by Tom Haase
"Well, I hope you locate it. My icon is safe and I don't plan on losing it. By the way, did you ever find out the significance of why he acquired those particular icons during the war?”
“No idea. Well, enough of that. Let me refresh your glass. While I’m doing that tell me about your next shipment.”
“As I told you, I need the exact same items as last time. What is the exact delivery date so I can arrange for the turnover? I’ll check with our contact right before delivery to ensure no hitches this time.”
“Your goods will be at the port in two weeks. They have already left Russia and the ship has some stops on the way to Georgia,” Dmitri said and handed Mike a refilled glass.
“Any more business?” Mike asked.
“I want to remind you that we come from a long line of Russian entrepreneurs. Even under the Czars we engaged in thievery, weapons stealing and other lucrative crimes. It’s in our blood. Michael Alexander Alexandrovitch you have the gene. You are a credit to the family.” Dmitri smiled at his nephew and raised his glass to him.
“I return the compliment to you,” Mike said.
“One more point of business before pleasure. I need you to increase your operation, say somewhere in the range of twenty-five percent. Can you do it?”
“I’m certain I can.” Mike took this as an order and the reason for his summons here. Dmitri being his uncle didn’t mean Mike necessarily liked the man. He actually despised him especially in recent months. One day, and maybe soon, he would replace him with someone he trusted — himself. To keep up appearances, he said, “I’ll expand my area of operation and push my current buyers to purchase more. Anything else?”
“Just the two lovelies coming to the front door right now. They’ll be better than a ride on the new Sea to Sky gondola in Squamish.”
14
Washington D.C.
Computers couldn't be trusted. Matt preferred paper and ink to organize an active case. This operation now became the most important in order to render justice for his dead friend, Special Agent John Hades.
So after picking up an assortment of office supplies, he returned to his apartment. Mind racing on all the things he needed to accomplish, Matt placed his purchases on the hall floor as he searched in his pocket for the key. The urgency of taking down the Russian permeated every thought. With his mind engaged on that, he reached down and retrieved his items.
He stepped inside, kicked the door shut, and then flipped the light switch for the hall light. The bulb didn’t come on. As he bent over to place his purchases on the floor, he had a split second to notice an unusual smell just before hearing the soft puff of a silenced weapon. He felt a swish of air above his head. The bullet impacted in the door behind him with a loud whack.
Matt instantly rolled forward and, after completing the rotation, he spread himself flat on the floor. He twisted his body over and with a quick, well-practiced movement, he retrieved his recently reacquired Glock.
What the hell is going on?
Another round hit close to him but ricocheted off the floor to his left, barely missing his face. A slight flash erupted from the weapon even with a suppressor. The silencer told him these were not ordinary criminals doing a home invasion. This attacker, a pro. Fire now his mind told him. He squeezed the trigger, firing twice.
A guttural groan came from the target. Matt fired again at the source of the sound. He heard someone fall, rushed forward and flipped on a table light. The body lay stretched over a coffee table. He started toward it, but at that instant his front door flew open.
A figure in black with a silenced weapon took aim at him. Matt dove over a chair and bullets followed him. His heart now pumped in his ears so loudly he thought the attacker could hear it. After taking a quick breath, he rose up firing at the entrance. The first round caught the attacker in the shoulder, but the second one ploughed into his throat. Blood spewed out in a torrent onto his carpet and floor.
Matt’s mind kept turning over and over, asking the same question, Why? It made no sense. He didn’t have any valuables in the place, and now also being an ex-FBI agent as far as the world was concerned. After he examined the two corpses, he didn’t find any identification, no keys, no money, confirming his suspicion that his attackers were pros.
He retrieved the piece of paper the director gave him only an hour or so ago. He dialed her number. She answered on the second ring.
“Hello, Matt. Calling to see if the number the director gave you works?” Liz asked.
“Liz, I got a problem. I just shot two intruders. I think they are professional hit men,” Matt said. “They were definitely targeting me.”
“Didn’t the director tell you that you didn’t have a 007 license?” She gave a short laugh. “I’ll have a team there in ten minutes. Can you contain the scene till then?”
“Yes. They have no ID, tried to ambush me when I got home. One looks Middle Eastern, the other is Caucasian. I know no one followed me from the meeting with the director.”
“Let’s get you somewhere safe for right now. As soon as the team gets there, you leave for the safe house. We’ll examine this in detail tomorrow. By the way, are you okay?” she asked.
“Thanks for asking. I’m just a little shook up, but no injuries. It’ll take some work to patch up my place but no big deal.” Matt surveyed the bullet holes in his walls while talking.
“Let’s meet in the morning. I’ll text you with the location of the house and by then I’ll have guidance from the director. I hope these guys turn out to be connected to the target he gave you. I can certainly tell him S.O.E. is now definitely in play.”
* * *
At nine the next morning, Matt waited in a booth at Starbucks for Liz, who appeared ten minutes later. He stood up to greet her and gave her a hug. She still possessed the grace of movement he remembered and an angelic face. Today, she wore a blue business pantsuit.
