Pandora: A Harvey Nolan Thriller, Book 2 (Harvey Nolan Mystery Thriller Series)

by S. C. Abbey

  “Forward me this photograph, Harvey,” said Katie, “I’ll send it to my contact—see if he can find out who the devil this is.”

  Harvey nodded as he retrieved his cell phone back from Katie and proceeded to do as he was told. “What now? We can’t sit around waiting for your snitch to get back to you, and I doubt we’ll get anything out of that anyway.”

  “I’ve been thinking—” said Katie.

  “Delphina?” interrupted Spector.

  Katie stared at the man, mouth agape. “You—how did you know what I was about to say?”

  “She was the only one still alive who’s been in firsthand contact with Louis Tanner,” Spector rationalized. “Which means the man I sent flying through the motel room door will probably catch up to her—it’s only a matter of time.”

  Harvey gave his father a funny look. “Flying through a door?”

  “How did you know about her anyway?” asked Katie, ignoring the unimportant comment Harvey made.

  “A certain bartender was kind enough to share some details with me,” Spector said.

  “Oh, did you have to bribe him too?”

  “Nah—I just walked behind the bar where he stood and pointed a gun at his groin—he was very cooperative afterward, I must say.” Spector smirked.

  Harvey cast a glance at Katie and muttered something inaudible, which vaguely sounded like the words, “the same.”

  “Problem is, we didn’t think about asking how we could find her if we wanted to,” said Katie, looking kind of annoyed.

  Spector’s smirk didn’t falter as he flicked a business card out between his two fingers and said, “And that is why, in the words of the ever-eloquent David Mamet, old age and treachery will always beat youth and exuberance.”

  Chapter 43

  AGENT MICHEL AND his partner promptly stepped into the cold-looking elevator when the door opened. The walls of the elevator were made of glass, and its interior could be seen from the outside as it ascended through the hollow shaft all the way till it reached the sixth floor when it entered a tunneled shaft. The lobby view of the Greek National Intelligence Service office building gave way to pitch-blackness.

  “Do you think Sanna will be in at this time of the night?” Agent Linard broke the silence.

  “Without a doubt,” said Michel. “He’s a damn workaholic. I’ve almost never heard him talk about anything other than work.”

  “Well most of the time, it’s close to impossible to get him to talk at all,” added Linard.

  Michel tilted his head and glanced at the flashing red LED of the CCTV on the left. He then lowered his head. “He’s secretive—as expected of one from the pioneering batch of NIS agents. They were forged to be paranoid and to maintain a sense of deep distrust of anyone. With hundreds of field agents under his charge, you can imagine how difficult it is—the responsibility.”

  Linard crossed his arms. “Do you think he’ll ever retire?”

  “Minister Raptis will have to pry his cold, stiff fingers from his desk before that happens,” said Michel with a blank look.

  Linard gave a short, choking laugh but stopped when the elevator door opened. They stepped out into the elevator lobby of the seventeenth floor and headed toward where the corridor met its entrance—right in the middle of the sole corridor on this level. They faced a huge, glass panel that spanned the length of the corridor and could see the entire view of the city through it.

  There were only two offices on this floor, the highest before the rooftop. One to the far right from where they stood, and the other to the far left. The right corridor stretched to a perpetually dark corner where the Director of NIS’s office was. Director Haralambos Banou was almost never seen in the office building. Several agency personnel insist that he must have a private elevator to bring him directly to his office, though structurally, looking at the office building, it would be visually impossible. It was more likely that he transited to and fro the tower via the helipad on the roof. But again, no helicopter was ever seen anywhere near the building. The man himself was as mysterious as the speculated methods of his journeying—he hardly interacted with any of his subordinates in person. That somewhat meager task was left to his deputy, Director Sanna, who was also the NIS Division Director of the region of Attica, where the capital city of Athens was. Director Sanna’s office lay to the left of where Michel and Linard stood. In total opposition to the quiet office it faced, it was always well-lit and occupied.

