Carpathian: An Event Group Thriller (Event Group Thrillers)

by David L. Golemon

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “I was just wondering how far Zallas would go to see if the rumors of the treasure of the Lost Tribe are true. I mean we know he was being fed antiquities from someone, more than likely a Jeddah. Marko—maybe, maybe not. But the one thing we do know is that he has to believe that his supplier has access to a cache of treasure. Maybe it wasn’t in his original plan, but things may have changed. We know from the dates of the building permits that Dracula’s Castle was a last-minute expense. That could have been built far lower on the mountain for far less money.”

  “Hey, it’s me; tell me what you’re thinking.”

  “Just four or five trinkets from the Exodus may have earned this man close to a billion dollars, just think what avarice-filled dreams he has running through his head. Again I ask—how far would he go to get his hands on the treasure if he suspected it was real?”

  “With his history, I shudder to speculate.”

  “Well, let’s just hope he can never confirm where those antiquities are coming from.”

  * * *

  Dmitri Zallas was eating his lunch. His constant womanly companionship was missing as he always preferred to eat alone. That was the only time he had to think and he didn’t need inane conversation.

  Zallas was small for a Russian mobster. Most men in his line of work got things done through sheer brute intimidation and usually they got this way because they were bigger and stronger than most. But Zallas had to do things differently. Because he was so short and stocky he had to think his way out of trouble. He had to plan accordingly and he gambled the same way. This was why he was in the Patinas region of Romania—speculation. Oh, the resort was a fantastic investment and he would make billions on it. That wasn’t what Dmitri really cared for, he wanted the risk—the problem solving that comes with the search. He knew his affliction wasn’t greed, it was power. Those antiquities gave him power; the power of knowledge.

  He looked up and saw Gina Louvinski standing at the entrance to the restaurant watching him. He tilted his head and the general manager held up something and pointed at his table. Her clipboard was still pressed against her chest. Dmitri took a sip of coffee and then gestured for Gina to join him. He looked at his two bodyguards and they allowed the tall woman to pass. Zallas took his napkin and wiped his mouth and then tossed it on his still full plate.

  “And what can I help you with, Ms. Louvinski?” he asked in a bored sort of way.

  Gina held out a small card. Zallas looked at it and raised his brows. He didn’t reach for it.

  “A rather dirty and unkempt man at the front gate gave your security detail this.”

  Zallas looked at the business card but still didn’t reach for it.

  The card didn’t waver as it was held firm in front of Zallas.

  Zallas sipped more coffee and then placed the cup down and snatched the card from her grasp. When he looked it over he saw that it was plain white with no bordering or fancy lettering—white with black print.

  “Avi Ben-Nevin,” he said as he read the card. He held it up and then looked at Gina with his brows raised once more—he was running short of patience.

  “Read the back,” she said and then turned and left the restaurant.

  The Russian watched her leave and then deftly flipped the card over.

  “Colonel, Israeli Mossad.” The hastily scrawled note below it was written in Cyrillic—the Russian alphabet: “The Treasure of the Exodus—I know the location.”

  For the first time that weekend, Dmitri Zallas and his smile were genuine.

  “Yes,” he said to himself. “Real estate speculation could be very rewarding.”

  * * *

  The bright red Toyota Land Cruiser with the Edge of the World logo on both front doors pulled up to the hotel’s main entrance. Colonel Ben-Nevin wondered if the advice he had received from Tel Aviv was sending him to disaster instead of a possible ally.

  Zallas was standing by the large one-hundred-foot glass window that looked out onto the pool area. He was speaking with one of his men and didn’t turn to see Ben-Nevin as he waited to be noticed. The Russian said something to the man and the bodyguard nodded and then walked away. With one last look at the couple standing by the swimming pool Zallas turned and faced the colonel. He wasn’t smiling but he was holding the business card. Zallas held the card in front of him and then snapped it twice with his fingers creating a popping sound. The Russian took a few steps toward the man in the dirty suit.

