“You got everything we need?” Vance yelled down from the bridge. He’d managed to acquire a Captain’s hat and was wearing it at a jaunty angle.
“All good, skipper.”
“Let’s load up, cast off, and get this show on the road.”
***
LE MERIDIEN SPA AND RESORT, LIMASSOL
“What do you want to do tonight, Tony?” Katya purred from where she was sprawled across the king-size bed in her underwear.
Bishop was in the bathroom, relaxing in the oversize bathtub, a glass of champagne in his hand. “I thought we could do something a little more exciting than clubs. Is there a casino in this town?”
Katya rolled over onto her elbows, revealing devastating cleavage for her slim frame. “No, you silly man, there is no casino in Limassol. Gambling is outlawed. We can go to Turkey, they have casinos there.”
“A little far to go for a night out, don’t you think? Surely there’s something a little closer.”
“I might know of something.”
“An underground casino?” Bishop sat up in the bath. “I’ve heard of such things. Do you know of any?”
She laughed. “Not so much a casino as a wild party. A friend of mine has a place up the coast. I’ve got to warn you though, they’re pretty crazy and it could cost you a lot of cash.”
Bishop grinned like a Cheshire cat. “Sweetheart, if there’s one thing I’ve got it’s plenty of cash.”
“Then it shouldn’t be a problem. Now how about you get out of that bath and come and pay some attention to me.”
“No, how about you come and get in this bath and pay me some attention.”
CHAPTER 17
KARELIN VILLA
It had taken Bishop and Katya thirty minutes to reach the villa from Limassol. The Rolls-Royce had followed the winding coast road east before reaching a small town called Zygi; at least that’s what Bishop thought the faded signpost said. A short trip down a dirt road had put them on a remote stretch of coastline, the shimmering Mediterranean sea visible under the moonlit night. The only lights in the area were coming from the villa complex; it was the perfect location for someone wanting privacy.
Pounding bass penetrated the cabin as the limousine pulled up to the well-lit security gates. A thick rendered wall, topped with razor wire, surrounded the opulent palace.
Katya lowered her window and spoke, in Russian, to the two guards manning the gate. They were serious-looking thugs with the obligatory bulge of a sidearm under their suit jackets. One of them checked the car thoroughly, searching the trunk and the underside.
“Very exciting,” whispered Bishop. “Just like a Bond movie.” He spotted an AK leaning against the wall in the guard box.
Katya gave him a smile. “Yes, darling. Just like a Bond movie.”
As they drove through the gates and onto the villa grounds the MP3 player in Bishop’s jacket vibrated once. Simeon, or at least his phone, was close by.
“Wow!” Bishop took in the sheer extravagance of the floodlit residence. It sported two sandstone staircases that curved up from the driveway and met at the landing. Tall marble columns held up a red tile–capped roof that covered no less than four huge balconies. The estate could have belonged in ancient history, perched among olive groves on the hills overlooking Rome. However, instead of chariots and white-robed nobles, the estate featured sports cars and scantily clad hookers.
He gave Katya a broad smile. “I think we are going to have a lot of fun tonight.”
She grabbed him by the front of his shirt and kissed him. “Yes, we are.”
They pulled up at the stairs and the chauffeur opened the door. Katya stepped out into the warm night air in another of her figure-hugging dresses.
“That will be all, James,” Bishop said to the driver, turning on his best British accent.
Katya giggled and pulled him up the stairs.
“In all seriousness, I don’t think I’m going to need you again tonight,” said Bishop over his shoulder.
“Very good, sir. You have my number.” The Rolls drove past a long line of guests’ cars and out an automatic gate.
Bishop and Katya climbed the stairs hand in hand, drawing more than a few glances from the other guests.
“Who is this guy?” A Russian with a jagged scar running down one cheek prodded Bishop with a metal-detecting wand.
“He’s a friend of mine,” said Katya, hanging off Bishop’s arm. “A very wealthy friend of mine,” she added in Russian.
