The Grecian Manifesto (2 page)

Chapter 2

Corfu, Greece

Dimitris Gikas was not a man who was accustomed to being
disappointed. People, whose net worth ranged in the billions rarely were.
However, at the moment he was extremely frustrated.

He finished chewing on a piece of lamb in rosemary
burgundy sauce as he listened to his head of security describe what had
happened. Gikas had sent Thanos to the United States on what he believed would
be a simple errand. All he had to do was fly to Florida, pick up Sean Wyatt,
find out what he knew about the antikythera, and then kill him.

If Wyatt knew nothing about the device, it was not a
problem, so long as he ended up dead.

Gikas sat on his stone patio, looking out across the
northern Ionian Sea. He held the phone close to his ear while Thanos explained
what happened. “Four men got to Wyatt before we could do anything, sir.”

A gentle sea breeze rolled up the grassy hill and through
Gikas’s short, black hair. It was a perfect day in the Ionian Islands, near the
border of Greece and Albania. Days like today he loved to spend outside with
his dogs and a good bottle of wine, produced at one of the many vineyards he
owned across the region. Thanos’s call had ruined any possibility of a relaxing
day.

He stood up from the iron bistro table and paced along the
stones to the edge of the grass. His head turned sideways for a moment, and he
gazed across the wavy hills of grape vines extending far to the east. “What do
you mean before you could do anything? You have men under your command. Could
you not ambush the group and do what I asked you?”

Thanos had worked for Dimitris Gikas for over a decade.
When Gikas expanded his financial empire to the tech realm, it had become
apparent he would need an enforcer to help keep some things in line. Being no
stranger to the seedy underworld of organized crime, Thanos had come highly
recommended. His reputation for cruel efficiency had been a trait Gikas had
admired in himself, and was one he certainly wanted for the person in charge of
security. Of course, head of security was a title that hardly fit the work
Gikas had Thanos carry out on a regular basis.

The tall, muscular bodyguard had come from the Greek army
and would have made an excellent soldier. When he couldn’t play by the rules,
the military kicked him to the curb where Thanos began to make his own rules in
the underbelly of society. He worked a few legitimate jobs as a nightclub bouncer,
but it was hardly the work he was meant for. When he got a little too
aggressive and nearly killed a man with his bare hands one night, the courts
were about to send him to prison for a long time. Gikas made sure that never
happened. With a few political donations and a little persuasion, Thanos had
been released from jail. As soon as his feet hit the pavement, a black BMW 5
Series with darkly tinted windows picked him up.

In the back had been a short man with a stubble-covered
face, dark hair, and a broad torso. Gikas remembered seeing Thanos for the
first time and thinking he was the tallest Greek he’d ever set eyes on.

He pushed aside the memory and listened to his chief
bodyguard’s explanation. “They appeared to be U.S. government, sir. I don’t
know which branch. If I had to guess, I’d say FBI, but they could be something
else.”

 
“And you had
no way to take out the vehicle?”

There was a pause on the other end. “No. The roads are too
crowded down here. Too many witnesses.” Thanos’s raspy voice sounded as
frustrated as Gikas felt.

“Where did they go?” he asked, rubbing a free hand across
his sweating forehead.

“We aren’t sure yet,” Thanos answered. Knowing the
response would anger his employer further, he continued. “We are still
following them. I sent the men in the other car into Wyatt’s shop, though, and
had them search the entire place. They said there was nothing but a bunch of
kayaks and boards in there.”

Gikas drew in a long breath and sighed. What were federal
agents doing apprehending Sean Wyatt? The timing was strange, too strange to be
a coincidence. There was no way the United States government was aware of what
was happening; at least that’s what Gikas forced himself to believe. He knew
their tentacles reached far and wide across the globe, but Gikas had kept to
the shadows, carefully orchestrating everything from behind the scenes.

While the Greek economy continued its downward spiral,
Gikas had continued to make enormous amounts of money from other places in the
world. He was careful to keep his assets where they couldn’t be touched by his
greedy government, who desperately sought to snatch up everything they could
from the few wealthy people left within their borders. Gikas had no intention
of leaving his homeland. To the contrary, he had his sights set on the highest
prize possible.

The death knell was about to ring on the Greek government.
The country’s reckless spending and lack of a stable gross domestic product
meant they sent way more money out than they had coming in. Importing things
from all over Europe and the United States had resulted in a leaky economy that
no one could fix. Most of the wealthy people in Greece had under-the-table
deals with government officials. They’d allowed their federal deficit to swell
despite knowing the problems that would ensue. What did they care? They would
be rich, and rich people could figure out a solution later. Gikas knew that it
was only a matter of time until the outcry of his people would lead to a change
in regime. When that day arrived, he would be ready to give them a leader and
return the ancient country to its former glory under a new monarchy.

