Dig Two Graves: Revenge or Honor (10 page)

Dranias, his head slowly moving from side, followed the first two inside and stood by the door. The older man went to the reception desk and said in Greek, “Mr. Jones’ room please.”

“Mr. Jones is out. May I take a message?” the desk clerk responded.

“When do you expect him?”

“I don’t know, sir. He left some time ago.”

“I’ll leave a message then.”

“Certainly, sir,” the clerk said, handing the man a pad.

The man in the dark suit wrote a message, folded it in half, and handed it to the clerk.

“Thank you,” he said and walked to the payphone at the end of the lobby.

The man picked up the telephone but turned toward the desk. He watched as the clerk placed his message in the cubby for room 716. He smiled, replaced the phone in its cradle, and strode confidently out the door, a crooked smile on his face.

“Petru, you saw?” the older man said.

“Yes, 716,” Petru said. “I’ll go up the service stairs. Is there anything you want to know from him?”

“No. Get the damn book and take care of him,” the older man replied. “You can’t fail this time. Remember Boston.”

“Go with him,” the older man ordered Dranias.

Dranias and his companion went to the service entrance. From there they raced up the back stairs, unseen and found room 716. No light showed beneath the dark raised panel door. The younger man listened carefully. No sound. Taking a case from his back pocket, he selected a lock pick and rake. He opened the lock in less time than it would take with a key.

He stowed the pick and rake in his pocket and replaced those tools with his favorite toy, his onyx handled stiletto. The knife firm in his right hand clicked open as he entered the room. He motioned for Dranias to follow then closed the door behind him. He quickly checked the darkened room, finding nothing. He went to the balcony, again nothing. Certain the room was unoccupied, the young man turned on a light. He checked the closet and dressers. Nothing. His target was gone, and so was the book, if it had ever been here. 

Holding a finger to his lips for silence, the young man motioned for Dranias to check the bathroom. Dranias entered, looked around and finding nothing, turned to report his findings but found his companion was right behind him. The stiletto’s narrow blade plunged into the detective’s chest. Sharp pain accompanied his last ragged breath. Dranias was dead before his killer dropped him to the floor.

“Good night, scum,” the assassin said as he turned to leave.

He waited at the door, and listened for a full two minutes. When he was certain no one was in the corridor, he left the way the way he came. He had been in the room less than six minutes.

He didn’t see the hotel manager coming out of a linen closet. The frightened man stood stock still when he saw room 716’s door slowly open. He slipped back into the closet, unnoticed.

Once his companion was back in the Mercedes, the older man said to the chauffeur, “Back to the hotel, please.”

Without acknowledgement, the chauffeur took off.

The younger man turned to his handler and said, “He’s gone, room’s cleaned out. I left the scum up there.”

“Damn, Dranias must have tipped off our target. This Mr. Jones is clever,” the older man smiled. “He had the hotel staff cover for him. Maybe he knows we’re looking for him. It’ll make it more difficult,” he said. “The body in his room might complicate things for him, though. Good work.”

“When we find Jones, I can take care of him no matter how smart he is.”

“I know you can, and you will. It’s not your fault Dranias failed,” the older man said, absently fondling his fedora in his rough hands.

Opening his cell phone, the older man punched a speed dial number. The phone the other end rang three times.

“This is Dobos,” the Romanian said to his employer.

“Report,” a strong voice at the other end of the call said impatiently.

“He’s left the hotel. The staff is unaware or covering for him, most likely bribed. I didn’t probe that possibility,” the Romanian said. “I have dealt with the other problem.”

“I want that book and the man eliminated. You failed in Boston, and now you have let it slip through your fingers again. One more failure and I’ll have a team coming after you. Am I understood?” The client was worried, but he expressed that feeling with threats and bluster. It always worked when you had the muscle to back it up.

The Romanian had worked for the man for years and knew his threats were real. Alexandru, the former Romanian Securitate agent, now worked exclusively for Solaris. He’d done many jobs for the man over the years and knew he demanded perfection and fast results.

“We’ll pick up his trail again soon and close the contract. You have my word on that,” the Romanian said.

“Your word is meaningless to me. You have an assignment. I expect you to complete it No more mistakes, do I make myself clear. Make it quick and report back to me,” the voice said tersely, and the call ended. The Romanian took a deep breath and stowed the phone in pocket.

Tinos arrived at the cathedral promptly at nine and quickly drove AJ and Ceres to his own working class neighborhood. Because his wife had died, Tinos lived alone. He spent most of his free time and took his meals at his Uncle Diogenes’ restaurant, Little Athens. It had a reputation for good music and even better food.

“Anything you want, my friends. We have a tradition of being away from home for a long time, don’t we? It is good to see Greeks come home again. You must be hungry. Eat,” Diogenes insisted after Tinos had introduced his new friends.

