The Complete Donavan Adventure Series

by Tom Haase

  “I’m ready. Where are we going?” she heard Scott say, breaking her thoughts.

  “I’ve been thinking,” She sat beside him and held his hand. “This isn’t working. I believe we should go home and help your sister. She may need all the help she can get. What do you think?”

  Scott nodded without saying anything. He reached into the closet and pulled out his suitcase.

  “No comment?” she pressed.

  Before he could answer, he heard a knock at the door. Too early for housekeeping, she realized. Gerti moved to the door and opened it.

  “Good morning,” said the smiling Val. “I hope this isn’t an inconvenient time.”

  “Not at all,” Gerti said as she indicated for him to enter. “Let me order coffee and we can hear what you have to tell us.”

  “I would prefer that you accompany me to satisfy yourself that the information I have obtained is genuine. I have transportation waiting downstairs.”

  She nodded to Scott, who picked up his coat. “Okay, Val. Lead the way,” she said, putting on her jacket.

  They rode in silence for over a half hour. The driver stopped in front of what appeared to be an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of the city. This industrial area appeared derelict after giving up the ghost years before. Broken windows abounded and doors were off their hinges. Val gave instructions to the driver and then guided them into the only building that appeared to be structurally sound. He walked to the back wall on the first floor, where he opened a door and ushered them through. Gerti observed guards on duty at the entrance to the building and more inside and one at the door they’d just come through.

  Before them hung a young man with chains circling his wrists that suspended him to where his toes barely touched the floor. Gerti stared in astonishment and experienced a degree of sheer fright. She grabbed Scott’s hand and squeezed it so hard he made a loud guttural sound. The suspended prisoner’s face — eyes swollen shut, blood seeping from his nostrils and dripping from his mouth — was a bloody mess and there were open wounds on his chest. The cuts on his legs looked like a blade had been dragged down from the top of his leg to the knee. The man apparently remained unconscious now.

  “Normally, I would never reveal this to an outsider, but you are a Schultz and will soon be in control of that vast conglomerate. I’ll tell you that your father didn’t build his empire on charity or softness.”

  “You can’t do this,” Scott said. “It’s barbaric.”

  “Shut up,” Gerti whispered in his ear with a stern tone. “This is not our country. Do you understand?” She forced him to look at her. She held his eyes until he nodded.

  “It took us all night to get the info out of this man. He is one of the replacement men a man named Dmitri Alexandrovitch hired after the firefight in the restaurant. This Alexandrovitch is a major crime boss here in Russia. I don’t think he is as big as us, but he has influence. He needed to replace his losses and his bodyguards after the shootout. This piece of shit hanging here is one of them. He’s a distant relative of this Dmitri and the man must have confided in our captive some of this information as well as why he hired him to become a bodyguard.” Val moved closed to the suspended man. Gerti and Scott followed.

  “So what did you learn from him?” Gerti asked.

  “He informed us that Dmitri had an icon that he received from his father. Their old man held a position on the old Soviet politburo. He also said that the son of Dmitri’s brother has the other one in America. This Dmitri runs a large arms smuggling business in America as well as in the Middle East. He is desperate to get the icon that he lost back.” Val picked up a glass of water from a small table and threw it into the man’s face. “That is where we left off when I came to get you.”

  “We need to know why this icon is so valuable. Who is the man who has the icon in America?” Gerti asked.

  Val slapped the man and spoke to him in Russian. The man spit at him after a few seconds. Val pulled a small knife and cut the man across the chest. The resulting screams deafening.

  Gerti listened to Val as he relayed what transpired in English.

  He informed her that he asked the man why Dmitri wanted the icon. “Then he spit on me. I asked why he wanted it back and what value it has.” He replied with, “I don’t know. Just that Dmitri said it contained great value.”

  “Can you get anything else out of him?” Gerti asked.

