Barracuda

by Richard Turner

  The tram came to halt. The doors slid open. Mitchell could hear a couple of men speaking to one another. He recognized the voices as those belonging to August and the other civilian who had been in the been in the room when Petrenko had been murdered. The man’s name, however, escaped him.

  Mitchell moved as close as he dared. He did not doubt that August had at least a couple of armed men with him at all times.

  The next thing he heard were the footsteps of people stepping into the cable car, and the hiss of the doors closing. The engine in the support arm holding the tram came to life. A second later, the car began to pull away from the platform at the hotel. Mitchell waited until the very last second. With a burst of pent-up energy, he bolted from cover and dove for the undercarriage of the tram. He flew out into the open air. A split-second later, his hands wrapped around a long steel bar that ran along the length of the car. Using his momentum, Mitchell swung his right leg up and jammed his foot between the bar and the underside of the carriage. His heart was racing. He looked back towards the hotel. August was nowhere to be seen. Mitchell expected an alarm to go off at any second. Instead, all he heard was the rhythmic sound of the cable car’s wheels as they ran along the steel cable leading down into the valley. He pulled himself up and wrapped his arms and legs around the cold bar.

  A cold crosswind struck his body, making him shiver. He blocked out the cold from his mind, knowing that his friends were facing death at the hands of a merciless bully. Mitchell glanced ahead and saw in the distance the lights from the wooden building at the bottom of the mountain that was the cable car’s destination.

  In the dark, the lights from the building reached out onto the snow. When the tram was less than one hundred meters from the shack, Mitchell unwrapped his legs from the bar and hung down underneath the car. He looked down and saw only snow. He decided that it was now or never. Waiting until the very last second, Mitchell let go of the bar and fell. A couple of seconds later, he landed in a snowdrift. He could not believe his luck. Barely an arm’s length away was a jagged rock. If he had landed on that, he could have broken a leg, or worse. He quickly looked up and saw the cable car begin to slow as it approached the shack. Mitchell hurried to get up on his feet. His body was tired and cold, but he had to get to the parking lot before the man in the tram got away.

  Muller was happy to be away from August and Beck. He had never liked his hotel being used as a cover for the stolen treasure. Unlike his compatriots, he had long since abandoned any notion of resurrecting a Fourth Reich. He was a businessman, and he enjoyed running his hotel. If anyone honestly thought that August was ever going to part with his ill-gotten gains, they were fooling themselves. It was what kept him in power among the various Nazi movements around the globe.

  Muller waved at the guard operating the cable car before stepping out into the shack. He fished out his car keys and pressed the remote start. In the parking lot, a black Mercedes SUV started. Muller waited a couple of seconds for the SUV’s heated seats to warm up before heading out into the blowing snow. He pulled up the collar of his jacket to stop the snow from hitting his neck and walked briskly across the icy parking lot. At his car, he reached for the driver’s side door handle.

  Mitchell stepped from behind the SUV like a ghost suddenly appearing out of the night. He grabbed Muller by his collar and smashed his head straight into the door. With a loud thud, Muller’s body went limp. Mitchell quickly dragged Muller behind the Mercedes and into the dark. He picked up the keys Muller had dropped, and then dug through Muller’s pockets until he found the man’s wallet and, most importantly, his cell phone. He removed Muller’s belt and hogtied his arms to his feet. For good measure, he gagged his prisoner.

  Mitchell opened the back of the SUV and found a couple of blankets. After placing Muller inside, he covered the body with the blankets. He slammed the door shut, got into the driver’s seat and drove away. When he was a couple of minutes from the hotel, he pulled over and picked up Muller’s cell phone. He dialed a number and waited. A few seconds later, a familiar voice answered the call.

  “General, I haven’t got time to explain,” said Mitchell. “Nate and Yuri are in grave danger. I need your help and I need it now!”

  46

  The Aurora

  The next morning, Sam and Cardinal accompanied Elena to breakfast. The fact that Makris was still missing was beginning to trouble them all. They moved through the buffet line and found a table by a window that looked out onto the calm, blue waters of the Atlantic.

