The Grecian Manifesto (7 page)

Chapter 12

Corfu, Greece

Eight men sat around the long, heavy table in the dim,
candlelit room. An iron chandelier hung from the center of the ceiling above,
providing the only electric light to the space. Seven of the men stared to one
end of the table, where Dimitris Gikas sat with his hands folded on the surface.
His face expressed compassion and patience, but inside his temper was brimming
with rage.

A fleshy, round-faced man at the other end of the table
stared at him vapidly. “You cannot just take over a country, Dimitris. And for
you to think that we would all swear allegiance to you as our king is absolute
insanity.” He crossed his chubby arms over his bulbous chest, hands barely able
to reach beyond the girth. A toothpick hung loosely from the man’s mouth. Even
though the room was a cool seventy degrees, the fat man perspired profusely.

Gikas stared quietly at him, forming his rebuke carefully.
Before he could say anything, a slim, bald man named Michael Thropopolis spoke
up from the other side of the table. His sloping nose and deeply receded eyes
gave him a well-aged appearance. “He is not wrong, Dimitris. Greece has not had
a monarchy in centuries. The people would not likely take kindly to the idea of
being ruled.”

Dimitris Gikas had heard quite enough. “The people,” he
interrupted before Thropopolis could continue, “have made a mess of this once-great
nation. Like little children given the run of the house, there are broken toys
everywhere. The economy is in shambles. Crime is rampant. Tourism, our main
source of income for the country, is on the decline. The people need someone to
lead them back to prosperity.”

The words hung in the room nearly as thick as the smoke
drifting up from the cigars a few of the men had been puffing.

“And I suppose that you just have the best interest of the
people in mind, eh, Dimitris?” Thropopolis was still skeptical.

He let a smile slip out. “In any government that has ever
existed, the leaders always got their fair share.”

“You mean the lion’s share,” the fat man at the other end
chimed in sarcastically.

“I mean what we deserve. And not just me, Niko; all of us.
If you back me, you will all become the richest men in all of Greece. Your
power will reach across all of Europe. As part of my council, your legacies
will live on for all of history.”

Some of the men turned their heads, looking at each other
as if to see what the others were thinking. Thropopolis seemed satisfied with
the answer to his question.

The fat one, a man named Niko Teridis, appeared to be the
last obstacle in the room. “I am already one of the richest men in Greece,
Dimitris. We all are.” He splayed his hands out wide, displaying the others in
the room. “And we already have power.” Niko leaned forward and put his hands on
the table. “You think you have something we need, but you are wrong. This government
may fall apart, but it has been good to all of us. It has made us all rich men.
Now you seek to undo this? Why not just let things take their natural course?
We will be fine no matter what happens. We all have enough money to weather any
storm that comes our way. And when it is over, we will still be in control of
everything.”

Gikas had known the man would be a problem. Niko Teridis
was a tyrant of a businessman, and he’d built his real estate empire in a short
amount of time. Brilliantly, he’d moved most of his assets over to precious
metals and technology investments before the Greek economy began falling apart.
Now, he was one of the wealthiest people in the entire country, second in the
room only to Dimitris himself, a fact that surely festered in Niko’s mind.

The truth was that Gikas didn’t need him. Teridis would be
more of a liability than any of the others, who all seemed anxiously willing to
get in line and do as they were told. Gikas had meant everything he’d said. He
would make the men in that room wealthier and more powerful than they’d ever
hoped to become. And he would expand the Greek empire to the greatness it
deserved. Gikas had not revealed the last part to anyone except for his trusted
right hand, Thanos. For a second, his thoughts wandered to what his second in
command was working on. Gikas needed the Eye of Zeus. With the relic secured,
Gikas would be able to plan every military move with flawless precision. Within
a few years, Europe would kneel beneath him.

Teridis snapped the silence abruptly. “I must be going. I
have many things to tend to before I leave the country this afternoon.” He
shook his head. “I will not be a part of this ridiculous venture, Dimitris. My
money will be kept where it is. I recommend all of you do the same.”

