CHAPTER 7
Chloe watched Socrates from inside the shack until he disappeared, limping down toward the road. Then she tiptoed out, went ninety degrees into the trees, hurried past the Fifty and the DEW, which her quarry had passed some forty feet to his left. She found it no chore to keep up with the lame Socrates.
Chloe held tight to the grip on the Uzi, pulling the strap taut to keep it away from her body and from clacking into the Luger. She turned sideways and mince-stepped the decline, carefully crossing the gravel road. Stopping on the other side, she heard movement in the underbrush, someone heading left, east, hurrying and not worrying about snapping twigs and thrashing through the thick stuff. Chloe squatted and regulated her breathing, gauging direction and distance to keep from following too close and giving herself away.
There was no need for her to step into the overgrowth. She could easily keep pace staying at the side of the road in the soft, silent dirt. The only danger was overtaking her prey and being seen. It had to be Socrates. When he came even with the shack again, though he was below the line of sight from the front door, he stopped, apparently to listen. Hearing nothing must have encouraged him, because now out he came, maybe fifty feet ahead of Chloe and also choosing to stay on the quieter surface next to the road.
Chloe stood stock-still in case he decided to turn around. She couldn’t imagine being seen in the darkness, but who knew what kind of vision the limping, unarmed man might have? Some people could see or sense shapes in the darkness. Mac had proved that. And maybe this character knew the area, would notice a silhouette between trees that should have provided a clear shot to the stars.
Chloe waited until he went around a bend, then hurried to where she could again hear the labored footsteps. She peeled her eyes and saw—or at least imagined—that he was testing the knee, trying to walk more upright, more normal, and not succeeding. Occasionally she heard a grunt or a moan. He was in pain, and he certainly was taking the long way to town.
No, Socrates was going to lead her to George Sebastian. Chloe just knew it. Should she attempt a quiet transmission, let Mac know Hopalong was headed the wrong way? How much of a lead could he get if that took thirty seconds? Mac and Hannah could catch up with her quickly, and they could overtake him in no time.
But Mac was double-checking the shack, and Hannah was outside alone, making sure no ambush was afoot. Chloe would never forgive herself if a needless transmission gave someone an audible target. If Socrates led her right to this lean-to or whatever it was, unless she was seen, she couldn’t be in any danger. If the other three were there—even if Stefanich was there—she’d still have plenty of time to call for the others.
Mac knelt in the cool dampness of the cramped cellar. The single bare bulb hanging from the ceiling revealed irregular shapes on the earthen floor. With his flashlight he tried to determine whether George had been mistreated. It was impossible to tell if those were flecks of blood among the footprints and indecipherable shapes. It’s where I would terrorize a hostage, Mac decided.
He shined his light in every corner, flipped off the cellar switch, and was headed upstairs when his phone chirped. Eager to get outside to the rendezvous but hesitant to be on the phone in the open air, he paused on the stairs and flipped it open. Was it his imagination or had he heard a voice from out back? He assumed Hannah would have done her perimeter scan and would be waiting with Chloe by the tree in front.
Mac didn’t dare say anything, so he just listened to the phone.
“Mac?”
It was Chang, but Mac didn’t want to acknowledge. He pressed a button on the keypad.
“Mac? That you?”
He pressed the button longer.
“Okay, you can’t talk, but neither can I until I can confirm it’s you. One beep if the following is true; two if it’s false: After the first book in the New Testament, the next four have exactly the same number of letters in their titles.”
Now Mac for sure heard a voice from the back. Male. Chang’s statement was true, but was it one for true and two for false or the other way around? He hesitated, listening while creeping to the top of the stairs.
“Mac would know this,” Chang said. “One if true, two if—”
Mac pressed one quickly.
“Could have been a lucky guess,” Chang said, and Mac closed his eyes. Come on!
“You have a contact in a very strategic location. Give me a beep for the number of letters in his sister’s maiden name.”
What? Chang would be so clever at a party. Okay, Chang’s the contact. His sister is Ming Toy. Three. Wait! Maiden name. Same as Chang’s. Wong. Four. Mac punched them quickly, now peeking out of the darkened shack toward the back. He could see nothing.
