“Gentlemen, gentlemen, this is only our first night together and we have this breaking out in the first few hours?” Dmitri Zallas said as he approached the gaming area with many of his security men in tow. Janos Vajic was with him and he hurriedly went to Gina and helped her to her feet. Zallas looked at Ryan for the longest time, even tilting his big head so he could get a better look at the man he didn’t recognize. Then the Russian host looked over at the injured man, who was holding his shattered wrist and glaring at Ryan. “Leno Kurkovich, I should have known,” Zallas said as he reached out and helped the man lean against the blackjack table. “This may be appropriate behavior in Krakow my friend, but we expect a little more restraint here at the Edge of the World.” He leaned in close so the Polish mobster could see his face. “Misbehave again, my friend, and you and your companions will be living at this magnificent resort permanently—am I understood?”
The large Polish mobster only glared at the much smaller Ryan as the Navy man finally relaxed. Jason Ryan, USN, reverted to his aviator spirit and his natural way of looking at things—he winked at the killer, whose eyes suddenly widened. The man started forward but was stopped by Zallas.
“Enough!” Zallas said as he gestured for his security men to remove the four troublemakers. “See to it our friend here makes it to the infirmary.” Zallas patted the injured man on the back. “We have an exceptional medical staff and we’ll get you fixed up in time for the gala grand opening of Castle Dracula.” His head tilted to the left and his men removed the four from the casino.
Ryan stooped down and helped a stunned Pete Golding to his feet while at the same time retrieving Gina’s ever-present clipboard.
“Damn, Doc, you’ve been hanging out with crazy Charlie Ellenshaw too much for your own good—his and your confrontational attitudes are out of control.” He slapped Pete on the back. “Just like your overwhelming sense of justice.”
“Thanks, Mr. Ryan,” Pete said as he pulled the wrinkled and damaged cravat from around his neck. “I thought that monster was going to rip my head from my shoulders.”
“I think that was the object lesson he was trying to impart to you, Doc.”
“Gentlemen, I don’t know what to say,” Gina said as she retrieved her clipboard from Ryan’s hand. “But thank you.”
“Yes, I must say I have never seen our friend Mr. Kurkovich subdued with such reckless abandon,” Zallas said as he stepped up to Ryan and Golding. “And with such skill.” The Russian looked from Ryan to the still shaken Golding. “Both of you, exceptional indeed.”
Ryan didn’t say anything as he turned to face the host of this freak show. Their eyes met and Ryan knew this man was used to getting what he wanted.
“If we had our own security teams in place—” Janos began.
“If we had your security in place our two heroes here would now be dead and bleeding all over my new carpet.” He turned and faced Janos Vajic after cutting him off. “And we can’t have that can we, Janos?”
Vajic gave Zallas a weary look and then placed his arm around the young waitress and his general manager and started to steer them toward the breezeway that led into the hotel. “No, we cannot.”
Ryan watched the exchange and determined that the balding partner and his manager, Gina, were not too fond of the Russian.
The woman turned around as she was led away and caught the attention of Ryan, who was watching her leave. She mouthed the words “Thank you.” Then Ryan mouthed the words, “I’m not gay.”
Gina smiled as she was led away.
Zallas watched Ryan for the longest moment and then he too smiled: this small man wasn’t an associate of his or anyone else’s that was invited.
“Now, what can I do for two such exceptional gentlemen? I am deep in your debt. Especially since I don’t know either of you, and since this is my party I feel slighted somehow.”
Ryan looked over at Pete, who snagged another glass of champagne from a passing waitress to soothe his aching throat muscles, what was left of them anyway.
“Name is Jason Crubble.” He winced as he said his cover name. “My friend is Pete Postlewaite, and we’re here because we received an invitation.” He made a show of reaching into his coat pocket for the gilded and very much Europa-forged invite, but Zallas stayed his hand.
