Chapter Fourteen
Boomer turned out of the neighborhood and braked for a stoplight. “We can’t take Emmanuel back to the warehouse. There’s a safe house not far from here that we can use if we need to. But I’ll be honest with you, Savage. None of this is making a whole lot of sense. We’re still not even sure that this Recruit fella even took Kathleen. It fits his profile, but there’s nothing concrete to say it’s him.” The light turned, and he accelerated across the intersection.
Boomer was right. Granger had connected with an IT team at Langley, and together they were monitoring the gun forum, hoping to follow some digital breadcrumbs should The Recruit check the message. But that in itself was a shot in the dark.
I had been involved in investigations for over a decade. They had taken me all around the world, to a dozen countries and four continents. And it had to be this one, the most personal of all, that had me chasing my tail and crossing my fingers at every single step.
“I’m starving,” Boomer said. “You starving? Other than Teapot’s strapatsada I haven’t had a thing to eat all day.”
“I could go for a bite.”
“There’s this cool joint just north of the Parthenon. It’s Athens’ version of a hot dog stand. Except they’ve got these fried gyros that you can’t get anywhere else.”
“Fried gyros?”
“Trust me. It’s what you want.”
He turned hard at the next intersection, and we heard a thump from the trunk. Emmanuel cried out in pain. Boomer chuckled. “I love it when they do that.”
It was late afternoon by the time we turned downtown and rolled past the Parthenon. Sidewalks and shops were humming with tourists, most of them laden with fanny packs, cameras, and backpacks. Boomer pulled to the curb at Victoria Circle as traffic continued to roll by. “There isn’t much parking around here.” He pointed out my window. “See that little shack past the fountain, under the palms? That’s it. This street's one way, so I’ll have to go around a couple of times. I’ll meet you at the curb on the other side of the park, over by the statue of Athena.
He pulled out his wallet and handed me twenty euros. “And get me a Coke, too.”
“You’ve got it.”
I stepped out, and Boomer pulled back into traffic. The gyro stand had a line fifteen deep, and twenty minutes later, I was finally at the counter. The lady at the window scribbled my order, I paid her, gave her my name, and then stepped to the side to wait. A steady line of smoke drifted out of the shack’s vent pipe and was scattered by the breeze. The smell of fried lamb stirred my stomach and made my mouth water. If the gyros tasted half as good as they smelled, then Boomer had taken me to the right place.
The park was bustling. People of all nationalities were posing for pictures, eating on park benches, and passing through on their way to other attractions. Hearing my name called, I returned to the window, took the bag and two bottles of Coke, and started for the other side of the park. Just before I reached the curb, Boomer passed by and turned to make another revolution. I stepped beneath the shade of a sidewalk tree and waited.
A voice behind me said, “Beautiful day, is it not?”
As I turned to acknowledge the statement, strong hands grabbed me on either side. Before I could respond, an electrical current pulsed through my body, rendering my muscles temporarily paralyzed. The food fell to the concrete as my entire body lit up with internal fire.
The stun baton came off the center of my back, and I collapsed into the hands of the two men still on either side of me. Struggling was impossible, my body unable to respond to any command. They carried me to a waiting vehicle, and just before they shoved me inside, they jerked my gun from my waistband, dug out my phone, bound my hands with a zip tie, and forced a hood down over my face.
My feet were barely inside the car when the door slammed shut. I heard both men get in and the car rev into traffic. My heart was slamming inside my chest, my muscles screaming from the residual electrical shocks still pulsing through random muscle groups. I concentrated on my breathing and bit down on my bottom lip until the pain began to ebb.
Boomer hadn’t seen them take me; I knew that for certain. He had just turned around the south end of the park, and a cluster of trees, fountains, and monuments made it impossible to see from one end of the park to the other. Whatever this was, whatever these men had planned for me, I was on my own.
Soon after merging onto a motorway and picking up speed, I heard the crinkle of a paper bag and the soft crunch of what I could only imagine was a fried gyro.
“Is that my lunch?” I snapped. “Are you guys eating my lunch?”
The only reply was a happy, smacking sigh that comes after taking a swig of a cold soda. Soon enough, the familiar smell of fried lamb drifted through the hood.
We rode for over an hour, the hum of traffic gradually diminishing until the only sound was the low, consistent drone of the car’s engine and the whisper of its tires.
My mind raced through the possible scenarios. Had I gotten too close to the truth and didn’t even know it? If so, why hadn’t they taken Boomer too? Maybe they had. Maybe I was first, and they got him coming back around the park. Did they not get what they wanted from Kathleen and were trying me now? Or were they just taking me out of the city to get me out of the way and dispose of me?
There’s something unsettling about being forced into a car by
