by Tom Haase
“So what do you want to discuss?” Liz asked.
“I know you know a little about me, but I’m not sure how much Matt has told you.”
“Not much. I first met you in the affair with Gerti’s father when you were after the Bible of Constantine. You killed the man who kidnapped him. Matt only told me you two served in the military together,” Liz said.
“That’s true. What he didn’t say was we served in a special anti-terrorist unit that hunted down those scumbags and erased them.”
“You killed terrorists?” Liz blurted out.
“Over and over again. With my own hands. That’s what we did. So you see, I’m not just a friend Matt invited along on his venture, but I possess the skills of a trained killer.”
“Well, that sheds light on why he trusts you. You fought side by side with him?” Liz asked.
“Affirmative. You may not be read in on what we did, but believe me it was of major importance to the United States. Right now I’m worried about his decision to trust this character. It all seems a little too convenient. His single-mindedness in getting the job done, as you must certainly be aware, is one of his great characteristics. But I get a bad feeling about this guy. Any chance you can get me some equipment?”
“What equipment?” Liz asked.
Bridget told her.
* * * *
Liz departed to return to Washington and to brief the director. Bridget went down to join Matt in his meeting with Karim. After another hour, the man held photos of Matt’s body. The makeup Bridget applied looked real and convincing enough for the iPhone photo Karim took. His throat appeared slit and the blood ran over the front of his body, splayed in a grotesque supine position.
“With my wound to prove we engaged in a fight and the photos, I believe I can convince Ashil I accomplished the mission, especially after the other two he sent with me failed.”
A few more hours passed as they plotted possible moves that might be required. Liz reappeared and wanted to take a photo of Karim. He refused, saying, “If that ever got shown the group would know I consorted with law enforcement.”
Liz accepted this and took Bridget by the arm to go outside. They stood on the front steps of the house. “I did some more checking on you. You are not just a pretty face. My apologies for my earlier comments.”
“No problem. Did you get it?”
“Not the weapon you asked for, maybe later,” she said. “We’re ready on our end for the other thing. Now you must make him stop on these steps when he comes out. I’ll get him with a telephoto lens. We need to get his picture.”
Bridget returned to the room with Karim and Matt.
“Make sure you continually erase all the data on your phone after every call or text message. Do not call except in an emergency. You have the number memorized?” Matt asked. Karim nodded.
“Let me see your phone. I just want to check it for any bugs,” Bridget said.
He handed her the phone and she took it apart. “It’s too dangerous for us to place a bug in it, as your compatriots might examine it. So we won’t be able to track you by GPS or any other way.” She put the phone on her charger. “Now, it’ll be ready for you when you leave.”
“Okay,” Karim responded. He looked worried with downcast eyes.
“What’s the matter?” Bridget asked.
“If I succeed and don’t get killed, will I be able to get a green card and a new identity in the United States?”
“That we can promise,” Matt said.
“Okay, I need to call in and report. I must get back as quickly as possible. They will already be a little suspicious, as I have not called since last night. I will use my wound as an excuse while I sought medicine and pills for my pain. It’s not serious, but I needed to take care of it before I reported. They will be suspicious as it is, but with your death, I should be okay,” Karim said.
“What’s the next step?” Bridget asked Karim.
“Wait to hear from me.”
CHAPTER 27
St Petersburg, Russia
Scott and Gerti arrived at their five-star hotel three hours before they expected to hear from her father’s man in the city. The trip proved uneventful but tiring like all airline travel today. Gerti threw herself on the bed and spread her arms for Scott to join her.
“Really? Now? I’m beat,” he said.
“So am I. I just want a snuggle. Come on, nothing else,” she pleaded. “I’m exhausted.” He jumped on the bed and gave her a bear hug and a kiss. They both rolled over and instantly fell asleep from the hours of jet travel.
The bang on the door caused them to awaken and Scott jumped off the bed.
“Damn, we slept too long,” Gerti whispered.
Scott opened the door. A muscular man over six feet tall with a full black beard stood there.
“Is this Gertrude Schultz’s room?” he asked.
“I’m here,” she responded from behind Scott. “Come in. This is Scott Donavan.” She waited for him to speak.
“My name is Val,” he said in perfect English. “Your father asked me to stop by and see if I could be of any assistance.” Some British language training now became obvious in his speech.
“We are looking for an icon. A very specific icon. Let’s go down to the bar and I’ll tell you what we know about it. I want to find out everything related to that item.”
After two vodkas each, Gerti completed the story and repeated her request for all the information she desired on the icon. The man had not interrupted or asked any questions during her monologue.
“Miss Schultz,” he started.
“Please… Gerti.”
“Okay, Gerti, that is some story. I know about the restaurant firefight and am aware of the two gangs involved. I will put my people to work on this. It’ll take at least two days. Is that satisfactory?” Val asked.
“We have nothing else to do, but I didn’t want to do this with a telephone request. I need to be here. Please contact us at any time with any questions or if you need more information that we might supply. I must ask you about your fee.” Bridget looked at the man in anticipation of a large demand for what would certainly take four or five men working full out for two days.