  Michel cast a quick, serious look to the darkness on the right before he turned to the left, trotting down the long walkway with the many questions weighing heavily on his mind. He glanced to the left through the continuous window, taking in the night scene of Athens, the city he so loved. Everything I took an oath to protect, everything I would die for.

  Linard tapped forcefully on the door when they finally reached it. A couple of slow seconds passed before a firm instruction came through: “Come in.”

  Linard placed his hand on the brass handle and pushed it down, opening the massive door, allowing his partner to step through before following suit and closing it. They stood silently by the entrance and waited, facing the man they were here to see.

  The room they were in was anything but the modern-looking design that permeated the rest of the building. It looked more like a cold basement storage with racks of files on the right stacked so high, a ladder would be needed to reach the top. On the left, the large window from before extended past the dividing wall that held the door, spanning the office as well. The room was huge, as massive as one could expect it to be, being one of the only two offices on an entire floor of an office tower. They were at least a good thirty feet from the desk which a man sat behind.

  Sanna lifted a hand and waved them over. “Come.”

  Michel started his approach toward the man and stopped short two feet away from the desk, standing impassively as he was earlier, with his palms on top of each other in front of him. The desk in front of them was so grand, the man behind it looked tiny in comparison. Sanna was an old man well past the age of retirement. He had short, gray hair and spotted an equally faded, well-trimmed beard. A pair of wire-framed glasses covered his sharp-looking eyes, which looked almost black. He was dressed in a plain white shirt and a gray pinstriped vest. A similar blazer hung on a wooden stand behind him. A brown shoulder-holster with the butt of a gun stuck out under his left armpit—Michel never understood why he never took it off, even in the safety of his office.

  “You have questions for me,” Sanna stated in a calm voice.

  “You know what I’m here for, sir,” replied Michel.

  “Are the lack of answers deterring you from accomplishing your mission?” asked Sanna, still looking down at his documents.

  “Not exactly, sir,” Michel said. He could see where this was headed.

  “Then why are you here?” said Sanna, matter-of-factly.

  “Because understanding the bigger picture allows me to do my job better so that I can protect my men, and hope that we might all walk out of this alive, sir,” said Michel, sounding more confident the more he spoke.

  Sanna looked up from his desk. Michel couldn’t tell what was on his mind.

  “With all due respect, you’ve always said we were free to ask you anything because you wish to inspire genuine loyalty and patriotism. You always said we were willing men, laying down our lives for our country, not mercenaries,” Michel continued.

  “And yet,” Sanna replied instantly, “I am reminded of our motto every day when I walk past the front lobby. ‘Speak not of confidential affairs.’”

  Michel kept his silence.

  Sanna leaned back into his chair and folded his arms, gaze jumping from Michel to Linard then back again. “What is it you wish to know?”

  “Dr. Louis Tanner,” Michel said.

  “And Director Panayiotis,” added Linard.

  Sanna took a deep breath and exhaled audibly. He leaned forward and cl
osed the document folder he was scribbling on earlier, then flung it across the large desk. It landed right in front of his agents. “See for yourselves.”

  Linard reached forward to open the folder, keeping it lying on the desk. The two agents leaned in to read its contents. Scowls began to mar their facial features.

  “Minister Raptis sanctioned this?” said Linard as he looked up in disbelief.

  “But surely,” added Michel, “this would be in violation of some kind of international law, no?”

  “It would be no different from possessing nuclear weapons if you think about it—that is, as long as you don’t use it,” said Sanna, leaning back again. He seemed to have pondered the answer thoroughly, many times before.

  Michel maintained his look of suppressed anger, pausing for a bit. “This organization, OUBO, are they not considered a terrorist group?”

  “We choose to view them as a weapons dealer.”

  “But supporting them for this aberration is—” added Linard.

