Savage Recruit (Ryan Savage Thriller Series Book 8), стр. 22
Boomer filled him in on our run over to Galatas’s house. “Whoever took Kathleen isn’t messing around. Makes me think it was planned well in advance. They knew who she was and aren’t willing to run the risk of someone talking.”
Granger had his boots back on his desk and his keyboard on his lap. “I’m going to check Galatas’s recent call logs.”
My phone buzzed in my pocket. I slipped it out. The screen displayed a local number. I answered.
“Agent Savage, this is General Diakos. How are you?”
I shot Boomer a look. “General Diakos. Good to hear from you.”
Everyone stopped what they were doing and watched me. Boomer sat on a metal folding chair and crossed his arms.
“I have not seen you since you left the base this morning,” Diakos said. “Are you finding your way around Athens okay?”
“Just fine, General. Thank you. How are things on your end? Has your team found anything?”
“I am afraid not. But be assured that we are looking, using all our resources to locate Ms. Rose. You have my word.”
“Yes. I’m sure you are.” I thanked him for the call and told him, falsely, that I would share anything I learned with him.
“He doesn’t have anything, does he?” Teapot asked.
“No. He was fishing.”
“Probably about to get his ass kicked by his president or our ambassador,” Granger said, his attention still on his monitor. “It’s already been twenty-four hours.”
“Fine by me,” Boomer said. “He’s not getting a damn thing from us.”
“Anybody hungry?” Teapot asked. “I’m famished.” He grabbed a set of keys off one of the tables.
“Just grab dinner for the team,” Boomer said. “Any requests?”
“Chinese,” Granger said.
Chachi nodded contentedly. “Same.”
“Chinese?” I said. “In Greece?”
“Outside of China, it’s all the same the world over,” Teapot said. “Sweet and sour pork is bland, overcooked fried pork wherever you go.”
“Chinese, it is,” I said.
After Teapot left, Boomer stepped around a curtain and returned with a travel bag. “Here,” he said, and tossed it to me. It was my ruck. “I had Chachi stop by the base on the way in and grab it for you.”
“Thanks, guys. Nice move.”
“We’ll get you set up here with us for the night.” Boomer pointed to the far end of the floor. “There’s a shower down there and a seating area with some more comfortable chairs. Everyone has a cot in their own curtained area.”
“Any towels?” I asked.
“On a shelf in the bathroom. And you’ll have all the cold water you want.”
“Mostly because there’s no hot water to speak of,” Granger said. “No water heater. Two minutes in there, and you’ll step out with nipples harder than that steel plate in Teapot’s head.”
Boomer gave me a knowing look. “He’s not wrong.”
The shower, cold as it was, left me refreshed. When I stepped out, my skin was tingling and my mind was clear after a long day. I toweled off, changed into fresh clothes, and found the team in the common area. Except for the small bathroom area, there wasn’t an interior wall in the place. The common area was in the east corner of the building: a selection of worn and cracked leather chairs near a refrigerator, a freezer chest, and a table. The chairs were situated around an upturned wooden packing crate that served as a coffee table of sorts.
I found a chair and watched Boomer pull a bag of ice from the freezer and dump it into a large metal pail. He took the pail over to the fridge, removed a selection of beers, and stuffed them down into the ice. He shut the refrigerator, carried the pail over, and after selecting one for himself, popped the top and laid back with a long sigh.
The rest of us helped ourselves to a bottle. Mine was an Athens brewed IPA. Its bold, hoppy flavor reminded me of Kritter, an IPA crafted by Florida Keys Brewing Company. It hit the spot, and the tension in my body eased.
“How long since you guys have been home?” I asked.
“We were in Syria bumping up on six weeks,” Boomer said. “Two in Turkey before that.”
“Did the rest of your element continue stateside?”
“They did. The four of them got wheels down at Bragg a few hours ago.”
“I appreciate you answering this call. I’m sure you’re all ready for some R&R.”
“It’s what we do,” Chachi said.
“And we’re damn glad to do it too,” Granger chimed in.
Boomer took a long pull on his bottle. “I know we’re sitting around shooting the breeze, Savage. As soon as we find or get fed something actionable, we’ll move on it. I don’t want you thinking that we’ve brought it down a notch because we’re sitting here on our asses.”
“No explanation needed,” I said.
“I’ve got our operations team at JSOC looking into Galatas’s recent phone calls,” Granger said. “He must have had another, unlisted number because so far they’ve only found calls to his bank, his landscaper, and a fast food joint.”
Boomer leaned forward and set his elbows on his knees. “The merchant at the market said that he saw Kathleen leave with two men. That leaves at least one more out there, and probably a third if there was a dedicated driver. Odds are that whoever commissioned them to get Kathleen wanted them out of the picture too.”
“That’s a fair bet,” I agreed. And if that was true, then we were out of leads. We were already at a dead end and down to sheer luck, which wasn’t a position I ever enjoyed being in. Luck often factors into a successful investigation. Sometimes the right person pops up with new information, or the criminal you’re pursuing makes a crucial, unexpected mistake. But right now, looking for Kathleen, I wanted something