The Handler Read online

  He turned to Maria. “We’re going to check out that house. We need a place to hide while we come up with a plan.”

  “No. Take me back to town. I need to go back to the café. I need to get my briefcase.”

  “Are you crazy? We can’t go back. The police will be scouring the whole town.”

  “We didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “Maria, you were sitting next to a man who was assassinated. How do you know they weren’t after you?”

  “I have to get my briefcase. If my dad finds out what I was doing, he will kill me.”

  “What were you doing?”

  “I was trying to escape from that horrible man!” She began to sob.

  Chuck walked over and hugged her tightly. “It’s okay Maria. This time I will help you. You’re a grown woman now. I won’t make you go back. Just come with me. We need to figure this out together.”

  Chuck pulled two blankets from the stowage locker in the galley. He put them in a large black plastic bag, gave the package to Maria, and told her to put her sandals in the bag. He jumped into the warm sea and said, “Come on. We’re swimming ashore. Throw me the bag.” He held the bag above the water as he waited for her to jump in. Once she did he gave her the bag and instructed her to keep it high and dry. Then he slid his arm under hers, and back-stroked the short distance to shore. When he felt soft sand beneath his feet he set her down. As they walked, he noticed that the bottom of the cove was sandy with a few patches of dark rocks. The water was so clear that he could see the bottom of the entire cove. They waded the rest of the way to the beach together, and Chuck analyzed the situation as they did. To the left and right, the tree-covered coast rose steeply from the water. The pine trees came right down to the water’s edge, and the high slopes blocked out the wind.

  On any other day he would’ve thought he was in paradise. But not today.

  The beach was small, only thirty yards long and twenty deep. From the beach, terraced vineyards fanned out as they climbed the hillside. The vines created a V-shaped fan that spread across some thirty acres. A thick forest surrounded the vineyard and capped the cove.

  At the south end of the beach, two towering rocks rose from the smooth sand. With Maria a few steps behind, Chuck walked between them into a shady area where a twisted old pine tree was growing out of the hillside. A footpath, overgrown with rosemary and thyme, climbed the slope into the vineyard.

  They began to hike up the path surrounded by the parched grape vines which looked liked they hadn’t been pruned in years.

  Amidst the vines, four-foot high stone walls stretched across the land about every ten yards. The terraces got longer as they climbed up the hill until they reached the top where they stretched to over a hundred and fifty yards across.

  Rough stone stairways allowed Chuck and Maria to ascend the terraced walls, but a few of the stairways had crumbled, so they had to climb over the rock walls.

  “These stairs looked like they were built in the first century,” Chuck said, vague historical recollections coming together in his mind.

  Maria forced a smile.

  They continued to climb up the hill among the rock-wall terraces to the stucco farmhouse. The home rested in the middle of the property surrounded by parched wooden grape arbors that held up the dried-up vines.

  Chuck helped Maria up the last terrace. They paused and looked at each other before they headed towards the stone house. Chuck led Maria around the home. He saw no signs of life. It appeared that the property had been abandoned a long time ago.

  A long dirt road that curved down from the coastal highway led to the house. Chuck took Maria around the house again. At the back, he saw what looked like a basement entrance that was secured with a padlock. Chuck grabbed a large rock from the hillside and brought the rock down onto the lock. The latch came loose, and the door swung open. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s check it out.”

  They were about to go in when a plane flew overhead. Chuck pushed Maria inside the cold stone home. Then he looked down at the sailboat sitting in the cove. Would it give them away? He would need to get it out of sight before long. He removed his handgun from the dry bag.

  Leading the way with his Glock, he entered the doorway which led into a large dark stairwell. The steps were wide like stairs, but they were steep and open like the rungs of a ladder. Chuck figured they were made of planks that were probably milled during the Dark Ages.