  “Ma’am, I don’t want to sound like a broken record, but have been able to reach your brother?” Sam asked Elena.

  Elena shook her head. Like Makris’ inexplicable absence, her brother’s unanswered calls did not bode well either. “Mister Cardinal, could you please try again to find Makris? I’m very worried about his safety.”

  “Of course. Right after breakfast I’ll go and see Mister Francisco. Perhaps this morning he will be more receptive to my pleas,” said Cardinal, knowing full well that it would get him nowhere, but he had try for Mrs. Milos’ sake.

  “What’s on the agenda this morning?” Sam asked.

  “Cyprus,” replied Elena. “The U.S. Secretary of State would like us to discuss the future of the divided island. He sees it as the key to defusing the tension between us and the Turks.”

  “And what do you think?” Cardinal asked.

  “It is only one of several issues that we must address,” replied Elena. “However, any chance to get the delegates from both nations to sit down and talk civilly to one another is not wasted, in my opinion.”

  “Ah, there you are Mrs. Milos,” said General Davos loudly as he walked towards the table with a cup of coffee in his hand.

  “Good morning, General,” said Elena politely.

  “May I join you?” asked Davos, looking down at an empty seat.

  “Please do.”

  Davos took a seat.

  Elena made the introductions.

  “So you are the people who have kept Mrs. Milos safe from all of those attempts on her life,” said Davos. “Greece owes you a debt of gratitude for your heroic efforts. Without her, I’m not sure how these talks with the Turks would go.”

  “It wasn’t just us, sir,” replied Cardinal.

  “Still, you to be congratulated.”

  Sam smiled, stood up and looked towards the nearest coffee pot. “Please excuse me for a moment, my cup is empty.”

  Elena looked at Davos, concern filled her eyes. “General, I still have not been able to reach my brother and now my bodyguard has gone missing. I am growing worried for both of them. This is not normal.”

  Davos placed his coffee down, “Mrs. Milos, I will ask my chief of staff to get a hold of Stavros and order him to call you later today. As for your bodyguard, it is not unheard of for men to quit in the middle of an assignment. They go where the money is. People like him have no loyalty. However, since I see it troubles you, I will also look into this for you.”

  “Thank you,” Elena said, “it means a lot to me.”

  “Think nothing of it. I need your keen mind focussed on these talks, not on other matters.”

  Sam dawdled at the coffee pot for as long as she could. She was about to head back to her seat when Drakos walked into the room and strode towards Davos. As nonchalantly as she could, Sam took out her phone and took a couple of pictures of Drakos before placing her phone back in a jacket pocket. With a full cup, Sam made her way back to the table and sat down.

  She watched as Davos and his bodyguard exchanged hushed words. A couple of seconds later, Davos excused himself and left with Drakos.

  Under the table, Sam composed a quick message which, along with the photos of Drakos, she sent to Fahimah’s secure email account.

  Cardinal sat there, pretending not to have seen what Sam had just done. He let out a tired-sounding sigh. “Well, I guess duty calls. While you ladies finish off your breakfast, I think I’ll go and see if Mister Francisco is in a go
od mood.”

  “Good luck,” said Sam.

  “Where is the next meeting taking place?”Cardinal asked as he stood.

  “The blue room,” answered Elena.

  “I’ll see you there,” said Cardinal to Sam. He turned and walked away from the table.

  Sam’s phone buzzed. She glanced down and saw that Fahimah had the pictures and was going to look into when she got to work. Sam knew better. She did not doubt that Fahimah had already sent the pictures to her contacts in the intelligence community. They would soon know if Makris’ suspicions had been correct.

  47

  The Chalet

  “What do you mean he’s missing?” August asked Beck, his voice bitter and angry.

  “Sir, Mitchell has escaped, ”replied Beck, fearing August’s volcanic temper. “We found a guard tied up. His jacket and pistol were taken during the escape.”

  “How did this happen? Wasn’t he locked up with the others?”

