Chapters (96)
- Cover
- Berkley titles by David Ricciardi
- Dedication
- Epigraph
- CHARACTER LIST
- PROLOGUE
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- THIRTY-FOUR
- THIRTY-FIVE
- THIRTY-SIX
- THIRTY-SEVEN
- THIRTY-EIGHT
- THIRTY-NINE
- FORTY
- FORTY-ONE
- FORTY-TWO
- FORTY-THREE
- FORTY-FOUR
- FORTY-FIVE
- FORTY-SIX
- FORTY-SEVEN
- FORTY-EIGHT
- FORTY-NINE
- FIFTY
- FIFTY-ONE
- FIFTY-TWO
- FIFTY-THREE
- FIFTY-FOUR
- FIFTY-FIVE
- FIFTY-SIX
- FIFTY-SEVEN
- FIFTY-EIGHT
- FIFTY-NINE
- SIXTY
- SIXTY-ONE
- SIXTY-TWO
- SIXTY-THREE
- SIXTY-FOUR
- SIXTY-FIVE
- SIXTY-SIX
- SIXTY-SEVEN
- SIXTY-EIGHT
- SIXTY-NINE
- SEVENTY
- SEVENTY-ONE
- SEVENTY-TWO
- SEVENTY-THREE
- SEVENTY-FOUR
- SEVENTY-FIVE
- SEVENTY-SIX
- SEVENTY-SEVEN
- SEVENTY-EIGHT
- SEVENTY-NINE
- EIGHTY
- EIGHTY-ONE
- EIGHTY-TWO
- EIGHTY-THREE
- EIGHTY-FOUR
- EIGHTY-FIVE
- EIGHTY-SIX
- EIGHTY-SEVEN
- Children of Fallen Patriots Foundation
- ABOUT THE AUTHOR
- What’s next onyour reading list?
The agent wrote his mobile number on the back of a business card.
“Then maybe a drink later,” he said as he grasped her elbow with one hand and gave her his card with the other.
The elevator doors opened.
Jake was standing there—all six feet, two inches of him, tanned and fit—his hands tented in front of him, almost as if he were praying. But he wasn’t. The stance would save a few fractions of a second if he had to strike someone in the head or throat.
Like the agent.
Athena’s cell phone was transmitting audio to an earpiece Jake was wearing, and he was feeling protective of the woman who’d put herself at risk to help him.
Jake’s eyes bored into the man.
The agent released Athena’s elbow and bid her good night.
“That wasn’t very subtle,” she said as Jake followed her to the car.
“I want him to know that someone is watching your back.”
“Oh, he already took care of that . . .”
—
JAKE SPENT TWENTY minutes running a surveillance detection route through the narrow streets of Piraeus.
“Where are we going?” Athena asked after the fifth seemingly random turn.
“We’re meeting someone.”
Jake stopped in front of a roadside café. A petite woman about Jake’s age opened the door and sat in the rear seat next to Athena. Jake pulled away.
“You can call me Thanya,” the woman said to Athena. “Thank you for your help. Do you have the device Jake gave you?”
Athena pulled a dog-eared paperback book from her purse and handed it over.
“Thank you. Now can you describe everything you saw from the time you got out of the car until the time you were back in it?”
Athena closed her eyes and recalled the agent’s office as if she were still inside the building: the exterior, the lobby, the layout of the office suite, the manufacturer of his telephone and laptop, and the decorations in his private office.
“That’s impressive,” said the woman from CIA’s Office of Technical Services.
“I can draw you a map,” Athena said without a hint of self-importance.
Thanya handed her a pad and a pencil and Athena made good on her offer.
“You said he had a collection of tombstones,” Jake said. “Were any of them from deals he’d done with your company?”
Athena stopped drawing and stared out the window.
“He had the one from the Lindos,” she said with ice in her voice.
Jake made eye contact with Thanya in the rearview mirror. She’d also been listening to the conversation inside the office.
She looked at Athena. “So, about that drink tonight . . .”