  A huge medieval looking door filled one wall of the dark stairwell. There was a window in the small space, so Chuck opened the wood shutters a crack, filling the space with just enough light so that he could see what he was doing. He opened the thick carved door. It was filled with stacks of firewood. He shut it quietly. Then he closed the shutters and urged Maria to follow him up the ladder. It led to a rough plank platform that took them to another ladder.

  Chuck climbed up a few of the rough rungs of the second ladder then noticed that it dead-ended at a trap door in the ceiling. He surmised that it led to the home’s main level. It wasn’t exactly a secret room he was standing in given that it was easily accessible from the basement entrance below, but it was an unusual setup.

  Chuck climbed up a few more rungs, lifted the trap door, and did a quick scan. He found himself in the hallway of the main floor of the house. He was shocked to find that the home was nicely furnished. It was vacant at the moment, but apparently the home was not totally abandoned as he had originally thought from his exterior surveillance. He called for Maria to climb up after him. Once she was standing in the hallway, he closed the trap door behind them. As he took in their surroundings, he realized that the home appeared to have been recently updated, and the newness of the furnishings surprised him.

  Chuck walked into the living room. Vaulted, whitewashed ceilings rose on hefty beams. Chuck noticed a soot-stained rock fireplace that contrasted with the fine modern furnishings. Two large windows with dark wood blinds filled one wall. He tilted the wood slats and saw a staggering panoramic view of the Mediterranean Sea. He scanned the horizon. To the south, he could see the cityscape of Lloret de Mar. No doubt the town was still abuzz over the flap at the starting line of the Costa Brava Rally. He gazed at the super-yachts that bobbed in their moorings just offshore of the city.

  Chuck and Maria continued to explore the home. They headed down a wide hallway covered with sixteen-inch terra-cotta floor tiles that fed into clean bedrooms where neatly-made beds had white covers that matched the white-washed walls.

  Next, they moved into the kitchen where the brick, stone, and tile work were obviously the work of a master craftsman. The home was elaborate and unique. However, Chuck was more interested in the exits. Where were they? You always needed to know where the exits were. How many were there and were they easily accessible in case you had to clear out in hurry? What was the terrain behind the home like? He walked to a window that opened to the back of the property and looked out. Not bad. The tree-line was quite a ways off, but reachable in a crisis.

  “This’ll do,” Chuck said. “You’ll be out of sight here.”

  “What do you mean me?”

  “I have to leave for a while. I have to get rid of the boat, which means swimming.”

  “How long will you be gone?”

  “Half an hour, maybe a longer.”

  She walked to the windows that overlooked the ocean and peeked through the wooden blinds.

  “Don’t go anywhere,” Chuck said. “Keep all the doors closed, even the interior doors. When I get back, we’ll figure out what to do next.”

  He reasoned that they could hide out here for twenty-four hours max. Anything more than that and his enemies would find him. But Chuck wouldn’t let them. He would hunt them down before they had the chance. Then they would learn the hard way that it wasn’t a good idea to plot against the United States or to kill her agents. He would find his missing man. Most likely, Steve had been killed, but whoever did the killing needed to answer for it, and Chuck planned to be the mess
enger. On the other hand, he would have to be careful because this time Maria was depending on him to return.

  Chuck left the home through the trap door, then exited the way they came in. He spent a few minutes securing the premises. He scanned the terraced vineyard thoroughly. His eyes scoped the land as it rose sharply to a tree-lined hillside. Once he felt confident that their hide-out had not been discovered, he headed to the beach. His feet sunk in the soft sand as he walked to the sea. Then he waded into the clear emerald drink and swam to the boat, tasting the salt water on his lips as he did. With water dropping from his clothes, he climbed aboard and guided the boat out of the cove.

  ***

  After Chuck left her, silence oppressed Maria in the stone-walled home. She wandered around the frigid dwelling, her bare feet gliding over the big red tiles, her shoulder brushing against the stucco walls. The residence was clean, updated, and livable, but she felt claustrophobic.

