Dig Two Graves: Revenge or Honor (29 page)

“December fourth,” Ceres replied, a puzzled look on his face.

“What year?” Mary asked, as she picked up her yellow legal pad.

“1921, December 4, 1921. Why?”

“Give me a few minutes and I’ll tell you,” Mary replied as she began to write. “Mr. Saves I believe your dedication to your friend will provide the answer,” Mary said, as she wrote.

“Can you tell what it says?” Ceres said, sitting up in his bed.

“Give me a few minutes,” Mary replied.

“Do you have it?” Ceres asked. “Do you know …”

“Shush, dear fellow. I’m trying to work here,” Mary scolded.

“I’m sorry. It’s just I’m so excited that …”

“Shush or I’ll have to leave the room,” she said.

“All right,” Ceres said.

“I write the birth date repeatedly under each letter of the message. Then I shift the encoded letter by the number of places in the repeated birth date. See here, the first letter is H, I shift it back one letter, which makes it a G. Second letter is a Q, shift it back two places give us an O. The first word is GO,” Mary said.

“Mary, I’m as excited as you are but please don’t do it letter by letter,” Ceres said. “I think the suspense would kill me.”

“Your friend used a Date Shift Cipher.” Mary said, as she worked through the code. “It’s much harder to break than the Simple Shift cipher because the shift varies from letter to letter,”

Mary said as she translated the coded message. “It’s also polyalphabetic meaning a single number can represent multiple letters, this is brilliant. Here see,” She said as she showed Ceres the matrix of numbers and letters.

H Q T S R B S V H S G P T G S N E V U E X I 1 2 0 4 2 1 1 2 0 4 2 1 1 2 0 4 2 1 1 2 0 4 F N P K T F F E E P Q W F Z O Y N J M G A Q 2 1 1 2 0 4 2 1 1 2 0 4 2 1 1 2 0 4 2 1 1 2 M V J S J R                                0 4 2 1 1 2

“When she had finished, Mary sat back and looked over the matrix. Then she wrote out the message and said, “Your friend left a message for you. The message says...

GO/TO/PARTHOS/FOR/GOLD/USE/TO/HELP/GREECE/LOVE/ YOU/LIKE/A/SON/LT/JOH
N
.”

“May I see that,” Ceres said, the tears now streaking his cheeks.

His hand shook as he took the paper. His friend, his protector, had finally spoken to him. Love you like a son. Ceres couldn’t hold back any longer and sobbed unashamedly.

Mary sat back and watched as her own tears began to flow.
What an emotional moment
, she thought.

After a few minutes, Ceres began to compose himself and said, “Mary, I can never thank you enough for… well, for solving this mystery. It … it was right in front of me all these years. I was too proud and stubborn to ask for help,” Ceres said.

“Oh, posh,” Mary said, waving off Ceres’ self-rebuke. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, deary.”

“Regardless, I owe you a great deal. Thank you. But I’m not even able to take you for coffee as thanks,” Ceres said, forcing a smile. When should I tell Ajax?

The phone rang and the aging Romanian noticed the flashing red light on top. He limped to his desk, picked up the phone and said, “Yes.”

“The call you expected from Milan, sir,” the Director General’s aide said, in his clipped British accent.

“Put it through.”

A moment later the call connected and the director general said, “What is your report?”

“One deal has been closed, sir. The second participant was not at his office,” the smooth feminine voice on the phone said. “The second group of participants are apparently shy. What are your instructions?”

“Our source in Milan advises the second group has gone to Greece. You should expect your competitor to go there, too. There will be a promotion for you for you when you finish this. You should go to Katerini. Do you scuba dive?”

“Expertly, sir.”

“You will find the other partners participating in some wreck diving. Our client is most anxious. You should be able to close both deals in Katerini.”

“I’m sure I can convince the parties to the contract to cooperate, sir.”

“Scuba diving is very dangerous, isn’t it?”

“Yes, sir. It is.”

