The meeting broke up with Emma bringing the lights up and killing the illuminated table. The respective agents took their folders with the travel shots of their locales and the intel on the Memento Mori mercenaries. McCall picked up his folder with travel arrangement in London, England. Colonel Michael Ralston moved over to where McCall was standing with Assad Malifi.
“Where do I fit it in this?” Ralston asked. “I seem to be odd man out.”
Control moved over to the ex-Army Colonel. “I understand that you spent a lot of time in Greece, isn’t that right?”
“That’s right. Maybe eight, ten trips. I fell in love with the country. The heritage, the antiquity, with the people I met. Where is the rock concert being held?”
“Under the stars at the Rockwave Festival at Terra Vibe Park in Malakesa in Greece,” Assad said. “Emma will be giving the flight tickets and intel to you before you leave. I am going to be researching facial recognition profiles on several terrorist organisations.”
Assad departed with some of the other analysts. Gunner said: “I don’t know that I am cut out to be a spy.”
“You’ve spent your life as an army man,” Control said. “You’ve been flighting al Qaeda and ISIS attacks for years. If you will go to Greece I can’t think of a better man for the job.”
“Good enough.” Gunner turned away from the group, then swung back. “There was a mercenary on my radar when I worked with Captain Josh Coleman. His name was Jack Roslin. The last time I heard from him he was running a bar in Rhode Town called the Melete Craft Beer Bar and he had gone to ground in Greece. A very bad guy. He wore a signet ring on his right hand of a silver skull. I can look him up.”
“See if you can find him.” Control said.
Gunner shook hands with him and left the room with Mickey Kostmayer. When McCall was alone with Control and Emma Marshall, he reached down for the manila folder which had been handed out to the Company agents and said to Emma: “Bring down the lights.”
Emma was surprised by the request, but she moved immediately to the circular conference table and killed the overhead lights. Control returned to his chair at the table, also curious, and sat back down. McCall handed Emma one of the pieces of intel that had been handed out to the Company agents. She brought up a grainy black-and-picture of one of the Security Officers in the folder.
“I received a call from Hayden Vallance before I arrived here,” McCall said. “You know him.”
“Only by reputation,” Control said. He looked over at Emma. “He’s a mercenary who was with me during the shootout in San Antonio at the Riverwalk Hotel. He saved my life.”
“Don’t take it personally,” McCall commented, dryly.
“I won’t. You keep in touch with him?”
“From time to time. This photograph won’t mean anything to the other Company agents,” McCall said, “but I know this man.”
The face that glowed in the subdued lights around the conference table belonged to Ji-Yeon.
Control swung the photograph so that it faced him. “He is a Korean who is charge of the security arrangements for the refugee concert in Rome. It will he held in the Terme di Caracalla ruins which were constructed between AD 214 and 216 and are now a tourist attraction. Where do you know him from?”
“He was at the North Korean prison camp,” McCall said, “when I rescued Granny and the western prisoners who had been incarcerated there. He was visiting Commandant Myang-Sook-Jang before all hell broke loose. He kidnapped a young woman named Deva Montgomery who happens to be Liz Montgomery’s sister. Liz is a photojournalist who befriended Granny in the camp. Another journalist, Daniel Blake, was taken at the same time. I watched Ji-Yeon’s helicopter take off and disappear into the night. Granny has been making inquiries at the State Department that got him nowhere. Thanks to Hayden Vallance we may have a location for Ji-Yeon. He is a specialist in terrorist organizations, especially when it comes to al Qaeda.”
“But you’re saying Ji-Yeon is a known terrorist?” Control asked, incredulously.
“That’s never been proven. If anything, he is an anti-terrorist specialist who hires his services to countries who are alerted to terrorist activities.”
“Like this refugee rock concert.”
“That’s right.”
“But you are certain you saw him at that North Korean prison camp?” Control asked.
“It was only a fleeting glance,” McCall said. “There was a lot of confusion when the C4 explosives were detonated. Granny would know him without question.”
“Where is Granny these days?” Emma asked.