  Back at the hacienda that she shared with her family, she had always felt a sense of darkness, yet she’d loved all the open space. She particularly enjoyed it when her father was out of the country. During those stretches of time, she had been free to ride her horse for miles over the pastures and through the lush wooded trails that wound through the forest that stood in the shadows of the Pyrenees Mountains. But she was always followed by two of her father’s men so she was never truly alone. She often dreamed of taking her horse over the border into France or stealing a motorcycle from the barn and riding clear to Andorra. She would have done it too, if it wasn’t for her mom. She couldn’t leave her behind. Chuck had taught her that. She wouldn’t leave her to suffer alone at her father’s hands. She would help her mother escape as well. To do that, she would have to go back to the café to retrieve her briefcase. Once she got it, then she and her mom could escape. She peeked through the shutters of the cold home and watched the long dirt road that stretched up through the woods and to the main road, which led into town.

  She stood at the window for what seemed like an hour. Where was Chuck? He’d said he would be back in half an hour. She walked over to the fireplace, wishing that she could build a fire to keep warm. She pulled the blankets out of the plastic bag that Chuck had given her and sat on the couch for a few minutes. Then she stood up and walked to the doors that overlooked the cove and tilted the blinds once again. She scanned the gleaming bay. The sailboat was gone, but still no Chuck.

  Was he coming back?

  Maria opened the front door a crack, looking out along the long driveway. Should she walk back to town? It couldn’t be that far. She told herself that the men who were chasing them didn’t know where she was, but how could she be sure?

  Shutting the door, she wandered from room to empty room, trying to ease her anxiety. Then for the hundredth time, she gazed through the window at the driveway. Nothing stirred. No neighbors, no people, nobody. The home was isolated. She was all alone.

  As she wandered around the home, she thought of what had happened at the café. She was supposed to meet with the ambassador, but his bodyguard showed up instead. He had told her that the ambassador had been murdered. Then out of nowhere—shots were fired and the bodyguard died—right in front of her eyes. If it hadn’t of been for Chuck, she probably would have been next. Was it her dad who had hired the assassin? Did he know about her plans?

  Maria drifted from room to room, up and down the hall. Her stomach was a bundle of knots. She opened the front door again, longing to run out.

  ***

  After leaving Maria, Chuck motored the boat a few miles offshore, heading into the current to account for drift on his way back. He wiped the boat down for fingerprints and dove into the water. Then he swam towards the stretch of shore where’d he’d left Maria.

  As he swam, he kept visualizing the hit at the café. His mind replayed the same scene over and over again. Was he the real target? No, he doubted that. No way would a pro miss from that distance. So who was the big guy who got shot? Somehow he hadn’t even gotten that much out of Maria. Was he the secondary target? There was no doubt they’d tried to kill him after he escaped the sniper. If only he’d gotten to the ambassador at the safe house before they did.

  After an hour, he entered the cove where’d he’d left Maria. As he swam towards the beach, he reflected on what he needed to do next. As twilight settled over the cove, it reminded him of the time when he was shot and left for dead on a beach like this, but those were different circumstances. There was no flash of gunfire here, no blood in the sand, and no assassins. At least for now, this place was safe.

  He walked up to the stone building on the hill. When he found Maria, she was sitting in the living area, shivering under the blankets they had grabbed from the boat.

  When she saw him she stood up, threw the blankets off and ran to him. “I’m so glad you’re back.”

  He held her for a moment and then said, “Maria, you have to tell me what you were doing at the café. Who was that guy and why you were meeting with him?”

  She turned her head and released his grip. “Please don’t ask me that again.” Then she ran into the master bedroom and closed the door behind her.

  CHAPTER 4

  The Volga

  Offshore of Costa Brava

  Lazar paced in the yacht’s salon while he waited for Petenka, his communications officer, to arrive. He sat down for a moment at the conference table. His eyes roamed across the map of Costa Brava while his mind dissected his current problem. How hard could it be for a man like General Lazar to catch a man and kill him? It had never taken his men more than twenty-four hours in the past. Even if the man happened to be a hard target, he’d never failed to make his deadline.