It would be a glorious tale, too. When he was just a
child, Dimitris Gikas spent long days in his parents’ vineyards and wineries.
At the tender age of six, both of his parents had been killed in a car
accident. Young Dimitris was sent to an orphanage, where he first learned the
hard lessons that life had to offer.

He was small for his age, and was regularly picked on by
many of the other boys. What he lacked in physical stature, though, he made up
for in wits. By the time he was nine, Dimitris was making a few dollars a week
selling cookies to people in town. He’d discovered a local baker who threw out
cookies at the end of each day, knowing he would be unable to sell them the
next. Dimitris had never been shy, and asked the baker if he could have the
cookies. The man was happy to give them to the child, since he was only going
to throw them out anyway.

Dimitris took the cookies down the streets of the city,
selling them to every person who passed by. Each day he would make his way back
to the orphanage with a pocket full of money. It was always a precarious
proposition to sneak past the other boys without them noticing. Every night
when he went to sleep, he dreamed of the day he could return to the family land
where the vineyards rolled through the countryside, and the ocean sea breeze
washed over the land.

Dimitris never took a keen interest in school and didn’t
excel. He didn’t understand why it was important to learn things he already
knew about, or didn’t need to know about. He did, however, continue his
entrepreneurial ventures. He’d taken his little cookie business and expanded
into other products. When he reached his seventeenth birthday, Dimitris Gikas
had four different businesses going simultaneously, and they all brought in
more money than some of his teachers made.

Even with all the early success, Dimitris Gikas was never
satisfied. One of his teachers had told him they’d never seen such an ambitious
young man before. He took offense to the comment, but said nothing. Dimitris
didn’t want to be looked at as some charity case who was doing something cute
with his businesses. He wanted to be the wealthiest person in all of Greece. Because
of that, he had developed a desperate thirst for power.

Maybe his quest for control and absolute authority had
come as a result of several instances where he’d been beaten senseless by other
children. The fact that he had successful businesses at such a young age
brought a great deal of undesirable attention to the young Gikas. At one point,
some of the boys in his school had beaten him so badly that he feared he might
go blind from the wounds to his face. When he didn’t, he swore that someday he
would get his revenge.

Now, he was worth billions, and the boys who had beaten up
on him in school were working menial jobs in his companies.

His thoughts returned to the present. There were only two
other men who could challenge him for a position as sole ruler of Greece. One,
Kostas Maragos, had built his wealth through the dairy industry. While Maragos
had a considerable amount of money, it was far less than Gikas. Maragos,
however, had ties with the current government. Those ties could potentially
prove problematic if it came time for a new election. Gikas was done with
elections. It was time for a return to the old ways.

The second man actually wanted the same thing as Gikas.
Vasilis Leventis believed in what some of the ancient Greek philosophers
taught, which was that the only stable government was a monarchy. Democracies
and republics were temporary forms of government at best, some of the ancient
sages had written, and would eventually crumble to the whims of popular
opinions.

While Leventis was ambitious, he also had his own set of
problems. Through an extensive amount of research, Gikas discovered some of his
opponent’s deepest, darkest secrets. They were weaknesses that Gikas could use
to his advantage. Leventis would be easy enough to eliminate. Maragos, on the
other hand, would take a little more discretion. The dairyman was as squeaky
clean as anyone Gikas had ever come across. Getting Maragos would be tricky,
and they were running out of time. The government’s total collapse was imminent
and could literally happen any day.

“We are following the vehicle Wyatt is in, sir,” Thanos
said. “For the moment, they are heading east. I will keep you informed of any
further developments.”

“Make sure that you do. We need to find out if he knows
anything that the girl isn’t telling us, but if that isn’t an option, you know
what you need to do.”

“Of course, sir. He will be taken out of the picture.”

Gikas ended the call, set the electronic device back down
on the table, and looked across it at his dinner companion. She was beautiful,
with a slender, athletic build and hair like dark chocolate cascading over her
right shoulder. Her pinkish-red lips were plump like thin berries, and her lightly
tanned skin looked like creamy mocha.

She said nothing, though in her eyes Gikas could tell she
wanted to yell a million things. Actually, she probably wanted to jump across
the table and snap his neck, something he knew she was fully capable of from
his intel on her. The deadly set of skills she possessed were the main reason Gikas
had three armed guards watching her around the clock.

