The Complete Donavan Adventure Series

by Tom Haase

  “Hang on, I’ve got to talk to the general and Bridget. Get in the car and come here. I’ll speak to you after I confer with them. Try to make sure no one is following you.”

  “Okay. Call me back soon.”

  * * *

  Matt felt his face drain of all color when he turned to face Bridget and Mary Jean. Both had heard his end of the conversation and knew something was up. He took a long swig from the Coke.

  "We’ve got a real problem," he said.

  Mary Jean pulled out her cell as soon as Matt finished relaying what Julia had told him. “Wait till I get some people moving on this. What’s the address?” Matt gave it to her, and she moved away as she spoke into the phone. Matt walked over to where Bridget stood, and she grabbed his hands. “Laura is safe. This must be aimed at you some way, somehow.”

  “Yeah . . . possibly. But why, and how?”

  "Remember that asshole's threat to you in Texas?"

  Matt took a few seconds before he nodded. He was attempting to think. How could this have happened?

  "We’ll get through this, but there is a terrorist with an atomic bomb in Savannah. That’s our priority. The general will keep Laura, I’m sure," Bridget said.

  "No. I think we should leave her with Julia. She knows her, and they’ve been together before. I’ll ask her to take care of her until we get back. I’ll take the time to figure out what will happen then. Right now, you’re right. First thing is Savannah, and that’s what we have to do at this moment."

  "Matt," Mary Jean said, "I’ll have the house looked after and see what we can learn. Then the police will come and find what looks like a simple home invasion gone wrong. Julia will be briefed on how to handle the questions and told that you and your daughter are on a winter cruise in the Caribbean. I’ll be glad to take Laura for the time you’re away."

  "Thank you, but I’ll ask Julia if she could keep her. You’re going to be very busy over the next few days as we go after these guys."

  "You’re right, and I’ll have to cancel my niece again. One of these days we might find time to get the kids to play together," Mary Jean said.

  "Let’s hope." Matt picked up his suitcase and headed for the door, following Bridget out to her car.

  “I’ll call Julia when we’re on the way to Quantico and tell her what to do and what’s going to happen.”

  Mary Jean’s phone rang. She indicated for Matt to wait. She answered it and handed it to Matt a few seconds later, saying, “I made two calls while you and Bridget were talking.”

  Matt took the phone. “Hello?”

  The president conveyed his condolences and assured him everything would be done to catch the killers of his sister-in-law and her husband.

  18

  Four Days Ago — Savannah, Georgia

  Marilyn reclined on the sand, thinking of the events in her life over the last six months. She stretched out her arms and legs to their full extent as she enjoyed her five hours on the beach at Tybee. God, she still couldn’t believe her husband had cheated on her with the next-door neighbor. That bitch wasn’t anything exceptional—a little plump, small tits, and a crooked smile. Why? What had possessed him?

  She rose, stretched, and walked to the water’s edge. She dipped her foot in and felt the chilly ocean saltwater. Too cold for her to go in, but it felt right for a refreshing walk on the beach.

  After ten minutes, Marilyn returned to her spot and decided to give her back a few more rays. She couldn’t stay on her stomach long as the silicone implants in her breasts made it uncomfortable to lie in that position. Eventually she rolled over onto her side and picked up the book she’d brought along. The pages started with a steamy sex encounter.

  She put the paperback down and laid her head on the extra towel she used as a pillow. Now the memory of her first time came back. They weren’t married yet, and she was a virgin. They went back to his place and drank more wine after planning the wedding guest list. One thing led to another, and she ended up on his bed. She remembered being a little woozy from the wine, but she went along with it. They were going to be hitched in a month, so what did it matter?

  The next time proved not so traumatic and he showed more consideration. He helped her get comfortable, and she came to enjoy it. She thought she’d always provided him with all the sex he could use or need. Obviously, she hadn’t. The bastard had gone and dipped his wick in every hole he could find.

  Well, she was rid of him now and a free woman again. Checking her watch, she realized that the time really did fly at the beach. Four o’clock—enough sunbathing for one day. Gathering her things, she headed for the hotel to indulge in a gourmet dinner.

  The drive back along US-80 to downtown Savannah took twenty minutes. She was staying at the Inn on Bay Street in the heart of the old historic district. This city, so different from the throngs of people and cars in Atlanta—she loved this place. The feeling of peace emanated from the streets of old Savannah. The traditions of the Old South remained alive and well here. Life seemed to progress at a slower pace, more livable, more enjoyable instead of the more dangerous existence in Atlanta. She planned to move to this lovely city after the divorce came through. An air traffic controller position at the Savannah–Hilton Head International Airport had opened last week. She decided to apply. At the least, it would give her a start in her new life.

  Marilyn arrived at the hotel, showered, and dressed for dinner. She went out onto Bay Street and took the steps down to River Street. This street stretched along the river for blocks and offered bars, restaurants, specialty shops, cookie stores, bike paraphernalia shops, and many more ways to separate one from one’s money. She enjoyed the feeling that it was alive, exciting, and bustling with pedestrians, with little motor traffic. Old stones from sailing ship ballast made up the bumpy pavement of some streets. What had once been rails for a trolley, at present unused, lay embedded in the middle of the street.