The rotund man pushed his chair back and stood up. His
lone bodyguard stepped to his side quickly and escorted him to the door.

“I wish you would reconsider, Niko,” Gikas said, giving
one last attempt. “But I understand. If you must go, I do not hold your
decision against you.”

Teridis cast him a sarcastic smile, and then turned and
left the room. The remaining men turned their gaze back to Gikas, perhaps
expecting a less-than-cheerful reaction to the interaction.

Gikas would give them no such thing. He’d spent much of
his life honing his emotions so that they would always be under control when
the situation called for it. Like a great poker player, suppressing all
external signs of distress, Dimitris Gikas buried his thoughts and feelings
deep inside.

“Well, gentlemen,” he said after he was sure Teridis had
exited the building, “Niko is right. I’m sure many of you need to return to
business matters. I do thank all of you for coming to meet with me.”

Thropopolis stood up and looked around the room. “I cannot
speak for the rest of these men, but you have my allegiance, Dimitris. Please
do not take it lightly.”

A sinister grin inched its way to one side of Dimitris’s face.
He knew if Michael Thropopolis would commit, so would the others.

One by one, each man in the room stood up and announced
their intention to be a part of the new leadership of Greece.
Lambs
, Gikas thought quietly to himself
as the men committed their resources and blood to the cause. One always follows
the other.

“Thank you all,” he said after a moment of reflection.
“Your loyalty will not go unrewarded. I will be in touch with each of you soon
to give you an update on our progress and to reveal something I have been
working on behind the scenes.”

The last sentence piqued the curiosity of every man in the
room, but Gikas wouldn’t give away that last little morsel. Not yet, anyway.
They would all be made privy to it soon, but he had to know who he could trust.
“For now, carry on with business as usual. You will know when the time has come.”

Thropopolis appeared uncertain. “How will we know what to
do when this time comes?”

“You will know, old friend. However, if it will ease your
mind, I simply need all of you to publicly support me as I push toward a new
government. If we stand together, we will not fail.”

They all nodded, and then proceeded one by one out the
door until Gikas was the only one left. He waited until he heard the door click
and slid the cell phone out of his pocket. A second later, it was ringing.

“Yes, sir?” the masculine voice said on the other line.

“Do you have Niko?”

“Yes. We grabbed him and his bodyguard as they were about
to get in his car.”

Gikas smiled. He’d let the chubby man leave of his own
free will, knowing full well that Teridis would never acquiesce to the notion
of making Dimitris the new king of Greece. Niko TeridisTeridis was a proud,
stubborn individual. Gikas had always disliked him, feeling that his rival had
been born into a world of advantages. Sure, he made some smart financial moves
to get where he was, but that didn’t change the fact that he’d had a
significant head start.

“Hold onto him. I’ll be right there.”

“What about the bodyguard?” the man on the other end of
the conversation asked.

“Kill him.”

Chapter 13

 
Rome, Italy

Sean and Tommy stayed low to the floor and belly crawled
over to where Yarbrough was leaning up against the bed. The agent clutched his
bleeding shoulder, trying to keep pressure on the wound.

Yarbrough grunted through clenched teeth, trying hard to
fight off the pain. “Get out of here, Wyatt. Both of you.” He barked the order
at the men.

Neither of them had any intention of leaving the Secret
Service man behind. “Sorry, Gerald. It doesn’t work that way.” Sean smirked at
the grimacing agent. “I appreciate the offer, though.”

“Yeah,” Tommy agreed. “Leaving a man behind isn’t really
our style.”

“I don’t care what your style is, get your stubborn asses
out of here.”

“No can do,” Tommy said. “Although, our stubbornness has
nearly gotten us killed on more than one occasion.”

Sean’s grin widened. “We like to think of it as an
endearing quality.”