His patience was wearing thin with her. He’d tried to be
cordial, despite the fact that she was his prisoner. All he wanted was some
information that he believed she possessed. For the last three days, though,
she had produced nothing and seemed as though she intended to keep whatever
knowledge she had a complete secret.

“I just got off the phone with my men in the United
States,” Gikas said, plucking the glass of wine from the table and holding it
out with his arm half cocked as he sat down. He crossed one leg over the other
in dramatic fashion, exposing pale feet that dipped into black slip-in shoes.
“They said that someone else got to your boyfriend first. I wonder who else he
might have angered.”

The woman in the chair opposite him remained silent, her
arms crossed over the tight gray T-shirt she wore.

Gikas took a long sip from his glass, and then set it back
down on the table. “You haven’t eaten much,” he said and motioned to the lamb
and vegetables in front of her. “I assure you it is not poisoned. If I wanted
to kill you I would have already done it. You must be hungry, so please, eat.”

She stared at the food for a few seconds, contemplating.
She’d fasted before, but it was going on the third day since she had eaten
anything. Water had been the only sustenance to pass her lips since she’d been taken
captive. Her instincts gave in, and she devoured the food, first tearing into a
piece of bread, and then some of the meat. In a few minutes, the plate was
completely clean.

Gikas watched with a creepy smile, as if he were staring
at a caged animal eating the morsels from his hand. “That’s better.”

Her eyes darted up from the plate, and her face washed
over with guilt. She wished she hadn’t had to eat his food, but she couldn’t
let herself starve. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

He folded his hands and placed them on his knees. “Now,
tell me everything you know about the Eye of Zeus, Miss Villa.”

Chapter 3

Florida Panhandle

Sean pulled the iPhone out of his pocket and entered the
pass code.

“What are you doing?” agent Yarbrough asked, casting a
wary glance out of the side of his eye, at the same time keeping focused on the
road ahead.

Sean’s thumbs flew across the digital keypad with speed
and accuracy. It only took a few seconds for him to finish the text to Emily
and hit the send button. “Just doing a little background check on you.” He
flashed a mischievous glance at the driver. “I hope you don’t mind.”

Yarbrough turned his head and looked directly at Sean with
a quizzical expression. “Background check?”

“I know you showed me your ID back there, but I like to be
thorough. Figured a guy from the Secret Service would appreciate that.” He
smiled wickedly and looked out the windshield. “Don’t worry. Just a friend in
the Justice Department who can tell me if you’re legit or not.”

The driver shrugged. “Would it make a difference at this
point? You don’t really have a lot of ways to escape now.”

It was a valid point, but one Sean had already considered.
His training and experience taught him to always look for an out, always keep
your eyes open and be ready for when a window could appear.

“Probably not,” Sean agreed, while eyeing a grassy field
that zoomed by. His phone vibrated, and he glanced down at the screen. There
were only two lines.

“He checks out. You
okay?”

“Emily says you’re okay, Yarbrough. Guess I’ll have to
make my escape some other time.” His eyes took a moment to peer into the
rearview mirror. There were so many cars out on the road between Destin and Pensacola,
but Sean had seen one in particular that caught his eye for the last hour. It
wouldn’t have been strange, given the fact that there were hundreds of
thousands of vacationers in Florida at that time of year. The black BMW sedan
had remained several cars back over the course of the last forty minutes,
almost as if they were trying not to follow too closely. In their attempt to
remain inconspicuous, the driver of the sedan had made it obvious as to what
they were doing.

Sean looked back at Agent Yarbrough with a blank stare. He
waited for a second, as if hoping to get a reaction. When Yarbrough said
nothing, Sean spoke up. “You do realize that you’re being followed, right?”

Yarbrough’s face contorted into a frown, the kind that
people get when they feel like something they just heard is crazy. His eyes
took a quick peek in the rearview mirror. “Who’s following us?” he asked
finally. “I haven’t seen anything unusual.”

“Maybe not,” Sean said, slipping his phone back into a
pocket. “But that black BMW five cars back has been five cars back ever since
we left Destin.”

Yarbrough took another look in the mirror. “So? There are
a lot of cars on this road.”

“That’s a 5 Series, Ger. Those things were made to run.
When was the last time you saw one of those driving so slow?”

“Maybe it’s an elderly person behind the wheel?”

Sean raised a skeptical eyebrow. He noticed a convenience
store ahead, which gave him an idea. “Pull into that gas station up there on
the right.”

“Mr. Wyatt, we really are in a hurry. I appreciate your
concern, but—”

“A. don’t call me Mister Wyatt. You can call me Sean. B.
just trust me. Wouldn’t kill you to top off the tank anyway. If they don’t
follow us in then we pull back on the road.” His rationale made sense,
especially considering the implications. “You lose thirty seconds at worst if
I’m wrong.”

