Gambit David Hagberg (most read books in the world of all time TXT) 📖

“A HALO jump, and when they were done, ditch their weapons—assuming they were successful in taking us out. Then what?”

“Stay put up here until it was time to take the morning ferry back to Athens.”

“A HALO jump means military. Or at least ex-military. They’d have to be in dark camos for the night operation, but carrying civilian clothes to change into so they could get to the ferry without attracting notice.”

“Which is why we’re going to make as much noise as possible,” McGarvey said.

“No suppressors. Someone’s bound to sit up and take notice. But I thought you wanted to avoid any collateral damage.”

“By the time the local cops got up here, this business will have been finished.”

“One way or the other,” Pete said glumly. “But if they don’t want to make noise, then why don’t we just make our stand in the lighthouse rather than out here?”

“Because I might be wrong,” McGarvey said.

“If they hit us out here, a lot could go wrong for all of us.”

McGarvey took a knee, and Pete hunched down next to him. “I think that they might be counting on us tucked in bed, and they’ll land as close to the lighthouse as possible and come in fast and silent. We don’t have locks on our front door or the kitchen door to the pool because I never saw the need for it. Which means they won’t have to blow the doors. If they know what they’re doing and there are at least four of them, they can stack up at the doors and come in ready to shoot. They’ll drive us up the stairs, and we’ll have nowhere to go.”

“They’ll have to figure that we’ll call for help.”

“First they’ll hit the cell tower.”

“More noise.”

“If they have access to government-level gear, they can do it electronically.”

“Sat phones?”

“I suspect the same,” McGarvey said. “It’s something Otto’s going to look out for. If our sat link goes bad, he’ll know an attack has started.”

“But he can’t call anyone for help. The local coppers would be hopelessly outclassed, and by the time anyone got here from the mainland, it would be all over but the shouting.”

“He could trace the source of the satellite failure.”

“And?”

“If it’s Russian, which I think it probably is, Taft could call the president, who could call Putin.”

“You think of everything,” Pete said.

“It’s the one bit I haven’t thought of that’s the worst of it.”

“Never happens.”

McGarvey smiled. “More often than I’d care to remember,” he said.

He got up, and Pete followed suit. “Now let’s take a look at what we’re going to be dealing with after it gets dark.”

A pair of taxis had come over to the helicopter terminal, and Sherman went over to hire one of them while Bender stayed behind to talk the pilot into waiting for them.

“Two hours tops, and we’ll be back,” Bender said.

“I have a fare on Kythnos,” the pilot said.

“Five hundred euros to wait for us.”

“No.”

“One thousand euros.” Before the pilot could object, Bender said, “Each.”

“One thousand now.”

Bender handed him a credit card, and the pilot swiped it on a handheld machine and handed it back. “Ninety minutes.”

“Don’t leave us.”

“Don’t be late.”

The lower limb of the sun was just touching the top of the hills below them, illuminating Livadi in gold streaks across the now deep blue of the water in the harbor, when McGarvey and Pete started back to the lighthouse.

He had spotted several promising sites, a couple of them behind decent-size boulders and another at the west edge of one of the cliffs.

“I want to stay hidden until they get between us and the lighthouse, and then come up behind them, but at different firing angles,” he told Pete as they headed back.

“How wide apart do you want us?”

“Depends on how many of them they are and how widely they’re dispersed.”

“A lot can go wrong.”

“And probably will. But we’ll have three advantages,” McGarvey said. “We’ll take them by surprise, we’ll be behind them, and we’ll be making a lot of noise.”

“If they come.”

“When they come,” McGarvey said.

They came down the hill in time to see a taxi headed on the road back to town, leaving two people standing in front of the lighthouse.

Even from a distance of a hundred yards or so, McGarvey knew who they were, and so did Pete.

“The FBI,” she said.

At that moment, a helicopter lifted off in the distance and climbed over the harbor as it headed to the northwest back to Athens.

SIXTY-FOUR

Bender and Alicia had just walked up the three broad steps to the front door of the lighthouse when they heard the distant sound of the helicopter lifting off. They turned toward the sound in time to see it rising above the town across the bay and heading away.

“Son of a bitch,” Bender swore. He pulled out his cell phone and dialed the number for the helicopter service. A woman answered in Greek on the second ring.

“English, please,” Bender said.

“Yes, sir. You have reached Aegean Transport Services. How may I be of assistance?”

“This is Clarke Bender. I chartered a helicopter to take my partner and me to Serifos. The pilot agreed to wait for us, but he just now took off. We’re stranded here. I want him to come back.”

“I’m sorry, sir. Please give me a moment to contact him by radio.”

“Do it.”

“What’d they say?” Alicia asked.

“They’re calling the pilot.”

Two minutes later, the woman was back. “I’m terribly sorry, sir, but there seems to be some difficulty with radio communications. Our pilot does not respond.”

“Never mind. Send us another helicopter.”

“I’m sorry, sir, but that won’t be possible this evening. I can have one for you no later than 0800.”

“We need to get off this island tonight!” Bender shouted.

“Again, my apologies, sir. There are several excellent hotels on the island. May I make reservations for you and your wife?”

Bender broke the connection. “We’re stuck here for the night.”

Alicia shrugged. “We’ll interview the McGarveys and then take a cab into town. I’m sure