The President's Daughter (28 page)

“For the first time, I’m beginning to think he’s mad. Maybe some of that Sinai sun got into his brain.”

“Let him hear you talk like that and you’re dead, you fool. Now pull yourself together and get their breakfast.”

Braun got Hannah from her room and took her along the corridor. “I hope you slept well?”

“You don’t give a damn whether I slept well or not, so why pretend?”

He unlocked the door to Marie de Brissac’s room and ushered Hannah in. “I’ll have breakfast ready in a little while.”

Marie came out of the bathroom. “What was that?”

“Just Braun. He’s gone to get breakfast.”

“He’s late this morning. I wonder why?”

Hannah went to the window and peered through the bars. There was a fishing boat passing by not too far from the bay. “Now if only it was flying the flag of its country, we’d know where we were. Roughly.” Hannah laughed.

Marie gestured to her easel. “What do you think?” The charcoal sketch was fleshed out in color now and was quite excellent. “Watercolors wouldn’t have been right, so I had to use crayon.”

“It’s marvelous,” Hannah said. “Can I have it? I’d love to have it framed.”

In the same moment, realizing what she’d said, she
burst out laughing. “Well, that’s optimistic, anyway,” Marie told her.

Ten minutes later, the door opened and Braun pushed the trolley in. “Scrambled eggs and sausages this morning.”

“Are they kosher?” Hannah asked.

“Oh, we take what we can get.” He lifted the cover of a dish. “The bread is locally baked and the honey is local, too. Coffee is in the thermos flask.”

“And the champagne?” Marie asked and took the bottle from the ice bucket. “Whose idea is this, Judas’s?”

Braun shifted uncomfortably. “Well, yes, he thought it might cheer you up.”

“The condemned man ate a hearty breakfast?” Hannah put in.

“Very hearty if he had this to go with it,” Marie said. “Louis Roederer Cristal, nineteen eighty-nine. Judas has taste, I’ll say that for him. Mad, of course, but tasteful.”

“He’s a great man,” Braun burst out. “In the Yom Kippur War, when the Egyptians took us by surprise, Judas was in command of some of the most strategic bunkers, with a hundred men under him. They fought like lions in that burning Sinai heat. When they were relieved, there were only eighteen left alive.”

“A long time ago,” Marie said. “I’d have thought he’d have got over it by now.”

Braun was angry. “Got over what? Arab hatred, the constant attacks by terrorist groups like Hamas? What about Lebanon, and the Gulf, when Iraq targeted us with missiles?”

“All right, we hear you,” Hannah told him.

“No, you don’t, and you a Jew. You should be ashamed. What about Aaron’s brother shot down over
Syria and tortured? What of my two sisters, blown to pieces in a student bus?”

He was very agitated and Marie said, “David, calm down, just calm down.”

“And Judas.”

There was a pause and Hannah said softly, “What about him?”

“His mother, his married sister, decent people over from America to spend time with him, killed in a Jerusalem bus station bomb. More than eighty people killed or wounded. This is funny?”

“David, nobody thinks it’s funny,” Marie told him.

He opened the door and turned. “You think I enjoy this, Countess? I like you. I like you a great deal. Isn’t that a huge joke?”

He went out, locking the door, and Hannah said, “Poor boy, I do believe he’s in love with you.”

“Well, it won’t do him any good or me,” Marie said. “But let’s get on with the scrambled eggs, and we might as well open the champagne.”

“Why not?” Hannah said. “You know the story about Louis Roederer Cristal and why it’s the only champagne bottle you can see through?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“It was designed by Tsar Nicholas of Russia. He said he wanted to be able to look at the champagne.”

“And look how he ended up,” Marie de Brissac said and popped the cork.

At that moment the
Cretan Lover,
Stavros at the wheel, passed Castle Koenig a few miles off shore. Aleko was also in the wheelhouse, Yanni and Dimitri worked at the draped nets. Aaron, on the battlements with Moshe,
focused a pair of Zeiss glasses, bringing the boat into sharp focus. He lowered them.

“Just a fishing boat.”

Moshe took the glasses from him and took a look. “The
Cretan Lover.
Yes, I’ve seen that one tied up in Vitari when I go for supplies.”

He handed the glasses back to Aaron, who said, “I’ll be glad when it’s over, one way or the other, but over.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Moshe said and walked away, an MI6 slung from his left shoulder.