“Okay, Mac, right. Now listen. Talked to Stefanich as Konrad. He’s going to make his guys bring Sebastian to you, so stay put but don’t waste time. He claims they’ve found the underground headquarters and will raid it at midnight. I don’t have any numbers on the Co-op people there. Do you? One if yes, two if no.”
Mac pressed twice.
“I don’t even know that they have phones. Can you send somebody to help? One if—”
Mac beeped once.
“Are you in immediate danger?”
Mac beeped twice.
“Okay, so you’re somewhere where you can’t talk. GPS shows you still where I talked to you last. Someone there with you?”
Twice.
“Outside?”
Once.
“See them?”
Twice.
“Okay, you hear them. Have you got personnel outside?”
Once.
“Both?”
Once.
“I’ll let you go. You want me to stay on?”
Twice.
“Check in when you’re clear. I want to know we’re doing something for the Co-op there.”
Mac put his phone away and crept outside. Half a dozen armed Peacekeepers milled about by the car.
“I say we take it. We’ve hiked for hours.”
“No keys.”
“So hot-wire it.”
“Come on! Supposed to be only five hundred more meters.”
The Peacekeepers headed east. Mac circled around to the front. So Stefanich sent backup. Wonder if that’s all of ’em?
Neither Hannah nor Chloe was by the tree. Mac made a noise through his teeth, in case they were close by. Nothing. He knelt in the darkness. The Fifty was in place. The DEW was gone.
It felt to George as if Aristotle had turned left onto the road and driven east for about twenty minutes before pulling off to the side and waiting. He had once been able to keep track of the passage of time, but now he had to fight sleep. If he had to guess, George would have said they sat, not moving, for more than an hour. But neither would it have surprised him if it were actually twice that long.
Finally Aristotle said, “What do you think?”
“We could have gone long ago,” Elena said. “The place clears out early, and there aren’t that many people there anymore anyway.”
“Plato?”
“Yes, go! We’ve got to get back up here before long.”
It seemed to George that they eventually made their way out of the woods and off the gravel road to a main road and were heading south. Then they went east, and he had the sense, from ambiance and sound, that they were in a populated area, maybe a town.
“Get him out of sight,” Aristotle said a few minutes later.
Plato reached and grabbed George by the right shoulder and pulled him over to where his head now lay in the big man’s lap.
Aristotle soon slowed and seemed to be parking.
“No, no!” Plato said. “Around back.”
Once they finally stopped and parked, Elena said, “I’ll see if we’re clear.” George felt a cramp in his lower back but could do nothing about it. She returned and got back in the Jeep, shutting the door. “About twenty minutes,” she said.
“You got it?” Aristotle said. “Let me see it.”
“And it goes where?”
“About a foot below the top of the right door.”
“I never noticed before.”
“Can I sit him up?” Plato said.
“Better wait.”
Chloe stopped fifty feet in back of Socrates and guessed they were close to five hundred meters from the shack. He was bent over, hands on his thighs, breathing heavily. His pace had slowed the last hundred meters or so, and maybe he was trying to come up with an approach to his comrades that would gain him sympathy rather than hostility.
She was watching him carefully when she froze at the sound of footsteps on the gravel. Several. Not hurrying. Not sneaking. Just coming. She backed into the underbrush about ten feet off the road and knelt, the knees of her camouflage pants immediately soaked through and cold. She fought the temptation to hold her breath, fearing she would exhale right when whoever was behind her came by. Chloe knew it couldn’t be Mac and Hannah. There were too many.
She was out of sight of Socrates now and hated not knowing whether he was off again. If he was, he would find his team without her knowing where. And here came half a dozen Peacekeepers, weapons in hand. They were in no hurry, chatting, a couple smoking. Chloe tried to make it make sense. They seemed to have an idea where they were going. Same spot? She could follow them, and maybe more easily because of the noise they made.
They were ten feet past her, and she would wait another thirty seconds before venturing out. Her walkie-talkie gave two quick, staticky squawks, startling her. The Peacekeepers kept walking and talking, but she panicked. Though they hadn’t heard the sounds, if someone started talking to her, they’d hear that.
She reached in her pocket to turn off the radio, but in feeling for the right knob turned it up. Frantic to shut it off, she lurched, lost her balance, and flopped onto her seat. “Johnson or Irene, come in, please.”