“I don’t care,” said the guard. “No one gets in without Karelin’s approval, no one.”
“What’s going on here?”
Bishop recognized the voice immediately. The constant vibration of the MP3 player in his jacket confirmed it.
Simeon Isayev appeared in the mansion’s doorway dressed in a business suit. He had a martini glass in one hand and wore a scowl on his face. He made eye contact with Bishop and stared at him for a few seconds. “Do I know you?”
“I don’t think so.” Bishop thrust out his hand. “Name’s Anthony Newport.”
The Russian continued to study his face as he shook his hand. “I’m sure I know you.”
“No sir, I doubt that,” Bishop continued. “Not unless you spend a lot of time in Oregon or you’re in the fertilizer business.”
“No.” Simeon shook his head. “Never mind.” He turned to Katya. “What seems to be the problem, my dear?”
“This big oaf doesn’t want to let Mr. Newport in.” She left Bishop’s side and grasped the Mafia lieutenant’s shoulder as she whispered in his ear. “He has a lot of money and nowhere to gamble with it.”
Simeon smiled. “Any friend of Katya is a friend of mine,” he declared, waving them past the guards and into the hedonistic house of the Karelin Russian Mafia. “Come, Mr. Newport, we should find you a drink.”
“That sounds like a fantastic idea.” Bishop reached into his jacket and deactivated the MP3 player. Its mission was complete.
“You go on ahead,” said Katya. “I’m going to get changed into my swimsuit.”
Simeon led Bishop through the ground floor of the mansion, past mingling guests, and out to the entertaining area at the back. “What do you drink, Mr. Newport?” he asked over the electro music banging from the speakers that had been set up around the pool.
“Please, call me Tony. I’ll have a vodka on the rocks with a twist of lemon.”
While Simeon ordered drinks Bishop surveyed the scene. The villa was equally impressive at the rear; folding windows, or maybe they were doors, meant that the living space on the bottom floor blended seamlessly with the outdoor patio. It ran straight into a long pool filled with scantily clad women. On the other side of the pool there was twenty yards or so of grass before the white sands of the beach and the waters of the Mediterranean.
The entire setting was strewn with glamorous women and wealthy men, an age-old stereotype reinforced by an endless supply of drugs, alcohol, and cash. There was a DJ at the end of the bar working his decks and enjoying the attention of at least a dozen dancing floozies. Colored lights above the DJ booth seemed to flash in time with the heavy bass line. Out to sea a flotilla of expensive-looking boats were anchored, the lights reflecting off the glass and chrome fixtures. Bishop had to admit it was an epic party.
“So, Tony,” Simeon handed him a drink. “What brings you to Cyprus, business or pleasure?”
“Well, I had just finished meetings in Africa. Thought I’d drop by your island for some fun.”
“First time here?”
“Yeah, wanted to check it out. Heard you Russians knew how to party.”
“Ah, and I trust that Katya has been a good host?”
“Oh yes, she’s amazing.”
“That she is.” Simeon took a drink from his glass. “You mentioned fertilizer, is that a very lucrative industry in America?”
“Very, my father owns the company. It makes well over fifty million in profit annually.”
“You work
for your father?”
“Yes, unfortunately, I’m his run-around guy. I get sent to every shithole in the world to meet with his clients and keep them happy.”
“Then we have something in common.” He lifted his glass. “To shitholes and ungrateful bosses.”
Bishop raised his glass. “To shitholes and ungrateful bosses!”
As they drank Katya appeared from inside the villa. She had changed into a sleek white single-piece swimsuit that left very little to the imagination. She strode across to the pool and used the stairs to lower herself slowly into the water.
Bishop’s eyes followed her and Simeon smiled. “Tell me Tony, do you play poker?”
“Yes, I do.” He continued to watch Katya as she swum gracefully across the pool.
“Some of us are about to play upstairs; there’s room for one more.” Simeon took a cigar from his jacket and offered it to him. “Perhaps you would join us.”