The filling station was approaching quickly. Agent
Yarbrough had to act fast. Sean stared at him from the other side of the car,
as if willing him to do what he requested.

“Fine,” Yarbrough said and flipped on his blinker. “But I
do believe you’re being paranoid.”

“Maybe I am,” Sean said and leaned back in his seat. He
cocked his head to the side to watch the rearview mirror to see what the BMW
would do.

As Yarbrough slowed down and steered the SUV into the gas
station, Sean watched as the black sedan continued down the road. He couldn’t
see through the darkly tinted windows, but within a second the car had passed
on down the road. His heart sank at being wrong, but he also felt a twinge of
relief.

Agent Yarbrough noticed the BMW passing the entrance to
the station and shook his head. He pulled the SUV into one of the pumps and
switched the car off.

Sean expected him to say something about being paranoid,
but instead Yarbrough let it go. “We need to get gas anyway. It will just take
a second.” Sean was glad to see the younger man was respectful enough not to
gloat.

The other guys in the back were not so forgiving.
“Probably a good thing you hung it up with the Justice Department a few years
ago, huh?” one of them said.

Sean didn’t even turn around. He’d seen young guys like
that before. They were cocky and arrogant, but the most important thing they
seemed to forget was that they were in a job where their lives could change
within the second. Maybe they got used to it, always being in the line of fire
for the president. Sean never got used to it, which was why he walked away from
Axis after only a few years of service.

He stared at the leather dashboard for a moment, ignoring
the laughter from the backseat when he caught something out of the corner of
his eye. Sean turned to the left and saw the black sedan turning into a fast
food restaurant a few hundred feet down the road. He peered through the window
as the BMW looped around behind the restaurant and disappeared on the other
side.

Agent Yarbrough finished pumping the gas and got back in
the car. Sean looked at him and wondered if he’d seen what the driver of the
other car had done.

“Yeah, I saw it,” Yarbrough answered the unspoken
question.

“Saw what?” asked the disrespectful guy in the back.

Sean turned halfway toward the rear. “The car that was
following us pulled into that burger joint over there.” He pointed in the
direction of the restaurant.

All three of the men in the back twisted their heads to
the left. “So? Maybe they’re hungry,” said the one in the middle.

Yarbrough interjected. “You don’t think it’s odd that they
skipped the drive-through and all those empty parking spots on this side?”

No one said anything else. Yarbrough started up the
engine. He flicked his head in the direction of the right side of the dash.
“There’s a nine-mil Sig in the glove box. You might want to take it.” His face
became immediately concerned. “Looks like you were right, Sean. And the only
thing they could possibly want from us is you.”

Sean opened the glove box and removed the black weapon.
He’d always liked Sigs, though his loyalty to Ruger and Springfield were well
rooted. “Always good to be wanted,” he said jokingly.

Yarbrough guided the vehicle back onto the main road,
heading in their previous direction. He watched out of the side of his eye as
they passed the fast food restaurant, catching a glimpse of the black sedan
waiting on the other side. The windows were darkly tinted, but not enough to
keep the car’s occupants completely hidden. Sean saw the four men as well,
appearing as if they were waiting on something.

“Any idea why they’re so interested in you?” Yarbrough
asked and jammed his foot on the gas pedal.

“I’m still not sure why the president is interested in me.
Care to fill me in on that one?”

The agent merely shook his head.

Sean wasn’t surprised. “Of course not. So, I have two
groups of people after me, and I have no idea why. At least when I worked for
Axis I knew why I was being chased, and who was doing the chasing.” He stared
into the rearview mirror, observing the BMW as it pulled back onto the main
road, several hundred feet behind them.

Yarbrough’s eyes shifted to the mirror on the windshield. “We
will be at the airport within five minutes. I hope we don’t have to hold them
off. On a crowded road like this, there are too many civilians.”

Sean had considered the same thing. Collateral damage was
something he had always tried to avoid, especially when the collateral was
people’s lives. He took another peek in the side mirror to make sure the sedan
was still back there. It was four or five cars back and impossible to tell what
the men inside looked like. He scanned the road ahead and saw the fencing of
the airport.

“Almost there,” Sean said with a hint of relief.

“Yeah, except the entrance is on the other side. We have
to turn off the main road to get to where our plane is.” Yarbrough’s
explanation dispelled any sense of reprieve Sean may have felt. The driver
touched his earpiece and spoke again, this time to someone inside the airport.
“Ballard, get a car to the front of the gate. We’ve got a tail. As soon as we pass
through, blockade the entrance.”

