The Stone of Archimedes (22 page)

“Despite the wishes of your own government?”

“Because of that. I won't stop until I find out why they told me to stop. Under whose orders?”

He smiled. “All right. Then I just have one thing to ask you.”

“Yes?”

“Your contact within this Greek's organization. She's on his yacht right now isn't she?”

Elisa nodded her head.

“When did you last hear from her?”

Thinking for a moment, she finally said, “Just before we were attacked in Siracusa. I was on the phone with her, but she had to get off in a hurry.”

“Do you think she was compromised?”

“No. Even if they got her phone and looked at the number she had called, it would lead to a home for old people outside of Prague where her actual step-mother is a resident in early dementia.”

Nodding approval, Jake said, “Nice job. What does she look like?”

She slapped his chest.

“So I don't shoot her by mistake.”

“Oh, right. She's taller than me and very beautiful. She was a model for years. That was her cover with Czech intelligence.”

“All right.” He rubbed the growing stubble on his chin. “Now, have you ever stolen a boat?”

“Of course not.”

“Well, there's a first time for everything.”

He explained what he had in mind and they spent the next hour planning out their action. But before they could proceed Jake needed just one more bit of information from the Agency—the current location of the billionaire's yacht and an intercept point.

The codeine was wearing off now because the pain in her right leg was keeping Toni awake. That and the sway of the yacht. She had nearly lost her lunch in a garbage can a few times, but had been able to keep from throwing up through sheer willpower. She hated the taste of puke in her mouth.

So, when someone came to the door and Toni could hear the latch above slide open, she was awake enough to prepare her defense. Without a gun, she had only a few options—the crutches, her good foot, or her bare hands. None of which were very appealing to her.

In through the dark came a tall figure, the door closing behind quietly. All Toni could see was an outline of a body, and she guessed someone was coming to her for a sexual encounter. A crutch in her hand, she was about to strike when the figure stopped out of range.

“Hello,” came a woman's voice in English. “I'm a friend.”

Toni reached out and clicked on a small wall light. Standing before her, wearing only black undergarments, was the woman who had sat by Petros Caras earlier in the evening. Her body was perfect. Flawless as far as Toni could tell.

“What do you want?” Toni asked her.

“You are an American spy,” she said, her Czech accent flowing freely now.

“Who are you?”

“My name is Svetla Kalina. Before Petros passed out, he told me you worked for the CIA. Is that right?”

Was there any use in denying it? Not really. “What if I am?”

“I am with UZSI.”

“You're with the Foreign Intelligence Service of the Czech Republic?”

“Yes. I am working on loan with AISE of Italy. They needed someone with Greek language skills. Someone Petros Caras might be interest in.”

“And they couldn't find any young boys?”

Svetla laughed. “That's what I was thinking.”

“Why did you break your cover to me?” Toni asked.

The Czech officer looked quickly at the door and then back toward Toni. “I heard some of the men talking. They don't know I understand Greek. They said they were going to take turns on you before morning and then throw you overboard before we head into Sicily. I couldn't let that happen.”

Toni swiveled to the edge of the bed. “Petros Caras is crazy. He doesn't understand what our Agency will do to him and his men. I need to get word to my people. How do you make contact?”

Svetla shook her head and showed Toni the small phone in her hand. “Just my cell phone. But we have to be close to shore to get a signal. However, Petros has a satellite phone. I don't know where he keeps it at night, though.”

Lifting her right foot into the air, Toni said, “I'm afraid I'm not going to be much help. It's not like I can sneak around the yacht like this. You have to find the phone and bring it to me.”

“At least three men are awake right now,” Svetla said.

“How many total on the crew?”

“Ten plus Petros.”

“Okay. That's five each.”

Svetla laughed. “I like your courage.”

“Hey, I didn't have to sleep with that pig.”

“Good point. But at least he has the penis of a ten-year-old. I could barely tell whether he was coming or going.”