  As she strolled along River Street, a monstrous ocean-going vessel passed only a few yards from the sidewalk. Its size gave the impression that it was barely moving from where Marilyn stood. The ship towered at least a hundred feet over her head. Where else could a large cargo vessel pass you by on a city street full of people, mostly tourists, and not cause even the slightest interruption? Amazing, thought Marilyn.

  She decided to stop at Kevin Barry’s for a beer. The Irish pub bustled with people having a late afternoon drink. After ordering a Guinness, she found a table near the door to watch the human parade moving on the street. From her vantage point, she stared in amazement at an open-topped hearse passing by, advertising ghost tours. Later I might do that, she thought.

  She looked around and sensed a man watching her. The inside of the pub was too dark to make out his features, but he held a lighted cigarette. No one else in the place smoked. Somehow she knew his sideways glances examined her. She could feel it. Time to move on. She finished her drink and went out to inquire about the ghost tour. She would take it. What the hell, she intended to enjoy her short vacation, and going back to her room alone held no attraction.

  She walked to the Hyatt hotel and took the outside elevator up to the Bay Street level, crossed the street and proceeded toward Congress Street and the open market area.

  After the American Revolution, the city had changed the names of the streets from King, Queen, etc., to President, Congress, State, etc. Savannah exhibited all the characteristics of a colonial city. She had read in an information booklet at the hotel that the city had been founded in 1733. Marilyn wanted to learn more about the history of the place. If nothing else, it would enhance the charm and pre-Revolutionary character of the city for her. Where did the ghosts come from? She decided to find out.

  She arrived at the old market, where a small sales office advertised GHOST TOURS on its little board. She paid and planned to return at the start time. She had an hour to kill and decided to get a light snack. On Congress Street, she found Garibaldi’s restaurant and went in. A warm décor greeted h
er, and the long bar to the right of the entrance beckoned.

  "Can I get a glass of wine and order an appetizer here at the bar?"

  "You certainly can," replied the barman, taking a good look at her in the light blue low-cut blouse that displayed her boobs at their best. Her blond hair was combed out from the bun she had worn it in on the beach, and it lightly touched her shoulders. The tight jeans showed off another of her physical assets.

  After eating a dish of delicious calamari and having a glass of chardonnay, she headed out to start the ghost tour.

  19

  Four Days Ago — Savannah, Georgia

  Yuri returned to the rental house with some over-the-counter medicines and a few snacks from the convenience store. At least they would have something to eat until he got some sleep. Exhaustion now plagued him after being up all night. He regretted the death of the two seamen, but his and Basam’s survival came first.

  He worried about Basam’s condition. Something wasn’t right there, but he couldn’t fathom why the man rejected going to a doctor. He stressed to Basam that they were safely ashore in America and no one pursued them. Now there existed an opportunity to get medical attention. Basam refused again, so he gave him the Tylenol and the aspirin, along with some Pepto Bismol to settle his stomach. Now he needed sleep, but he wanted to try one more time.

  "Basam, you look awful. We should take you to see a doctor."

  "No. I’m okay. I’ll be fine now that we're here. What’s the latest from Fatimah?"

  "I’ll send them an update on our location and ask for their instructions. Then I’m going to get a few hours’ sleep."

  "We have to get ready to carry out the mission," Basam insisted.

  "Not now. Now I sleep," Yuri said with emphasis.

  Yuri thought Basam looked at him with hatred, something like when his brother had spat out "infidel" at the pursuing Americans in Saudi Arabia. He didn’t need this now.

  "Basam, we’ll take care of it and do the mission, but we need to be rested to get it done, and now I must rest."

  "Okay," Basam replied, and Yuri could see that he softened.

  "Take the medicine and get better. We both need to be up for this. I’ll send the message and get up in four hours."

  "I’m going to hide the weapon. While you were out, I discovered the bathtub can be moved, and the panel behind it contains what looks like the plumbing connections. There’s enough room to conceal it inside there and slide the tub back into position. No one would search there.”

  "Okay. See you later." Yuri went into the bedroom and fell on the bed, asleep in less than a minute.

  Basam went into the bathroom, pulled the old bathtub aside, and opened the panel behind it, exposing pipes and insulation. He wedged the case behind the pipes and covered it with the insulation. Then he replaced the wood cover and slid the tub back into position.

  Three hours later, Yuri woke in a sweat. He got out of bed and wobbled on his feet. He still hadn’t gotten his land legs after the two-week sea voyage. Sometimes the floor seemed to sway, and then he steadied itself. Bizarre feeling. He checked the email but found no new messages, so he sent an update to the Fatimah people, hoping for a quick response.

  He went out to find Basam asleep on the couch. Going back to the bedroom, he emptied Basam’s duffle bag. It contained a pair of jeans, two shirts, underwear, toilet items, a 9mm Glock, two magazines, a box of ammo, and a flashlight.

  He put on clean clothes and placed his pistol at the small of his back. No reason, as no pursued him, but it made him feel comfortable. In the living room, he placed Basam’s weapon on the table near the couch where the Arab slept. He shook him awake.