“You’re sure about this information, Michael?” Dobos said into his cell phone. “He said the younger one and the girl were going to Greece. Did he say why or what they’re going to do?”

Provincial Police Commander Michael Verde’s annoyance and apprehension grew. The occasional bribe was one thing, but passing information to outside parties was entirely another matter. He could lose his job and his pension over this deal, but still, Dobos paid well, even if he was dirty. Verde never really knew what Dobos did, and he didn’t ask.

“Moretti said one man and Gia Donatella were leaving tomorrow night on the ferry from Bari. He didn’t say what they were going to do. “Isn’t that enough?” Verde said, wishing he could get off the phone.

“All right, fine. You’ll have your money tomorrow. Call me if you learn anything further,” Dobos said. He hit the red end button on his burn phone.

Dobos hit the speed dial and his boss answered immediately.

“Report?” Solaris said.

“All parties leave for Katerini, Greece, tomorrow night,” Dobos said. “I will contact my negotiator and leave as soon as possible.”

“You will have to handle this yourself,” Solaris responded. “Your back up has been reassigned to another situation.”

“I’ll need assistance negotiating with these people,” Dobos said. “There are three of them. They’ll be on guard.”

“Very well, where can your new protégé find you?” Solaris said.

“I'm in Room 334, Hotel Della Stazione, on the Via Agnesi.”

“I’ll make a call. Someone will contact you tomorrow. Report in when you have completed the assignment,” Solaris said and abruptly ended the call.

Solaris was obviously finished
, Dobos thought. He leaned back on the small hard sofa and held the phone in his right hand as he stared at the blank screen.
It’s not unusual to reassign an operative
, Dobos thought,
but in the middle of an operation? Something was wrong.

He had worked for Solaris a long time. He was with him in the good times, the smuggling days. Dobos tossed the phone on the table among the crumpled newspapers and closed his eyes. He idly scratched at the flakey patch on his arm, thinking.
Solaris…What did it mean
?

He’d met his boss while Solaris was putting together a deal to send stolen weapons to Iran. Several groups tried to block the supposedly secret deal, including the CIA. Solaris asked around for a specialist, and a friend sent him to Dobos. He’d eliminated nearly a dozen men including some CIA assets. The arms shipment went through without interference and Solaris was happy and much richer. Solaris called on Dobos over and over for covert and ‘special’ services over the next several years.

He fidgeted on the hard sofa for a few more minutes, weighing his options. None of them were good. He decided he had to move and figure out what was happening later. Dobos sprang into action, moving with surprising speed for an older man. Years of conditioning, both mental and physical, had prepared him for this moment he knew would eventually come.

Dobos booted up his MacBook Air. He needed to transfer funds before Solaris froze his money. Working quickly, he logged into his accounts at a half-dozen banks and began electronic transfers of under $8000 into smaller previously unused accounts. He’d been careful not to let too much money accumulate in any of the accounts Solaris might know of and he expected the transfers would stay below the radar of the several government agencies that monitored financial transactions.

“Shit,” Dobos said as he found one of his accounts, the one Solaris transferred his pay into, was already unavailable. Fortunately, he had set up automatic transfers, so there were only a few thousand dollars lost.

Beads of sweat began to form on Dobos’ upper lip and forehead. He had to salvage as much as possible. He worked quickly, fingers flying over the keys. “Damn,” he said aloud as he found another frozen account.
Work faster.
When he settled the last account, he changed the passwords on the new ones. Next, he checked his credit cards, two were already closed. “Solaris is fast. He must have a dozen people working on screwing me,” Dobos said to the empty room.

When he was sure which credit cards Solaris didn’t know about, he closed the browser. He would have to get rid of the computer. He had instant messaged Solaris from it often. He would be able to track him by following the computer’s IP address.