Toni laughed now. She liked this woman. “See if you can find the phone, but don't get caught. I'll go look for a weapon.”

“All right. Let's meet back here in fifteen minutes.”

The Czech officer turned and left her there. Toni shook her head and wished like hell she had an ass like that. She tried to put pressure on her right leg, but it was not going to happen. Pain shot right up to her brain. Lifting herself onto the crutches, Toni made her way to the door, looked outside, and then as quietly as possible headed toward the main lounge. Behind the bar she found a couple of knives. She took the sharpest of the two and slid it into the belt at the base of her back. Then she made her way around the room, checking every possible cabinet and hiding place for either another weapon or the satellite phone. She thought about her assignment and knew that her Agency would not realize she was in real danger for a while, even though she was supposed to call in after getting to the yacht.

She turned and was startled by a man in dark clothing—someone she hadn't seen before. He came toward her with his gun still in its holster on his right hip, not thinking she was much of a threat. With a quick swivel to her left, she swung the crutch up and caught the man under his chin. He dropped to the deck on his knees, stunned, blood coming from his teeth. She swiftly shoved both crutches into the deck and kicked with her good left foot, catching the man in the nose and knocking him out. Now blood flowed from the guy's broken nose.

Toni grabbed the man's gun and checked it out. A 9mm Sig Sauer. She was familiar with this one. She found two more full magazines on the man's left hip. He should have pulled the gun, she thought. Although the guy didn't even have a round in the chamber. Can't shoot someone like that. She slapped a round into the chamber and replaced the knife with the gun in the back of her pants. Then she hobbled forward on the yacht. She guessed the best place to make contact was on the bridge. They had to have all kinds of communications equipment there.

Moving forward on the yacht, she came to a ladder and considered how to get up that. As she stuck both crutches together and hopped up to the first rung, she sensed movement behind her. Before she could turn, something struck her in the back of the head and she collapsed into darkness.

●

Zendo and his men had traded off sleeping in shifts during the night. Well, Zendo himself had slept like a drugged baby from midnight to four a.m. He was beyond taking watch over a tied-up academic. His only concern was making sure his men didn't try to go into her room and rape her while Zendo slept. He'd made that very clear to them, even before they got drunk, that he wouldn't tolerate that. Not that Zendo really cared one way or another if they filled the bitch with their spooge, but he was under strict orders from Petros Caras to keep the woman safe.

Now, the sun still a couple hours from rising, the entire crew was down at the pier in Siracusa's old town region. Fishing boats were mostly gone by now. Only a few stragglers crept out of the harbor, the gulls circling above like piranhas on bleeding flesh.

Sitting on a huge white cooler, Zendo glanced up as Demetri approached. “Everything set?” Zendo asked.

Demetri turned back toward his men on the dock and watched as they prepared a white, 30-foot fishing boat for departure. It wasn't a commercial boat. It was one used to take high-end tourists out on a Mediterranean fishing adventure. “Yes. But I wish it was a little bigger.”

“It doesn't look very fast,” Zendo said.

“That's not the problem. It has two ninety-horse motors. I'm just not a great seaman.”

“Weather report says calm seas from now until who gives a shit. We'll be on the big yacht in a couple hours. This boat has GPS?”

“Yeah.”

Suddenly there was a muffled pounding coming from the cooler.

Demetri laughed. “I guess things could be worse. I could be inside there instead of the American bitch.”

“See. Silver lining, my friend.” Zendo got up and grasped a handle. “Let's go. We need to get moving if we plan on hitting our rendezvous point on time.”

The two of them hauled the huge cooler toward the boat with ease as the woman's pounding was barely audible. Once they got onto the fishing boat, it took the men just a few seconds to turn over the motors and release the boat from its mooring. Then they slowly cruised out toward the break water, keeping well within the required speed limit.