In the wheelhouse, Aleko focused the old binoculars from his navy days, and every line of the castle came into prominence, sharp and clear.

“Two men on the battlements,” he said softly, “one of them with a rifle.” He ranged across the bay. “Seagoing motor cruiser on one side of the jetty, speedboat on the other and a powerful one from the look of it. I bet that baby does thirty knots.” He nodded to Stavros. “I’ve seen enough. Let’s go home.”

As they turned out to sea, Stavros said, “You’d need an army to get into a place like that.”

“Maybe not. Let’s see what Ferguson comes up with.”

When the Gulfstream landed at Corfu Airport, it taxied under instruction to a remote area where there were older hangars and a number of private planes. There was a police car waiting there with a driver, a young captain standing beside it. He came forward as Ferguson led the way down the ladder.

“Brigadier Ferguson?” he said in fair English, and shook hands. “My name is Andreas. Colonel Mikali phoned me from Athens with orders to offer you every facility.”

“That’s kind of him,” Ferguson said.

“Customs and immigration are taken care of, and I have a Range Rover for you. Is there anything else I can do?”

“Help us load our stuff and we’ll be off,” Ferguson said.

The various cases were manhandled from the cargo hatch into the Range Rover, and Captain Andreas departed.

“Very obliging, this Colonel Mikali in Athens,” Dillon said. “Here we are, importing arms into the country. Does he have any idea what we’re about?”

“Of course not,” Ferguson said, “but he does owe me a few favors.” He turned to Vernon and Gaunt, Kersey standing behind them. “Gentlemen, you’re probably as intrigued as hell, but there’s nothing I can say at this point except that you’ve never been part of anything so important. If our efforts come to fruition tonight, your next destination will be Washington.”

“Then we’d better get on with refueling, Brigadier,” Vernon said.

Ferguson got into the rear of the Range Rover, Blake in the passenger seat at the front, and Dillon took the wheel.

“So, this is where it gets interesting, gentlemen,” he said and drove away.

When they pulled up outside the taverna at Vitari, Aleko came down the steps to greet Ferguson as he got out of the Range Rover.

“Hey, Brigadier, you look younger.” He embraced Ferguson fiercely and kissed him on both cheeks.

“Stop all that Greek nonsense,” Ferguson admonished him. “This is Sean Dillon, these days my main enforcer.”

Dillon shook hands. “You come well recommended,” he said in passable Greek.

“Hey, a man of parts,” Aleko said in English.

“And an American friend, Blake Johnson.”

Again, Aleko shook hands. “Come this way. I’ve closed the taverna for the rest of the day so we can have privacy.”

Yanni, Dimitri, and Stavros were at the bar and Ferguson greeted them like old friends. As Blake and Dillon watched, Aleko said, “Quite a man, the Brigadier. He got a message to pick up one of his agents from Albania a few years ago. We get to the beach and find six policemen, and the Brigadier slips over the stern with a Sterling submachine gun and takes them from the rear. Shoots two in the back and holds the rest up.”

“That’s quite a story,” Blake said.

Anna appeared with coffee on a tray, put it on the bar, and embraced Ferguson, and more introductions were made. Finally, everyone sat and got down to business.

“We took a run up to the castle this morning,” Aleko said. “Using the fishing boat. There were two men on the battlements, one with a rifle slung from his shoulder.”

“So?” Ferguson nodded.

“I’ve been thinking,” Aleko said, “that if we are going up there at night, I’ll get a few fishing boats to go as well. Good cover.”

“An excellent idea.”

Aleko nodded. “So what do you really expect of us?”

“My two friends here, armed to the teeth, intend to penetrate the castle and liberate the two women held hostage there. The six men in residence, the opposition, are all former Israeli soldiers.”

“Mother of Christ,” Yanni said. “It could be a blood bath.”

“That’s their business,” Aleko told him, “and they look as if they know their business to me. So our job is to land them?”

“And without alerting the guards,” Dillon said. “Is that possible?”

“Anything is possible, Mr. Dillon. Are you a scuba diver? We’ve got equipment.”

“Yes, I’m a master diver.”

“Well, that lets me out,” Blake said. “I was blown up a few years ago on an FBI case and my right eardrum was ruptured. Anything underwater is out for me.”

“Never mind, we’ll come up with something,” Aleko told him.

Dimitri said, “What’s it pay, Brigadier?”

