by Gar Wilson
Manning opened the envelope and extracted a note written by "Mr. Goldblum." The Canadian recognized Katz's handwriting. The letter was in both French and German, with a few English words sprinkled here and there. The multiple languages would make translating the message more difficult if it fell into enemy hands.
Cute, Katz, Manning thought sourly. Although the Canadian was fluent in all three languages, he still had to read the letter twice to be certain he understood it. The message told of what happened to Sioris and warned of the danger of the starvation virus on Krio Island. If Manning and Encizo wanted to back out, they would have to do so now.
"Excuse us for a minute," the Canadian told Nikkos.
Manning whispered the contents of the letter to Encizo. He kept his back turned to the Greek agent. The Canadian had worked with the deaf in college and could read lips in two languages. Manning never considered a conversation secure if someone could see his lips move.
"I say we continue our mission as planned," Encizo stated after Manning finished.
"I agree." The Canadian nodded. He turned to face Nikkos. "Okay. Secret conference over. Where can I destroy this message?"
"There's a loo over there," the Greek replied, indicating a door. "Just burn it and flush the ashes down the toilet, mate."
"Thanks, Nikkos," Manning said as he headed for the bathroom.
"Sure, guv." The Greek smiled. "We're all on the same side, what? But you'd best hurry. Krio sent a couple gents with a car for you chaps. They're waitin' for you in the lounge."
"The bastard doesn't believe in wasting time," Manning remarked.
"Only people," Encizo added with a shrug.
* * *
Krio had sent a limo for the "American businessmen." The driver was a burly man named Strabo, and he was accompanied by an English-speaking translator named Trypanis. The latter was a small, wiry man who wore horn-rimmed glasses and a linen suit. An artificial smile seemed frozen on his face as he introduced himself to Manning and Encizo.
Strabo, however, was a formidable figure. More than six feet tall, the chauffeur was built like an NFL lineman. Encizo noticed a layer of thick callus on the big knuckles of Strabo's first and second fingers. This suggested the driver had tempered his hands with a makiwara— a karate striking post. Encizo made a mental note of the fact that Strabo was potentially dangerous.
They loaded the baggage into the black limousine. The Phoenix Force pair and Trypanis climbed into the back of the vehicle. Strabo slid behind the steering wheel and started the motor.
"We'll drive to the Port of Piraeus," Trypanis explained. "From there we'll take a boat to Krio Island."
"Your boss certainly provides prompt transportation," Encizo remarked, drumming his fingers on the attaché case in his lap.
"Mr. Krio doesn't have many visitors," the Greek translator stated. "But he believes in giving visitors first-class treatment. 'VIP,' as you Americans might say."
"That's flattering," Manning remarked. "And our company is eager to do business with Mr. Krio... providing we can come to agreeable terms."
"Mr. Krio is a reasonable man," Trypanis assured him. "I'm certain that can be accomplished."
"How long have you worked for him?" Encizo inquired.
"More than five years now," the Greek answered. "I'm just one of his accountants. Fortunately I speak English, so I was chosen to accompany Strabo."
"Do you live on the island?" the Cuban asked.
"Good heavens, no." Trypanis laughed. "My wife would hardly approve of that. I live in Athens, although I've spent some time on the island over the years. Wonderful place. I'm certain you'll find this to be the best business trip either of you have ever had."
"We hope it will be successful," Gary Manning admitted.
"It will be, Mr. Peters," Trypanis said. "If you'll glance outside, you'll notice we're passing by the Acropolis. Please enjoy the view."
Manning and Encizo turned to see one of the most famous collections of ancient monuments in the world. The remnants of numerous buildings, centuries old, surrounded the temple of Athena Parthenos. The Parthenon stood atop a hill, dominating the site.
"You should see the Parthenon at night with the floodlights trained on the temple," Trypanis remarked. "It looks like a glowing apparition from Mount Olympus. A beacon of Greek beauty and culture."
"It is impressive," Manning said sincerely.