“That is not necessary, Mr. Crubble, not at all. If you’re here that means you were meant to share in this monumental achievement.” Zallas smiled as two gorgeous women came up and placed their arms around his waist, one on each side, and then they both eyed Jason appreciatively. “I am deeply in your debt, sirs, if you need anything.” He looked slightly to his left and then right at the two beautiful women at his side. “And I mean anything at all, you gentlemen have but to ask. I treat heroes with much respect.” He smiled as his eyes took in Pete Golding as he finished off another glass of champagne. “And from what I have seen, no ordinary heroes.”
As Zallas walked away he kept his eyes on the small Navy man and Jason knew they had blown their covers because of his stupidity and womanizing. Ryan saw one of the two women lag behind with a nodding glance from Dmitri Zallas as he did so. She stepped up to Ryan and took his arm and pursed her bright red lips. Ryan shook his head and removed her hand. He gestured toward Pete by tilting his head in the direction of the hotel, indicating it was time to leave. And then Ryan faced the woman Zallas had left for his enjoyment, but compared to the Romanian GM who had just been led away from the casino, this blonde would never be comparable to the dark-haired beauty.
“No thanks, beautiful, I’m gay.”
* * *
Dmitri Zallas saw that the small man had spurned his chance for an easy partnership in his room with the young female offered to him. He watched the two Americans leave and then he gestured for one of his bodyguards to join him.
“Yes, Mr. Zallas?”
“I want the interior minister to check out these two Americans and any other Western men and women I don’t recognize. I want complete workups on those two and any others I don’t recall having met before.”
“You suspect they are not here as your friends?” asked the big man.
Zallas laughed. “I have very few friends here.” He gestured at the roaming guests of the casino. “These are all business opportunities. But these two Americans, no, not friends, I suspect they are something much more.”
“Police?” the man asked. “Interpol?”
“Perhaps,” Zallas said, watching the two American men vanish into the breezeway. “Whoever they are, those two and anyone they converse with bear watching.”
* * *
Anya couldn’t move another step. She was carrying her nephew in both arms and had stumbled with the sleeping boy ten times in the past hour. She finally had to stop and rest.
It was a full five minutes later that Mikla came limping into their resting place. The giant wolf flopped to the ground, its massive chest heaving in and out in exhaustion. Anya reached out and felt the very tip of Mikla’s nose. It was warm and dry and that worried her. The Golia was feverish and there was nothing she could do until they reached home. She leaned back and was startled when she heard noise coming from in front of her. She raised her head up and scanned the darkness. She saw blazing lights in the distance and wondered just how far off course she was. She knew of no lights that bright within 150 miles of Patinas. She shook her head angrily as she realized they must be lost.
She lay down and placed a hand on Mikla. The wolf must have been desperately ill to get so lost on his way home. That was something Mikla was good at, finding his way anywhere he was sent and returning without fail—with the exception of their predicament at the moment.
Anya was so exhausted she couldn’t help it and closed her eyes thinking she would get just a couple of minutes of downtime. She went to sleep and for the next eight hours never realized that her home was only one mile distant and the lights she was seeing was the resort at the Edge of the World.
She had made it back home afte
r nine long years, but for now she was too tired to care.
* * *
The six men sat at a large table in the very elegantly designed Roman Spring restaurant. The waitstaff was wondering just how many bottles of the $900 1995 Lafite Rothschild the strangely dressed men could drink. As it stood, the food and beverage manager had ordered a case out of San Francisco and another from a warehouse in France, so altogether the restaurant had eight bottles of the elite wine and six of them sat empty in front of the men. They had also dined on oysters, steaks, and a dozen other expensive entrées, most of which were picked up by the wait staff without so much as having been nibbled upon. They seemed to be content with Dmitri Zallas’s expensive and personal Lafite Rothschild. The large man with the silver-embroidered head scarf raised a hand for the waitress and indicated that they wanted another bottle of the expensive wine.
Marko watched as the staff started buzzing around knowing that Zallas had to be informed of the wine usage of his personal stock. The dark-haired man smirked because he knew the wine was a favorite of the man he had set up in business.