Dobos stood and leaned backwards with his hands on his hips. He rubbed the back of his hand across his aching eyes. He had to know what he was up against. He went into the bathroom and started a bath. He washed his face then put his toiletries in a brown zipper bag. He took a small metal bottle from among his toiletries, carefully opened it, and poured the bottle’s contents into the tub and dropped the bottle in as well. The sharp, irritating odor of hydrogen chloride filled the room as the hydrochloric acid mixed with the water in the tub. With a towel over his face, he left the bathroom closing the door behind him. He plugged his titanium travel drive into the MacBook and downloaded everything he thought he would need onto the indestructible little drive.

Next, he put the Apple install disk in his optical drive and hit reboot. When he heard the boot chime, he hit the option key to force the laptop to boot from the installation disk. A few more steps and thirty minutes later, the computer’s hard drive was effectively erased.

Dobos opened the door into the bathroom holding a towel over his mouth and nose against the fumes and turned off the tap. The tub held about six inches of water. He opened his Motorola Razor, pried off the back, and removed the SIM card.

He turned the phone on and when it tried to power up he tossed it and the SIM card into the tub. The MacBook joined the phone in the acid bath, assuring nothing on either device could be recovered, no matter how skilled the forensic technician.

Dobos returned to the bedroom and looked around. Satisfied he’d cover his tracks, he prepared to leave. He slipped on his soft, high quarter shoes. Their crepe soles made his footsteps nearly silent on any surface. He tossed a change of clothes and his thumb drive into a messenger bag.

Reaching under the mattress Dobos removed three guns. A slim Kel-Tec P-3AT semi auto pistol and its seven .380 ACP rounds he slipped into a holster on his right ankle. The light polymer weapon weighed only 81 grams and it was the perfect ankle gun.

Next, he checked his favorite, his trusted Makarov PB with its integrated suppressor and twelve round magazine. He slipped the gun into a sling holster inside the center of his slacks. The weapon hung loosely just below the centerline of his belt, inside his pants. He put on a navy windbreaker to cover his primary weapon. There was not a sign of a bulge. Finally, he put a North American Arms .22 Magnum Pug in his windbreaker pocket. The Pug’s one-inch barrel was small enough to conceal in his palm. The American-made mini-revolver’s five .22 rounds were only accurate at very close range but could give a desperate man a fighting chance. Dobos turned on the television to appearance he was still there, turned off all but the bathroom light, and slipped out of into the hall.

Dobos slipped out of his room then went down the service stairs to the basement. He got a few puzzled stares from the hotel staff as he left by the loading dock, but it couldn’t be helped. Looking at his watch, he saw it was nearly 4:50 p.m. Had he given his opposition enough time to track him down, to get in place?

He walked quickly but cautiously along Via Agnesi in the opposite direction of the car he would use, stopping frequently to look in store windows. Dobos wasn’t window-shopping; he was looking for surveillance. The streets and sidewalks were crowded, making it easier to blend in, but damn hard to catch a whiff of surveillance. He crossed the street and doubled back twice, finally reversing direction until he reached the car parked along the street. Once at the car, he looked around, unlocked it, and opened the door.

Before he could get in, the window shattered.
Suppressed gunfire
, Dobos thought. More bullets struck the car, sending a second shower of glass, plastic and metal flying. The debris was all that alerted him.

Dobos ducked and bolted. He ran to a store doorway, chased by puffs of dust kicked up by bullets zinging against the sidewalk.

The suppressed gunfire made a dull popping sound, but the traffic and people on the street made it impossible to locate his attacker. Dobos was a sitting duck. He ran into the first doorway he found, which turned out to be a hair salon, as two bullets chipped the granite at the entrance. He pushed his way past a protesting receptionist, ran through the building and out into an alley. Dobos ran, knowing he could never turn his back again and that now the hunter had become the hunted.

The Gulfstream touched down in Thessaloniki, Greece, at 4 p.m. local time and taxied to an empty hanger at in the civil aviation section of Mikra airport. Gia, Alessandro, and a grim AJ came down the jet’s collapsible steps where they were met by two uniformed customs and immigration agents.