The limousine passed several other famous sites. Trypanis continued to act as tour guide. Obviously this was all part of a plan to impress the VIP guests from America. Strabo drove the limo at a moderate speed and cruised by as many points of interest as possible. Manning and Encizo simply enjoyed the tour and tried to relax before they had to enter the lion's den known as Krio Island.
Eventually the limo pulled onto Pireos Street and headed for the Port of Piraeus. Strabo drove on to Pasalimani Harbor, where hundreds of yachts were tied up at the piers. The car cruised slowly down the dock and finally pulled to a halt.
Trypanis smiled and pointed at one of the larger vessels. "And there's our ride," he announced.
The yacht Trypanis referred to was a fifty-foot-long ketch with the legend Argo painted on the transom. A figure dressed in a white silk shirt and matching duck trousers stood on the deck at the port quarter. The man cheerfully smiled and waved at Encizo and Manning. They recognized him from a photograph they had seen during the briefing that began their mission.
The man was Dimitri Krio.
The Greek tycoon was only five and a half feet tall, but his straight posture and tailored clothing created the illusion of additional height. His belly was thick with a round stomach. The breeze ruffled Krio's silver hair as he displayed his perfect white teeth in a crocodile smile.
"Kalispera," Krio greeted them. "Welcome, gentlemen. Please come aboard."
Manning, Encizo and Trypanis obliged. Strabo placed the luggage on board and returned to the limousine. Krio shouted an order in Greek to a pair of muscular young crew members, and they nodded and hurried to the bridge.
The tycoon led his guests to a set of deck chairs beneath the shade of a colorful canopy. Milo, Krio's valet, immediately brought them a bottle of champagne in a bucket of ice and a tray with four glasses.
"Shall we drink a toast to success, wealth and all the other good things in life?" Krio inquired as Milo popped the cork from the bottle.
"Can't argue with that," Manning replied. "Your hospitality is overwhelming, Mr. Krio."
"Call me 'Dimitri.' " The Greek smiled. "We are going to be friends, so let us not stand on formalities."
The yacht cruised smoothly away from the dock and headed into the bay. Milo poured the champagne.
Krio raised his glass to salute Manning and Encizo. "I trust you had a pleasant trip, gentlemen," he commented, sipping his wine.
"Very pleasant," Encizo assured him. "Thanks to Mr. Trypanis's tour of Athens."
"Kalo," the tycoon declared. "Good. I like to make my friends happy. I am glad things are going well. Ah! Look at that sunset! Beautiful, is it not?"
The great orange sphere seemed to melt into the horizon. A prism effect caused a collage of color to splash across the Mediterranean. The lights were incredible, brilliant, alive and fascinating.
"We didn't realize it was getting so late," Manning remarked. "Guess we should have checked into the hotel and arranged to meet you in the morning."
"Do not be silly, Anthony." Krio laughed. "You are Anthony, correct? Well, you and Ramon will stay at my house tonight. Everything is arranged. I promise we will take good care of you both."
"You're too kind," Manning said. He managed a smile, although a hard cold knot had formed in the pit of his stomach.
10
Krio Island was too small to appear on most maps of the Greek islands. From recon photos, Manning and Encizo knew it to be only seven miles long, with a narrow strip of beach forming a sandy belt around the circumference. Several buildings protruded from the inland area like concrete knuckle
s on a giant fist.
The island seemed sinister to Gary Manning and Rafael Encizo. Perhaps this was due to the shadows of twilight or because they realized the place was an enemy stronghold. Neither man relished the idea of spending the night on Krio Island.
Yet their host remained charming and pleasant. Dimitri Krio chatted with his guests in a friendly manner while the crew docked the Argo in a small yacht harbor. Two security guards dressed in khaki uniforms met the boat. They carried walkie-talkies and holstered pistols on their Sam Browne belts.
"I've prepared two guest rooms for you," Krio told Manning and Encizo. "I'll have the security men carry up your luggage."
"Is security a problem on the island, Dimitri?" Encizo inquired.
"Not really," the tycoon answered. "Just precaution. A man with my success and wealth is bound to be a target one way or the other. Critics are just an annoyance. Thieves, kidnappers and terrorists are another matter."