Yarbrough could see the argument was going to get him
nowhere. Another round pierced the window and thumped into the wall on the
other side of the bed. “We need to get out of here,” he said. “Our driver won’t
be back for half an hour, though.”

Sean shook his head. “That isn’t entirely accurate.” At
the quizzical glance the agent gave him, he was compelled to explain. “I may
have told him to circle around and come back in five instead of thirty.”

“Why would you do that?” Yarbrough asked.

“Call it a hunch.”

Tommy nodded. “He’s good with hunches.”

Sean refocused the group. “Whatever you do, stay low. I’m
going to close the curtain so they don’t have a clear line of sight. You two
start crawling for the door. I’ll be right behind you.”

Yarbrough agreed with a nod and rolled over onto his
stomach. He let out a short grunt, clearly in pain from the bullet lodged in
his shoulder. He made himself keep going, inching toward the door with Tommy in
the lead.

Sean slid over to the wall and yanked on the stick
connected to the drapes. The room went dark again except for the lights on near
the doorway. Another bullet found its way through the window and into the far
wall, harmlessly sending a puff of drywall powder into the air. Sean removed
the handgun from the shoulder holster Yarbrough had given him on the plane.
Sneaking weapons into the country was easy when you were on a private jet
chartered by Uncle Sam. The Sig felt comfortable in his hand, despite his
preference being Springfield’s selection of arms.

He caught up to the other two men, who were waiting at the
door. Tommy had pulled out his own weapon. He leaned against the wall space
next to the doorframe, holding the gun tight to his chest.

“Thinking the same thing I’m thinking?” Sean asked,
already knowing the answer from the gun in his friend’s hand.

“They’re sending someone to the room?”

“Mmmhmm,” Sean confirmed and rose up on one knee,
carefully holding his weapon at the ready.

“I thought you said they swept the room,” Tommy interjected.
“Why would they come back?”

Sean didn’t like the answer, but he was strangely
comfortable with it. There was only one possible reason the men who had taken
Adriana would come after him. They didn’t know about the key. If they had,
they’d have already taken it and been gone. Whoever was shooting at them needed
information, information they believed Sean possessed.

“They’re here for me,” he said in a grim tone.

Yarbrough frowned. “I thought you said you didn’t know
anything about what your girlfriend was looking for.”

“I don’t.” He shook his head slowly. “But they don’t know
that. I’m betting they think I know something she doesn’t. Or at the very
least, they might want to take me to coerce one of us to talk.”

Tommy pressed his ear to the door, listening for any
movement outside. He jerked his thumb at the door. “They’re outside,” he
mouthed in an attempt to stay silent.

“How many?” Sean whispered, almost inaudibly.

“Not sure. At least three or four.”

“The second we turn that doorknob, they’re going to open
fire,” Sean hissed. The other two nodded.

An idea hit him.

“Yarbrough, get in the bathroom and wait.” Sean pointed
behind where Tommy squatted. The bathroom was immediately to the right of the
doorway. Sean got up and stepped into the toilet. A rack of fresh towels
hovered over the water closet. He grabbed one of the towels and moved back to
the coat closet slightly behind the point of entry. His hands worked quickly,
tying a knot around the handle of the door’s latch, making sure there was
enough slack to reach into the edge of the closet.

“Tommy, hide in here. When I give you the signal, open the
door with this.” Sean handed him the towel, which his friend took reluctantly.

Tommy lowered his eyebrows. “What are you going to do?”

“Create a diversion, and then kill everyone in our way.”

The other two cast a questioning glance at each other,
wondering what diversion he was going to create.

Sean moved as fast and as quietly as he could to the desk
near the television. He stayed low, aware that the sniper could unleash another
volley at any second. When he reached the desk, he slid open the top drawer and
found what he needed. He removed the small box of matches and a note pad, and
then proceeded to the center of the room, squatting down at the foot of the
bed. Tommy watched from the closet, realizing what Sean had in mind.