The aromas of mint, nutmeg, cinnamon, and cloves wafted from the kitchen to welcome Ceres home and entice AJ.

Once the food was on the table, Ceres leaned over to Tinos to speak into his ear. “Tinos, I feel you deserve to know what you are getting into with Ajax and me,” Ceres said in Greek.

“Never mind that tonight,” Tinos said, sitting back. “Besides, your son doesn’t speak Greek. Let me practice my English. So, no worries, tonight we eat, celebrate, and drink a little. Oppa!” he shouted, as he raised his glass, and everyone in the small, restaurant raised their glasses and shouted Oppa, too.

“Tinos, Ceres isn’t my father,” AJ said. We are helping each other.”

“Apologies,” Tinos said. “I hope I’m forgiven.”

“Of course,” AJ said as Ceres nodded his agreement. “But please call me AJ. Only my parents called me Ajax.” Tinos smiled and they all turned to watch and listen to the bouzouki band.

A waiter brought huge platters of Greek salad, pastitsio and chicken and lamb souvlaki to the table. AJ took a heaping serving of everything, much to Diogenes’ delight. Ceres watched and thought he saw a small change coming over AJ as he laughed and sang with strangers who treated him as one of their own. Perhaps it was wishful thinking. He smiled and laughed. Ceres had never seen this side of AJ. He prayed it was the change he’d hoped for.

“Ajax  … Do you know what that name means, my friend? Who Ajax was?” Diogenes asked, as he sat down at their little table, a bottle of ouzo in his hand. He filled each tumbler on the table, while looking at AJ. He picked up his glass and held it up and said, “stinygaisu – to your health my friends!”

“Náse kalá!  To your health!” Ceres said in reply as he raised his glass and drained it.

“Well no, I guess I don’t,” AJ replied sheepishly as the ouzo burned all the way down his throat. “I know there’s a cleaner, a cleanser I think, called Ajax in America.”

“What do they teach in your country?” Diogenes roared, raising his hands to the heavens. “Mr. Savas, you have not taught this young one?”

Ceres shrugged.

“Ceres isn’t my father,” AJ said.

“No matter, it’s good to have you here, home in Greece,” Diogenes said. “But I must tell you about your namesake. Ajax was hero of the Trojan War. He fought bravely. We remember him because he recovered the body of Achilles from the battlefield. Ajax cleaned and prepared him for the funeral pyre.

King Agamemnon awarded the Achilles armor to Odysseus. Ajax thought he deserved the armor and killed himself out of greed and jealousy. It’s a very tragic and heroic name my friend.”

“It is,” AJ said looking at Ceres. “I’ve got a lot to live up to.” What kind of hero could unravel the mystery of his family’s past? AJ wondered if he was up to the task ahead for him.

The combat team easily captured and disarmed the Greek Security Battalion’s renegades and the German soldiers. When they searched the train, they found dozens of cars tightly packed with heavy wooden crates and nearly a hundred men, women, and children, all Jewish hostages. The Americans and the Andartes went from car to car distributing what food, water, and blankets they had, as well as what they had liberated from the Germans. The Jews had been locked in the cars for days, and were in rough shape, but they appreciated the little they were given.

After about thirty minutes, Sergeant Zabt located Pantheras with three of the train’s former prisoners in tow. “L-T,” he said, getting his lieutenant’s attention. John turned to see George approaching with two men and a little girl.

“I’m Lieutenant John Pantheras, United States Army,” he said in Greek as he approached the two men, his hand out in friendship. The men acknowledged John’s introduction with a curt nod.

Pantheras looked at Zabt, who just shrugged.

After a few moments, the taller of the two bearded man spoke, “I speak English lieutenant, but your Greek is very good,” the man began. “We were wondering what would happen to us. I’m afraid we have been betrayed so many times, it’s difficult to trust anyone. You have helped us, so I must hear your explanation. I am Rabbi Abraham Keses from Thessaloniki. This is my daughter Anna, and this,” he gestured at the other man, “is my good friend Hiram Solomon. The other people on this train with us are hostages. Captain Solaris put us on this train to keep the Andartes from blowing it up. Please tell us what’s going on.”

John replied, “Let’s go inside, and I’ll see if I can explain. I am sure you’ve had a difficult time. Do you need anything?”

“Nothing. Your men have been very kind, and we’ve eaten our fill, praise God. But please …”

“Come inside and get warm,” John said, looking at the little girl shivering in the night air. Even in summer, the nights were cold. “We’ll see that all of your people get inside to get warm,” John said as he led the way into one of the coaches.

Once inside the coach, Pantheras asked his guests to sit, and when they were settled, he began, “Have you heard of a German by the name of Dorn?”

“Certainly, he is the military governor of Northern Greece. We have been dealing with him and two Greek officers,” the rabbi replied.

“Dorn is an SS officer and with Solaris and another Greek, he commands the Security Battalions,” John said.