"You're wise to take precautions," the Cuban said. "Especially since international terrorism has increased to such an alarming level."
"Yes." Krio sighed. "It's terrible. Isn't it?"
The tycoon's house was a mansion that reflected a variety of architectural styles. The front steps were marble and the pediment was supported by Doric columns. The house itself appeared to be made of white brick and featured Islamic-style windows with a trefoil arch.
"You named your boat the Argo" Encizo commented as they followed Krio inside the house. "Wasn't that the ship Jason sailed during his quest for the Golden Fleece?"
They entered a spacious hallway complete with a red carpet, miniature palm trees in onyx pots and Hellenistic urns. A great marble staircase ascended to the next story.
"So you're familiar with Greek mythology, Ramon?" Krio remarked. "You're right, of course. Isn't every man seeking a 'Golden Fleece' of one kind or another?"
"I wouldn't think you'd have any fleece left to quest for, Dimitri," Manning commented. "You're already rich, influential and powerful. What more could you want?"
"More of the same." Krio smiled. "What else?"
* * *
Dinner was a gourmet's dream. The orekika, or hors d'oeuvres, consisted of salad, cheese and kalamari squid. This was followed by kakavia soup, which Manning noted tasted similar to French bouillabaisse. The main course featured zucchini, artichokes, boiled lobster and shish kebab.
"Being Americans you're probably accustomed to eating early in the evening," Krio began. "But in Greece we usually have dinner sometime after eight o'clock."
"This meal would be superb at any hour," Manning assured him. "Say, what sort of meat is this on the shish kebab?"
"Kokkoretsi", Krio replied. "A favorite among Greek country folk."
"It's delicious," the Canadian declared.
"I'm glad you like it." The Greek smiled. "So many Americans object to lamb entrails."
Manning dropped his fork and uttered an abrupt cough.
"Dimitri," Encizo said quickly, trying to distract Krio's attention from the distressed Manning. "Do you do much business with Yugoslavia?"
"Of course," Krio answered. "And Bulgaria, as well. Why, do you find trading with Communists distasteful?"
"Well, our corporation doesn't have a current import-export connection with either country." The Cuban shrugged.
"And naturally they want to tap into a source," Krio said with approval. "That's a wise move. Politics shouldn't get in the way of making a profit. Bulgaria is more promising a source for international trade than most Westerners realize. Did you know the metallurgical combine at Kremikovtsi is among the largest iron-and-steel plants in the world? The Bulgarians produce a tremendous amount of machinery. They need connections to other countries in order to export these goods."
"I thought the Bulgarians shipped most of their products to the Soviet Union," Manning remarked.
"They do," the Greek confirmed. "But Bulgaria also trades with non-Communist countries. Both the United States and Greece have been reluctant to deal with Bulgaria. Yet your government has trade with the Russians. America sells grain to the Soviet Union, but it doesn't want to do business with Bulgaria."
Krio sipped some wine and continued. "For Greece not to deal with Bulgaria is even more absurd. The Bulgarians export more goods to France and Japan than to Greece. Doesn't it make sense to trade with your neighbors and try to get along with them?"
"Bulgaria doesn't get along very well with some of its neighbors," the Canadian commented. "Turkey and Yugoslavia aren't exactly chummy with Bulgaria."
"Turkey and Greece aren't terribly close, either," Krio stated. "Yugoslavia and Bulgaria are still quarreling about that Macedonian business. Such petty political nonsense shouldn't get in the way of businessmen like us. However, you must be tired after such a long journey. May I suggest we all get a good night's sleep and tackle business once more in the morning?"
"That sounds fine, Dimitri," Encizo agreed.
"Good." The Greek nodded. "I'll tell Milo to serve dessert and coffee. That is, unless Anthony would care for some more kokkoretsi."
"Uh... thanks," Manning replied. "But I think I've had enough."
* * *
Gary Manning's quarters were neat and pleasant. In addition to a bed, closet and bathroom, the room also featured a chest of drawers with mirror, a desk, chairs and a radio.