“He has been following a lead to Ji-Yeon’s whereabouts in Stockholm that Hayden Vallance led him to. But there is a credible scenario that Ji-Yeon will be attending the rock concert in Rome as a terrorist expert.”
“Unless you keep that intel from Granny,” Control said.
“I can’t do that,” McCall said. “Granny is like family. He may have resigned from the Company a long time ago, just like I did, but he has always kept in touch with me. From what I gather he went through hell in that North Korean prison camp. He deserves to know if Ji-Yeon will be in Rome.”
“Granny doesn’t work for the Company,” Control objected.
“Doesn’t matter. You will not be able to keep him away. Better if he makes the trip to Italy for the Company than as a private citizen trying to terminate a known terrorist. That will not get Deva Montgomery or Daniel Blake rescued. It will be their death warrant.”
Control sighed. “All right. I will reinstate Granny back into the Company. What he does after that is up to him. You go to London tomorrow, Robert. The concert will take place at the Royal Albert Hall on Saturday night. Nothing may come of these terrorist threats in these six countries, but we have to take them seriously.”
“Samantha Gregson is looking for payback” McCall said. “She has a score to settle with me. She gathered these Memento Mori mercenaries for a reason. She is every bit as dangerous as her ex-boss Malcolm Goddard. If innocent American citizens are being put into harm’s way, the death toll at these rock concerts will skyrocket. We can’t allow that to happen.”
McCall got to his feet, handed his manila folder to Control and exited the conference room.
The bar in the Liberty Belle Hotel had just opened. McCall had set up a slim laptop computer on the bar when Mickey Kostmayer walked in. He sat at one of the bar stools and McCall turned the computer around to face him. It was set up for a Skype call. Kostmayer looked at him quizzically.
“Did you get a further debriefing from Control?”
“In a manner of speaking,” McCall said.
He jabbed at the buttons on his cell phone.
“Who are you calling?” Kostmayer asked.
“Granny. He has been on the trail of a mercenary named Ji-Yeon who was at the North Korean prison camp before all hell broke loose. He rescued Liz Montgomery, the photojournalist, and others from the camp, but Ji-Yeon escaped in a helicopter and disappeared. He took with him Deva Montgomery, Liz’s sister and an Associated Press journalist named Daniel Blake. Granny flew to Stockholm, which turned out to be a dead end, but he got some intel that took him to Russia. He is now in the scenic town of Pylos searching for records pertaining to Ji-Yeon, who once lived there, but Granny’s hit another dead end.”
“But Control’s intel has found him?”
“Could be if it’s the same man. Ji-Yeon is coordinating the security at the Terme Di Caracalla ruins in Rome for the rock concert. His reputation against terrorist organizations is stellar. The fact he is a known terrorist himself is only known to Control and the Company. According to our intel, Ji-Yeon arrives in Rome tomorrow morning.” McCall gave Kostmayer a searching look. “You’ve been beating yourself up because you couldn’t go to North Korea to get Granny. This is your chance to put that right.”
McCall connected to Skype. The screen on the laptop brightened to show Granny sitting at an outdoor café in the town of Pylos nursing a black coffee. The quaint cobbled streets around him were crowded with locals. Granny looked at Kostmayer sitting at the bar with McCall.
“In case you’re wondering where I am,” Granny said, “I am in Pylos in Russia having a grand time. There must be two hundred tradesmen dressed in medieval costumes in the Old Town Christmas market where the locals are selling everything from pewterware, blown glass and intricate wood carvings. There is supposed to a cannibalistic old witch who lives in the woods outside the town in a Hansel and Gretel house which would make my day. There are great taverns and homages to the mood landscape painter Isaac Levitan and old churches including the renovated Church of the Resurrection and a wooden church circa 1699 that is to die for. But there is no sign of Ji-Yeon.”
Kostmayer said: “I’ve just come from a debriefing meeting at the Company with Control.”
“Not interested.”
“There were a lot of people you know there.”
“Still not interested.”
“Your quarry, Ji-Yeon, will be in Rome tonight or tomorrow morning.”
Granny stared at his laptop screen on the table beside him. “Is McCall with you?”