  “I would usually tell a guest dressed such as you that we adhere to a strict dress code in certain areas of the resort.” Zallas looked around him at the guests passing through the front lobby. “And this is one of those areas.”

  “Apologies,” Ben-Nevin said as he examined the bearded man in the white suit and red tie. The colonel knew the type of man this was before he even opened his mouth. As a Russian the colonel knew the man wasn’t fond of his ethnic background. The man’s dark little eyes washed over the Israeli with a look of distaste.

  “You have an interesting way of introducing yourself, Colonel. One that would sway me to believe that you had this card printed—a lie perhaps,” he smiled for the first time, “to go with the meaningless phrase you have scrawled on the back.” Zallas popped the business card again.

  Ben-Nevin felt the eyes of his bodyguards on him but he took another step forward, closing the space between him and the Russian. His smile matched his hosts.

  “If I had the audacity to lie to a man with your reputation and resources on your property with no backup, I think I would listen to this audacious gentleman until you could decide for yourself if he is a liar.”

  Zallas finally placed the card in his silk jacket pocket and then gestured for the colonel to join him at the window.

  “All right, Colonel, let’s say you are this man and have earned this title for this particular organization, what can I do for you except to explain I am not a big follower of the Exodus. My knowledge is limited to that old American film I am afraid.”

  Ben-Nevin could see immediately that the man was an expert liar. He could see the mind working inside his thick skull on how to get the information from him without giving away anything in return. The man was a moron who was as see-through as the glass they were looking out of.

  “If I were a man in an intelligence position, I would undoubtedly have information on antiquities smuggling and the sale of same.” Ben-Nevin continued to look out of the window at the couple standing by the pool. They seemed engrossed in deep conversation, and for some reason they looked out of place to the trained eye of the colonel. He watched the couple as he spoke. “I know you have come in contact with certain items that I and many people are interested in. We are willing to offer compensation to the individual who assists my organization in this quest.”

  “Treasure hunting in Romania?” Zallas turned and looked at Ben-Nevin, his eyes roaming over his dirty clothing. “I’m waiting with great expectation, Colonel.”

  “You have never heard of the spoils of Egypt taken by the Hebrews during the Exodus? Vast amounts of gold, jewelry, and other finery—the spoils of countless battles and wars. A treasure so vast that no one can begin to speculate its true worth. And that is but the tip of the iceberg.” The colonel was speaking in passionate Russian. “The antiquities you have auctioned off to finance this … this … playground,” Ben-Nevin gestured around him, “were but a minuscule portion of what awaits inside the great temple of the Jeddah.”

  Zallas turned fully on to face the Israeli. “Great temple?” he asked, not knowing Ben-Nevin had expertly drawn the shallow gangster out of his lie about not knowing anything.

  “One so large it had to be hidden inside a mountain.”

  “A mountain,” Zallas repeated as if he were almost dozing.

  “A temple built by the great artisans of the Hebrew nation, and the engineers that once designed the great halls of Ramesses II.”

  Zallas remained silent as he looked into
the eyes of the colonel. Ben-Nevin saw a small twitch at the corner of his mouth and knew that at least he had the idiot’s attention. Finally he saw the small man smile and then shake his head.

  “A nice fairy tale indeed, we have many like them stemming from the czars of lost treasures hidden by the despots of old.” He laughed. “I must ask where you came across such a story, and finally, how you may prove it really exists.”

  This time Ben-Nevin was the one to smile as he finally removed his eyes from the couple by the pool.

  “The proof you’re looking for is with the man you have relied on in the past to invest in your joint venture here.”

  Zallas outright laughed. “My partner, you mean Mr. Vajic? I’m afraid you have failed to convince me, Colonel.”

  “That is not the man I speak of. Your not so silent partner is in the capital and should arrive sometime tonight. Your real silent partner and the man that made all of this possible for you, lives up there.” Ben-Nevin turned and pointed north toward the pass. “His name is Marko Korvesky. You know this name, yes?” The smile remained on the colonel’s face. He knew his connections inside the Knesset had come through, as the Russian’s artificial-light-induced tan drained from his face and the smile vanished.

