Chapter III

Venice, Italy

ED MADDUX WASN’T SURE he should’ve been allowed to enjoy his position with the CIA so much. It didn’t take long for the romanticized idea of espionage to wear off, but Maddux latched on to other facets of the job that he relished more than he should have. He delighted in deceiving rival agents, though that was more necessary for survival than anything else. Utilizing the latest technological gadgets supplied to him by Rose Fuller were also moments he savored. But the travel—as devoid of glamor as it was at times—was a perk he couldn’t imagine relinquishing after less than a year of serving in Bonn.

His latest assignment satiated his growing wanderlust in both style and location, a dinner cruise around Venice, Italy.

With Medved still on the prowl, Pritchett opted against traveling to an unknown location without the kind of security required to keep him safe. He feared entering the public with an entourage was a sure way to paint a giant target on his back for the Russian super assassin. Pritchett often expressed how much more comfortable he felt in Bonn rather than other European cities, citing his familiarity with the area as an advantage should a pursuit ensue. More exit points, more hiding spots, more obstacles for a discreet assassin to take him out. But someone had to convene with Walt Kensington to get the scoop on what was going on in Belgrade and what the station chief had learned. This wasn’t the kind of conversation they could have over the phone, and with the messy state of affairs in Belgrade and the assassin hunting Pritchett, a face-to-face rendezvous was the best solution. Maddux’s ability to arrange a business meeting in Italy with relative ease resulted in him getting tapped to go and gather all the intel Kensington had to offer on the Russians’ super assassin program as well as the disappearance of Harvey Cordell and any news on Medved.

Following a short flight to the Venice Airport, Maddux caught a taxi to the docks before boarding a water taxi. Sharing the service with a handful of other passengers, Maddux found a seat along the outer edge. He closed his eyes, basking in the warmth of the autumn sun. He moved his head into the path of the periodic sea spray that splashed upward whenever the boat hit a large wake. The salt water felt good against his face. Since moving to Bonn, he hadn’t had a chance to explore the rivers around the city and see if any would make for a good location to row. But just the smell of the water and the feeling he got while bounding across the waves awakened his desire to row again.

The boat’s engine whined as it skipped across the water. After what felt like half an hour to Maddux, the captain throttled back on the power and eased the vessel into the busy harbor. He found a dockhand standing on the edge and calling out to every captain that passed by.

One of the attendants in the boat slung a rope toward the young man, who wrapped the twine around the dock cleat at the front before following suit in the back. Once everyone agreed the ship was secure, the passengers were escorted off. Maddux watched the captain tip the dock attendant, who thanked the captain before disappearing.

While Maddux wanted to take in more of the city, he didn’t have much time before the dinner cruise was scheduled to depart. Pritchett and Kensington agreed on the location because a ticketed event on a cruise ship gave them some modicum of control in a territory foreign to both Kensington and Maddux. And such a move made sense to Maddux, though he wondered what might happen if a KGB agent learned of this proposed engagement. Would Maddux and Kensington be easy targets in a confined area with no legitimate escape routes? Maddux hoped he wouldn’t have to find out the answer to that question.

When Pritchett explained the details of the meeting, he omitted the most vital information: what dinner cruise they would be taking. Keeping the location a secret was the best way to ensure that if either the Bonn or Belgrade station contained a mole, he wouldn’t be able to tip off Medved or the KGB about it. Maddux walked to an address he’d been given, which happened to be a small hotel. Once there, he asked the bellhop a coded question. He slipped a piece of paper out of his pocket and handed it to Maddux. He read the note: Il Marlin Volante, 19:00. After inquiring about directions to the floating restaurant, Maddux learned it would take no more than fifteen minutes to walk there.

With plenty of time to kill, he decided to walk around the city for a half hour before making his way to the restaurant. The savory smells wafted into the street, causing Maddux to grow hungrier by the minute. He crossed a bridge and watched a gondolier navigate along one of the canals. Eventually Maddux reached the Il Marlin Volante and asked about the cruise’s route during the meal.

