fired on the fly, trusting instinct and experience to at least aid his aim.
His good luck continued though. One or more of the bullets struck the door gunner, and he slumped in his safety harness. The helicopter pilot, concerned for his teammate, pulled up again.
By that time, Linko rounded the corner and found himself standing in front of a small shop. He ran inside, brandishing the machine pistol and making threats. The restaurant patrons flooded out onto the street.
In the back of the shop, heart still beating wildly, Linko replaced the empty Uzi magazine with another, then dropped the weapon into the carryall. He found the bathroom, took off his jacket, reversed it from black to gray, and turned on the tap water. He cupped water in his hand, then splashed it into his face and used it to slick his hair back. When he looked into the age-spotted mirror again, he no longer looked wild-eyed and frantic.
He dumped the earpiece and the cell phone he’d been using to communicate with Achmed and his cohorts into the trash, picked up his carryall, and headed back out of the shop.
Out on the street, he kept walking. Black smoke plumed up from two places a couple streets over, and Linko guessed that the rest of his team hadn’t fared well. The ANA helicopters hovered protectively over the area.
His personal cell phone buzzed for his attention. When he checked the viewscreen, he saw that the caller ID hadn’t identified the caller. He was certain he knew who it was.
“Hello.”
“Good afternoon, Colonel Linko.”
Linko had expected the Russian president to sound irritated, and he wouldn’t have been surprised if Nevsky knew about his latest failure regarding the apprehension of the American linguist.
“I have news for you, comrade. I know you have been tracking your target there.”
“Yes. I found him, but he got away.” Briefly, Linko detailed the attempted interception and the subsequent failure. “He is leaving, but I do not know where he is going.”
“The woman, Layla Teneen, has requested that tickets be held for your target and his protectors at the airport.”
“The airport has too much security. I will not be able to reach him there.”
“This I also know. I can also tell you that he is going to Athens.”
“Athens?”
“Yes, so I am to assume that he has managed to learn more from whatever he has taken from that tomb.”
An ANA military vehicle drove quickly by through the street. Linko only caught sight of it from the corner of his eye. “Then I will go there and ask him what he has discovered.”
“In time. But first, there is another mission I would ask of you.”
“Anything.”
“All that I have hoped for in the Ukraine has gone according to plan, but now we need to move again and strike quickly. Your mission to Athens can provide a two-fold strike.”
Linko kept walking and waited for his orders.
“Use the assets in Athens to find Lourds. I don’t think it will be too hard. He will be in visible places. Museums. Records halls. He is going there for access to documents that will help him in his search. So let him do that job for us. I want what it is he finds.”
“Do we know what that is?”
“Not yet, but soon. It will have something to do with Alexander the Great’s weapons.”
Old weapons? Linko couldn’t believe his talents were being wasted on such a thing. He had nearly gotten killed for museum pieces?
Perhaps Nevsky had gotten a sense of some of his thinking from his lack of response. “These weapons are not a simple matter, Colonel. They are more powerful than any nuclear weapon. Trust me on this.”
Linko shrugged, knowing Nevsky wouldn’t see it. Trust was irrelevant. It didn’t matter to Linko whether or not Nevsky knew what he was talking about. All that mattered was getting the job done.
“I have arranged a flight to Athens for you. Unfortunately, I was not able to secure the same flight as your target.”
“That is fine. I will be able to find him soon enough.”
“Give him some time to finish his task. I have another mission for you. We have made some inroads with an old ally in Greece. You have worked with 17N before?”
That surprised Linko. Revolutionary Organization 17 November, better known by the sobriquet 17N, was a leftist terrorist group that had spawned in Greece as a Marxist urban guerilla movement in 1975. The inciting incident that had sown the seeds for the group had been the 1973 Athens Polytechnic