  “I don’t think he knows why it is valuable and Dmitri would probably never reveal that in case one of them got hold of it,” Val told Gerti. “I’ll try to get the name now.”

  “What is the name of the contact, the nephew of Dmitri in America?” Val demanded in Russian.

  The man slumped back into a state of unconsciousness. Val again threw water on him and repeated the question.

  “Michael Alexander Alexandrovitch.”

  The name came out in a whisper. Gerti could barely make it out, but she understood the name.

  At that instant, gunfire erupted in the outer warehouse.

  29

  St. Petersburg, Russia

  Val grabbed Gerti by the arm and propelled her toward a small door on the back wall. Scott ran after them. The sound of automatic weapons firing pierced their ears as it became amplified in the vacant warehouse. Val pulled his weapon and opened the door, gun leading the way.

  “Who are they?” Gerti asked.

  “My guess, Alexandrovitch’s men. They may have a way to follow their man when he didn’t report in. We were sloppy. Here comes my car. Get in and he’ll take you away. Get out of Russia today,” Val said as he opened the car door and pushed them in. “Don’t go to your hotel. You’re going to the airport. I’ll have a private jet to take you to London. From there you can get to the States.”

  “Thank you. What do we owe you?” Gerti said.

  “Owe me? Nothing. That’s what friends do. Give my best to Benjamin.”

  “My, you do know him. Very few ever call him that, only his closest friends. I hope we can also be friends,” Gerti said,

  “We already are.” He smiled at her.

  Then Gerti added, “See if you can get more information on that man he named.”

  “I’ll do that. Now go,” Val said with some irritation in his voice, but he patted her on her shoulder.

  Suddenly, two men burst from the door behind Val, firing their weapons. Rounds hit the car and Gerti ducked down allowing Scott to get in over her. Gerti looked out in time to see Val, who rotated as if on a swivel and tapped each attacker with a bullet to the head. He then rushed toward the open door. After giving a quick look back with a nod in her direction, he disappeared into the building. Gerti closed the car door and the driver sped off.

  “That’s close, “ Scott said. “Do you think he’ll be all right?”

  “I have no doubt. The attackers, on the other hand, may wish they never tried. Our problem now is to get on the trail of this Michael Alexander Alexandrovitch. I’m excited that we’re back on the track of the icon. This trip wasn’t a waste of time. We can get this done,” Gerti said. She gave Scott a kiss.

  Aboard the jet, Gerti called her father and brought him up to date. She now felt justified in the expenditures in Russia. Her father reluctantly agreed. She rang off.

  “I think I should call Bridget and tell her about the trip and the name,” Scott said. Gerti agreed.

  An hour after their arrival in London, Scott received a call back from his sister. He put it on speaker for Gerti.

  “Matt got Liz to run the name through the FBI data base and then through Immigration. Nothing. They went on to search all available databases with the same result. The name Michael Alexander Alexandrovitch belongs to an old man of eighty-seven in a nursing home in New Hampshire and a three-year-old Russian immigrant, who arrived last year. No one else popped up. They’ve run some variables of the name, but there are so many, and still nothing. As of right now, it’s a dead end,” Bridget said.

  “Thanks. See you soon.” Sc
ott ended the call. He hugged Gerti and let her have a release of tension. Her previous high now shattered in ruin.

  “Shit, we’re back to square one,” Gerti said. “We have nothing and the trip proved useless. With nothing to go on, maybe it’s time to give up on this and try to get father to forget his injury and forgive Bridget. We’ll never get the icon in time.”

  Scott continued to hold her.

  “I’ve never felt this way,” Gerti said. “After all our efforts and getting our butts shot at. We’re going home with our tails between our legs with what appears to be useless information. We’ve failed.”

  30

  Washington D.C.

  Monsignor Jonathan McGregor paced the floor in his hotel room. No contact with Bridget for two days. During that time he explored all avenues open to him to discover the location of the icon but to no avail. Just as he reached over to pick up the phone to call her, it rang.