He learned that the majority of the cruise would occur in the Venetian Lagoon, circling the area. However, the dockhand explained that the captain intended on navigating beyond the barrier islands and venturing briefly into the Adriatic Sea, mostly so tourists could claim they had traveled there. That was the portion of the cruise that concerned Maddux the most, leaving them trapped for some period of time.

A small crowd was already gathered, but it grew rapidly over the next five minutes. Maddux looked up to see waiters and waitresses scurrying around the ship’s open deck while making final preparations. The large boat had three decks, with the two lower decks stretching out farther than the previous one. Maddux refocused his attention to the growing number of patrons, trying to identify any possible miscreants. Most of the people came as couples, both old and young but all wide-eyed with anticipation of the romantic evening ahead of them. A few large groups were also present, though their topic of conversation was oriented around the large wine selection on the menu. Maddux didn’t notice anyone else boarding solo and wondered if Pritchett should’ve sent a companion.

Maddux trudged after the diners, who had been instructed to board the ship. Before he could brood over the potential misstep any further, he heard a man behind him speak softly.

“One if by land, two if by sea,” the man said.

“Paul Revere was lucky the airplane hadn’t been invented yet,” Maddux said, completing the verbal clue.

“Nice to meet you,” Walt Kensington said. The Belgrade station chief shook Maddux’s hand but didn’t wait for a response, instead turning to the pair of women flanking him.

“And who are these lovely ladies?” Maddux asked.

“This is Sophia and Francessca,” Kensington said, gesturing toward each one as he said their name. “They will be accompanying us tonight. I figured you wouldn’t mind these dames joining us.”

The two women forced a smile and nodded in unison. Sophia joined Maddux on his left.

“Shall we?” Kensington said, gesturing toward a table set for four.

They all sat down, the two women next to one another in order to give Kensington and Maddux space for a private conversation.

“Do you know these women?” Maddux asked as he studied the ladies who were already lost in a conversation.

“The less you know, the better.”

“But what if—”

Kensington put his hand out, signaling for Maddux to stop. “I know this might seem careless to a young buck like you who just entered the profession, but you’re going to have to trust me on this one. If someone believes I am passing secrets, the last thing I want to do is blow my cover by bringing two women from my station. For all I know, my entire unit is blown.”

Maddux shrugged. “Well, you’re the expert. I know you didn’t rise to the level of chief by acting carelessly in the field. I will gladly defer to your judgment.”

Kensington took a deep breath and then exhaled slowly through his nose. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back.

“Don’t you just love the smell of the open water?” Kensington asked as the boat lurched and embarked on its short journey. “It always smells like adventure wafting through the air.”

Maddux scanned the group of diners, all engrossed in conversation. “I prefer solid ground.”

“Weren’t you in the Navy?”

“I’ll try not to take offense—or wonder how you missed that in my file.”

“Take it easy, Ed. Just a little small talk appetizer before we commence with the main meal. But I guess it runs in the family. Your father was always wound up tight like you are right now.”

A man in a tuxedo strode out onto the middle of the deck with a microphone and welcomed all the guests. He explained how the dinner was structured and what would be served during each course.

Maddux stared at the host and watched his lips move but wasn’t listening to a word he said. Kensington’s off-handed comment set Maddux’s mind awhirl again.

“You knew my father?” Maddux asked.

“I’ve run into him several times over the years. He became a valuable ally for us while he was working in Belgrade several years ago.”

“Can you tell me what happened to him?”

Kensington sighed. “Look, I know that had to be tough just losing your dad overnight, but I can’t say everything I know. He was deep into some highly classified projects, stuff you don’t have clearance for. And frankly, not many people do. Your father was getting us information from behind enemy lines, and the fewer people that knew about him, the better.”

“And he’s still there?”

“I already told you that I can’t say anything else about it,” Kensington said. “But we came here to give you some classified information that happens to be a more immediate need.”

“Medved,” Maddux said, nodding. “What do you know?”

“To be honest, what I know isn’t much. Cordell was the one who was handling all the surveillance on the KGB training camp for these super assassins. But here’s what I can tell you—Medved is dangerous and likes to stalk his prey.”

