The Last Deception

by DV Berkom, D. V. Berkom

  Santa chuckled. “My favorite part. Nothing like sitting on your hands, waiting for something to happen. You know, there are things we could do to pass the time…”

  “Don’t remind me. You’d better save your comp days. You won’t be able to get out of bed much less walk once I get back to LA.”

  “I’m counting on it.”

  “There is one thing you could do.”

  “Name it.”

  “Hire a security detail for April.”

  “Oh? What’s going on?”

  “Like I said, it’s complicated. Could you make sure she’s taken care of?”

  “Of course. What kind of security are we talking about?”

  Leine hesitated. “Robust.”

  Santa’s silence spoke volumes. “All right, then, robust security it is. Does she know?”

  “Not yet, but she will.” Leine glanced at the time. “I’d better get going. I’ve got a lot to do.”

  “Isn’t it three thirty in the morning over there?”

  “I couldn’t sleep and thought I should call.”

  “No worries. I’m glad you did. And Leine?”

  “Yes, love?”

  “Don’t take any chances.”

  “I won’t. Same back to you.”

  They said their goodbyes and Leine ended the call. Touching base with Santa always grounded her in ways she couldn’t put her finger on. She wondered what it would be like when he retired. She couldn’t imagine him not doing something. He wasn’t a “sit in a recliner and watch television” kind of guy. Maybe he’d want to sign on with SHEN? His training as a detective would be a huge benefit to the organization. And working together would definitely be a plus.

  But then memories of the last time she worked with someone she loved rose to the surface. Even though she could trust Lou and SHEN, thoughts of what happened with Carlos were hard to shake.

  Pushing her feelings aside, she took the chance that Art was still awake and walked downstairs to the kitchen. He was sitting at a table, playing cards with two of the other security guys.

  Art grinned as he laid his cards face up on the table. A full house. The two other men groaned and threw their cards down. Chuckling, Art swept the pile of euros toward him.

  “Can you guys give us a minute?” Leine asked. They both slapped Art on the back as they left the room.

  “What’s up?” Art asked.

  “I just got a phone call from Katarina Sakharov. Their daughter’s been kidnapped.”

  Art blinked a couple of times, letting the information sink in. “And she wants you to find her.”

  Leine nodded. “Interested?”

  He gave her a look. “What do you think? Having a chit to call in from one of the wealthiest men in Russia isn’t something that drops into your lap every day.”

  “Agreed.” Leine pulled out a chair from the other side of the table and sat down. “According to the wife, Sakharov wasn’t going to cooperate on the terrorist intel. Said he doesn’t trust me.”

  “Well then. This happened at an opportune time, didn’t it? I assume you made a deal for his cooperation if you recover the girl.”

  “Of course.”

  “Any demands yet? I assume we’re treating this as a ransom kidnapping.” Art cocked his head to the side. “Or do you have another theory?”

  “One of their long-time guards is involved—a guy named Farid. I’m ninety-nine percent sure he’s the mole I told you about, and that Tsarev’s behind it. Feels to me like an attempt to get Sakharov to comply with whatever the general wants him to do.”

  “Then we need to be ready. Where’s Mrs. Sakharov staying?”

  “At a villa on the north side of town.”

  “We’re going to need access to their phones. I’ll bug the place and put a tracker on her vehicle.” Art rested his elbows on the table. “So how do you want to play this? I’ve got contacts at Global Secure I can check with, and I still keep in touch with one of the guys that Sakharov hired away. Should give us a good start.” He rubbed his hands together. His eyes had a gleam she hadn’t noticed before.

  He’s enjoying this. Maybe she got his background wrong. Maybe Art was a former—or current—spook. Well, that should help move things along. She’d met a few retired CIA field agents in her line of work, groups of former spies who ran clandestine operations for foreign governments as well as operating within the private sector. She could always tell them by the glee with which they planned off-book ops, not to mention their willingness to skirt international law.

  “I’ve got a message in to Lou for lateral support. He’s a wizard when it comes to setting me up with whatever I need.”

  “Great. I’ll work on the intercepts. See if you can get the missus to voluntarily give up her phone. Anatoly Sakharov might be a hard sell. I can always go at it from a different angle.”

  “Then we should probably get moving.” Leine checked her watch. “I’ll meet you at the Sakharovs in a couple of hours?”

  Art nodded. “Should give me enough time.”

  She gave him the address and returned to her room. She was scheduled to meet Katarina in an hour, but Leine didn’t want to waste any time. When April had been abducted she hadn’t been able to rest until she’d found her. She assumed Katarina would be the same.

  April. She didn’t know how far Tsarev would go, but didn’t want to take any chances. She texted April, letting her know she would soon have a shadow, and to take precautions before then. She’d rather April moved back to LA where Santa could keep an eye on her, but that would be a hard sell, no matter the danger. April was nothing if not stubborn. But, she was also savvy. Before she’d moved to New York to study, she’d wanted to join SHEN. In response, Leine had taught her self-defense and how to handle firearms, so at least she had some training.

  It could come in handy.