“Is it all right if I present you a bill at the successful conclusion of my investigation into the matter?” Val asked.
Gerti assumed he knew that the Schultz enterprises overflowed with money, especially if he worked with her father in the past. She nodded her agreement to his question.
“By the way, how do you know my father?” Gerti asked.
“I’m afraid your money can’t buy that little bit of information.”
CHAPTER 28
St Petersburg, Russia
On the morning of their second day in Russia, Gerti would vomit if she toured another sites, especially after seeing the Ice Palace, and visiting numerous churches, too many churches. She poked Scott to wake him and rolled out of bed. She hurried to shower to beat him. On reemerging into the bedroom suite she stood with her hands on her hips, wearing nothing.
“Okay, what’s wrong?” Scott asked.
“I’m bored. We need to take some action. We can’t sit on our asses again today. We need to go out and find something ourselves,” she said. Then she returned to the bathroom and got dressed. “I feel like this might have been a bad idea. I certainly could’ve been wrong in my guess on how this trip could help us out. So we either need to leave and go home or go after information here.”
She finished dressing, then called her father and brought him up to date on what they were doing, which took only a few seconds, and she admitted perhaps coming to Russia wasn’t her greatest idea. His agreement with her made her want to scream at him, but that would be fruitless. Besides, it appeared he’d been right about the whole venture. What could she hope to prove? Best to concede defeat and go home and help Bridget. At least Bridget and Matt had something to go on, some leads, and she was poignantly aware that the time approached for Bridget to
return the money to her father.
“I’m ready. Where are we going?” she heard Scott say, breaking her thoughts.
“I have been thinking,” She sat beside him and held his hand. “This isn’t working. I believe we should go home and help your sister. She may need all the help she can get. What do you think?”
Scott nodded without saying anything. He reached into the closet and pulled out his suitcase.
“No comment?” she pressed.
Before he could answer, he heard a knock at the door. Too early for housekeeping, she realized. Gerti moved to the door and opened it.
“Good morning,” said the smiling Val. “I hope this isn’t an inconvenient time.”
“Not at all,” Gerti said as she indicated for him to enter. “Let me order coffee and we can hear what you have to tell us.”
“I would prefer that you accompany me to satisfy yourself that the information I have obtained is genuine. I have transportation waiting downstairs.”
She nodded to Scott, who picked up his coat. “Okay, Val. Lead the way,” she said, putting on her jacket.
They rode in silence for over a half hour. The driver stopped in front of what appeared to be an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of the city. This industrial area appeared derelict after giving up the ghost years before. Broken windows abounded and doors were off their hinges. Val gave instructions to the driver and then guided them into the only building that appeared to be structurally sound. He walked to the back wall on the first floor, where he opened a door and ushered them through. Gerti observed guards on duty at the entrance to the building and more inside and one at the door they’d just come through.
Before them hung a young man with chains circling his wrists that suspended him to where his toes barely touched the floor. Gerti stared in astonishment and experienced a degree of sheer fright. She grabbed Scott’s hand and squeezed it so hard he made a loud guttural sound. The suspended prisoner’s face — eyes swollen shut, blood seeping from his nostrils and dripping from his mouth — was a bloody mess and there were open wounds on his chest. The cuts on his legs looked like a blade had been dragged down from the top of his leg to the knee. The man apparently remained unconscious at the time.
“Normally, I would never reveal this to an outsider, but you are a Schultz and will soon be in control of that vast conglomerate. I’ll tell you that your father didn’t build his empire on charity or softness.”
“You can’t do this,” Scott said. “It’s barbaric.”
“Shut up,” Gerti whispered in his ear with a stern tone. “This is not our country. Do you understand?” She forced him to look at her. She held his eyes until he nodded.
“It took us all night to get the info out of this man. He is one of the replacement men a man named Dmitri Alexandrovitch hired after the firefight in the restaurant. This Alexandrovitch is a major crime boss here in Russia. I don’t think he is as big as us, but he has influence. He needed to replace his losses and his bodyguards after the shootout. This piece of shit hanging here is one of them. He’s a distant relative of this Dmitri and the man must have confided in our captive some of this information as well as why he hired him to become a bodyguard.” Val moved closed to the suspended man. Gerti and Scott followed.
“So what did you learn from him?” Gerti asked.
“He informed us that Dmitri had an icon that he received from his father. Their old man held a position on the old Soviet politburo. He also said that the son of Dmitri’s brother has the other one in America. This Dmitri runs a large arms smuggling business in America as well as in the Middle East. He is desperate to get the icon that he lost back.” Val picked up a glass of water from a small table and threw it into the man’s face. “That is where we left off when I came to get you.”
“We need to know why this icon is so valuable. Who is the man who has the icon in America?” Gerti asked.
Val slapped the man and spoke to him in Russian. The man spit at him after a few seconds. Val pulled a small knife and cut the man across the chest. The resulting screams deafening.