“Seems like he’s been working quickly.”

A waiter eased in between them and filled their glasses with wine. Kensington swirled his drink around and put it up to his nose to inhale the aroma before taking a sip.

Maddux waited until the waiter was out of earshot before nodding at Kensington to continue.

“Maybe, but that’s predicated on the fact that you believe Medved is the only one of these special agents prowling around. Medved just happened to be the most notorious of the class of agents Cordell had been following. And if his intelligence was correct, the KGB wasn’t going to release all of them at once—but that doesn’t mean they didn’t release two or three.”

“So you think there might be more out there?”

Kensington nodded. “I’m inclined to think that Pritchett is being stalked by Medved.”

“Right now?”

“Even as we speak.”

Maddux narrowed his eyes. “And you didn’t warn him?”

“Of course I warned him,” Kensington said, bristling at Maddux’s insinuation. “As station chiefs, we all know we have a target on our backs if our cover gets blown over here. But he’s at an even greater risk now.”

“What makes you think Medved is stalking Pritchett?”

“Just a hunch really. But from what Cordell told me about Medved, that’s how he was trained. These super assassins will be tough to defeat in hand-to-hand combat, but their true intent is to remain ghosts, which means even their kills need to look like a natural cause or naturally accidental.”

“Anything else I need to know about Medved?”

Kensington raised his index finger and forced a smile before reaching into his back pocket. He produced a small black-and-white photograph of a man.

“I went back through Cordell’s effects after he went missing and found an undeveloped roll of film. He’d described Medved to me many times, so when I saw this photo, I knew it was him.”

Kensington pushed the picture closer to Maddux, who picked it up and studied it closely. As he studied it more closely, Maddux’s eyes widened, and his mouth fell agape.

“Are you sure this is Medved?” Maddux asked.

“Ninety-five percent sure,” Kensington said.

“Do you know who this is?”

“I already told you it’s—”

“No,” Maddux snapped. “I mean, do you know who this person actually is?”

Kensington shook his head. “Should I?”

“That’ s Gunnar Andersson, one of the top race car drivers on the Grand Prix circuit.”

“Maybe you should be the one briefing me.”

“I’m just in shock. Going to the KGB’s training facility seems like a brazen move for someone who has a world famous face for his exploits on the race track.”

“Perhaps he was planted there, recruited to do exactly what he’s doing. Racing gives him unfettered access to countries that might otherwise be difficult to penetrate. But a driver just walks into the U.S. or any of her allied countries with a simple flash of his passport and a friendly wave.”

“That might even be more frightening than the fact that super assassins exist in the first place.”

“It’s a dog-eat-dog world out there now,” Kensington said. “Nobody is pulling any punches any more.”

“Well, if this is Medved, you might be right about him stalking Pritchett. I read an article in the paper that said Andersson would be in Bonn testing out a new engine for his sponsor ahead of the Monte Carlo Grand Prix.”

“Pritchett needs to be extra careful then, maybe even get out of town for a while.”

“You know he’s not going to do that,” Maddux said. “The man is a battle axe personified. One eye, one arm, and a sharper edge than you.”

“Sounds like some slick marketing slogan, Maddux. You don’t happen to know anyone who does that for a living, do you?”

Maddux forced a smile. “I might know a guy.”

Kensington placed a packet on the table. “It’s not much, but I found a few more extra notes that Cordell took while staking out the training facility. Something in there might help you get a leg up on Medved.”

The waiter returned with their plates and glanced down at the documents. With a quick glance and a slight nod, he gestured for Maddux to move the papers to make room for the salad plate.

“Scusa,” Maddux said.

The waiter nodded approvingly and placed the food on the table.

“As we like to say here in Italy, buon appetito,” the host said over the microphone.

Delighted “oohs” and “ahhs” filled the crisp evening air, followed by the clanking of forks against dinnerware. Maddux and Kensington returned their focus to their companions for the evening, making small talk as they continued their meal.

After dinner, Kensington asked Maddux to take a walk with him on the deck.