  "I’m going out for a while. Will you be all right?"

  "Sure. Did we get a message yet?"

  "No. See you later,” Yuri said.

  "Where are you going?"

  "Out to do some looking around."

  "Don’t go until we get our instructions," Basam said.

  "I’ll be back in time to do whatever they order," Yuri promised.

  "I’ll leave your pistol here and take mine, and the computer is in my backpack. That way I’ll get the message as soon as possible and then come back to get you."

  "Okay." Basam started to doze off again.

  Yuri left, walked to the main road, and headed toward downtown. After thirty minutes of walking around the open market area, he ended up on River Street, went into Kevin Barry’s, and ordered a vodka.

  "What would you like with it, tonic or a vodka martini?" asked the barman.

  "Just vodka and some ice."

  "You got it," replied the barman in a poor imitation of Irish.

  Yuri took his drink and moved to a vacant table. He saw the Wi-Fi sign, took out his computer, and opened his email account. A response arrived.

  “The target will be going to Atlanta in a few days. Exact time will be provided in next message. Meet him on landing at airport to give your present. Details will follow within twenty-four hours.”

  Yuri knew what that meant. Take out the president when he lands in Atlanta. He considered what he would do, but first he wanted his money.

  “Will meet plane in Atlanta once money for expenses arrives in agreed amount into account. Will check account before meeting man.”

  That should achieve the desired result. They hadn’t deposited his five million as yet, and they understood that if they wanted him to move on the target, the money had to be there. He felt certain they would comply.

  He ordered another vodka, as he could afford just about anything now, and he would be smart enough not to flash his wealth and attract attention. He signaled for the barman when something caught his eye. A woman had seated herself near the window, and her silhouetted shape captured his gaze. She had a beautiful figure. On that thought, he lit a cigarette.

  Stop it, Yuri, he ordered himself. This is no time to think of women. You’ve had no interest in them for years, and now that you have lots of money, you start to think about getting laid. Dumb ass. But he continued to glance at the woman. She apparently noticed his attentions, or someone else’s gawking. Observing the woman as she glanced in his direction, he concluded that she possessed inordinate beauty. She picked up her purse and headed out the door. As she exited, he got a good look at her. She opened a desire in him that he hadn’t experienced before. He believed in fate. In this case, she couldn’t see him in the back of the dimly lit bar, so why not?

  He paid his bill and after a minute set off in the direction the woman had gone. He thought it odd, both of them going in the general direction of his place. As he walked, Yuri realized he couldn’t abandon Basam. He broke off his trail on the woman and headed back to their rental house. There, he would attempt to solidify his intention of forgetting that woman.

  He passed a grocery store and bought cigarettes and food to last a couple of days with money he took from an ATM. For a second time, he used the card that Basam’s brother had given him in Moscow at the start of all this.

  When he entered the house, Basam gave intermittent snores from the couch. Yuri put the supplies away before he heard Basam stirring.

  "How are you?" Yuri questioned.

  "I’m fine. Did we get instructions yet?"

  "Not really, only some details regarding the target, who will be in Atlanta in a few days. We will go there when they give us more instructions. I replied and gave an update on our situation. They said to wait for further information. You sure you're okay?"

  "I’m all right. The medicine seemed to help, but I can’t stop the runs."

  "Can I get you something to eat? I brought in some supplies for a few days."

  "No. I don’t feel like eating."

  Yuri didn’t want to stay here and watch Basam—a depressing thought. The image of the woman flashed into his mind again.

  "Look, Basam, I’m going to go for a walk around town. Here’s sixty dollars if you decide to go out anywhere. You all right?"

  "Sure. We’re safe
here, so don’t you get into trouble. Come back as soon as you get the order to move. Okay?"

  "Will do." Yuri picked up his knapsack containing the computer and gun. He headed for town. No, he’d proceeded toward the last place he glimpsed the woman.

  20

  Four Days Ago — 4 P.M. — Washington, D.C

  Major General Marshankin, the Russian defense attaché in America, picked out Colonel Anton Ivanov as he exited the customs area at Dulles International Airport in the Virginia suburbs outside Washington, D.C. He recognized him from the digital picture Moscow had sent him along with the list of requested items the colonel wanted on his arrival.

  After a brief introduction, the general said, "If you will follow me, I have your equipment. There is only one thing missing. I couldn't get my hands on the radiation detector you asked for. I have arranged for a private aircraft to take you to Savannah. It’s over at Signature Fixed Base Operations and is prepared to depart in one hour. The items you requested are already loaded on the aircraft. We’ll transport you over to the plane in my vehicles."

  "Thank you, General. Is there any new information on our target?"

  They got into the general’s car, and the other two men accompanying the colonel got into another sedan with their luggage. The two vehicles headed for the FBO.

  "I wanted to wait until we were in the car to relay that there has been new information. I believe we have the exact location of Yuri Borisov. An old friend of mine, who is the captain of the ship that brought them to the States, called me back a few hours ago and gave me the address where the men went after they left his vessel." He handed Anton a map taken from an Internet search engine, and it contained the target’s location.