The wine steward arrived and opened the wine for the men but one of them removed the bottle from the steward’s hands after it was uncorked. Without waiting for it to breathe the large Gypsy started to sloppily pour the wine into their glasses.
Marko’s eyes were drawn to a couple who was being seated in the nearly empty Roman Spring restaurant. The man looked to be a little over six feet in height, which made the beautiful woman in the blue evening dress stand out that much more because of her small stature. His dark eyes watched as the man held out a chair for his more petite companion. His eyes studied the couple as they accepted their menus and listened to what the restaurant had to offer.
One of Marko’s companions held another glass of wine out for the prince of princes but immediately saw that Marko wasn’t there, at least in the mental sense. The men around the table knew the look. He was probing someone close by. Each man in turn quieted and placed his glass on the table. Each turned and looked in the direction of the two who had just been seated.
“Are you feeling something?” one of the men asked as he looked at the small woman across the way and was impressed by what he saw.
After a minute Marko blinked and then tried to focus once more on the man and at that exact moment the object of his concentrated thoughts looked up and the two men’s eyes met for the first time, and then the feeling slammed into the front of Marko’s brain like a sledgehammer. His eyes widened as the man’s secret opened up for Marko and for the first time in his life he was stunned at the feelings that came from someone he connected with. The man’s penetrating blue eyes met Marko’s brown ones and it was as if both men had an insight into the other. The stranger with the blue eyes raised a brow and then looked away. Marko did not, as his eyes were still wide. He was slowly feeling a knot grow in the pit of his stomach.
“Marko, you look as if you have seen Moses himself, what is it?” asked the man next to him, who removed the glass of wine from in front of Marko’s shaking hands.
“Let us leave this place,” was all Marko said as his eyes went from the man to the smiling woman. He watched her lightly touch the man’s hand from across the table and then saw her pull her hand away after initial contact as if it were forbidden somehow for the two to come into physical contact. “Go and I will meet you outside.” He looked at his men. “Go, brothers, I will join you soon.”
The men did as they were told and stood to leave without looking back at the man and woman who had frightened Marko—a man they had never seen shy away from trouble of any kind, and since they were witnessing this behavior for the first time they were unnerved by it. They started to move off toward the exit much to the relief of the waitstaff and the wine stewards, who couldn’t fathom how to begin explaining the missing wine to Zallas.
Marko sat alone at the table as his men filed out of the restaurant. The man and woman watched the Gypsy men exit.
As his men left as ordered, Marko continued to study the couple. The couple’s eyes never left each other, but he knew they were aware of everything happening around them. These two were not the same kind of people he had felt around him for most of the evening. The man and woman weren’t like Zallas and the other guests.
As Marko watched, his eyebrows rose as he caught a fleeting glimpse inside the man’s head that never ceased its locomotion-like activity—he could tell the stranger was not used to any inactive periods in his life. He was a hard man used to action. Marko tilted his head and concentrated on his company. Once he fought his way through her feelings for the man in front of her, he began to get a clear picture of the beautiful woman in the blue dress. Marko smiled when he realized this young lady was nothing but a teacher or some similar profession. He kept getting the impression of stones, diamonds, gold, ordinary rocks—and natural hot springs. Marko’s eyes widened again. This woman was here to study his lands—his mountain. Once that thought was clear he closed his eyes again and pushed his mind out toward the couple.
Marko again came awake and then stood and strode with confidence toward the man and woman. He stood next to the man and waited to be acknowledged. The dark-haired gentleman patted his mouth with a napkin and slowly sipped from his glass of water. He was intentionally waiting to look up at the man who had approached them.
“I was wondering if you were going to stare all night or come over and let us know what was on your mind,” Jack Collins said as he finally fixed Marko with his eyes. Sarah took a drink of her wine and waited.