Kostmayer turned the laptop around slightly to include McCall.
“You were at that same debriefing meeting?” Granny asked.
“I was,” McCall said, “but I won’t be going to Rome. Control has reinstated you in the Company for the time being. Do you want this assignment or not?”
“Damn right I want it.”
“Mickey can bring you up to speed. Take it slow, Granny. If you’re forced to kill Ji-Yeon you won’t find out where he has taken Deva Montgomery and Daniel Blake.”
“Where do I go?”
McCall turned the laptop back to Kostmayer who said: “Meet me tonight at the La Fata Ignorante Restaurant in Rome at 9:00 P.M.”
“I’ll be there.”
McCall hung up the cell phone and slid out from the barstool. “Give Granny all the intel you can on Ji-Yeon.”
“Where will you be?”
“In London, England.”
McCall walked out of the Liberty Belle Hotel bar and was lost in the crowd in the lobby.
The next morning Granny stood in the Piazza del Popolo in the heart of Rome, looking up at the twin churches and the giant Egyptian obelisk that dominated the neoclassical square. He had met Mickey Kostmayer at the La Fata Ignorante restaurant the night before at Via Guiseppe Givlittt 5 which was an intimate, gorgeous restaurant for dinner. Granny had been very taken with some large oil paintings of what was surely the same person, a brooding blonde woman with dark, hypnotizing eyes. Kostmayer had brought him up to speed about the rock concert that was going to be held at the Terme di Caracalla baths and ruins. Kostmayer had already met with the concert promoters where they had discussed a proposed schedule for Saturday and how many security staff would be laid on. The Rome promoters were leaving nothing to chance. A raised stage had been erected with lights rigged up all around it. There was an impressive array of security personnel on the grounds and a hundred strong workforce already assembled.
Granny did not care about the details of the rock concert. Kostmayer told him that the head of Security, an expansive Italian named Benedetto Lombardi, had advised him that they were going to be working with an elite Security Officer who would be coordinating the concert. He had a stellar reputation working with European countries who required a high level of expertise. He was somewhat of a legend, but Kostmayer did not get a name for hm, except that he was known throughout the security circles as Ragnvard, a silent wolf.
“The name comes from Sweden and means a powerful fighter,” Kostmayer had said. “The man has incredible strength and self-control, according to Benedetto Lombardi. He described him as completely soulless and emotionally devoid of any personality.”
“My kind of guy,” Granny had murmured.
But he had to be sure that this phantom was, in fact, Ji-Yeon
Granny was positioned among the throngs of tourists surging through the Pizza del Popolo. The organizers of the rock concert had not emerged yet. Granny had found a place in front of a restaurant which was crowded with people. Across from him were the twin churches and the imposing obelisk that dominated the piazza. He was standing at an angle to them, watching the people who emerged from the churches. The size of the crowd was something of a problem. It surged back and forth like an amorphous being. Granny had a Fujinon KF8 x binoculars with him with phase correction-coated prisms for enhanced resolution for a linear field of vison for 1000 yards. He had been in the square since early morning. The rock concert promotors had gone to an address in the Piazza where they had been sequestered. They had visited the twin churches, the Santa Maria dei Miracoli and the Santa Maria di Montesanto, in the Piazza with their new Head of Security in the late morning. Granny had not been able to get a good look at Ji-Yeon in the crush of people who had emerged from the three-story building, which was when he had bought the compact pair of binoculars from a Fuji store. Now it was after 12:00 PM and his patience had been finally rewarded. The rock concert group spilled out of the twin churches, heading to a side street on the Via de Corso. Granny put the binoculars to his eyes in one swift motion, adjusting the center focus wheel.
Their Head of Security was, indeed, Ji-Yeon.
Granny adjusted the focus on the glasses and twisted the center focus wheel. If he had been looking for Ji-Yeon he might not have recognized him. The man’s face had been altered, and drastically. The cheekbones were still prominent, but they had blended in with skillful plastic surgery. The scarring was subtle. His eyes had also been worked on so that the Oriental look of them had been greatly reduced. The skin in his face was noticeably stretched and smoothed out. But Ji-Yeon had not been able to disguise his eyes. They were black and opaque.