  “Sorry I haven’t gotten back to you, but I’ve been a little busy,” Bridget said.

  “What’s new in your pursuit of the icon?” he queried, trying to sound nonchalant.

  “Gerti and Scott were just in St. Petersburg and learned that a man named Dmitri Alexandrovitch was the recent owner of the icon you currently have in the Vatican,” Bridget said. “They also learned the name of the person who has the other half of the set you told us about. He is someone named Michael Alexander Alexandrovitch and supposedly is a relative and currently living in the States. Unfortunately, neither the FBI nor any other agency here can identify that person.”

  The name meant nothing to Jonathan. He would use it as an entry into his future investigations.

  “Where are you now?” Jonathan asked.

  “I’m working with Matt. We have a few leads we’re pursuing.”

  “Okay. I plan to see if I can get some information on the man in Russia. I’ll keep you posted,” Jonathan said.

  “Don’t try to horn in on this. I’ll recover the icon and then we’ll talk.” She rang off.

  Jonathon chuckled. The cardinal had issued a directive to him to recover the icon. So he'd be horning in or sure. A plan of action began to form and would at least have him actively participating in this mission. He would reestablish contact with Bridget when he knew more. He dared not phone her too soon without new information, as she would certainly perceive his call as interference.

  He called his military compatriot in the Swiss Guards, the commander of personal guards to His Holiness, the Pope. Captain Alfred Grossman, who answered his call on the third ring. Jonathan smiled when he heard the man’s voice.

  “Who’s this?” Grossman asked. No one should know this number unless he placed him or her in his caller directory. The phone would inform him on the caller’s identity, so this was most unusual. He assumed it to be a wrong number and wanted to get rid of the caller.

  “Captain, sorry, but I’m in America and using the hotel phone,” Jonathan said and his Scottish accent came through the line. “My cell is on charge.”

  “Monsignor, how the hell are you? Oops, sorry about the language. Why are you in the States?” Grossman met Monsignor McGregor, then Father McGregor, just after Jonathan took his position in the papal office. The captain’s background investigation on all who had direct access to the pontiff revealed Jonathan’s past in and his military experience. Their initial encounter mimicked two soldiers meeting for the first time. Talk of units in which they served, battles fought, won and lost, places of assignments, and other general topics concerning soldiers. They immediately bonded and that respect continued to the present

  “As usual, I need your help and I could use it as soon as possible.”

  “Are you on another mission for the boss?” Grossman asked.

  “Yes. I need all the info you can get for me on a Dmitri Alexandrovitch, who lives in St. Petersburg. His family, connections, business and travels, really anything that could give me a picture of him.”

  “I’m on it. Give me a day. I’ll call you on your cell tomorrow.”

  * * *

  Jonathan shook his head after he hung up. Every time he called his friend it always embraced an emergency. The last time required him to get the Vatican jet and fly to Egypt, pick up the gang Jonathan had collected and fly them to America. Now he needed help in a new venture. Grossman appeared to love helping a fellow comrade in arms, even if they were not on active duty together.

  Later Grossman told him all he’d done. His first efforts to assist concentrated on getting the information about the man in St. Petersburg. That wasn’t too difficult. He started placing his calls and he got the initial information in a few hours. The subject held extensive holdings in oil, stocks, and real estate in various parts of Russia and Europe. Grossman initially assumed the man would travel to visit his holdings, but discovered he rarely went anywhere other than to Canada.

  The sources that provided the information said he seemed to be a recluse from any form of online social media and certainly avoided any camera. There had to be a way to find a picture of the man. He contacted a source in Canada and provided the man’s full name and the dates he reportedly visited that country.

  He waited for the last report he needed to arrive.

  A phone call conveyed the information that Dmitri Alexandrovitch visited Canada on the dates given. He entered Toronto and taken a West Jet to Vancouver. RCMP monitored him for only a short time and left when the second man appeared. Dmitri did remain at his villa for five days. He had only one male visitor for two days, but local police revealed local girls visited the house every night. The girls were well-paid police informants on the goings-on at the villa.