“We’ll only be just a few minutes, ladies,” Kensington explained.

The two men descended to the middle deck. Kensington stopped about halfway down and stopped to look out across the water.

“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” Kensington said.

Maddux furrowed his brow. “Who? Francessca?”

“No, no. Venice. Just look at her, twinkling in the night against a rippling mirror at her feet. There’s no other city like her in the world.”

“That’s because most people are sane enough not to found an entire city on water.”

Kensington kept his gaze affixed on the city in the distance. “I would argue that most people don’t have the ability to imagine something like this. They see water and they think, no way. It’s not happening. But that’s not what a visionary does. They see opportunity even when it doesn’t readily present itself.”

“Are you a visionary?”

“I’d like to think of myself as one, but I’m a patriot above all else. If you live behind the iron curtain for as long as I have, you realize what our country has is something really special. We’re not subject to the whims of dictators. Even a wave of dissent seems toothless in our great republic.”

“No country is insulated from corruption. While our republic might be great, it’s still flimsy. That’s why we’re here, isn’t it?”

“We’re all here for different reasons,” Kensington said. “Some of us just want to see the world. Some of us truly want to protect our democracy. Some of us are looking for the right opportunity. What are you really here for?”

“It’s clear why I’m here—to protect all the wonderful privileges our great nation has afforded her citizens.”

“Is that the only reason?”

Maddux eyed him carefully but didn’t say a word.

“You see, I have this theory that you’re only here because you want to find out about what happened to your father,” Kensington continued. “And in my book, that makes you dangerous. You’re here for selfish reasons, cloaking yourself in the flag.”

“Maybe my quest to find my father pushed me into saying yes to the agency, but I can assure you that my intentions are honorable here.”

“Let’s hope so,” Kensington said. “I’ve found that men who join for ulterior motives find themselves adrift after a short period of time. And any agent who isn’t moored to the ideals and principles that we’re fighting to protect becomes susceptible to treason.”

“I appreciate your concern and the pep talk. But you don’t have to worry about me.”

The two men continued to stare out across the water at Venice in silence while the boat rocked gently with the waves. Kensington pulled out a pack of Marlboros and offered it to Maddux.

“No thanks,” Maddux said. “From what I understand, those things will kill you.”

Kensington chuckled as he flicked his lighter and lit his cigarette.

“There’s something I wanted to—” Maddux said before stopping abruptly as a bullet whistled right past him and stuck into the wall behind him.

“Move it,” Maddux said, pushing Kensington forward.

Both men hunched low and moved quickly across the deck. Another bullet shot past Maddux, this time hitting the deck just inches away from his feet.

“Come on,” Maddux said. “You’ve got to move quickly.”

They rounded the corner before they heard a final bullet smash the glass on the corner room.

“What the hell was that?” Maddux said once they reached the other side of the ship. They both sat down, sinking to the deck with their backs against one of the outer walls.

“Someone must’ve figured out who you were,” Kensington said.

“Our waiter,” Maddux said. “Had to be him. But how did he get off the ship?”

“Perhaps it was, but we don’t have time to solve foolish mysteries. You need to get that information back to Pritchett before we all become targets. I know he’ll know what to do with it.”

Sophia and Francessca almost strolled right past them before stopping.

“Gentlemen,” Sophia said, stooping down to look them in the eyes, “are you all right? You look a little shaken, Mr. Maddux.”

“I’ll be fine,” he said before rising to his feet. He offered his hand to Kensington, who took it and quickly stood upright.

“Where did you two go? We were looking all over for you,” Francessca added.

“I went for a smoke,” Kensington said.

“Those things will kill you,” Sophia said with a wry smile. She dug into her clutch and pulled out a pack of cigarettes, holding it out to Kensington. “Want another one?”

Maddux had seen enough of Venice from the water. He was ready to get back to Bonn and discuss what he learned with Pritchett. And Maddux wanted to do it immediately. Whether the KGB actually had super assassins was still a debatable notion; the fact that Maddux was being watched wasn’t.

Someone knew who he was—and they were trying to kill him.