Too loud!
Chloe leaped to her feet, yanked out the radio, squeezed the transmit button twice, shut it off, and set herself, readying the Uzi. The Peacekeepers had stopped and now crept her way.
Mac pulled out his radio and whispered, “Johnson here, Jinnah. What’s your ten-twenty?”
“One hundred yards northeast of rendezvous point.”
“You okay?”
“Ten-four. GC troops in the woods, sir.”
“Irene with you?”
“Negative.”
“The DEW?”
“Affirmative.”
“On my way. How many?”
“Guessing two dozen, sir.”
“Come back?”
“Minimum twenty-four.”
“Roger. Be sure you’re clear, cease radio transmission, and return to rendezvous ASAP.”
“Roger.”
So much for bluffing Stefanich. Either he wasn’t buying or he’s royally stupid.
“Johnson to Irene . . . Johnson to Irene . . . Johnson to Irene. Do you read?”
Mac looked at his watch, kicked the ground, pressed his lips together, and waited for Hannah.
Chloe stood in the bramble, finger on the trigger, feet spread in the mushy ground. The Peacekeepers stopped on the road, facing her position, close enough that she could hear their breathing. All six set their weapons at the same time. She could barely see them and assumed they could not see her. She held her breath and did not move.
“GC!” one called out. “Who goes there?”
Chloe entertained the hope that they would all six decide they hadn’t really heard anything.
“Show yourself or we spray the area!”
“Friend!” she called out. “GC here too. Sister on assignment. Cool your jets.”
“Armed?”
“Holding it over my head, Peacekeeper. Ten-to-one I outrank you, so don’t do anything rash.”
A big flashlight made her squint. Holding the Uzi over her head, she said, “Turn that thing off! We’re all here on the same assignment.”
The light went off. “Hand over the weapon, ma’am, and we’ll sort this out.”
“No, we’ll sort it out first. Now I’m tucking it under my arm to show my papers. Stand down now. So far you’ve been by the book and I can’t fault you.”
“Thank you. I’m going to need to turn the light onto your docs, ma’am.”
“Hold on, I got a smaller beam. Going into the pocket.”
With the weapon tucked and pointing her small flashlight at her papers, Chloe’s heart drumrolled against her chest.
“Superior officer, guys,” the leader said. “Salute.”
“No need,” Chloe said. “Good job. A little sloppy on the march, but at least you’re on time.”
“What were you doing in the bushes, ma’am?”
“Following orders. Now wait here for my CO and another officer, and we’ll go together.”
“That Uzi’s not official issue, is it?”
“Something to look forward to.”
“Really?”
“At my level it is.”
“Wow.”
“We still reasonably on schedule?” she said.
“About twenty minutes early, ma’am.”
“Stand by, gentlemen.” Chloe pulled out her radio and turned it on. “Officer Irene to Senior Commander Johnson.”
“Johnson! Oh, man!”
“Senior Commander!”
Chloe turned to the Peacekeepers. “A little decorum, please.”
“Johnson, go ahead.”
“Sir, I’ve met up with six Peacekeepers who will join us on the assignment. Standing by for you approximately 480 meters east of your position.”
“Six?”
“Ten-four.”
“Everything copacetic, Irene?”
“Ten-four.”
“For all I know, we could be surrounded,” Mac told Hannah. “You sure you weren’t seen?”
“Positive.”
“What is going on?” He called Chang and filled him in. “What do you think Stefanich is up to?”
“I’m in his mainframe, Mac, and there’s nothing there. Could be as bad as they’re onto you, or he’s still trying to cover.”
“But what’s he need all these people in the woods for? They mustering here for the midnight raid?”
“Seems out of the way.”
“Sure does. Unless they’re wrong about the location of the underground headquarters. We’re not far from where the pastor hid out Rayford. You think they’ve finally discovered that?”
“You’re a good thirty miles from there, Mac. I’ll stay on it, but I don’t know what to tell you.”
Aristotle said, “All right, let’s go.”
Plato shoved George up. Someone opened his door, and it seemed Plato and Aristotle each took an arm and guided him, while Elena opened doors. They led him about fifteen feet, up three concrete steps, and inside. Then about twenty steps down a corridor that from the echoes seemed narrow. Finally into a larger room.