  “Yes, sir. However, it looks like he used the crawlspace between the offices to make his escape.” What he did not say was that he was eating a meal when Mitchell made his move. He knew better than to antagonize August with such information.

  “Herr Beck, what are you doing to recapture him?”

  “Sir, we are searching the hotel from top to bottom, but I think it’s a fair assumption that he is still somewhere on the mountain,” explained Beck. “He may try to climb down, but in this weather, he won’t get too far.”

  “Have you sent men outside to look?”

  “Yes, sir. A team is combing the mountain as we speak.”

  “Did Herr Muller see anything when he left?”

  Beck hesitated for a second. “Sir, I have been unable to reach Muller. Every time I call, his phone goes to voicemail. Perhaps he forgot to turn on his ringtone when he left the hotel?”

  “What about the cable car operator, did he see anything?”

  Beck shook his head. “No, sir.”

  “Herr Beck, for your sake, I hope that Mitchell is quickly found. I’d hate for our working relationship to sour over this matter.”

  Beck did not need to be told that if he did not find Mitchell in short order that he was going to pay with his life for this blunder. “Sir, I will inform you the instant Mitchell is found.”

  August nodded his head, dismissing Beck from his sight. He walked over to a window and stared out into the night. His father had bequeathed him the responsibility to safeguard the Reich’s future. He was not about to see his father’s dream of a resurgent movement under his leadership go down in flames. August tried calling Muller on his phone. He swore under his breath when all he got was voicemail. Next, he called his sister, Muller’s wife and told her to have him call the instant he got home. However, in the back of his mind, he knew that something had happened to Muller.

  An hour later, August could no longer stand by, waiting for Muller to call him. He picked up his phone and called a government official in Santiago and asked for police assistance. He was going to find Muller and Mitchell, one way or the other.

  48

  Polaris Headquarters

  “Sir, I didn’t expect to see you for another day,” said Tammy Spencer as General Jack O’Reilly strode into his office.

  “I took the last red-eye flight out of Seattle,” replied O’Reilly, sounding as tired as he looked. “Tammy, could you do me a big favor and put on a pot of coffee while I round up the usual suspects?”

  Tammy smiled. “Not a problem, sir.” She knew that O’Reilly practically lived off coffee and nothing else when he was stressed.

  Ten minutes later in the conference room, Donaldson, Fahimah and Jen joined O’Reilly. He placed a carafe on the table and then took his usual seat. “Okay folks, this assignment has gotten away from us and I want to get it back under our control. This is not a slag on how things have been handled in my absence. I would not have placed you where you are in the organization if I did not trust you. Don’t forget that it was me, not you, who approved everything that has happened to date. I’ll go first, then we’ll go around the room to hear what you’ve got to say.”

  O’Reilly paused to take a sip of coffee. “Late last evening, Ryan called me from Chile with the news that they had found the stolen treasure. However, Jackson and Yuri are being held by a group of fanatics who he believes will kill them if they are not rescued right away. As the local police are bought and paid for by these people, I told him to go to ground until I can sort things out. With that in mind, I contacted an old and trusted friend of mine in the Chilean Army. I am currently waiting for him to call me back on what he can do for us.”

  “Sir, where is Ryan?” Jen asked, her voice tinged with concern. “Did he go back to the hotel in Portillo?”

  O’Reilly shook his head. “That’s the first place the police would look for him. I told him to find an out-of-the-way spot on the border with Argentina and to remain there until I call him.”

  “Sir, do you think the Chilean army will help?” Donaldson asked. “If the police are in August’s back pocket, who’s to say the army isn’t as well?”

  “Some may be,” replied O’Reilly. “However, General Nelson Riveros is one of the most honest men I have ever met in my life. He is a Chilean patriot. No one owns Riveros.”

  Fahimah spoke next. “Sir, Sam sent me a couple of pictures of a man she believes may have killed Mrs. Milos’ personal bodyguard.” She picked up a remote and turned on a screen on the wall. An image of Drakos appeared. “Sam said that the man in the photos is supposed to have been killed a few years ago in Afghanistan.”