Standing just out of sight in the shadows, indistinct in the darkened hanger several men stood around three dark Land Rovers, the glow of their cigarettes the only hint of the presence. When the cursory immigration inspection was completed and their passports were stamped, Alessandro led the trio toward the figures in the shadows.

Alessandro spoke first as he reached to shake the hand of the tall, well groomed-man approaching him. “Hello, Georgios. It’s been a long time,” he said to the middle-aged man extending his hand in greeting. “Thank you for your help and meeting us.”

“It’s my pleasure, Alessandro. We have been after this man for a long time, too. I’m glad we could cooperate.

“Gia, Ajax, this is Georgios Skouris, Deputy Minister of Police with the rank of Major General,” Alessandro said.

“Deputy Minister is pretentious enough, thank you,” Georgios said as he reached out and gently shook Gia’s hand, but AJ just glowered at the man and ignored his hand of friendship.

“Mr. Pantheras is unhappy I’ve involved your agency, Georgios. He doesn’t trust the Greek government,” Alessandro said.

“Then we have much in common,” Georgios laughed, “neither do I.” Turning to AJ, he said, “Mr. Pantheras, I won’t pretend to know all that has gone on or what the big picture is from your perspective. Please understand we want Solaris as much as the Italians. He is a murderer, a black marketer and smuggler. He’s also one of the wealthiest men in the Mediterranean and we have no idea who he really is. Your information is the best lead we’ve had on him in …” he turned to look at Alessandro, who joined him in saying, “decades.”

“It’s not just the Greek government I don’t trust.” AJ spit out the words, while trying to stare Alessandro down. He wasn’t happy, and what he saw next sent him into orbit. Out of the gloom stepped a tall, rugged, neatly dressed man with a permanent five o’clock shadow, a man he knew.

“I believe you know my nephew, Captain Tinos Ganis, Hellenic Police Antiterrorism Unit, Georgios said as Tinos came closer.

“You!” AJ sneered. “So is your other uncle fixing us dinner tonight?”

“That’s right, you’ve met Diogenes,” Georgios said. “His is the best café in Athens.”

“No wonder you were so helpful,” AJ said. “I thought you were a friend.” The word friend sounded like an insult. “Will you get a bonus or a promotion for setting me up?”

“It’s not like that, AJ. I was on vacation, and my cousin took sick. He asked me to drive his taxi for a week or two,” Tinos said. “I was off duty, but when being with you turned into an important case…”

“You saw a chance for promotion or whatever. You used me and my friend, and you have the nerve to show up here?” AJ said his face dark with anger.

Tinos put a hand up as though defending his face from a rain of blows. “Guilty, my friend, but I didn’t have a choice. I was sure you hadn’t killed that man in the Metro Hotel, but I had a responsibility…

“A responsibility to rat us out?” AJ spat out.

“What is ‘rat out’,” Georgios said, looking at Alessandro, who shrugged.

“It’s to snitch, to betray. That’s what ratting out is.” AJ again spit out the words. “How about the black market phones and ammo, did you keep the money?”

“Mr. Pantheras, the things you bought were from an undercover agent. Tinos had no choice,” Georgios said. “Once he found out you could have information on a homicide, he was duty bound to report what he knew. When it appeared Solaris was involved, there was no turning back. Oh, and your money will be returned.”

“That’s why I came looking for you in Thessaloniki,” Tinos said. “I’m sorry.”

“Your information on the killers at the hotel Metro was most valuable. We looked for cell phone calls made nearby at the time you saw the men and that gave us the information that allowed us to track the two killers to Italy. We notified the Italian authorities, and the rest you know.”

“One of them is dead,” Alessandro said.

AJ’s eyes bored holes into Alessandro.

“What!” Georgios said.

“That’s right. Petru was killed at a café on Via Garibaldi this afternoon. He took three to the heart in broad daylight and with no witnesses. We had a report of another shooting on Via Agnesi this afternoon too, but the intended victim got away. It looks like they’re tying up loose ends.”