57 |
57 |Phaleron Delta Necropolis Athens, Greece
Tankov watched through binoculars as a car pulled through the gate of the dig site, two men exiting. A slight smile crept up his face as he recognized one of them.
“Does this change anything?”
He glanced at the driver, Vasiliev, and shook his head. “I know one of them. He’ll be unarmed. Let’s proceed.”
Vasiliev started the SUV’s engine and pulled out onto the road, merging into the light evening traffic, then put his signal light on, casually turning onto the unpaved road leading to the gate.
“Quick and clean, people,” whispered Tankov, a smile on his face as all four windows rolled down to greet the private security and police that approached.
Vasiliev leaned out the window. “We were hoping for a tour. Any chance?”
One of the officers appeared annoyed and jabbed a finger at the road behind them. “No tours. Back it up and move along.”
Vasiliev nodded. “Sorry to hear that.”
“Now.” Tankov raised his Remington 870 Tac-14 shotgun and fired a single Taser eXtended Range Electro-Muscular Projectile into each of the two guards in his arc, the others taking out their targets equally as efficiently with the XREP rounds. Somebody shouted from the other side of the gate and Vasiliev hammered on the gas, blasting through it as they raced toward the grad student’s car, its location identified by the advance team.
And where the two new arrivals had parked.
Tankov fired another round at what appeared to be private security and frowned as the non-lethal shell they had been using embedded itself uselessly in the man’s vest.
He cursed. “Okay, switch to lethal.”
Reading dove for cover as gunfire tore across the parking lot. At least half a dozen were down at the main gate, and whoever was in the SUV appeared extremely well trained, their shots far too efficiently taking out what security remained.
Heavy gunfire erupted from one of Leather’s Greek team, taking out the engine block, a burst of steam hissing from under the hood, bringing the attackers to a halt, though not halting the attack. Four doors opened and an equal number of hostiles emerged as Reading repositioned near one of the Greek team.
“Weapon!”
The man tossed him a Glock without looking, then two magazines. “Make’em count.”
Reading sprinted as fast as his old bones could carry him to try and set up a crossfire when someone cried out behind him. He dropped to the ground, rolling behind a vehicle, then cursed as he spotted the man who had armed him, lying on the ground, out of commission and perhaps dead.
Nicolo slammed into the car beside him, his weapon at the ready. “What are we going to do?”
Reading shook his head, scanning the area before popping up and firing several rounds ineffectually. “I suspect we’re going to die.”
“Not today, Agent Reading.”
They both spun to find one of the attackers standing behind them, a gun in each hand, trained on them both. Reading cursed, tossing his onto the ground, Nicolo doing the same.
Reading stared up at the man. “Do I know you?”
The man shook his head as the gunfire dwindled to nothing, the battle lost. “No, but I know you.” He flicked his weapon. “Get up.”
They both rose, Reading with a little more of a struggle than he cared to have had witnessed by others. He brushed off his clothes, then stared at the man. “How do you know me?”
“I know your friends. Two annoying archaeology professors.”
Reading frowned. “And how do you know them?”
The man shook his head. “Unimportant.” He motioned toward Pulos’ car. “I see you figured it out.”
Reading nodded. “As did you.”
The man ushered them over to the car, the others joining them, taking up covering positions, then raised his weapon to shoot out the trunk’s lock.
Nicolo cleared his throat, holding up a key. “Perhaps I can be of assistance?”
The man chuckled, stepping back. “Please.”
Nicolo unlocked the trunk, the lid popping up automatically. They all leaned in, then smiled at the sight.
A large item, wrapped in a blanket.
The man flicked his wrist. “Agent Reading, would you do the honors?”
Reading stepped forward and carefully unwrapped whatever the blanket was protecting, but with each turn, any doubts he might have had as to what it was, faded.
As well as any doubt as to who the thief was.
She lied to us the entire time.
With a final pull on the blanket, the urn was revealed, and Reading, as was so often the case, was underwhelmed.
Just another clay jar.
He stepped back. “Is this what you were looking for?”
The man nodded, then snapped his fingers, two of his men rushing forward with a large case. The urn was packaged carefully, probably to standards Acton would have been pleased with.
Reading turned to the man. “Now that you have what you came for, will you release Professor Galanos?”
The man regarded him for a moment, then shook his head. “Agent Reading, we never had her.” He raised his shotgun and fired, hitting Reading square in the chest.