  “Don’t be naïve, Linard. Do you think the other countries wouldn’t jump at the deal if we were to reject them? What if it is then used against us? You have much to understand about survival if you don’t understand that.”

  “Panayiotis—”

  “—was a hero,” Sanna interrupted Michel. “He brought the deal to our table when its existence came to his knowledge. He understood the need for power—not to use it, but as deterrence in this age of increasing tension between nations.”

  Linard pointed at the document in front of him. “But the diamonds, he kept them—”

  “Those were never for him. They were meant to grease hands for the deal to go through—no one man can manage a deal so big alone, mouths had to be silenced with something that couldn’t be traced back to us. Payment for the biological weapon, with five million dollars’ worth of diamonds that Panayiotis could use—it was all part of the deal,” Sanna said. “The seller obviously had the benefit of laundering the additional five million, but a small price for us to pay.”

  “That was what he was after,” said Michel. “The man at the museum director’s house, the one who killed the couple.”

  “OUBO doesn’t get paid until everything is delivered. You can imagine why they might be taking drastic measures now.”

  “What happened to Agent Ambrose Contos?” asked Linard.

  “He was last seen the day before the transaction with Panayiotis was supposed to take place. We’re still trying to look for him.”

  A wave of silence ensued. Michel knew things were serious, but he didn’t expect it to be so crazy. What if he didn’t agree with the agency’s stand? What else could he do but follow orders?

  “Michel, Linard,” said Sanna as he sighed, “it is our duty to serve, not to judge. The country hasn’t been as vulnerable since the political instability of the sixties. If not for the democratic constitution in 1975, we’d still be embroiled in civil war.”

  Sanna took out his glasses and produced a handkerchief to wipe them. “Adopting the Euro in 2001 was one of the mistakes we should have avoided. And of course, it didn’t help that Greece had years of weak governance following that.” He cast a look of disgust. “The world is a zero-sum game that sits on a fine scale, a balance continuously waiting to be disrupted.”

  He put his glasses back on. “Everything we do here is so people out there can live a life of peace and abundance without getting their hands dirty.” He pointed out the window. “Albeit in ignorance, I’d consider it a bliss.”

  Michel shifted uncomfortably in his position.

  “Michel, your father understood that more than anyone,” Sanna said. “That’s why he gave his life for those people in that final mission. He was a true Greek warrior.”

  Michel frowned and blinked away the moisture that threatened to well up in his eyes.

  “Just get me the vials.”

  “We’ll get it done, sir,” said Michel.

  “That’s all I need to hear—keep your heads down and do your job. Director Banou is trying to contain the situation with Raptis as we speak. To say this mission is the only thing that matters to me right now would not be an overstatement. Can I count on you both to deliver?”

  “Yes, sir,” the agents replied in synchrony.

  Sanna flung a thinner document folder in front of the pair. “I believe this is the man you were talking about?”

  Michel opened the folder, the face of Maksim Trzebuchowska stared back at him. He nodded at Sanna.

  “I have arranged for him to make contact with you. Hear what he has to say, but don’t let your guard down. That’s all I can do for now, I’ll leave the rest in your hands.”

  “But sir—one hundred and sixteen innocent lives. He admitted it himself. How can we—”

  Director Sanna paused in contemplation for a minute. “We need him—for now,” he gazed intensely at his men. “After you have recovered the vials, make sure you kill that son of a bitch.”

  Chapter 44

  HARVEY COULD SMELL the stench of stale cigarettes and sweat in the walkway leading from the entrance into the main dance area. He saw wisps of smoke floating beneath the dimmed spotlights lining the passageway. The sound of electronic dance music grew louder as they progressed forward.

  “I don’t like the smell of this place,” said Katie.

  “Me neither,” Harvey replied. “I never understood the appeal of a strip club.”

  “You’re not here to carry out a sanitation inspection,” Spector said. “Lighten up, might as well enjoy the sights since we’re already here.”