They were terrifying.
Granny recognized him without a question of a doubt.
He put the binoculars back into his jacket pocket. He had to time it just right. He crossed the Via de Corso and took out a hammered silver cigarette case. He was looking over his shoulder at a gorgeous redheaded girl in her twenties. He waved jauntily at her, gauging the distance between her and a white Peugeot which was parked at the curb. Granny swung back, opening the silver cigarette case as he did so, and almost ran right into Ji-Yeon. The cigarettes spilled from his hand to the sidewalk. The three men accompanying the terrorist whirled and one of them reached inside his jacket where Granny was sure a gun was concealed.
Granny was certain that was no way that Ji-Yeon could recognize him. The Korean had never seen him in the prison camp. All of Granny’s dealings had been with Myang-Sook-Jang. As far as Granny was concerned, Ji-Yeon did not know him from a bar of soap.
Granny said: “Le Mie Scuca” and “Colpa Mia” in Italian, cursing softly to himself as he reached down for the spilled cigarettes. He was counting on a response from Ji-Yeon if nothing more than a common courtesy. The Korean terrorist leaned down and helped Granny pick up the fallen cigarettes. Granny stumbled a little bit, momentarily holding on to Ji-Yeon, thrusting his hand into the Korean’s tailored jacket. Then he knelt to pick up the rest of the cigarettes. When he had them all back in his hammered silver case, he straightened. Ji-Yeon took out a silver lighter from his suit coat and clicked it into flame. Granny accepted the light, nodding his thanks and moving away into the street.
The concert group moved down past the churches to where the white Peugeot was parked. Ji-Yeon climbed into the back seat with three others of the entourage. Behind the Peugeot a 2019 Fiat 500 was parked. The entourage got into the Fiat 500 and the vehicle pulled away after the white Peugeot, scattering the crowd in the Piazza.
Granny watched them leave. The concert promotors would be heading out to the Terme di Caracalla ruins with their new Head of Security.
Granny had got what he had come for.
He had planted the tiny silver bug right under the skin of Ji-Yeon’s wrist without leaving so much as a scratch. It had been a pinprick that Ji-Yeon would not have even felt. It was a trick that Granny had picked up from Brahms one time when he and Robert McCall had needed some sophisticated listening equipment. Granny figured that Ji-Yeon had come right from the airport, dumped his bags at the hotel and then he had come with the concert organizers to the building on the Pizza del Popolo. There might be intel that he could gather in Ji-Yeon’s hotel room. He would never have a better opportunity to look for it.
Granny took a cab to the Largo Antonio Sarti 4 in the heart of Rome. He got out in front of the Hotel Astrid, a luxurious Best Western with pale pink and cream décor that took up two blocks on a corner. There was a verandah on the 6th floor where Italian flags were displayed. Several wooden balconies were in evidence around the building. Granny pushed through the doors into the hotel. The lobby reception had a pale marble panel where two members of staff worked. Plush red couches stood in front of a green marble slab. A big sweeping staircase led up to the floors above. The lobby was a madhouse. A bus had just deposited forty tourists into the hotel and the beleaguered hotel staff were coping with the weary travellers with charm and grace. But there was a lot of shouting and demanding, which suited Granny’s purposes just fine. He wore a badge around his neck on a chain that Mickey Kostmayer had given him saying he was a member of the Terme di Caracalla rock concert staff.
Ji-Yeon had registered under his own name at the Hotel Astrid, which had surprised Granny, but he figured that he had several aliases that he used. His suite was on the sixth floor. Granny took the marble stairs and found suite number 604. There was no one in the corridor outside the suite. He took out a skeleton key that Kostmayer had given him and worked it into the door. The door finally opened. Granny put a Do Not Disturb sign on the brass door handle and closed the door behind him.