Ferguson glanced at Blake, who said, “Money is neither here nor there on this one, but let’s say a hundred thousand dollars.”

There was dead silence, and Yanni said, “And who in the hell do we have to kill?”

“These are bad people,” Dillon told him. “And they can handle themselves. They might kill you.”

“Well, we’ll see about that,” Yanni said with the bravado of youth.

Aleko looked serious. “You told me about one of the women being your assistant, this Chief Inspector Bernstein.”

“That’s right.”

“So it’s the other woman that’s the key, the one who’s really important?”

“Not now, Constantine. One day you’ll know, but not now,” Ferguson told him.

Dillon stood up. “I’d like a look at the boat, if that’s possible.”

“Sure.” Aleko turned to the rest of the crew. “No need for you to come.”

“And I’ve seen it all before,” Ferguson said. “Perhaps the boys could unload the equipment we’ve brought, the weapons and so on.”

“Sure thing, Brigadier.” Aleko turned to Stavros. “Have everything taken to the barn. Anything the Brigadier wants he gets.”

“Sure thing,” Stavros said.

Aleko nodded to Dillon and Blake and he led the way out.

The
Cretan Lover
was still draped with nets drying in the sun and there was the good salt smell of fish mixed with the smell of the sea. Dillon and Blake looked the boat over while Aleko sat on the thwart and smoked a cigarette.

“So, you still fish?” Dillon said.

“Why not? It gives us something to do when we’re not engaged in the Albanian trade, and we need the front.”

“Are you telling me the customs and the navy people don’t know what you’re up to?” Dillon was peering down the hatch into the engine room. “You’ve got enough down there to power a torpedo boat.”

“Sure they do. The police sergeant knows, but he’s my second cousin and the lieutenant commanding the most important patrol boat, but then I trained him myself when I was in the navy. On the other hand, things have got to look right from the navy’s point of view.”

“Then everybody can look the other way with a clear conscience?” Blake said.

Aleko smiled. “I’ll tell you what. Let’s go for a little run and see if we can come up with a solution to your problem.”

He went into the wheelhouse and pressed the starter button. As the engines rumbled into life, Dillon cast off the stern line and coiled it and Blake did the same in the prow.

The
Cretan Lover
coasted out of the small harbor and Aleko boosted power, the boat lifting over waves at that point. It was all very pleasant in the hot sun. When they were about four or five hundred yards from the harbor, Aleko cut the engines.

“Let go the anchor.”

It was Blake who saw to that and Aleko braced himself against the wheelhouse door, the boat tilting as the water heaved in long swells.

“Let’s imagine the fishing boats put their nets out about this far from the castle jetty. It’s pretty similar.”

“How deep?” Dillon asked.

“Eighty fathoms, sometimes a hundred. Plenty of sardines this time of the year and they don’t go deep, so it would all look legitimate.”

“It’s the getting to the shore without being seen that’s the thing,” Dillon said.

“Well, underwater’s the obvious way.”

“But not for me,” Blake reminded him.

“Let’s give it a try anyway, if only to check the feasibility. What about it, Dillon? I’ve plenty of gear in the cabin.”

“I’m game,” Dillon said. “Lead me to it.”

They manhandled a couple of tanks on deck and Aleko provided inflatable jackets, masks, and fins. “No need for diving suits. We’ll go in at fifteen or twenty feet only and it’s warm enough at that level.”

They got the gear on, Blake helping out. When they were ready, Aleko opened a box and produced a couple of Marathons, passing one to Dillon.

“What’s that?” Blake asked as Dillon switched it on.

“A dive computer. Absolute bloody marvel. Gives you an automatic reading of your depth, elapsed time under water, how much time you’ve got left.”

“Is that necessary?” Blake asked. “I didn’t think there were problems when you stick to shallow waters.”

“There’s always a chance of some kind of decompression sickness at any depth, small, but it’s there. Diving’s a hazardous sport.”

“Okay,” Aleko said. “Let’s go.”

He went backwards over the side. Dillon tightened his weight belt, checked that the air was flowing freely through his mouthpiece, and followed. He swallowed a couple of times to equalize the pressure in his ears and went after Aleko.

The water was very blue and seemed to stretch into infinity, and it was so clear that they could see the white sand of the bottom eighty feet or so below. There were fish everywhere, most of them quite small, and once a motor boat passed overhead and Dillon was rocked in the shockwaves of the turbulence.