  “And suddenly you know much about my business affairs, Jew.”

  “Ah, that hurt.” Ben-Nevin also lost his smile. “But very much off the point, Mr. Zallas. The real edge of this sword is that your man Marko knows where the temple is. He was supplying you with antiquities that could not have come from anyplace else but the temple I have just described. And now I will let you in on a little bit of intelligence that may help you decide in a timely manner if you should assist me and my associates in this endeavor—or if you will bury me in those lonely mountains someplace and throw away a chance at immortality.”

  “I’m listening,” the Russian said menacingly.

  “Good, now that’s productive, Mr. Zallas.”

  “You are beginning to irritate me, Jew Colonel.”

  “Yes, I can see that. The temple has stood for three thousand years.” Ben-Nevin leaned in closer to Zallas. “And I can guarantee you that elements outside my control will be coming for what they consider their property in less than forty-eight hours.”

  “And just who are these elements?”

  “Members of my government you wouldn’t want visiting your resort, I assure you.”

  The Russian turned and watched the two people by the pool walk away toward the entrance to the hotel. His eyes watched them with intent.

  “Do you know this man and woman?” he asked, nodding toward the man and woman and also taking Ben-Nevin off guard with the sudden change of subject.

  “No.” He hadn’t let on that he also thought the two by the pool looked out of place.

  “They are American.” He turned and faced the Israeli. “I suspect law enforcement of some kind. American FBI, CIA, or perhaps Interpol.”

  “That man is no policeman,” Ben-Nevin said as he watched the way the dark-haired visitor carried himself. “That gentleman is military.”

  “Yes, that’s just what the American said. I don’t believe him.”

  “Then by all means you must watch him.” Ben-Nevin finally turned away as the man and woman walked in through the entrance. “My tale, Mr. Zallas, does the recovery of the subject matter interest you?”

  Dmitri Zallas turned and then gestured toward one of his men. The guard left the area and was back very quickly with Gina Louvinski in tow. She stepped up to Zallas and the man with the filthy suit.

  “Yes, Mr. Zallas,” she said, trying to mask her irritation at having to jump every time the Russian commanded.

  “Have our friend here see our medical staff for that hand and see to it that he has credit at our clothing shop and set aside a suite of rooms for him and his men on a vacant floor as I’m sure they also could use some cleaning up. I wish them to be kept away from my other guests, is that clear?”

  “Yes, Mr. Zallas,” she answered blandly as she turned away toward the front desk.

  “A wise decision,” the colonel said as he watched the American man and woman disappear into the hotel, “and one that should profit you to no end.”

  “I always profit. I have a way of securing my investments.”

  Ben-Nevin turned on Zallas and became deadly serious. “But I must warn you that we may be up against a considerable force of will when it comes to this Gypsy and his people. I hope you have sufficient numbers to take what it is we came for.” Ben-Nevin wasn’t even considering the human element in the equation, but he surely wasn’t about to mention the extremely large wolf that seemed to be protecting the Jeddah.

  “Colonel, when you are at the front desk, ask to see the guest list, tell Ms. Louvinski you have my permission.”

  “And why should I do that?”

  “That, Colonel Jew, is my army.” He turned away and started for the casino. “That and a hundred armed men who will die on my command.”

  Ben-Nevin watched the Russian walk away as if he were a god amongst mere mortals.

  The colonel turned and walked into the hotel lobby. He immediately saw the same man and woman from outside as they strolled toward him and the elevators beyond. The dark-haired American never made eye contact with him although they came within a foot of touching.

  * * *

  Jack lowered his eyes as he placed an arm around Sarah and pulled her close as they walked.

  “Oh, shit,” Collins hissed as they walked past the front desk.

  “What?” Sarah said, avoiding the temptation to turn and look at what Jack had just spied.

