The Book of Spies

43

EVA WAS watching, stunned. "Judd, stop!" Black hair blowing around her face, she scrambled toward Serin.
"No, Eva. Come here!" Judd ordered as he sat on the seat behind Serin and slid to the side where he had a fuller view of the man's profile and a safer distance. He steadily pointed his Beretta at him.
Her eyes wide, Eva grasped the arm of the seat and pulled herself around the rocking yacht.
"What did I miss?" She fell in beside him.
Serin's fez was gone, and his almond-colored features had shifted, revealing a depth of something Judd could not quite name but felt in himself and did not like. Something predatory. Serin's facial skin seemed different, too, and Judd had a sudden insight the man was in disguise. A hell of a good disguise, with skin dye and some of the new manmade materials that, when smoothed on skin and allowed to dry, puckered the surface and formed deep crevices. The large nose could be fake, too.
"This has been what we in intelligence call a movie," Judd explained to Eva grimly. "It's a setup that looks and feels completely real." He gestured with his pistol at Serin. "Tell her," he ordered.
There was no hesitation. "I have rules," Serin said over the noise of the engines and wind. "They are inviolate. My employer agreed to all of them. One of them is I do wet work only on people who shouldn't be breathing, and I'm the one who makes the decision. My employer was convincing about both of you, so I agreed to the job. He ordered Preston to create a movie in which you'd believe I'd be useful to help you get away. So when Preston realized you were in Yakimovich's storage room, he eliminated two of his people and called me in." He hesitated.
"Go on," Judd said.
"At that point I took over. But when you arrived I began to wonder. The people I wipe aren't solicitous of an old man. They don't inquire about his well-being. You were prepared to scrub Preston if he moved because he'd tried to do the same to you earlier--but you were just as willing to wait to find out whether I was a threat. Evil people murder first and don't bother about questions. All of this meant I needed to find out more. Were you trying to kill my employer and steal some big business deal as he contended? Finally I learned you claimed to be treasure hunters chasing a chimera, some old manuscript called The Book of Spies. That did not fit the profile my employer gave me. Then I looked back at you, Judd, and lost control of the wheel. My specialty is in making hits look like accidents, so I'd planned to erase you out here. Losing control of the boat presented an elegant opportunity. They are few."
"Why did you change your mind?" Eva said.
"Because, God help me, I know human nature--in my world it's nasty, corrupt, and mean. You aren't, so in the end I had to believe you. I'll tell you now I'm glad." He looked at Eva. "You remind me of my daughter. You're about the same age, and both very pretty in similar ways. According to the photo I was given, your true hair color is red. Hers is auburn."
The yacht cruised onward, rolling up and down with the sea. The wind howled around them.
"I can't trust you," Judd decided.
"I understand. However, I'll still take you to my friend and his airstrip."
"Who hired you?"
"I won't tell you that."
"Your rules?"
He gave a curt nod. "I've survived many years in a business in which most of my colleagues have been killed off. Seldom do we die of old age. Rules are not for the timid or the careless. They require discipline. King Lear railed against the universe when he was punished for breaking its rules. I don't want the same fate. Besides, the longer I live, the greater my chance of seeing my daughter again."
"What's your name?" Judd asked.
The assassin's black eyes cut into him. "The Carnivore." Then he smiled.
Thrace, Turkey
THE CARNIVORE turned off the yacht's engines in calm waters near a strip of uninhabited land north of the village of Barbados. Judd dropped the anchor, they found flashlights, and they took off their shoes. The Carnivore pulled off his caftan. Beneath it he wore black jeans and a black T-shirt. His muscle tone was excellent, but his skin elasticity showed advancing age. Judd guessed him to be in his fifties.
They rolled up their jeans and waded ashore. Judd carried the duffel, and Eva wore her satchel, the strap across her chest. The wind was quieter here. They crossed the beach, and the Carnivore led them up ancient stone steps carved into a cliff.
At the top, they paused. The moon had risen, casting an eerie light across acres of grapevines tied neatly to wires running between gnarled wood posts. The vines were just beginning to leaf. The air smelled raw, of freshly tilled soil.
They headed off on a narrow dirt trail through the grapevines.
"Do you want to tell me what this is all about, Judd?" the Carnivore asked.
"Reciprocity is another of your rules?"
"A good one, don't you think."
"I like it," Judd said. "But no, I'll handle this."
The trail widened, and the three moved on side by side.
