck. Had to take his time. It was imperative that Akira and Rachel reach the cabin Savage had rented, imperative that the watchdog see them go in, hear the lock shut, and realize he had to rush to tell his partner where their master's wife was hiding.
As Savage pretended to stumble drunkenly toward the bottom of the stairs, he groped in his pockets, apparently unable to find the key to his cabin. The watchdog darted toward him, frantic to return to the main deck and locate his partner. Savage punched him in the stomach, chopped the side of his callused hand across the man's jaw, and lugged the unconscious (to all appearances intoxicated) man along the deserted corridor, knocking three times on the door of the cabin.
The door inched open.
“Room service,” Savage said.
6
The cabin was small, starkly furnish
ed with a bureau, a top and bottom bunk, a tiny closet, and a washroom. Designed for two occupants, it provided little room for the four of them to move around. While Rachel locked the door, Akira helped Savage set the unconscious man on the bottom bunk. Working quickly, they used the man's belt to secure his hands behind his back and bound his ankles together with his tie. They searched him and satisfied themselves that he hadn't risked bringing a weapon through customs.
“He's awfully pale,” Rachel said. “His jaw … it's so swollen.”
The stress in her voice made Savage turn. He suddenly realized that this was the first time she'd seen the effects of violence on someone other than herself.
“And his breathing sounds …”
“Don't worry,” Savage said. “I didn't hit him hard enough to really hurt him. He ought to wake up soon.”
“Let's see if we can encourage him.” Akira brought a glass of water from the bathroom and dribbled it onto the man's face.
The man's eyes flickered and slowly focused. When he saw Savage, Akira, and Rachel staring down at him, he struggled to stand, only to realize in panic that his hands and feet were tied.
“Lie still,” Savage said. “Don't be stupid and shout for help. Your friend isn't able to hear you.”
“Where's … ?”
“He fell overboard,” Savage said.
“You son of a bitch,” the man said.
“We have a proposition,” Akira said. “We'd like you to enjoy a good night's sleep and in the morning make a phone call for us.”
“You're not going to kill me?”
“That's always a possibility.” Akira's eyes expressed greater melancholy. “We'd appreciate your cooperation so you don't join your ancestors needlessly.”
“Ancestors? Is that some kind of Japanese thing?”
“If you wish to call it that. Yes.” Akira's lips formed a thin, bitter smile. “A Japanese thing.”
“What kind of phone call?”
“The ferry reaches Igoumenitsa at seven tomorrow morning. After it continues to Corfu, you'll call your superiors and tell them we spotted you and your partner. You'll tell them we panicked and drove from the ferry at Igoumenitsa. We're escaping eastward, inland, toward Ioannina, on route nineteen.”
“But all of us will really be on the ferry on its way to Corfu?” the man asked.
“Precisely. The reinforcements that would have boarded the ferry at Corfu will then be diverted.”
The man became suspicious. “And then what? What happens when we get to Corfu? We continue toward Italy?”
“Our plans aren't your concern.”
“I mean what the hell happens to me? Why should I make the call? You killed my partner. What stops you from killing me?”
“You have our word you won't be harmed,” Akira said.
The man laughed. “Your word? Hey, give me a break. Your word means shit. As soon as I'm no use to you, I'm dead. You can't afford to let me live to tell Papadropolis where you've really gone.”
Akira's eyes blazed. “My word does not, as you put it, mean shit.”
The man swung his head toward Savage. “Look, you and I are both Americans. That ought to count for something. Damn it, don't you understand my problem?”
Savage sat beside him on the bunk. “Of course. On the one hand, you're worried that we'll kill you after you make the phone call and we don't have further use for you. On the other hand, you're worried that Papadropolis will kill you if he discovers you helped us escape. He won't care if you acted practically in order to save your life. From his point of view, you betrayed him. He'll punish you. Severely. So you've got a problem. I agree. But the issue you have to face is whether you prefer to die now instead of later.”
“And have no doubt, if you refuse, you'll join your partner in the sea,” Akira said. “We do have other ways to escape the trap.”
“Then for Christ's sake, use them.”
“But what would we do with you?” Savage asked. “Right now, Papadropolis isn't our worry. You are. So what are you going to do about that?”
The man darted his frightened eyes from Savage toward Akira, back toward Savage, and finally stared at Rachel.
“Mrs. Papadropolis, don't let them—”
“I hate that name,” she said. “Don't call me that. I'll never use it. I never want to hear it again. My last name is Stone.”
“Miss Stone, please, don't let them kill me. You turned pale when you found out this man”—a nod toward Savage —”killed my partner. You'll feel worse if you let him kill me. You've seen me up close. You've talked to me. My name's Paul Farris. I'm thirty-four. I'm a security specialist, not an assassin. I've got a wife and daughter. We live in Switzerland. If you let these men murder me, even if you don't see them do it, you'll feel guilty for the rest of your life.”