  “The hotel is filling up with the saltiest-looking people.”

  “You mean the man in the dirty suit?” she said low enough that only Jack could hear.

  “Yeah, that man just happens to be Colonel Avi Ben-Nevin, Israeli Mossad, the man that tried his best to kill Carl, Ryan, and our man at the Vatican. And a man I can only assume is on the run.”

  “And now he’s here.”

  “It just may turn out to be an explosive weekend.”

  “What are we going to do?” she asked.

  “We do our job and hope that Ryan and Pete find Everett.” Collins stopped and waited for the elevator but turned and faced Sarah.

  “That may be hard to do with you telling Zallas who we are. But you’re right,” she said, easing her look toward the filthy man at the front desk and then just as quickly looking back at Jack. “This is trouble.”

  Jack frowned as the elevator doors opened.

  “That is an alliance we didn’t see coming.”

  “Well, we’re not fortune-tellers and we’re sure as hell not Europa,” he said with a smile as they stepped into the elevator.

  “Or Gypsies.”

  VILLAGE OF PATINAS

  Carl and Charlie had been unceremoniously pushed into what amounted to a small barn. The place smelled like goats or sheep, Everett couldn’t decide which, or if it even mattered. Anya, Marko, and quite a few of the men who had captured them had eased Mikla onto a makeshift stretcher made from the front door of a nearby house. The door was far too small to accommodate the size of the animal but the men managed to get him out of the stuffy van.

  The strange thing was that when Mikla was exposed to the outside for the first time after being moved into the open air, the mountain around them came alive with noise and Everett and Charlie could swear they heard howling. Carl hoped it was his imagination because the sounds had to have been made by, many hundreds of wolves.

  The captain watched the small house in the center of the town through a break in the wooden slats that made up the facade of the barn. Everett knew he could punch out one of the slats with ease, but he had decided to play this out and hope that the woman made someone listen to reason. He watched as even more of the villagers made their way to the house where Marko and Anya had vanished.

  Ellenshaw tapped Carl on the shoulder.

  “Look at this,” he
said pointing out a small window on the south side of the barn.

  The captain stepped to the small window and saw a hundred people on the road leading to Patinas. They were men, women, children and they had goats, a cow, a wagon with several pigs inside, and they were all smiling and looked as if they were on their way to a large picnic or small fair. The music they played as they walked along the road was festive and was made up of tambourines, violins, flutes, and horns. The music grew louder as they came upon the village.

  “They must be from the nearby towns,” Everett said as he watched the progression of brightly dressed Gypsies.

  “What are they here for?” Charlie asked as he strained to see over Carl’s shoulder.

  “I don’t know, but I’m sure we’ll find out soon enough.”

  * * *

  Madam Korvesky held her granddaughter to her chest and cried. Marko, feeling uncomfortable at first, softened as he watched both women, his only true blood in the world sob over the years that had been lost.

  Marko turned away and ran his hand through the thick black fur of Mikla. The wolf lay still and allowed Marko to stroke him. The beast closed its yellow glowing eyes and that was when he placed his hand on Mikla’s head and pressed ever so slightly as the animal dosed. Marko tilted his head as his hand moved by small increments around the beast’s skull. Mikla winced once in his sleep and then settled.

  A fleeting vision of Anya came to his mind and then the face of a man he didn’t recognize. The tan face and thin build, the pencil-thin mustache, nothing was recognizable. Of course he knew he was seeing this vision through the muted gray-green spectrum of vision that the Golia used, but the vision was clear in Marko’s eyes. Mikla saw this man as a threat, one that meant harm to Anya, whom Mikla had been sent to protect. Words intruded into Marko’s thoughts and the spell was broken. He felt the small headache but it wasn’t as severe as the spell he would have normally used with Stanus, which would have drained his mind of all activity for hours. He felt a sharp but momentary pain in his right ankle and then he turned to face his grandmother.

  “Marko, are you listening to me?”