  This man would be no different.

  Lazar walked on thick, short legs back and forth across the floor of his yacht’s salon, past the hand-carved wood pillars. He was aware that his reflection moved above him on the mirrored ceiling and he felt that was appropriate, just as it was right that the Inca kings were worshipped by their subjects as divine beings. Some men were simply cast from a superior mold than others. They were their own gods, born to triumph over others. Such men were always served by minions, well-trained men like Mika. Back in Chechnya, Mika had hunted down and killed many Russian agents, men who’d received elite training in counter-surveillance, in escape and evasion. How long would it take, Lazar wondered, until Mika captured the stranger who dared to flee with Maria?

  Petenka entered the salon. He was a thin man in finely-pressed white clothes and spit-shine black shoes. He stood with a rigid posture and looked past Lazar. Out of respect he didn’t dare look him in the eye.

  “I need you to relay a message,” Lazar said.

  Petenka, waiting for him, stood at attention.

  The general’s thoughts strayed. The stranger... Lazar had a bad feeling about this one. Back in Chechnya, many people got in Lazar’s way. Few of them survived, but this stranger was different. He was bold. No one in Chechnya would dare to take Lazar’s daughter. No one.

  Lazar thought of Grozny. The capital city of Chechnya had been a maze of burned out apartment buildings and ruins. It was like a bees’ nest where anyplace you went, you always risked stirring up a hive of hornets. That hadn’t bothered Mika at all. He was a hornet leader and thrived in that war-torn hell. He was tied to dozens of kidnappings, including that of several foreign oil workers, whom he personally beheaded. He was master of routing out his enemies and slaughtering them like animals. Because the shadow of fear went with him, he got cooperation everywhere that he went. No one was safe from Mika.

  Mika had always located a mark speedily—and handled the termination personally.

  “Tell Mika I want a shore boat to patrol along the coast north of Lloret de Mar,” Lazar said. “I want him to check out all the little coves. I want this man found.”

  CHAPTER 5

  Stone House, Costa Brava

  11:00pm

  Chuck stood next to the bank of windows that filled one sid
e of the great room. He lifted up a wood blind and looked out at the black expanse of Mediterranean Sea. It was spread out before him under the stars, a view of stunning beauty and tranquility—as if the food chain wasn’t active just under the surface of the moonlit sea.

  From sea to shining sea…

  America the beautiful, the greatest beacon of hope and freedom in history—threatened. Chuck would stop the plot against America or die trying. He would find his missing man. The professor had the information he needed. Chuck hoped he was still alive. He cringed with shame. He’d already let the ambassador down. No. Werther was the one who’d let him down. EREBUS had promised security and protection for the ambassador. Nothing should have prevented EREBUS from protecting either of his men. Werther was the one who needed to answer for what had happened.

  Looking through the window, he studied the lights of the yachts anchored offshore of Lloret de Mar. Most people had no idea the kind of things that went on all around them. They took their safety for granted. Did they have any idea that freedom was won with blood and would only be kept with blood? So many people blindly enjoy their vacations as if the world is a giant playground. Perhaps the assassination in town earlier in the day had been a rude awakening for some. Others would have thought it a random anomaly and returned their full attention to their iPhones and iPads within minutes.

  Chuck shoved his gun under his belt at the small of his back and stepped into the master bedroom of the stone home. The room was dark, but the shutter was open, allowing moonlight to filter in. Maria was a dark silhouette curled up on the bed. Chuck walked to the bed and sat down next to her.

  “Maria, it’s time for you to tell me what’s going on. Why were you planning on meeting with the ambassador and who was the guy you were with?”

  “His name was Antonio.” She sniffed. “He was the ambassador’s bodyguard. I didn’t know he was coming. I was supposed to meet with the ambassador. We were going to have lunch, that’s all.”