  She checked with the guy watching the security monitors downstairs to be certain no one was waiting for her outside, then let herself out and headed into the predawn to meet Katarina Sakharov.

  Chapter 25

  Sakharov Villa, Athens, Greece

  Leine pulled up to the guard shack outside the immense estate and gave the man on duty her passport. Once the home of a reclusive shipping magnate, five years earlier it had undergone a major renovation and been turned into a number of exclusive residences for lease. The guard checked his computer for her name.

  “A little early, aren’t you?” he asked.

  Leine shrugged. “I couldn’t sleep.”

  “I’ll notify the residence.” He flipped her passport closed before handing it back.

  Leine waited as he made the call. A couple of minutes later, he leaned out the window. “Straight back, second villa to the right,” he said, and waved her through.

  She drove along the pristine driveway, her headlights giving her glimpses of colorful annuals, ancient olive trees, and an occasional palm. Greek statues with up-lights adorned the lush green lawn.

  Leine parked in the driveway of the second villa and got out. The outlines of the Acropolis glowed in the moonlight, visible in the distance on its perch high above Athens. In a couple of hours the sky would be awash in deep purples and oranges, compliments of the legendary Athenian smog.

  She walked up to the entrance and rang the bell. Moments later, Katarina opened the door. Leine had guessed right—the woman looked as though she hadn’t slept.

  “I thought you were coming later.”

  “I didn’t want to waste any time. The first forty-eight hours are crucial.”

  Katarina stepped aside to allow Leine to pass and closed the door behind her. “I couldn’t sleep, either. A loop of when Olga and her brother were children keeps playing in my mind.”

  “Look,” Leine said. “I know what you’re going through. Several years ago, my daughter was taken by a madman—a serial killer—”

  Katarina’s eyes grew wide. “No.”

  “She�
�s fine,” Leine assured her. “I was able to locate her before he did anything.”

  “I can imagine how frightening that must have been for you.”

  “Terrifying.”

  They moved into the main room. A large, ornately framed portrait of Katarina Sakharov above the fireplace and the gilt Rococo furniture looked out of place with the modern décor: dove gray walls and white trim with splashes of color, courtesy of an artfully placed throw rug or pillow. Floor-to-ceiling windows stood sentry over the backyard, consisting of a meandering, spot-lit garden path and a turquoise lap pool

  “How were you able to find the killer?”

  “It wasn’t easy. A lot of factors contributed to his capture.”

  “How old is your daughter?”

  “Twenty-three.”

  “Olga is eighteen,” Katarina said. “Barely an adult.” Tears welled in her eyes. She cleared her throat and looked away. “Can I offer you something to drink?”

  “I’d love some coffee.”

  Katarina waved toward the main seating area. “Please, make yourself at home.”

  “Thank you.” Leine walked over and chose one of the tufted silk couches.

  Katarina joined her and pressed a button on a slim remote. A moment later, a young woman wearing a gray and white maid’s uniform appeared.

  “Amelia, please bring a pot of strong coffee and two cups.”

  “Of course,” Amelia said and disappeared.

  “My husband is due to arrive sometime this morning,” Katarina said. “You’re aware that Anatoly still does not trust you, yes? You’re here because I want you here.”

  “I am aware, yes. With your permission, I would like to bring a colleague on board to help with the search. He has contacts in places I don’t and could be very helpful.”

  “Of course. Whatever it takes to find my daughter.”

  “I don’t have the particulars, but I assume any team he puts together will expect payment. These are not government types who would attempt to locate your daughter as a service.”

  Katarina nodded. “Understood. I’ll deal with my husband.” Her brown eyes were rimmed in red, and dark circles had formed underneath them. “He told me your real name, which is why he decided not to trust you. I defended you by saying that you must have had a good reason to travel under an assumed name. Was I correct?”

  “Yes, you were,” Leine said. “When I work for SHEN, I use Eve Mason in case someone objects to what I do to retrieve the victim. It’s much safer than using my real name and risking my private life. In my line of work, I’m not interested in establishing a lasting relationship with most of the people I meet. Using a nom de guerre is automatic, which explains why I did it this time.”

  “I see.” Her demeanor told Leine she was satisfied with her answer. “Tell me how you find someone.”

  “It depends on the case. I have access to several information systems through SHEN, which makes locating someone not exactly easier, but a good deal faster than if I were to start from scratch.”

  Amelia came back into the room, carrying an elegant coffee service on a silver tray, and set it on the table before them.

  “Thank you, Amelia. That will be all.”

  Amelia smiled and left the same way. Katarina poured the coffee and slid a cup toward Leine.

  “What is your success rate?”

  “I’ve located all victims I’ve been sent to recover.”

  “What happens if you fail?”

  “I don’t fail.” Leine matched Katarina’s gaze.

  Katarina nodded. “That’s all I needed to hear.” She rose from the couch and walked to a credenza sitting against a wall. Opening the front, she retrieved a photo album and returned, handing it to Leine. It was the kind where the photographs had been printed on the pages of the book.

  “There are several in there of Olga.” Her eyes misted over and she blinked several times. “Mikhail is in many of them, as well.”