Bishop took the cigar. “I would be honored.”
“The game will go late, but we have plenty of spare rooms that you and Katya can enjoy.”
“This night just keeps getting better.”
Simeon laughed. “We’ll see how happy you are by morning when I’ve taken all your money.”
“We’ll see. I’m not half-bad at Texas Hold’em.”
***
PRINCESSA BELLA, MEDITERRANEAN SEA
The engines of the cruiser throbbed as she sliced gracefully through the calm waters of the Mediterranean. Vance was at the helm, his captain’s cap insulating his bald head from the cool night air. They had been underway for a little over five hours and the sun had just slipped below the horizon. Time at the helm had initially been shared between the three of them but now that it was dark the other two men had gone below to prepare their equipment.
Mitch was at work in the master bedroom converting the bag filled with detonators, batteries, firing circuits, and cell phones into two remote-activated gunfire simulators. Once he had finished soldering the wiring he wrapped the two devices in plastic and tape, and stowed them back in the bag. Then he moved into the galley, where Ice was working.
“How’s the skipper doing?” Mitch asked.
“Good, I just took him up a coffee. We’re about ten minutes away from dropping anchor and getting some sleep.” Ice had both the sniper rifle and the machine gun set up on the dining table. He’d used rubber caps on their bipods to stop them slipping on the laminated surface.
“Yeah, a bit of rack time wouldn’t go astray. How are our guns looking?”
“The MAG’s good to go, gave her a clean. The fifty’s a different matter. I’m not confident I’m going to be able to put a decent zero on her.”
“I’ve got something for that.” Mitch opened one of the kitchen lockers and pulled out a black plastic case. He unclipped it, rummaged around, and pulled out a small black laser pointer and what looked like a spent .50 caliber casing. “What range you working with?” he asked as he screwed the laser into the casing.
“If we zero 1.5 inches at one hundred yards we should be on the money.”
“Chamber this.” Mitch passed the round to Ice, who pulled back the bolt, dropped it into the breech, and closed it again.
“This will give us a pretty close zero.” Mitch took out a piece of paper and ducked back into the master bedroom, where he taped the target to the front bulkhead. “If you aim at the bull’s-eye the dot should be about one point low.”
Ice aimed the big rifle through the doorway, lining his sights up on the target. The laser in the casing shone down the barrel, superimposing on the sniper scope’s reticle. “On the money out of the box. Your man’s pretty efficient, bro.”
“I only work with the best.” Mitch grinned. “Let’s knock up a few targets and put a few rounds downrange.”
They inflated six balloons, half-filling them with water and a cracked glow stick before they took the two weapons and ammunition above deck.
“Vance, are we right to test-fire these guns?” Mitch asked as Ice set up the weapons at the back of the boat.
“Not a problem, bud.” Vance pointed to the navigation screen. “We’re about fifty nautical miles from Limassol and the radar’s all clear.”
Mitch gave a thumbs-up and began dumping glowing balloons overboard.
Ice pulled his hearing protection on and settled into a seated firing position on one of the swivel chairs at the stern. The heavy sniper rifle rested on a fiberglass table. He watched the glowing orb grow smaller as they left it behind and when it reached about a hundred meters he yelled out, “Ears!”
The other men placed their fingers in their ears.
The .50-cal belched flame and the glowing balloon disappeared. “Smack on,” said Ice. He sighted another balloon and repeated the process at two hundred, three hundred, and four hundred meters.
“She’s pretty good.” He set the sniper rifle down on the deck and replaced it with the machine gun. He loaded up a fifty-round belt and actioned the gun. “You want to have a go?” he asked Mitch.
“Sure, why not.” The burly technician sat behind the machine gun and tucked it into his shoulder.
Ice dropped the two last balloons over the back. Mitch waited until the targets reached a hundred meters, thumbed off the safety, and squeezed the trigger.
The gun shuddered, climbing upward as it spat rounds. Three full-metal-jacket bullets disappeared into the darkness before a tracer round shot skyward, a green streak arcing away from the boat.