The Canadian found his suitcase and valise at the foot of the bed. He hummed tunelessly as he set his suitcase on the bureau. Manning unlocked the case and opened it, covering the mirror with the lid. The suitcase would block the view of anyone who might be spying on him via a two-way mirror.
Of course, the room was probably bugged. He would have to be careful about what sort of sounds he made until he could sweep for electronic listening devices.
Manning examined the contents of his suitcase. He was not surprised to discover his shirts were folded differently from when he packed them and his shaving kit was at a different angle. Krio's people had searched his luggage. They had done a professional job. Few observers would have noticed anything had been disturbed. Had they found anything to suggest "Anthony Peters" was more than he appeared to be?
A knock on the door startled the Canadian. His first instinct was to close the suitcase, but he controlled the impulse. Manning quickly pulled a drawer open and tossed two shirts into it.
"Come in," he invited. "Ehlate mesa."
Manning loosened his necktie as he headed for the door. It opened before he could reach the knob. The Canadian stared at his unexpected visitor, stunned by what he saw.
She was beautiful. A tall, shapely woman with long black hair and emerald green eyes. Full lips formed a wide smile on her alabaster face. The woman glided into the room and gently closed the door. "My name is Melina," she announced. "I'm here to make certain your night is a pleasant one."
"Oh," Manning said, because he could not think of a better reply. "That's not necessary."
"You don't like me?" Melina frowned. "If you don't think you'd enjoy going to bed with me, tell me what kind of woman you would rather have."
"Christ," the Canadian muttered. Krio really believed in taking care of his guests.
"Perhaps you don't like women," Melina remarked. "Would you rather have a man?"
"No," Manning replied firmly.
"I am glad of that," she purred as she moved closer. "It would be a pity if a handsome man like you did not desire women."
"That's a very nice compliment, Melina," the Canadian said. "And you are a very beautiful and desirable woman, but I can't..."
"Have you heard how wild and passionate Greek women can be?" Melina inquired, slipping her arms around his neck. "It's true. I'll prove it if you let me."
"I..." Manning tried to think about something besides the lovely woman who pressed her breasts against his chest. "I'm married."
"But your wife is still in America," Melina whispered. "And I am here with you."
She crushed her mouth against his. Manning embraced
the woman, unable to resist the temptation. He returned her kiss, running his tongue along her teeth and up to the roof of her mouth. Melina slid a hand down his torso. Her fingers stroked the stiff bulge at his crotch.
"Come, Anthony," the woman crooned. "Let us have a good time."
"I'm really tired," Manning gasped as Melina squeezed his rigid member.
"You're not that tired," she insisted.
"Well." The Canadian sighed. "Maybe you're right about that."
The things I have to do for Phoenix Force, Manning thought as he removed his jacket.
11
"I don't think I like being bait, Mr. Goldblum," Manos Draco confessed as he drove his Volkswagen Rabbit onto Navarinou Street.
"Neither do I," Yakov Katzenelenbogen agreed. "But Krio's agents are already aware we're in Athens, so we can't operate without their knowledge, anyway."
"We could have tried some sort of disguise," the one-eyed Greek intel man muttered. He glanced about at the streetlights and the neon signs that branded the night.
"There are a limited number of ways to alter one's appearance," Katz stated. "None of them is foolproof. Sometimes disguises work. Sometimes they don't. Believe me, I speak from personal experience."
"At times like these I wish I still had Saint Christopher in my car." Draco sighed.
Katz mulled over the discussion he, James and McCarter had had with the Greek security officer and Kalvo, the CIA case officer. No one was delighted about trying to lure the enemy into making the next move, but it appeared he, James and Draco had already been "burned" — their covers exposed to the other side. The same might be true about McCarter, Kalvo and other members of Greek intel involved, Katz thought.
That was the reason he had a messenger deliver a note to Manning and Encizo at the airport. Until the pair returned from Krio Island, the others would have to deal with the tycoon's syndicate in Athens. A lure seemed the only logical choice of action.