Kathleen huffed through a smirk. “I’m not sure what line of work you typically find yourself in, but your good cop persona isn’t going to work on me.”
“I’m sorry. Good cop persona?”
“Your gentle manner, the nice room, the display of food is designed to make me think I am in the parlor of a king and not in the lair of a wolf. You’ve kidnapped a prominent member of a United States federal security agency. I’ve seen your face. You cannot honestly expect me to believe that I am going to give you what you want only to wake up an hour later on the threshold of my local embassy.”
He opened his mouth to reply, but she stopped him.
“You would have done as well chaining me in a dungeon with rats skittering past my heels, John. At least we both would be clear enough without any need for this facade.”
“I do not like putting people through unnecessary aggravations. On that basis, I was hoping we could come to an understanding and avoid any of the unpleasantness.”
“You were hoping that these little pleasantries would grease my tongue and”—she snapped her fingers—“just like that, I’ll give you what you want. Maybe it doesn’t mean anything to you, but the concept of honor, of trust—it means something to me. So no, John. No, I will not give you Simon’s location. He is a friend, and he trusted me. I won’t betray that.”
“Are you sure about that?”
Something in his tone, perhaps the quiet, confident way in which he said it, nearly gave her pause. But she stuck with her answer, nonetheless. “I am.”
“Yes.” He smiled. “I thought you might say that.” He clasped his hands and weaved his fingers together, set them in his lap. “Then I have two options in front of me.”
“Torture,” she offered.
“I prefer the phrase, ‘physical inducement.’”
“Clever. And I prefer the phrase, ‘torture.’ What’s behind door number two?”
“That, I think I will let you know soon enough.” He stood up and moved toward the door, stopped, and turned on his heel. “You must be curious how the search is going for you outside these walls?” She didn’t reply. “Your government has partnered with the highest of Greece’s security and intelligence forces and commissioned a highly capable team to locate you. Your ambassador and your boss, Mr. Watts, are being briefed at the top of each hour. And your favorite agent, Ryan Savage, recently arrived in Athens as well. So, yes. They have their nose to the ground. But rest assured, I am ten steps ahead of them. They will not find you.” His last words came with a proud smirk, and then he was gone, the key turning in the lock once again.
Kathleen released a breath and rubbed her face with the flats of her hands. She knew that her captor’s informing her of the investigation’s progress was intended to deflate her. And it worked, at least for several seconds. He had clearly planned well for this. There was a very real chance that things were about to turn ugly for her. She was prepared for that. She had meant what she said. Honor mattered. Simon was a good man, and there was nothing anyone could do to her that would make her give him up.
Still, she couldn’t fight back the unease that sat heavily on her shoulders. She smiled weakly to herself as she whispered her next words. “Right here, Ryan. I’m right here.”
Chapter Eleven
One hundred thousand crazed fans threw up a collective cheer that reached far into the heavens as the ball cruised over the bright white line and punched into the net behind the goalie. Emmanuel Samaras observed from the comfort of his living room couch as the seventy-inch flat screen conveyed the enthusiasm. The goal had brought his brother and his cousin to their feet, and now they were high-fiving each other and yelling excitedly at the screen.
Emmanuel didn’t get up, only took another pull on his beer.
“What’s the matter with you?” his cousin asked him. “We’re going to win!” Not waiting for an answer, he turned his attention back to the screen.
There were less than three minutes left in the soccer match between Greece and Italy. With this goal, Greece had just taken the lead. Emmanuel knew why his cousin was so excited; it was more than his love for the game. He had bet over a thousand dollars on the outcome, and he was about to get a sizable payout.
Emmanuel had bet on it too. Three times as much as his cousin. The money would be good. Very good, in fact. But he had more important things on his mind.
He jiggled his beer bottle to see how much was left and drained it. The players had returned to their positions on the field and were preparing for the kick-off that would restart the match. Emmanuel set his empty bottle near his feet and stood up without much enthusiasm. “I’ll be back,” he said.
His brother spread his hands and looked at him incredulously. “You’re leaving? Now? The game isn’t over yet. We’re about to win big.”
Emmanuel waved him off and went through the kitchen, exited out the side door, and stepped into the courtyard. Crossing it, he unlatched the wooden gate that opened onto the sidewalk. The door clattered shut behind him as he stuffed his hands into his pockets and walked in the shade of the poplars that lined the walls of the adjoining courtyards.
Automobiles shot by him, busses roaring and mopeds squealing as the fresh scent of the Mediterranean Ocean mingled with billowing exhaust and the smoky drift of grilled lamb rising from a restaurant’s roof vent across the street. He reached the corner and crossed when