Mitch adjusted his position and hammered out another burst. This time the rounds arced out toward the balloons and one of them disappeared.
“Hit!" Ice said. "Now the last one.”
The final balloon was rapidly shrinking, barely visible in the darkness. Mitch let off another burst. He missed. Two more bursts followed, the last one sending the target to the bottom.
“Solid drills,” said Ice. “Good to know we’ve got another gunner if we need it.”
Vance throttled back the engines as the two men joined him on the bridge. “We’ve got about another two hours before we hit Limassol.”
“You heard anything from Bish?” Ice asked as he studied the nautical map on the GPS screen.
“Negative, no calls. If he doesn’t make contact in the next ten minutes we’ll anchor up and wait ’til tomorrow.”
“I’ll head below and make us some more coffee,” said Mitch as he disappeared down the stairs.
“Bishop sound OK when you last spoke to him?” asked Ice.
“Yeah bud, why?”
“I just get the feeling he’s got a lot bottled up inside.”
“We all do. I don’t think you can be in this business without being a little broken. You don’t have a problem with him, do you?”
“Not at all, he’s a good operator. I was just wondering, that’s all.”
“He’s been through some serious shit recently, but he’ll be fine. You just keep him out of trouble.”
“Bit hard when you’ve got him gallivanting all over Cyprus with hookers and wads of cash.”
Vance laughed. “You know what I mean.”
Ice gazed out the window at a distant flashing green light. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve got his back.”
***
KARELIN VILLA
Bishop staggered into an empty bedroom and collapsed on the bed. He lay on his back and lifted his arm so he could read the luminous hands on his watch. It was three in the morning. He groaned and sat up feeling inside his jacket for his phone. The card game had destroyed him. It had started well but the Russians had insisted that they slam shots every time an ace appeared in the winning hand. He was amazed at how many times that occurred in the course of a game. They had finally called it quits when one of the other players had passed out at the table. Good thing, because Bishop was not far behind.
He sat up in bed and struggled to focus on the luminous blue buttons of his cell phone’s keypad. Eventually he navigated the menus and dialed Vance’s satel
lite phone.
Vance picked up on the second ring. “Bish, how’s it going?”
“Not great.”
“Buddy, you sound like you’re smashed.”
“Fucking Russians made me drink vodka.”
Vance laughed. “So I take it you’ve found the villa?”
“Fuck yeah, I’m Shimeoinsh’s new best friend. I even met that fat fuck Karelin. He plays cards like a girl.”
“Look, we’re about an hour or so from Limassol. If you can give us a description we’ll find the place.”
“Limassol? It’s not in Limassol, it’s in Ziggy.”
“Ziggy? Do you mean Zygi, the town immediately to the east?”
“That’s it. You can’t miss it. It’s got more lights on than anywhere else. Big swimming pool, lots of girls. Boats out the front. You know, it was an awesome party!” Bishop was getting animated.
“Thanks, buddy. That’ll probably do it.”
“No problem. Oh, and Vance.”
“Yeah, buddy.”
“I love you.”
“Get some sleep, bud. I’ll talk to you in the morning.”
Bishop managed to drop the phone into his jacket before he passed out.
***
PRINCESSA BELLA
“That it?” Ice pointed at a villa glowing in the darkness. The two-story monstrosity was about six hundred yards away and lit up like a Christmas tree. There was a small fleet of luxury cruisers and yachts anchored offshore.
“Haven’t seen anything else that gets even close to what Bishop described,” said Vance as he checked the navigation system. “The GPS has us just off Zygi.” He throttled back the engines.
“Looks like someone had a hell of a party.” Mitch scanned with a pair of binoculars. “There’s people passed out on those boats, and the beach.” He scanned up to the mansion. A few bedrooms still had their lights on, silhouettes suggesting some of the guests were still continuing their partying in more private settings. “Blimey! There’s some action going on in the bedrooms. I wonder if Bishop’s still up.”
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