  Grossman sent Jonathan a fax of the airport surveillance photo in the customs hall and a second photo recovered from the immigration area. It showed an elderly, grey-haired man wearing glasses. He wore a sport coat and an open collar shirt. He possessed a powerful physique and weighed over two hundred fifty pounds.

  Jonathan received the information and started to analyze it. After a period of time, it hit him — the second man. Who was that? He went back to Grossman and directed him to ask about the visitor. He learned it would take longer to get that info from the RCMP. Now he could only be in a wait-and-see mode.

  Jonathan felt the second man held the critical link to solving the mystery of the icon.

  31

  Arlington, Virginia

  Safe House

  “Matt, it’s been forty hours since we let Karim go. What now?” Bridget asked as they sat in the living room of the safe house. It held nothing to commend itself and sported dilapidated furniture. The walls were devoid of any pictures and two small lamps adorned the wood side tables next to the couch. Bridget sank deep into the aging sofa as she faced Matt.

  “Not a thing, we wait. I would hope he’s not dead if for some reason they didn’t believe his story and the pictures. During our planning phase, we agreed that I should expect our first call in about an hour from now. That is the time he told me to look for it. I forgot to mention that to you before with all the things we’re tracking. Especially the information you received from Gerti, a real shame that didn’t get us anywhere. But at least we have our man in play and we still might get lucky with the name she acquired.” Matt headed for the bathroom door. “I’ll be back in a few.” He closed the door behind himself.

  Bridget called Liz. “He’s expecting the first contact in about an hour.” She disconnected without another word.

  Matt returned and paced in the living room.

  “For God’s sake, sit down. You’re making me crazy.” Bridget rose and went to Matt led him to a chair and forced him down. “Let’s talk strategy.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I don’t trust Karim. I know you’re hoping he’s the real thing, but what if he isn’t? How do we proceed? I need to get that icon to stop Schultz from killing me,” Bridget said.

  “That’s a bit over dramatic,” Matt said. “We’ll get the arms dealer and the icon
. I really believe that Russian has it. There is no other reason he would risk coming back to that farmhouse if it weren’t his. We have to find this Alexandrovitch who runs the arms trade that equips these homegrown terrorists.”

  “Matt, Schultz will extract his vengeance if I don’t provide something to placate him. I have no doubt about that and neither does Gerti,” Bridget said. “The stakes here are really high for me.”

  Matt’s phone rang. He answered and put it on speaker.

  “Hello, Karim,” Matt said.

  “Matt, all is great here. No problems when I returned. They believed all I told them and the photo convinced them that you’re dead. You can relax now. No one is out to kill you,” Karim said.

  “That’s comforting news. When is the next arms shipment arriving for your group?”

  “Don’t know at this moment. Heard talk it will be in two weeks but nothing firm. You sure I get the green card for doing this?”

  “For sure,” Matt responded.

  “Have you heard the name Michael Alexander Alexandrovitch?” Matt asked.

  “No. Who is he?”

  “I believe he is the arms dealer who supplies your group. See if you can find anything out about the man who equips you.”

  “Okay. Gotta go.” He ended the call.

  “Nothing to worry about. He is working for us and we’ll use him to get your icon and take out the arms dealer. Nice, huh?” Matt asked.

  “We’ll see,” Bridget replied. “So far, he hasn’t given us one piece of actionable intelligence.”

  * * *

  In the FBI building in Washington, D.C., a monitoring station recorded the conversation between Matt and Karim. Special Agent Liz Garcia listened and smiled. Maybe they had a great double agent in play that would help them break the largest arms supplier on the East Coast. The director’s plan of using Matt Higgins for the Special Operations Executive seemed to be paying off. Her elation died in the minutes after the phone conversation ended.