  “That’s true.” Harvey crinkled his nose. He could have sworn he caught a death glare from Katie.

  “Pixi Palace, interesting name, don’t you think?” added Spector.

  The passageway opened up to the main area where the dimmed spotlights gave way to flashing club laser lights of green and red, crisscrossing in a random fashion. Spector took a step forward to survey the floor, where small round tables were accompanied with low, black cushion seats. The seating surrounded a stage, at the far end from where they stood, in a U-shaped arrangement. On the stage was a single metal pole extending from the ground all the way to the ceiling. Strips of ribbon could be seen littered on the stage floor though it was empty—no performance was currently on.

  “There.” Spector pointed at an empty table near to the stage. “Take a seat, shall we?”

  Harvey and Katie trailed the man, who was already much further in front of them. Harvey felt the need to reach out for Katie’s hand as the lasers momentarily moved away from their location, causing a sudden darkness. He changed his mind as soon as the lasers returned.

  “Why would they let Katie in?” Harvey took an outer seat as he ushered Katie into the middle one. “I thought these places usually don’t allow women.”

  “I might have told the bouncer she was considering a career change.” Spector gave a sheepish look. “Sorry darling, no offense. I was just trying not to be violent for once.”

  “None taken,” said Katie. But Harvey gave a stupid grin. “I don’t want to know what you are thinking.” Katie shook her head.

  “It’s nothing, I swear.” His grin didn’t falter.

  “Drinks?” a waiter interrupted in a rude manner. His eyes were darting around the club, not even looking at them.

  “Three Old-Fashioneds, whisky not bourbon. No slice of orange, just the rind. Got that?” said Spector.

  The waiter didn’t bother nodding as he walked away, looking annoyed.

  “We don’t really drink, you know,” said Katie.

  “I know.”

  “Why did you order so many then?”

  “They’re all for me.”

  “No wonder you and Bertram are best friends,” commented Harvey as he secretly wondered the real reason behind his obviously sweeping conclusion.

  Ding–

  Katie fished out her cell phone and tapped on the screen, r
eading the email she just received. “That makes sense.”

  “What?”

  “Remember Sergeant Linard? We were right, he’s no police officer—he’s NIS.”

  “NIS?” said Harvey. “No wonder he was after the box, too. Do you think he had me followed?” Harvey peered behind his back.

  “Erm, I think I got rid—”

  The lasers collectively dimmed. Slower-beat American dubstep music played. A spotlight shone on the stage, where two bouncers could be seen standing in front.

  “This is a high-class role dance joint, customers aren’t allowed to get touchy with the dancers,” Spector whispered as he pointed at the men.

  Electrify my body and you make me feel like I'm so electric—

  A woman in a gold and red masquerade mask strut out in a seductive manner onstage, her long, bare legs moving in front of one another rhythmically. She was dressed in no more than red lingerie with gold satin and matching red stilettos.

  You suffocate my mind and now my atmosphere is crowded—

  As she approached the metal pole in the middle, she gracefully leaped onto it and swerved around, supporting herself with one hand and both feet on the pole. She spun ’round and stared at her audience. Her eyes locked with Harvey’s and didn’t blink.

  Kaleidoscope of colors that you bring to me, you freaking out my energy—

  She dropped herself to the ground, twisting her legs upward the pole, putting her left leg out as she spun herself again, this time upside down. Harvey could barely take his eyes off Delphina.

  You penetrate my space and I'm your looking outta place—

  He looked around to find the rest of the audience equally mesmerized. The show lasted ten minutes before the spotlight dimmed and the lasers returned.

  The waiter came back with their orders. Spector quickly swept a glass and finished it in one shot.

  “That’s something,” Harvey said.

  Katie just gave him a dirty look.

  Spector suddenly let out a laugh. “I just realized I brought my son to a sleaze joint. Geez, talk about catching up with parenting obligations.” He continued laughing.