With a quick strike of a match, Sean held the tiny flame
to the notepaper and raised his hand beyond the top edge of the bed. Bluish
smoke began to drift up to the ceiling and the fire alarm situated over the
bed.

The door latch shimmied for a second. The attackers were
trying to get in. Sean figured they would gain access in less than a minute. He
waved his makeshift torch around a little, causing the paper to burn faster and
produce more smoke. The door’s latch continued to jiggle, harder this time. It
stopped for a moment, bathing the room in an eerie silence. Suddenly, a loud
crash pounded the door, startling Tommy and Yarbrough, but Sean’s hand remained
steady, holding the burning paper in the air, his other calmly gripping the Sig.

The alarm began to sound, beeping repeatedly in quick
succession. The irritating noise was a welcome relief to Sean, but he didn’t
relax. Water began to pour out of the sprinkler system overhead, soaking the
entire room in a matter of a few seconds. It was the diversion he’d needed.
“Now!” he yelled at Tommy.

His friend yanked the towel down and back, jerking the
door wide open in one sudden movement. The three men outside were caught off
guard, looking around at the deluge and stunned by the piercing alarm in the
hallway. Sean squeezed the trigger, plunging two rounds directly into the
abdomen and chest of the man closest to the doorway. He moved the barrel to the
second, missing the man’s neck with the first shot, but landing the next two in
the throat and shoulder. The initial two targets had been easy due to the fact
that they were distracted. The third, however, dove out of the way as soon as
Sean’s third bullet had been fired.

He yelled something in another language, telling Sean that
there was at least one other guy in the hallway. Sean noticed a barrel poking
around the right side of the doorframe. He fired another shot, causing the man
on the right to pull back. A moment later, the barrel began to creep its way
back into sight. Sean sent another round at his target, sending it harmlessly
into the interior wall the room. This time the man on the left retorted, using
his partner on the right as a diversion. It was clever, and Sean wished he’d
considered the attackers might try something like that.

His only move was a quick dive to the side of the bed
nearest the window, narrowly missing a barrage of bullets ripping into the
floor and drywall.

One of the men said something in Greek. Sean wasn’t
entirely sure of the translation, but from his vague recollection, he thought
it meant they were coming in the room.

There were a few seconds of silence that caused Sean’s
anxiety to heighten. He lay on his back with his head against the wall, gun
firmly clutched in both hands, ready if the intruders came around the bed or
over it.

His finger remained loose on the trigger, a habit he’d
developed through the years. Sean considered it more of a safety precaution
than anything else. Too many people were willing to shoot first and apologize
later. He’d always preferred to just not have to deal with it. His motto was to
always make sure the target was the enemy, and he’d gotten extremely quick at
it.

Three loud pops blasted from the entryway followed by the
sound of a body hitting the floor, then a second. There was another precipitous
moment of silence before Sean heard a familiar voice.

“All clear at the door,” Tommy said in a firm voice.

Sean slid around and peeked by the edge of the bed. The
two assailants were on the floor, one piled on the other. A thin line of smoke
seeped out of Tommy’s weapon.

“You can come out now, Sean.” His barb was accompanied by
a snide grin.

“Nice job, buddy. You’re really getting the hang of this
sort of thing.”

Tommy stared down at the two corpses. “That’s not
necessarily a good thing. Means I’m finding myself in sticky situations way too
often.”

“Would you two mind if we left now?” Yarbrough interjected
from just inside the bathroom. Blood was soaking through his jacket, mingling
with the water from the sprinklers.

“Good call. I just hope our ride is back,” Sean said with
a hint of uncertainty.

He and Tommy helped Agent Yarbrough to his feet. Sean
grabbed a washcloth from the sink and pressed it hard into the agent’s wound.
“Keep this pressed against it,” he said.

“Yeah, I know the drill,” Yarbrough nodded.