Aristotle let go of George and walked a few steps away. “Ach! I can’t reach it. Plato?”
“Give me that.”
George heard what sounded like metal being slotted into metal, then a couple of loud clicks. Plato grunted. “What’s the secret here?” he said.
“Let me get the other side,” Aristotle said, and he was replaced at George’s side by Elena. If only I weren’t cuffed, George thought. That was when he would have taken his chances. Coldcock the girl, whip off the blindfold, race back down that corridor and outside, and hope for the best. But not with his hands behind his back. Any hesitation and she would shoot him, he was sure.
Plato and Aristotle grunted, and Aristotle said, “Push him in, Elena. Come on, Plato and I have to get back.”
Elena guided George forward, turned him sideways, and tried to force him through an opening apparently being held on each side by the men. He didn’t fit. “Give me another couple of inches,” she said, and they grunted louder. She pushed George through.
“Hold on now,” Aristotle said. “I don’t want him found cuffed and blindfolded.”
Hands reached in and unlocked the cuffs. “Toss me the blindfold,” Elena said.
George slipped it off and saw he was inside a dark elevator. Elena had a weapon pointed at him. Good thing for them, George thought, because Plato and Aristotle were totally occupied holding the doors open. Elena took the blindfold, shoved it in a pocket, and pulled a bottle of water from another. She tossed it in and said, “Cheers,” as the doors slammed shut.
George let the bottle bounce on the floor and tried to get his fingers between the doors. Just when he had found purchase he heard the key slide into its hole again and the throwing of the lock. He heard water sloshing and felt around in the dark for the bottle. He uprighted it and decided to save what was left for as long as he could.
With his arms spread, George could touch the walls on each side, and as he made a quarter turn, he realized the enclosure was square. It didn’t surprise him that the buttons on a panel were not working, but he could tell from the pattern that he was in a four-story building. The ceiling was less than a foot above his head.
George felt for loose panels, missing screws, anything. Everything felt secure. A thin, plastic panel had to be the cover for the light. He removed that and felt a small, circular double fluorescent tube. Next to that was a mesh panel. He pushed up hard on the side until it gave way, then ripped it down. Now he could feel the fan blades, dusty, oily.
His body was already heating, and his breath was short. Were these people crazy? A malfunctioning elevator might make a perfect prison cell, but did they want him to suffocate? George shed his sweater and boots and socks and sat down, his back against the door. He found a boot and began swinging it backward over his shoulder against the door.
“Knock it off or I’ll put you out of your misery,” Elena called out. So they had left her alone to guard him. He wanted to tell her that if they didn’t want a dead hostage to show to the brass, they’d better at least get the fan running. But he was committed not to speak. Not a word. And so he kept banging.
Chang had a bad feeling. Since the day he had been left as the only mole at the GC Palace, he had never felt so helpless. Was it possible Stefanich was playacting? They seemed to have him intimidated, eager to please. Even if he had checked on Mac, Chang had everything in place to make Howie Johnson look legit. He was certain Stefanich was embarrassed to find he had doubted this high-level Johnson character and should now be trying to cover that he had ever doubted him.
Chang was desperate to find out how vulnerable Mac and Chloe and Hannah were. Could they be walking into an ambush? Time was against him, but it might be wrong to just tell Mac to abort. Maybe they could hot-wire the car at the shack and get back to the airport, but Chang knew Mac wouldn’t abandon Sebastian. What if he was already dead? If Mac had been exposed, there was no reason for the GC to keep him alive.
Chang slapped his forehead with both palms. Think! If they’re onto Mac, why are they? If you can find the connection, maybe you can figure out what they might do.
Chang started a global search, asking David Hassid’s superpowered engine to match anyone at high levels in the palace with the GC at Ptolemaïs. He even keyed in code breakers, in case the contact person feared someone within the palace was monitoring them. With the computer whirring away, darting through thousands of files in hundreds of locations, Chang fell to his knees.