“Matt, great to see you. We have a lot to talk about,” she said.
“Same here. What’s the latest on my attackers?”
“We pulled an all-nighter to get this info and it is disturbing. The director is fully briefed. That’s why I’m a few minutes late,” Liz said and held up her hand indicating she needed to get coffee.
On her return Matt waited for her to continue but ran out of patience while she sipped her brew.
“Come on, Liz, what did you uncover?”
“Well, one of your corpses came from Yemen. It took a long time to get the prints matched with the fingerprint given Immigration upon entering the States almost a year ago. He’d overstayed his visa, an illegal. Based on that info we went to our terrorist database and confirmed him as an al Qaeda asset.”
“Why in hell did he try to kill me?” Matt asked.
“Just a second. The other attacker appears to be a local whom we believe to be a member of a homegrown terrorist cell operating in Virginia. So, when you combine these two, I think a pattern emerges. Someone sent them to punish you. You took out four of their men.”
Matt took this in and sat back. After taking a drink of his coffee, he asked, “How did they find me? We’re not in any public information searches, no Facebook or social media presence, and all my numbers are unlisted.”
“That’s the question. I have no answer for it. Anything you can think of would be helpful. Did you lose anything at the raid site? Notice any surveillance? Anything?”
“No, and I can’t think of any way they could have found out where I live. My only conclusion is there may be a leak in the Bureau, but I know that doesn’t make sense, either,” Matt said.
“What are you going to do now?” Liz asked.
“I’ll use the safe house till we get this solved. I’m meeting with Bridget Donavan later today. You remember her from the Schultz kidnapping. I asked her to help me identify an icon. I took pictures of everything at the site of the raid and when I returned after taking John to the hospital, that one item was missing. I thought it strange and have started t
o look into it. It may be a lead to our Russian friend.”
“Do you need anything from me?” Liz queried.
“Not right now, but thanks. I’ll keep you posted. Let me know if you find anything else about the attackers, especially if you find where they operate.”
“Will do, and you take care. I’ve got a bad feeling about this case. Something is way out of the ordinary,” Liz said.
“One thing keeps bothering me. The conversation I overheard at the farmhouse. They talked about a leak. Both sides denied it, but I believe one lied. The Iraqi said the FBI knew about the arms deal and the bearded Russian denied it. I haven’t made heads or tails of that, but I think it is important.” Matt ran his fingers through his hair while he talked.
“Well, if there is a leak, you have to find it,” Liz said.
15
Rome, Italy
Jonathan McGregor called the only person he knew who might be able to help, the ancient curator in the Vatican Museum, Msgr. Richard Potter-Cogan. The old priest did not have a cell phone, only a landline on the Vatican internal network. After exchanging a few pleasantries, Jonathan established a time to see the curator in the morning. He needed the expertise Richard could bring to bear.
Richard greeted Jonathan in a warm embrace on his arrival in his small office in the Vatican museum. Many years before, the curator had been Jonathan's philosophy professor and Jonathan's love of Aristotle and the polemics endeared him to his mentor. Jonathan explained that he now conducted research for the Cardinal Secretary of State, which certainly stretched but remained within the bounds of the truth, and he needed to find out about the history of a certain icon, actually two icons.
“Let me see what you have,” Richard said.
“Here’s the one that I have.” Jonathan removed the icon that O’Neill recently delivered to him. “A friend found it in Russia, St. Petersburg to be precise. The other one is only a picture. I printed it from my cell phone. The photo was taken in Virginia in the USA a few days ago.”
“What do you want from me?”
“I tried to find out about them on the Internet but came up empty. These icons don’t seem to exist in any database, but from the one we have here it is obvious that it is very valuable and extremely old. I believe they are possibly a pair based on the size and gold construction. I may be wrong, that’s why I’m here. Are they a pair? Why isn’t anything known about them?” Jonathan asked.
The old man studied the two objects. He mumbled something to himself Jonathan couldn’t understand. He scratched his completely bald head, then walked out of his office without saying a word. He returned in a few minutes.
“Jonathan, I’ll have to do some more research. This is fascinating. If my memory serves me, I think I can have some answers for you later today or by tomorrow at the latest. It will require me to do some digging in an area I haven’t explored in many years.” The elderly priest quickly escorted him out of the office and closed the door.
Jonathan went to his office a little put out by Richard’s rapid dismissal. His friend had not even invited him in for a cup of coffee, but as soon as he viewed both icons the old priest’s demeanor suddenly altered and he clearly wanted to be alone. He could now only wait to hear the results of the research Richard promised to do.
* * *
After he escorted Jonathan out of his office, Richard Potter-Cogan moved as fast as his old legs allowed to the bowels of the Vatican Museum archives. The icons Jonathan offered instantly triggered a memory. He went to check it out and at the same time he realized that by ushering his old friend out of his office so quickly, he might have triggered some suspicion about his action. He wasn’t certain about any of this, but if he were correct, he would be bound to inform the cardinal or perhaps even the pope.