Sean passed him a sly grin, and then moved back over to
the door. He checked his magazine, confirming there were only a few rounds
left. That small supply plus the one extra clip he had in his belt wouldn’t
last long if they had to shoot their way out of the building.

Outside, sirens began sounding as fire trucks and police
arrived in response to the alarm. Sean knew the chaos in front of the building
would be the perfect cover for their getaway. The sniper would likely not have
a clear shot, but they’d need to move fast.

He stepped into the hall and checked down both sides of
the corridor, making sure the coast was clear. “It’s good,” he said to Tommy.
“Head to the elevators. I’ll stay in front. Keep Yarbrough between us.”

“Gotcha.” Tommy confirmed.

Sean darted down the hallway, sloshing his way through the
wet mess. When he reached the elevator doors, he mashed the button hard, but
got no signal that it was heading their way. Then he remembered; the elevators
probably shut down automatically when there was an alarm. A door closed thirty
feet away, and Sean spun around with the barrel of his Sig aimed into the empty
space. It was the door into the stairwell. No one was there, which likely meant
one of the other guests was trying to get out of the building.

Yarbrough and Tommy reached the elevator a second later.
“What are you waiting for?” Tommy asked incredulously. As soon as he’d spoken,
he had the same epiphany Sean had experienced a moment before. “Oh, right.
Stairs.”

Sean darted over to the stairwell door where the
passageway came to a head and split off in two directions. He checked down both
ways, again making sure there were no threats. Satisfied, he took a big step to
the door and barged it open. His weapon aimed up the stairs first, then down.
“Clear,” he shouted back at the other two.

He held the door open while Tommy and Yarbrough slogged
their way quickly to the stairwell. “Go ahead,” Sean said. Once the other two
were headed down the stairs, he let the door ease shut.

Sean was glad they didn’t have far to go, only four floors
to reach the bottom. Tommy and their wounded companion were already on the
landing of the second floor when Sean arrived on the platform just above them.
The third floor door suddenly swung open, and a Glock barrel stuck through the
opening. Sean ducked to the side just in the nick of time as the weapon fired a
round into the stairwell. Instinctively, Sean took a quick side step, grabbed
the man’s arm, and pulled him into the stairwell.

The attacker’s body flung against the railing, jarring him
momentarily, just long enough for Sean to wrest the gun from his hand. The respite
didn’t last but for a second. The man’s knee swung around and planted firmly
into Sean’s abdomen.

Sean gasped at the sudden jolt, dropping his own weapon
between the rails. The gun clattered down the steps below, evening the playing
field for both combatants. Sean didn’t have time to hurt; he jerked backward,
narrowly dodging a roundhouse kick from the stranger. He instantly squared up,
ready for another attack, and got his first look at the face of the man who was
trying to kill him. The assassin’s graying hair was trimmed close to his skull,
masking the fact that he’d gone bald several years before. His angular nose and
narrow face made him appear like a bird of prey. His black turtleneck seemed a
little clichéd for mercenary work, but Sean didn’t think the man cared what he
thought of his ensemble.

“You don’t have to do this,” Sean said in an almost
sympathetic tone. “You can walk back through that door and go on about your
business.”

The man’s mouth contorted in a sickly grin. “You don’t
have to be afraid of dying, American. I’ll make it quick for you.” His accent
was distinctly western European. Sean was fairly certain from Czech Republic.

“I wasn’t begging,” Sean corrected. “I was offering you a
chance to live.”

The mercenary snorted and lurched forward. His fists swung
hard at Sean’s face, first left then right. Sean easily dodged the first and
blocked the subsequent attacks. The assassin swung his knee up in an attempt to
catch Sean in the midsection again, but this time the target stepped to the
side and grabbed the man by the calf. In a swift move, Sean used the man’s
weight against him and lifted hard with the leg before the attacker could get
loose. The maneuver sent the man flipping backward over the railing. Sean
watched as the body plummeted down the chute between the stairs, hitting his
head violently against one of the lower railings before coming to a sudden stop
at the bottom.