Just ten miles or so to the northeast, Jake and Elisa made their way down a dark pier on the Italian Navy base at Augusta. This section of the base was used to display war ships used during WWI and WWII, with a few used to give Italian tourists rides around the harbor for a small fee.

Jake stopped when he came to a boat painted with the camouflage of the Italian Navy of WWII. It was a MAS patrol boat, or
Motoscafo Armato Silurante
, a torpedo armed motorboat in the same class as the old American PT Boats. Of course the two torpedo tubes were filled with inert weapons. And the anti-aircraft gun at the stern was inoperable. But it still looked impressive.

“How fast is she?” Jake asked.

“According to our navy it will still do forty-five knots,” Elisa said. “It's only used for harbor tours now, so we'll have to use this GPS.” She pulled a portable GPS from her pack.

“Is she fueled?”

“Full tank.”

“All right. Let's shake her down.” Jake checked his phone one more time. No messages from Kurt Jenkins at the Agency. He needed a location or they would be running blind out there. “Think you can pilot this beast?” He asked her.

“I'll give it a try.”

They got aboard and turned over the motors. Jake cleared the mooring lines and hopped aboard. He went inside the small pilot compartment and watched Elisa familiarize herself with the instruments. But it was pretty bare-bones. Speed, compass, fuel and communications equipment. No sonar or radar. This was a fly by the pants boat.

As they slowly cruised out into the dawn lighting, Jake held his phone in his hand and just then the thing buzzed and he looked to see who was calling. This time it said ‘Starbucks' and Jake wished they would deliver about now.

“I'll have a double espresso,” Jake said into the phone.

“You wish.” It was Kurt Jenkins. “Listen, I'm sending the coordinates for an intercept by text as we speak. Let me know you got it.”

Jake looked at his phone and saw the text come through. Then he found the GPS and tapped in the longitude and latitude. “Got it into our GPS. Is that where they are now?”

“No, but based on their speed and heading, that's where they should be in about an hour. You should be able to close on them sooner than that, though.”

“By then they could have changed course,” Jake reasoned.

“You have a radio aboard your boat? If you don't have cell service I can contact you with an update.”

Jake gave him their marine VHF radio frequency and channel number. Then he waited for a moment for Kurt to respond.

“All right,” Kurt said. “We've got you traveling through the Augusta port. You might want to tell your friend to slow down a little. She's speeding.”

“Okay, Big Brother. Anything else you have for me?”

Long delay and hesitation on the other end. “Maybe. We have someone aboard the yacht.”

“I know about her,” Jake assured Kurt.

“You do? Great. So be careful when you get out there and start shooting up the place.”

“What, you think I just send bullets flying indiscriminately?”

“It's been known to happen.”

“Never mind,” Jake said. “Are you sure you just don't want to call in an air strike? Maybe we have a sub in the area that needs target practice.”

“Remember our asset on board.”

“Right. But after that.”

“We'll let you know.”

The boat started to rock a little more, shaking Jake about on the bench seat.

“What kind of discretion do I have with this Petros Caras?” Jake wanted to know.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, is he still important to the Agency?”

“You're not sanctioned to kill the man, if that's what you're asking.”

“I'm not stupid enough to think you would give me that kind of authority, Kurt. I just want to know if I should be shot at by his men and I happen to hit the Greek billionaire, if you would cry at the man's funeral.”

“I don't think anyone from the Agency would be on the guest list.”

“Gotcha. Anything else?”

“No. Remember that the radio goes both ways.” Kurt Jenkins gave Jake the ability to call him with their onboard radio. Then the two of them clicked off. Jake climbed back up to Elisa.

“Everything all right?” Elisa asked him.

“Yeah. I don't know how in the hell our Agency knows this, but somehow they're aware of your contact aboard the Greek yacht.”

She looked at him with wonder. “That makes no sense. Even my agency doesn't know she's aboard. The CIA is good.”

They could be, Jake knew. But they should have never gotten into bed with the likes of Petros Caras in the first place.