“Yes. These men are collaborators in the Security Battalion. It’s doubly tragic to be betrayed and brutalized by your countrymen,” the Rabbi said.

“You’re so right. I’m glad you understand. That makes this explanation easier. Dorn has arranged, I imagine with you, to ransom the Jewish people in Thessaloniki. For a price, he has agreed to let the men out of labor camps and not deport your people. Is that right?

“That’s correct. Hiram and I have been in communication with the governor. We have been on this train for days, stopping at every town and village along the rail line collecting…” his voice trailed off.

“Yes, sir, I know. You have been collecting tribute, treasure in the form of money, jewels, anything of value for the ransom. Your wealth is being made ... how can I say it politely, more portable, melted down and packed for delivery. You are delivering it to Dorn now. Am I right?

“Yes, but…”

“That’s why I’m here. Unfortunately, he plans to double cross you. Dorn will to take everything he can get and then deport your people anyway.

“We suspected that could happen, but we had no choice,” Hiram said, “We’ve heard rumors of camps where prisoners are killed. What could do we do but pay the ransom?”

“We’ve had reports like that, too, but now you have a choice,” Pantheras said with a broad smile. “We’re fortunate to be getting information on German activity.”

“But you’re working with that butcher Solaris and his cursed private army. I saw you talking with him. He’s not to be trusted,” Abraham said.

“Yeah, I’ve heard that before. I wouldn’t say we’re working with him, exactly. We’re … sort of using him. The same way he’s using you. It’ll only be for as long as it takes to get as many of your people as possible out of the country. Listen, this is what we know. Dorn and the collaborators plan to collect the ransom, ship it off, then say you stole ‘their money’ and deport the Jewish population anyway. They have the trains waiting,” Pantheras said.

“Then I have played into his hands,” a crestfallen Keses replied.

“As a friend of mine is fond of saying… so it would appear. But I believe all isn’t lost. I have the beginnings of a plan. It’ll take some luck, some … deception and your help.”

“Lieutenant, I am prepared to help with some deception having been the victim of the trickery of others. What do you have in mind?” Abraham said.

“Have you ever heard of taking from the rich to give to the poor?” Pantheras said with a smile.

“No, but I trust you’re going to enlighten me,” Abraham said, his own tense smile broadening. Then gathering himself, he said, “We have amassed a huge fortune. We have collected everything our people have. We have melted the gold and silver into bars and dismantled jewelry into the loose stones. We have sold antiques and art. It’s all on this train, the accumulated wealth of my people,” the Rabbi said.

“That’s what we’ve been told. You see sir, we’re going to steal it,” John said.

“What?” Abraham cried. “My people will be killed.”

“Your people may be killed anyway. I’m hoping that we can save at least some of them,” John said.

Breathing a heavy sigh, Abraham nodded and said, “You may be right. What do you have in mind?”

“Well, the idea is this: We’re going to steal this train, then force Dorn to free your people. We’ll give the ransom back to him a little at a time. Call it … ransoming the ransom.”

Rabbi Keses was speechless. He stared at the American with a slack jaw. Finally, he said, “I know of America only from the cowboys and gangsters in the Hollywood movies. But this, this is …”

“Yeah, I know it’s crazy, but it just might work,” Pantheras said.

Under Christos’ watchful eye the captured Germans and Greek renegades repaired the rail line. The Americans had headed off to retrieve the German trucks hidden on the far side of the intervening hill. The Greek traitors and their German allies shared a fear of impending doom. The Security Battalions were infamous throughout Greece, and Solaris’ mercenaries were the worst. They had no illusions about their lives being spared. The Germans, on the other hand, held out thin hope the Americans would honor the Geneva Convention. If the Americans turned them over to the Andartes, it would mean certain death.

John had been huddled together in quiet but animated conversation with Christos, Solaris, and Rabbi Keses for nearly an hour when Ceres spotted trucks in the distance. John got on top of the locomotive with his field glasses and said, “It’s our guys. You can relax.” Clambering down, John rejoined his counsel of war and said, “So, we’re agreed Captain?”

Solaris nodded gravely.

“Rabbi?”

“Yes, lieutenant, it’s a bold plan, but a good one, if he will keep the bargain,” Rabbi Abraham responded.

“Rabbi, I have much to lose in this little adventure. Neither Oberst Dorn nor my major are forgiving individuals. They’ll be most unhappy. I will keep my side of the bargain,” the renegade Greek said.

“Christos?

“You know my feelings about this scum, John. But … but if we are to help these people, who are, after all, Greeks, I agree,” Christos said.

Turning to Solaris, Christos said, “But just one false move, Captain, just one …” Christos put his hand on his holstered Luger.

“Understood,” Solaris, said.

Solaris briefed his men, who, having expected execution, readily agreed to the scheme.