“You must excuse me for staring, I am a local of this area and I was just wondering why you are here,” Marko asked with nothing more threatening than a dip of his head in acknowledgment to the woman, who nodded in a bored response.
“Well, we’re here to enjoy this new resort and to celebrate that fact with our host,” Jack offered, knowing that somehow this man knew he was lying. The smile remained above the well-trimmed goatee.
“American?” Marko asked as his eyes roamed over Sarah’s low-cut dress.
“Yes, we’re American,” Jack said. “And you’re Romanian, a Gypsy I would say.”
“Yes, it’s amazing how tourists to our lovely mountains expect the colors and the silk and the sitting around our campfires telling fortunes and stories of vampires, witches, and—”
“Werewolves?” Sarah asked. She saw the curious look on the Gypsy’s face. “Can’t forget the werewolves, I mean this is the Carpathian Mountains, right, vampires and werewolves and all that horror movie stuff?”
Marko’s smile broadened as he looked down upon the American woman and then turned and looked at Jack. “Yes, we Gypsies are a rather quaint people. We mix well with the farmers and the sheep men that live here.” He leaned over and looked from Jack to Sarah. “And we all like to keep the old folklore alive and well.” The man smiled broadly and then spoke in a conspiratorial tone. “But I’ll be honest with you, there really are no vampires around here. Vlad the Impaler came from the west of our mountains.”
“That covers vampires, but what about … other legends?” Sarah persisted. She looked at Jack and he nodded his head only slightly.
“That’s all they are, myths, legends, and people who have nothing better to do after the day’s chores than sit around a fire and tell stories to frighten children and entertain the few tourists that actually make it up the mountain.”
“I didn’t mean to be insulting to your way of life. I find your heritage fascinating.”
Marko looked at Sarah once more and then bowed. “Yes, Universal Studios and the rest of Hollywood has made quite a bit of money telling the world what they know of the Gypsy.” He became serious at that moment and his gaze turned on Collins. “And I will say this: the world knows nothing of us.” He switched his look toward Sarah and he placed both of his large hands on the table. “Nothing.”
He straightened and then fixed the two Americans with his dazzling smile, which highlighted his whole amazing ou
tfit of reds, blacks, silvers, and blues. The gold he was wearing was exquisite and did nothing to make Jack and Sarah any less confident that this was their man.
“I hope I see you again before the weekend is over. If you get out and travel the roads ask for me, and you will be allowed anywhere that the regular tourists are not. I will be happy to show you the true Gypsy life. Perhaps you can join us tomorrow inside the pass?”
“Thank you. But if I may ask, why would we be accorded such a privilege?” Jack asked with his own small smile. He slowly lifted his glass of water and drank.
“Because I know you are not here to visit Zallas or be with the fools he has invited. You are here for another purpose,” he half bowed, “and that purpose shall remain yours and yours alone,” he straightened, “but if you need help, please ask anyone on the mountain about me, they will get word to me that you want to … talk.” Marko felt good letting them know that he was no fool. “Just ask for—”
“Marko Korvesky?” Jack said, throwing the Gypsy his own American-style curveball. He saw the smile falter a bit on the Gypsy’s face. He recovered quickly and to his credit the large man held his questions for now.
“Yes, how intriguing that you already know of me and my family.”
“Anyone who visits an area where they have never been would be wise to find out who is really in charge. And at the moment there are two powers in the area. Zallas, who controls everything from the castle to the resort, and the family Korvesky, the queen mother and her two grandchildren, Marko and Anya, who control the pass and everything related to the mountain.”
“I am indeed impressed, Mr.…”
Jack was taking a risk showing his cards like this but they had been presented with an opportunity and he knew he had to chance it. The prince of the Gypsies seemed intrigued that they knew so much. Collins also knew that Korvesky would want to keep him and Sarah close until he knew what motivated the two Americans.
“That doesn’t matter, just call me, Jack. This is Sarah.”
Carpathian: An Event Group Thriller (Event Group Thrillers) Page 30