Richard spent over three hours doing his investigation on the icons. The work required access to very old and somewhat disorganized files. The files he sought centered on the timeframe during the Second World War. Many years ago, when he first came to the archives after teaching at the seminary, he remembered a story about some icons that were stolen. No report ever released of the fact these particular items were stolen. The Vatican admitted a robbery occurred on the night of Rome’s liberation from Nazi occupation but said only two small pictures were stolen.
He found the file and opened it to discover the ancient black and white photograph he sought, exactly as he feared. Jonathan McGregor managed to do it again, gone and gotten himself into big trouble.
No choice remained but to call on the cardinal.
16
Rome, Vatican City
Cardinal Ho Chan sat behind a large wood desk, a French Louis XV Cherry Wood Leather Top Writing Desk. A crucifix hung on the wall behind him. Msgr. Richard Potter-Cogan didn’t see any pictures on the walls only an open window overlooking St. Peter's Square. He made a slight bow to the cardinal from China and took his seat when the man indicated for him to do so.
“Monsignor, it’s indeed a pleasure to see you again. How are you?" The cardinal asked.
"I'm fine, your Eminence. Thank you for asking. I don't want to take up much of your time, but I have something I think that you will be interested in. Perhaps interested is not the right word, but your office will certainly become involved if what I discovered is ever divulged.”
"What is this about?"
"I don't know quite how to start, but this will take a few minutes if you have the time." Msgr. Potter-Cogan shifted in his chair trying to get comfortable before the second most powerful person in the Vatican. "I have to take you back to the Second World War during the collaboration of Italy with Germany to form the Axis powers and then the subsequent occupation of Italy by the Germans. Certain events that occurred there could have immense repercussions in our present time."
"Please, Monsignor make it as brief as possible. My schedule is very busy," the cardinal said.
"During that time many precious items of gold, silver and diamonds were confiscated by the Nazis. They were sent off to Switzerland and deposited in numbered accounts there. As the Allies pushed north into Italy from Africa and then reached Rome quicker than the Nazis expected, they made records of the account numbers of the holdings in Switzerland." Potter-Cogan stopped for a moment apparently because his throat became dry.
"So what does this have to do with us today?" the cardinal asked.
"If I may, I'll continue as quickly as possible so that you can see the entire story. The Germans needed to leave a record of those unclaimed treasures held in Switzerland just in case they were killed. They needed to have someplace safe to store them so they could come back when they planned to retake Italy. During the war some items from the archives were lent out to various churches. Just a few hours ago your special assistant Monsignor McGregor, brought to me one of those icons. He only had a picture of the other one sent to him by Bridget Donavan. She is the woman from the Bible of Constantine episode. I examined the one we have very closely and I found what I believe is part of an account number of a Swiss bank account."
"My Lord, we may need to get the director of the Vatican bank in on this," the cardinal said.
"Eminence, I think you should hear me out before doing anything." Potter-Cogan waited until he received a nod from the cardinal to continue with this story.
"The problem I have encountered is that both of those icons were lent out at the same time according to our records. I have an old photo of them from around 1942 and the church where they were sent. Those two icons were from the Byzantine era and were in our archive from the time of the crusades. The way I found these account numbers occurred when I noticed a false back put on the one Jonathan McGregor gave to me. Unfortunately, the serial number for the Swiss bank account is not complete. The numbers are only half the number needed to access an account. I believe that the other icon contains a list of the other half. Whoever did this, I think it would have been the Nazis trying to hide the plunder they took from the Italian Jews in a Swiss account. Th
ey did it for protection and to make sure both icons needed to be the present to get the complete bank account number."
"As we proceed in this investigation,” said the cardinal, “We must be very careful that the Vatican is not projected as harboring or abetting in some way by not returning this plunder. Nobody would believe we didn’t know anything about it if this becomes public. I assume many of the valuables, money, treasures may be from mostly Jewish families.” The cardinal stood up from behind his desk and walked over to the window. He stared out and Richard remained silent.
After another minute Richard said, “What do you want me to do?”
“Let’s start off by telling no one. We could make this a great achievement for the Holy See if we could return these valuables or money with an explanation of how we pursued this over half a century for the good of the people who lost so much.” He strode back to his desk. Before sitting, he looked at Potter-Cogan. “Jonathan McGregor has worked with this Donavan woman before. Hasn’t he?”
“Yes.” Potter-Cogan nodded his head.
The cardinal stood and waved his hand in dismissal saying, “Bring him up to date on what you have told me. Send him to me after that. I’ll order him to retrieve that icon for us.”
17
Athens, Greece
Bridget hated waiting. Jonathan may not get back to her for a day or two, or perhaps never. She had to do something, so she looked up the flight schedules to the States. She used the hotel phone to call Gerti and Scott.
“Let’s get packed up. We’re going to the States. That icon, as far as I know, is located in the States. Logically, we need to go there. Scott, we can use your apartment for a base to get started. There is a flight leaving in three hours. Can you be ready?” she asked.