  Leine opened the album and flipped through. Images of parties, friends, and various trips filled the pages. Through all of them Olga and Mikhail appeared to be the perfect brother and sister. “They got along well, didn’t they?”

  Katarina nodded and brought the cup to her mouth to cover trembling lips. Leine went back to the photographs. She flipped to the next page and stopped. It was a picture of a slightly overweight man about Anatoly Sakharov’s age, with light brown hair, thick lips, and a clean-shaven face. He smiled indulgently as Olga blew out the candles on her birthday cake.

  “General Tsarev?” She turned the album toward Katarina.

  A look of distaste hardened her features and she visibly shuddered. “Yes.” She practically spat the word. “The man responsible for the murder of my son.”

  Leine turned the album back around. “Is this recent?”

  “Yes. It was taken this past summer on Olga’s birthday.”

  “Would you mind if I took a picture of it with my phone? We’ll need a recent photo of your daughter, and one with the general would be especially helpful.”

  “Be my guest. I’d print you a copy but I don’t have that particular file on my laptop.”

  Leine retrieved her phone and brought the album over to the window for better light. She took three images using different angles and settings, and then returned to the couch with the album to look through the rest. Two more showed Olga in various poses, which Katarina said she would print for Leine.

  She finished looking at the book and placed it on the table. “There’s one more thing I’d like to ask of you.”

  “Anything.”

  “I need your phone. And your husband’s. Art, the man who is going to help find your daughter, is due to arrive here in an hour or so. One of the things he wants to do is download an app that will record incoming texts and calls and be able to pinpoint their origins. It will also track where you are as long as you have the phone on your person. This way, we’ll be able to monitor your location and your husband’s, any communications, and be able to pinpoint where the kidnappers are calling from.”

  “And you need to be able to track us if one of us is required to leave here.”

  “Yes.”

  “I have no problem doing this, but my husband’s consent is another matter.”

  “I know. That’s why I wanted to tell you now, before Art or your husband gets here. There will be other aspects to the search, of course. Art will brief both you and your husband when everyone is here. Is there a way to convince your husband to do as Art asks?”

  “I doubt it, but I can try.” Katarina picked up her phone from the table and punched in a number. “I need to alert the guard. What is your friend’s name again?”

  “Art. He drives a black Mercedes SUV.”

  She gave the information to the guard and ended the call. When she returned her attention to Leine, they locked eyes. “I am putting my trust in you. This is my family. It means everything to me. If anything happens and I have reason not to trust you, there will be consequences. Do you understand?”

  “Of course. We will get your daughter back. All I ask in return is that your husband keeps his part of the bargain when I go to my government with the information that is on your son’s flash drive.”

  “I’ll make certain of it.”

  At Leine’s request, Katarina took her on a tour of the house. Leine committed the floorplan to memory, mentally cataloging door and window locations, where the security cameras and monitors were, and who was in charge of watching them, how many security guards were patrolling the property, and how often. Katarina instructed one of the guards to run through the video feed showing Farid and Olga leaving the villa and the grounds. Leine noted the SUV’s plate numbers and direction of travel, then sent the information to Art to begin checking CCTV feeds.

  Several guards had been positioned at various points along the perimeter of the property with one hundred percent visibility between them, and at least two covered
the interior of the house, including one who monitored the video feeds. Leine recognized Yevgeny, one of Anatoly Sakharov’s guards from the gala at the Archaeological Museum. She hadn’t met the other, whose name was Beck. Tight-lipped and stoic, both gave satisfactory answers when she quizzed them on security protocol.

  Katarina’s phone rang, and she excused herself to answer it. Leine continued exploring the home, wondering where Farid had taken Olga. Many if not most kidnapping events could be traced back to someone who either wittingly or unwittingly passed along information that facilitated the abduction. Nannies, maids, relatives, and friends of the family were all fodder for leaking the habits or whereabouts of a wealthy family’s offspring, making them vulnerable to manipulation by greed, misplaced trust, or blackmail. An inside job was far easier to pull off, although now that Farid was out of the picture the general no longer had an inside man.

  Unless he’d installed two. She’d have to check Yevgeny’s story, since Sakharov had replaced the rest of his security contingent.

  “That was Anatoly,” Katarina said, returning from taking the call. “He’s just landed and will be here within the hour.”

  A short time later, after they’d finished their tour of the house, Katarina’s phone rang again. This time it was the guard at the gate informing her of Art’s arrival. She put her hand over the phone and said to Leine, “He says there are three other men with him.”

  “Those would be members of his team. I believe he mentioned doing a sweep of the property and adding some enhancements to your security.”

  Eyebrows raised, Katarina nodded and told the guard to let them through before she ended the call. “I’m giving you permission to do whatever you think is necessary, although my husband will not be pleased. He was intimately involved with setting up the current system. If Anatoly has a problem with your plans, I will do my best to persuade him to accept the changes.”

  The doorbell chimed and Leine followed Katarina down the stairs to the front door. Art and three other men walked into the entryway, filling the large space with their presence. Art stepped forward and offered his hand.

  “Art Kowalski. And these are my colleagues—Daniel, Zarko, and Ben.”