Rachel's brow furrowed. She swallowed.
“Nice try, but we searched you before you woke up,” Savage said. “We went through your wallet. Your name's not Paul Farris. It's Harold Trask. The only true thing in what you said is your age. Rachel, don't get sentimental about him.”
“You think I'm dumb enough to carry real ID when I'm working?” the man asked. “The people I investigate, if they knew who was after them, they might hunt down my wife and kid to get even. It's a sure bet the two of you don't use real ID either.”
“Convincing,” Akira said. “But beside the point. You still didn't solve your problem. Even if Rachel told us not to kill you, it wouldn't matter. Her life isn't at risk. If Papadropolis found her or she decided to return to him—”
“Never!” Rachel said. “I'd never go back to him.”
“—her husband would beat her, no doubt with increased viciousness, but he wouldn't kill her. He would kill us if we knew who we were and managed to catch us. So to silence you would be self-defense.”
“Make up your mind,” Savage said. “Will you cooperate?”
“I call my superiors? Then you let me walk away?”
“We already promised that.”
The man debated. “Apparently I'm forced to.”
“A reasonable man,” Akira said.
The man's eyes became calculating. “Even so …”
“I'm getting impatient.”
“I'll need an extra incentive.”
“Money? Don't press your luck,” Savage said.
Rachel interrupted. “Pay him.”
Savage turned to her, frowning.
“He's taking a risk,” she said. “My husband will be furious if he thinks this man lied.”
“That's right, Miss Stone. I'll have to take my wife and daughter and disappear for a while. It'll be expensive.”
“If you even have a wife and daughter,” Savage said. “How much?”
“A quarter million.”
“You're dreaming.”
“Then make it two hundred thousand,” the man said.
“I'll make it fifty thousand, and you'll be grateful.”
“But how do I know you have it?”
Savage shook his head in disgust. “Do you have a choice?”
The man paled.
“Don't make me impatient,” Savage said.
“All right.” The man swallowed. “You've got a deal. There's just one other matter.”
“You're impossible,” Akira said.
“No, listen. I need you to help me think of a way to stop Papadropolis from coming for me.”
“We'll sleep on it,” Savage said.
“The least you can do is untie my feet and hands.”
“No, what I'd like to do is gag your mouth,” Akira said.
“I have to go to the bathroom.”
Akira raised his hands in exasperation. “I don't think I can tolerate this man till tomorrow morning.”
“The look on your face.” Rachel started laughing.
7
It was ten after seven the following morning. As the ferry left the small town of Igoumenitsa, heading west toward the island of Corfu, Savage, Akira,
and Rachel stood tensely beside the man while he made the phone call. Savage kept a tight grip on his arm, listening to what he told his superiors.
“Hey, I know it's a mess. You don't need to tell me. But damn it, it's not my fault. My partner followed too close. The Japanese spotted him. Just before we docked at Igoumenitsa. The Japanese ran. It took us a while to find him. By then, the American and Mrs. Papadropolis were with him. They must have been sleeping in one of the cabins. Hey, what was I going to do, knock on every door and say, ‘Mrs. Papadropolis, are you in there?’ The Japanese was obviously the decoy—to check if the ferry was being watched. If everything looked safe, they'd have continued to Corfu.”
The man stopped talking. Savage heard someone shouting from the other end of the phone.
“No, we couldn't stop them before they drove off the ferry,” the man continued.
More shouting from the other end.
“Hey, I'm telling you it's not my fault. My partner's so scared about fucking up he ran. He figures Papadropolis will kill him.”
The man winced, the shouts so loud he held the phone away from his ear.
“Well, it's his ass, not mine. I'm still on the job, but it's damned hard chasing them on my own. I barely caught up to them before they left Igoumenitsa. Heading east on route nineteen. Why didn't I phone you sooner? How was I going to do that and not lose sight of them? I wouldn't even be calling now if they hadn't stopped for gas. I'm in a restaurant down the street. I can see them through the window. They don't realize I'm … Wait a minute. Shit, they're about to leave. Look, I think they're headed for loannina. The Yugoslavian border's less than an hour's drive north from there. Tell everybody to watch the border crossings. Christ, they're driving away! Can't talk anymore! I'll check in later!”
Sounding breathless, the man slammed down the phone.
Savage released his arm.
The prisoner wiped his sweaty brow. He leaned against the phone and trembled. “Okay?”
“Extremely believable,” Akira said.
“And now?” The man looked apprehensive, as if Savage and Akira might kill him after all.
“We relax and enjoy the cruise,” Akira said.
“You mean it?”
The Fifth Profession Page 17