Christos begrudgingly agreed to give Solaris’ men their weapons, but he and his own men kept a careful watch on the renegades.

When the trucks arrived, Pantheras got the men moving. “All right, captain, have your men and the Germans start loading the crates into the trucks,” John said,

Under the watchful eyes of the Americans and the Andartes, the men transferred hundreds of crates from the rail cars into the eight stolen German trucks. It was hard work that lasted nearly all night. John estimated each truck was packed with nearly two tons of loot. When a truck was filled, its canvas cover was placed over the top of the cargo bed, and its wooden tailgate closed. As the sun rose over the mountains, the task was nearly completed.

“Well, we’ve unloaded all but one rail car. There’s no more room in the trucks,” John said. “That’s more than I wanted to leave for Dorn,” John said.

“Why don’t we bury the rest here?” Solaris suggested. “We can leave a cache here and send a couple boxes back to Dorn.”

“Yes, that will make a nice good will gesture when we go back,” Rabbi Keses said.

“All right, but the train’s not going back to Thessaloniki, not yet,” John said. “And when it does, you’re not going to be on it.”

“Not going back! But you said …” the Rabbi protested.

“I know what I said, but I’ve thought it through some more, and we can’t risk sending you back. We need someone to deliver the message, but if you go, Dorn could hold you hostage, and the deal would be off. No, if we’re going to make a trade, we’re going to have to trust the captain,” John said.

“Yes, lieutenant, that makes sense, and if I want to get paid, I’ll follow your orders. I understand I will have to go back empty handed and deliver the bad news,” Solaris said. “I just hope he remembers not to kill the messenger.”

“But he’s proven he can’t be trusted. He’s a traitor,” Rabbi Keses protested.

“Maybe he’ll be shot and we won’t have to worry about him,” Christos answered, smiling at the thought.

“The Lieutenant has anticipated even my possible treachery. Since I will not know where the treasure is, I’ll have to play my part,” the captain said.

“That’s right. Rabbi, we’ll send you and your people to the coast by train. My guys will stash the loot, and the captain will report back to Dorn. It’s the only way it’ll work. What we need, though, is another train,” John said.

“Lieutenant, there is a small rail yard less than an hour north of here near the village of Veria. I believe I can get us in, and obtain a train and crew,” Solaris said.

Pantheras looked at Christos who nodded. “He’s right, John,” Christos said. “There are trains there and only a few guards.”

“Lieutenant Pantheras, I have every reason to trust you but there is too much at stake and the size of the fortune involved could tempt any man. I think I should stay with you and your men.

I will send Hiram and Anna on, but I will stay,” the Rabbi said.

“I must say I agree with the Rabbi, Lieutenant,” said Solaris. “He has the biggest interest to protect.”

John looked at Christos, who shrugged. “All right, I have no objection,” John said.

“Captain, half the Germans will unload the remaining crates and the other half will dig a pit to bury them in. Get started. I want to get out of here as soon as possible,” John said.

It took the German soldiers an hour to finish unloading the rail car. They worked steadily with the Greek renegades as guards. When the crates were neatly stacked on the ground Solaris sent his men to help dig.

The Germans worked steadily, taking only short breaks for water, but the Greek traitors idled, leaning on the shovels at the pit’s edge. None of the Germans noticed Solaris signaling his men to assemble. The handful of Greek men who had helped dig climbed out of the hole. Solaris formed his men in a line at the edge of the pit. He gave a signal, and his men raised their automatic weapons. Solaris dropped his hand and turned away. Ten machine pistols opened fire, instantly killing all forty men. Smoke and screams filled the air.

John, Christos and their men ran toward the sound of gunfire, weapons at the ready. John raced ahead, directly toward Solaris. When John was nearly on top of him, Solaris turned toward the sound behind him. John struck out with a flying right cross that connected with the big Greek’s chin, launching him into the midst of the bodies. Solaris’ men charged their weapons with a menacing clatter as they turned toward John.

“Drop your weapons!” Christos commanded, backed up by his Andartes and the handful of Americans.

Solaris’ men folded like a house of cards, dropping their machine pistols and raising their hands without a word. John looked at the cluster of bodies. All of the German soldiers were dead. Solaris lay sprawled out on his back, unconscious, at the edge of the carnage.

Turning to George, John said, “Get him out of there.”

Once the murderous man was retrieved, the contents of a canteen dumped in his face brought Captain Solaris around. After a few minutes of sputtering, he slowly got to his feet.

“You have quite a right hand, lieutenant,” Solaris said, rubbing his chin.

“You’re lucky it didn’t have a knife in it you piece of shit. We didn’t agree to that,” John said, pointing to the bodies behind him.

“No, we didn’t, but it needed to be done. No witnesses. They’d never have kept quiet. It’s that Aryan loyalty and German efficiency,” the murderous Solaris replied.