Sean didn’t hear the response but he imagined that
somewhere inside the airport fencing, another group of Secret Service agents
were hurriedly carrying out the order.

“There’s the access road,” Yarbrough said, pointing to a
street that shot off the main highway.

“Looks lonely,” Sean said, looking at the side street.
“Which is probably just what they want.”

He heard rounds being chambered by the men in the back of
the Denali. They held their Sig Sauer’s close and at the ready.

Yarbrough switched on the blinker and veered the vehicle
onto the side road. As the broad side of the SUV swung around, Sean got a
better look at the trailing BMW, but still no visual of the men within it.

“Hang on,” Yarbrough barked, and then mashed on the gas.

The Denali lurched forward, forcing the occupants’ heads
back a little as it accelerated. A quick glance back in the mirror told Sean
exactly what he’d expected. The sedan turned sharply onto the road and closed
the gap quickly, despite Yarbrough’s quick trigger on the gas. In mere seconds,
the much faster Bavarian car was on the SUV and tightening the space between
the bumpers. Thick flatland forest blurred by outside as the two cars sped
along the deserted road.

The BMW merged into the left lane, intent on pulling up
next to the Denali. Yarbrough repeatedly glanced out the side of the vehicle as
both of the sedan’s passenger windows began to open. When he saw the black
barrels protrude through the openings, he didn’t wait for the men to fire.
Instead, the Secret Service man slammed on the breaks and let the German car
push ahead.

The driver of the BMW adjusted and slowed down, which
turned out to be a mistake. Yarbrough punched the accelerator and the Denali
hurtled forward again, slamming hard into the tail end of the sedan. The front
vehicle shimmied for a second, but the man at the wheel corrected and sped up,
getting clear of the SUV’s grill. As soon as the car had opened up a small
space, two men with handguns leaned out of the rear windows. The one on the
left, a blond guy in a white polo, opened fire first, sending a volley of metal
into the windshield of the Denali. A few white streaks splashed across the
glass as the stray bullets deflected harmlessly away. The guy leaning out the
right window of the BMW began firing as well, aiming low at the vehicle’s grill
and tires. Sean ducked for cover as the rounds continued to pound the front of
the vehicle.

“Bulletproof glass,” Yarbrough said and stomped on the
brakes.

“Yeah, but the tires aren’t,” Sean said, sitting back up
in the seat. He yanked the slide back on the Sig Sauer and rolled down his
window.

“Sean, get back in the car. Let my men handle this.”

His order fell on deaf ears. Sean had been out of the game
for a few years, but not so many that he was useless in a gunfight. “Old
habits, Agent Yarbrough,” he said with a smirk.

“Sean, I’m ordering you to stand do—”

It was too late. Sean leaned out the window, and Agent
Yarbrough took the cue to speed up again.

“Hold it steady!” Sean shouted above the sound of the wind
ripping through the Denali’s cabin.

The men firing from the BMW paused for a moment and ducked
back into their vehicle to reload fresh magazines. Sean used the second to his
advantage and fired a single shot. The bullet found its way harmlessly into the
trunk of the sedan. He started to squeeze the trigger again, but the SUV hit a
pothole in the road. The bump jarred the vehicle, causing Sean to lose his
balance. He shot his hand out toward the grip just inside the window. His
body’s momentum nearly carried him through the open window, but three fingers
hooked around the handrail and steadied his fall.

He imagined Yarbrough’s face twisted into a disapproving
glare, but he didn’t check. Instead, Sean leaned back out the window and
trained his sights on the back right tire of the BMW. The two men were climbing
back out, their weapons fully loaded and aimed in Sean’s direction.

This time, he fired off a quick sequence of shots, the
third of which caught the target squarely in the center of the wide rubber
piece. For a second, the car wavered slightly, and then began to slow. Sean
expected the driver of the sedan to lose control, but he didn’t. Sean had an
epiphany as the men in the back of the car launched another salvo.
Run-flat tires
.

Sean hoisted himself back into the SUV as the next hail of
bullets cracked against the heavy glass. Yarbrough slowed down again, repeating
his maneuver. It had the same effect, creating space between their car and the
black sedan.

“Sorry,” Sean said as he checked his magazine. “They’ve
got run-flat tires.”

“That’s okay,” Yarbrough said. “We’re at the gate.”

The Secret Service man slammed on the brakes and watched
as the BMW sped by. He turned the wheel sharply, whipping the big vehicle into
the drive and through an opening between the fence and a small guard shack. They
zipped by a similar Denali that moved in to block the gate.