Gerti listened to Val as he relayed what transpired in English.
He informed her that he asked the man why Dmitri wanted the icon. “Then he spit on me. I asked why he wanted it back and what value it has.” He replied with, “I don’t know. Just that Dmitri said it contained great value.”
“Can you get anything else out of him?” Gerti asked.
“I don’t think he knows why it is valuable and Dmitri would probably never reveal that in case one of them got hold of it,” Val told Gerti. “I’ll try to get the name now.”
“What is the name of the contact, the nephew of Dmitri in America?” Val demanded in Russian.
The man slumped back into a state of unconsciousness. Val again threw water on him and repeated the question.
“Michael Alexander Alexandrovitch.”
The name came out in a whisper. Gerti could barely make it out, but she understood the name.
At that instant, gunfire erupted in the outer warehouse.
CHAPTER 29
St. Petersburg, Russia
Val grabbed Gerti by the arm and propelled her toward a small door on the back wall. Scott ran after them. The sound of automatic weapons firing pierced their ears as it became amplified in the vacant warehouse. Val pulled his weapon and opened the door, gun leading the way.
“Who are they?” Gerti asked.
“My guess, Alexandrovitch’s men. They may have a way to follow their man when he didn’t report in. We were sloppy. Here comes my car. Get in and he’ll take you away. Get out of Russia today,” Val said as he opened the car door and pushed them in. “Don’t go to your hotel. You’re going to the airport. I’ll have a private jet to take you to London. From there you can get to the States.”
“Thank you. What do we owe you?” Gerti said.
“Owe me? Nothing. That’s what friends do. Give my best to Benjamin.”
“My, you do know him. Very few ever call him that, only his closest friends. I hope we can also be friends,” Gerti said,
“We already are.” He smiled at her.
Then Gerti added, “See if you can get more information on that man he named.”
“I’ll do that. Now go,” Val said with some irritation in his voice, but he patted her on her shoulder.
Suddenly, two men burst from the door behind Val, firing their weapons. Rounds hit the car and Gerti ducked down allowing Scott to get in over her. Gerti looked out in time to see Val, who rotated as if on a swivel and tapped each attacker with a bullet to the head. He then rushed toward the open door. After giving a quick look back with a nod in her direction, he disappeared into the building. Gerti closed the car door and the driver sped off.
“That’s close, “ Scott said. “Do you think he’ll be all right?”
“I have no doubt. The attackers, on the other hand, may wish they never tried. Our problem now is to get on the trail of this Michael Alexander Alexandrovitch. I’m excited that we’re back on the track of the icon. This trip wasn’t a waste of time. We can get this done,” Gerti said. She gave Scott a kiss.
Aboard the jet, Gerti called her father and brought him up to date. She now felt justified in the expenditures in Russia. Her father reluctantly agreed. She rang off.
“I think I should call Bridget and tell her about the trip and the name,” Scott said. Gerti agreed.
An hour after their arrival in London, Scott received a call back from his sister. He put it on speaker for Gerti.
“Matt got Liz to run the name through the FBI data base and then through Immigration. Nothing. They went on to search all available databases with the same result. The name Michael Alexander Alexandrovitch belongs to an old man of eighty-seven in a nursing home in New Hampshire and a three-year-old Russian immigrant, who arrived last year. No one else popped up. They’ve run some variables of the name, but there are so many, and still nothing. As of right now, it’s a dead end,” Bridget said.
“Thanks. See you soon.” Scott ended the call. He hugged Gerti and let her have a release of tension. Her previous high now shattered in ruin.
“Shit, we’re back to square one,” Gerti said. “We have nothing and the trip proved useless. With nothing to go on, maybe it’s time to give up on this and try to get father to forget his injury and forgive Bridget. We’ll never get the icon in time.”
Scott continued to hold her.
“I’ve never felt this way,” Gerti said. “After all our efforts and getting our butts shot at. We’re going home with our tails between our legs with what appears to be useless information. We’ve failed.”
CHAPTER 30
Washington D.C.
Monsignor Jonathan McGregor paced the floor in his hotel room. No contact with Bridget for two days. During that time he explored all avenues open to him to discover the location of the icon but to no avail. Just as he reached over to pick up the phone to call her, it rang.
“Sorry I haven’t gotten back to you, but I’ve been a little busy,” Bridget said.
“What’s new in your pursuit of the icon?” he queried, trying to sound nonchalant.
“Gerti and Scott were just in St. Petersburg and learned that a man named Dmitri Alexandrovitch was the recent owner of the icon you currently have in the Vatican,” Bridget said. “They also learned the name of the person who has the other half of the set you told us about. He is someone named Michael Alexander Alexandrovitch and supposedly is a relative and currently living in the States. Unfortunately, neither the FBI nor any other agency here can identify that person.”
The name meant nothing to Jonathan. He would use it as an entry into his future investigations.
“Where are you now?” Jonathan asked.
“I’m working with Matt. We have a few leads we’re pursuing.”