There were two rooms in the suite. The smaller one had a narrow made-up bed and a glass-topped table. There was a wardrobe which Granny slid open, but there was nothing in it. He moved to the second room, which was larger, although the twin bed took most of the space. There were two more glass-topped tables in it. The bed had been turned down, but not slept in. A Nike Brasilia Duffel Bag that been left below one of the glass topped tables. Granny opened the wooden wardrobe door in the corner. Ji-Yeon had four suits hanging up, all of them silk, black and grey. There was silken underwear in the top drawer along with handkerchiefs, black dress socks and a space for polished shoes. The suite was elegant and minimalist. Granny closed the wardrobe door and hauled the Duffel Bag from under the glass-topped table and placed it onto the bed. He unzipped it. He found it contained blueprints and documents in two glossy folders. He opened the folders.
The blueprints appeared to be a series of underground tunnels.
Granny had a momentary sense of déjà vu.
Had he not just spent a great deal of time in underground tunnels at the North Korean prison camp?
But these tunnels were different. They were hundreds of passageways that interconnected in a way that made Granny’s skin crawl. He could almost smell the death in the air of the necropolis.
He realized that he was looking at the ancient catacombs of Rome.
The door to the bathroom was partially open and the mirror above the enamel sink reflected a swathe of light.
Granny saw someone open the hotel room door.
Instantly he had a sense-memory of one of the plush sofas in the lobby area of the hotel. A man had been sitting there reading a copy of Newsweek. Granny had only seen him for a second. He had been aware of a dull sheen on the man’s right-hand finger which had not registered with him until now.
It had been a silver death’s head skull.
Memento Mori.
The intruder’s reflection flared in the mirror.
Granny stepped from the bed to behind the door in one fluid motion. The mercenary pushed open the door. Granny grabbed his gun hand and disarmed him, but the man twisted the gun out of Granny’s hand. It skittered across the marble floor right into the tiled bathroom. The man twisted into Granny and held him in a vicious headlock. The demon’s claw ring on his right hand glowed in the light refracted from the window. The mercenary squeezed Granny’s windpipe as he writhed in the man’s grasp.
He was losing consciousness fast.
An image came into his mind of a trick he had taught McCall years ago for breaking a head lock. McCall had used it when he had fought off Tom Renquist in the Texas Reginal Water Plant in Boerne, Texas and broken his neck. Granny struck with his rigid right hand. The muscles contracted violently as they expelled air from the attacker’s lungs. It was called an air dimmak point. Granny reached down and grabbed the mercenary’s right wrist and gouged the pressure points there, then followed it up with a rigid palm strike at the mind point on the side of the man’s chin. The assassin’s grip on Granny’s body slackened. Granny jabbed the colon points on the man’s upper foreman and wrenched from his grasp. He clubbed him while the assassin was reeling and brought his own arm around the man’s throat. In one fierce movement he pivoted and swung the man’s neck one way and then back the other way until his neck was broken.
Granny dragged the inert mercenary into the bathroom and dumped him into the shower. He staggered over to the window and opened it. The ambiance of the Rome street echoed around him. He took some deep breaths of fresh air. His throat still felt raw and enflamed. He had not expected an attack, but it told him that Rome was certainly one of the cities where the terrorists were going to strike. Granny closed the window, still dragging air into his lungs. He knelt at the shower and went through the dead man’s pockets. He had an ID and a driver’s licence in the name of Harry Brandt, but no credit cards or other ID. There was a tattered wallet-size picture of a young child about six years old, smiling self-consciously for the camera in a playground somewhere. The man had a daughter who would never again know her father. It gave Granny a moment’s pause. The sins of her father should not be transferred to his child. Harry Brandt had chosen this life of betrayal. He had paid the ultimate price, Granny thought, something all mercenaries paid in the end. He locked the bathroom door and returned to the main bedroom and picked up Ji-Yeon’s Duffel Bag. He put the diagrams of the tunnels and caverns that had been in Ji-Yeon’s folder and transferred them to his jacket pocket.
The bed in the room had already been turned down. He figured a maid would not be back until nighttime. It would take some time for the security force in the hotel to come up and break the door down.
Granny let himself out of the hotel suite, locked it and put the Do Not Disturb sign on the door handle. He went down the ornate staircase, found a side door that led out of the Hotel Astrid and disappeared into the throng of people in the Via de Corco.