The Carnivore peered around at Judd and said thoughtfully, "Yes, I believe you will--if it can be handled at all. But as for reciprocity, I consider us even by my giving you a safe route into Athens."
"Is Preston free now?" Eva asked worriedly.
"He must be," the Carnivore said. "He had backup."
"What if I'd decided to kill him back in the Grand Bazaar," Judd said. "Your movie would've been burned."
"That would've worked just as well," the Carnivore instructed. "He would've 'awakened' and attacked you. I would've saved the day by helping you to escape, him to live, and the movie to continue."
Judd changed the subject. "What about his note, the one that mentioned Athens. Was it legitimate or a plant?"
"Legitimate. A note to himself. It added to the authenticity and gave you a significant reason to believe what you saw was real. Perhaps more important, we didn't expect you to live long enough to use it or anything else you might've learned there."
"Do you have any information about The Book of Spies and Robin Miller?" Eva asked.
"It was none of my business."
"What about the Library of Gold?"
The Carnivore frowned. "I've heard of it. Is that what this is all about?"
"Yes." But Judd said no more. Venomous snakes like the Carnivore shed their skins occasionally, but their bites remained just as unpredictable--and poisonous. "What will you tell your employer?"
"Nothing."
Judd sensed fury behind the one-word answer. The Carnivore was making his employer pay for lying to him. It also meant the employer would think he and Eva were dead--at least for a while.
"It gives you time," the Carnivore said, "but it's also good business for me. When one deals in death, one must make certain the rules are clear--and there are costs involved when they're broken." He glanced at Judd. "And it means you don't have to contemplate eliminating me, and I don't have to take proactive measures to make certain you don't try."
The words were calm, matter-of-fact, but they sent a chill through Judd.
"You won't be paid," Judd said.
"I have half. I'll keep it."
"Where do you come from?" Eva asked the Carnivore. "Where do you live now? How did you get into this business? You sound almost American."
"I'm sorry, Eva. It's really better you don't know. Once a KGB assassin from the old cold war days went after my daughter, thinking I was dead and he'd get his revenge on me by eliminating her. Fortunately she was able to save herself. If anyone finds out you have information about me, your lives could be threatened, and there's no guarantee you'd be as lucky as she."
At the top of a slight incline they saw a house, large and expansive, built of weathered stone with a blue-tile Ottoman roof. Lights showed inside, and as they approached, exterior lights flashed on, illuminating flower beds, patches of grass, and a stone gazebo. Empty wine barrels were stacked against sheds. There was a large clapboard structure toward the back that was probably where the wine was made and aged.
The door to the house opened, and a man in his late fifties appeared, a shotgun resting across an arm.
"Who goes there?" he shouted in Turkish and English.
"An old friend from long ago, Hugo Shah," the Carnivore replied. "You remember me, Alex Bosa."
"Alex, you've come to taste my wine again. I'm honored." Then as they approached, Shah stared. "Alex? Yes, it is you. What a magnificent disguise. What are you up to now?"
"No good, as always."
Shah laughed. The pair shook hands, and the four trooped into a living area of tasteful wallpaper and thick carpets. Fine old furniture was placed here and there, while a modern sofa and easy chairs faced a handsome fireplace.
"Who are your friends, Alex?" Shah asked.
"It doesn't matter. They need your help, which means I need your help. Is that light plane of yours available?"
"At this hour?" Shah's eyes narrowed as he studied the Carnivore. "I see. It is an emergency. Very well, I will fly them myself. Do you wish to accompany us?"
"I'll wait here with the wine."
Shah smiled broadly. "Excellent. Please give me a moment." He returned soon, wearing a jacket and carrying a small valise.
As all four walked outside, Shah explained about his vineyard, "I grow gamay, cabernet, and papazkarasi grapes. I have in mind two fine reds I will open for us, Alex--it will be Alex and Hugo again."
About a half mile from the house, they went into a large garage where a single-engine Cirrus SR20 was waiting. They helped Shah roll out the plane. He gazed at the wind socket and sniffed the air.
"I'll say good-bye now." The Carnivore backed off.
They climbed on board, Judd sitting next to Shah, and Eva behind. As the engine warmed up, Judd gazed out the window. The Carnivore was smiling. He lifted his hand and pressed two fingers against his temple in a smart salute.
Judd found himself smiling back. He snapped off a two-finger salute in return.
"Where are we going?" Shah asked as the propellers started rotating.
Judd glanced back. Eva was looking at him. He heard the strength in his voice--also the urgency. "Athens."