“God, I have never asked you to override a piece of equipment. But you know a servant of yours designed this, and I want to serve you too. Help me think. Speed the process. Please let me protect these brothers and sisters. I know from what happened at Petra today that nothing is beyond you. We have lost so much to the enemy, and I know we will lose more before your ultimate victory. But don’t let the Greek believers suffer more. Not tonight. Protect the Co-op. And help me get Mac and Chloe and Hannah and George out of there.”
Mac liked a clear mission, a black-and-white assignment. This one was infiltrate, then storm the gates, free your man, and hit the road. Now there was the underground complication. He wouldn’t leave Greece without his man, and now he couldn’t leave without defending the believers.
The original plan didn’t figure he and his people would be outnumbered. There were four hostage takers. Mac, his two team members, and George made four good guys. Those odds he could live with. But to walk Hannah down the road to Chloe and six GC, knowing there were at least two dozen more in the area, well, that didn’t make sense.
“Hold up,” he told Hannah. “You know how to hot-wire a car?”
“Do I admit it or not?”
“Just say so. Time is not on our side.”
“Yes.”
“Do it.”
While she trotted to Sebastian’s car, Mac radioed Chloe. “Johnson to Irene.”
“Irene, go.”
“Unforeseen delay here. Need your assistance.”
“Ten-four. Should I bring help?”
“Negative. Let them go on. We’ll catch up.”
“You heard the boss, gentlemen,” Chloe said. “We’ll see you at the destination.”
“We’d love to help the senior commander, ma’am.”
“Thank you, no.”
“Can we meet him later?”
“I’ll see to it.” And as she said it, Chloe was overwhelmed with a deep impression, and she had to express herself. “If you do me a favor.”
“Anything, ma’am.”
“Senior Commander Johnson’s presence tonight is a surprise for Commander Stefanich. He’s going to be compensated for some of his recent actions. So . . .”
“Don’t let on he’s coming?”
“Exactly.”
“You got it, ma’am. And you know what? We didn’t know Commander Stefanich was going to be here. Fact is, we don’t know what we’re doing here.”
Chloe blanched. What if Stefanich wasn’t there? “It’s all part of the surprise, boys.”
Chang knew God had protected him, probably more than he realized. But he had no reason to think God owed him anything or was obligated to act in this instance, just because Chang had asked. With zero confidence that his pleas had done any good, Chang wearily returned to his chair before the computer.
The screen was alive with red flashes. The search engine had reached secure files at the highest levels and was matching, comparing, translating languages, turning spoken word into written. A small box in the upper right-hand corner showed six matches already between some element of the GC operation in Ptolemaïs with top brass at the palace. Top.
Chang feared multitasking would slow the search, but he had to take the chance. Mac and the two women were in danger, outnumbered, without any idea what they faced.
He checked the first three matches and found they were routine interactions of Ptolemaïs administration reporting statistics to GC command. But the fourth was different. It was highest security interaction, a series of e-mails between TB and OT, plus more than one phone call, also between the same two, being reduced to typed transcription.
Chang keyed in, “Match logic?”
The response was immediate. “Meets broad, simple criteria: initials one letter removed from key personnel in GC Greece and GC Palace.”
Chang squinted. That’s what he had asked for: any connection based on standard search sequences and codes. TB was one letter away from SA. OT was one letter away from NS. Chang shot from his chair and stood hunched over the keyboard. He typed in, “Show interaction,” and as the files cascaded onto the screen, he called Mac.
Mac heard the car running and footsteps jogging toward him from the north and the east. “Ladies?” he said.
“Yes.”
“Yep.”
His phone buzzed. “Stand by. Hey, Chang.”
“Mac! I’ll say this once and get back to you as fast as possible with details. Ready?”
“Go.”
“Akbar and Stefanich have communicated personally several times today.” Click.
“Busted,” Mac said. “Listen up. No time for questions. Hannah, you’re driving. Chloe, you’re riding. Take the DEW, Uzi, and a sidearm each, phones on, radios on. Get to the Co-op now. Clear ’em out, including anything they don’t want found in a midnight raid. Then straight to the airport and wait out of sight for Sebastian and me, ready to hightail it to his plane. If we don’t show, that means we’re dead and you’re on your own.”
Mac bent and heaved the Fifty up against his chest. “Time to go to work, big boy,” he said.
Hannah and Chloe ran around the shack to the idling car.