  “Who is he?” asked O’Reilly.

  “According to his military records, his name is Hades Drakos,” explained Fahimah. “His Jeep was reported destroyed by an IED. He along with three other Greek SOF operators died in the blast.”

  “Was his body ever recovered?” asked Donaldson.

  “All of the remains were marked non-viewable,” replied Fahimah. She brought up a picture of Drakos when he was in the military.

  “Convenient, ”said O’Reilly. “However, is this the same man?”

  “Sir, facial recognition software only gives us an eighty-percent match. He may have had plastic surgery to alter his looks.”

  “As he works for the head of Greece’s military, what does the conference’s security manifest list him as?” O’Reilly asked.

  “Kazan, Alexis Kazan,” said Fahimah.

  “I’d hate to call the State Department and tell them that the top man in Greece’s armed forces has a ghost working for him. They’re still unimpressed that Ryan and Nate didn’t turn themselves into the police after the incident in Punta Arenas,” said O’Reilly.

  “If they did, there’s no telling what would have happened to them,” pointed out Jen.

  “True enough. I’ve never met General Davos, what do we know about him?”

  “Sir, he has been in the Greek armed forces his entire adult life,” explained Fahimah. He has an impeccable record and, as far as I can tell, he has no political ambition. Unlike other several other high-ranking officers, Davos has not publically blamed the current Prime Minister for the economic and foreign policy woes gripping the nation.”

  O’Reilly looked over at Donaldson. “What about General Alexander, have you been able to speak to him recently?”

  “No sir, I have not,” Donaldson said. “I either get his voicemail or a NATO staff officer in Naples who promises to pass along my messages. I contacted a friend of mine in Italy and he confirmed for me that Alexander’s name was on the list of participants at the planning conference.”

  “I’d feel better if we could talk to him.”

  “So would I.”

  Fahimah leaned forward. “Sir, Mrs. Milos’ bodyguard has now been missing for over twenty-four hours. Sam and Gordon do not believe it to be a coincidence that not long after Makris spotted Drakos, he went missing, and nor do I.”

  “Folks, without any solid evidence it’s going to be h
ard to convince the authorities that there is something going on,” said O’Reilly. “However, I also share your suspicions. There are far too many things happening all at once to be mere coincidences. I’ll call an old friend working at the State Department and pass on what we have. After that, it’s out of our hands.”

  “Thanks, sir,” said Fahimah.

  O’Reilly drummed his fingers on the table for a few seconds. “Okay, folks, much as it pains me, for now we must all wait. I expect a phone call from General Rivero within the next hour or two. After we speak, I’ll let you know what is going on. As for Sam and Gordon, call them and tell them to be extra cautious. Something is going to happen in Lisbon, I can feel it in my gut. I just wish I knew what it was.”

  “Don’t we all, sir,” added Donaldson. “Don’t we all.”

  49

  Argentine-Chilean Border

  Mitchell glanced down at the watch he took off Muller and then at the phone in his hand. All of this waiting was driving him insane. After he had spoken with General O’Reilly, he drove along the winding mountain road until he found an old abandoned farm. He had hidden the SUV inside a rickety barn. The falling snow quickly covered the tire tracks.

  “Herr Mitchell, please let me call my wife,” whined Muller. “She’ll be worried out of her mind, wondering what has happened to me.”

  “I don’t care,” replied Mitchell bluntly. “You can talk to her all you want when this all blows over. That is, if you’re not in jail as an accessory to murder and theft.”

  “I had nothing to do with the death of that poor man,” protested Muller.

  Mitchell was beginning to regret removing the man’s gag. He had tied Muller to a post to allow him to stretch his legs. Unfortunately, he had not stopped complaining for the past hour. Mitchell had heard enough. “I’ll let the courts decide if you are guilty of aiding in a murder. Besides, you can’t deny that you and your family are in possession of billions of dollars of stolen property. Who knows how many people died while your ancestors amassed that fortune? You can tell yourself that your hands are clean, but I don’t agree with you.”