The professor asked his friend this and then listened. He seemed to have a concerned look on his face.
“What?” Jake asked.
“He said two men came there yesterday asking similar questions. Just a minute.” The professor talked fast again, almost arguing based on his tone. Then he smiled, thanked the man and hung up.
“That didn’t sound good,” Jake said.
“My friend said the two men were from the Turkish Ministry of Culture, but he doubted that. Regardless, they had credentials and he was forced to tell them all about Professor Sara Halsey Jones.”
“And what was that?”
“Just that she had been there until the day before studying The Histories by Polybius. They had no idea who that was, which is why the professor suspected they were not who they said they were.”
“Where did Sara go after leaving Istanbul?”
The professor laughed and said, “Where indeed. My friend told them she came back here to see me. But she didn’t come here.”
“He lied to the men?”
“Yes. Sara actually went to Malta.”
“Malta? Why there?”
“He didn’t know for sure. Something she read in The Histories. It turns out Sara is quite fluent in Greek. But she wouldn’t tell him what she was seeking. She said he could read about it when her book came out.”
Jake was used to cases going from screwy to incomprehensible, but this one seemed to be taking that track much quicker than any other. Although he was confused by all this, he couldn’t get all caught up in the why of her disappearance when he really needed to know the where of her current location.
“Is there anything else you can tell me?” Jake asked.
“I’m sure Sara is fine,” Professor Bretti said. “She’s a very determined woman. Brilliant as well. She’s more than likely just caught up in her research somewhere.”
Wishing that was the case also, Jake started for the door and stopped when the professor got up from his desk.
“Just a minute,” Professor Bretti said. “I meant to ask you if you were distantly related to John Adams.”
“I don’t know. One of my uncles once told me we were descendents of Samuel Adams, which would also make us related to John and his son.”
“Interesting. I could be talking with a remnant.”
Jake thanked the good professor and gave the man his e-mail and cell phone number, just in case Sara came back. He would need to get a new cell phone and activate it with his sim card. Walking upstairs to the bright skies of Rome, he wandered down the old cobblestone sidewalk toward the main gate. He was hungry and still tired. But at least he had a direction. Jake had been to Malta only once while with the Agency. A Russian GRU officer, Soviet at the time, wanted to defect and Jake was tasked to bring the man in. Jake had done his job, getting the man all the way back to Langley for a debriefing and light interrogation. But the man died within a week from some strange illness. So much for freedom. Couldn’t handle fresh air and real food.
Instead of grabbing a cab, he walked off toward the train station a few blocks from the main gate of Sapienza Università di Roma.
Just as their target got to the sidewalk outside the main gate of the university and seemed to be looking for a taxi, the Greek in the passenger side of a dark blue Fiat van nodded his head toward the man. “There he is,” Demetri said to the driver. Demetri had been a captain in the Greek army years ago, had worked with Zendo, and had been put in charge of the Rome operation. His thick black hair stuck straight up like that of a hedgehog. This wasn’t a fashion statement on Demetri’s part, it was just the way his hair grew without using a thick gel to tame it somewhat. He ran his stubby fingers through his locks now, a nervous habit that reminded him he needed a haircut soon.
In the back of the van another man leaned forward for a better view. “He doesn’t look that dangerous,” Niko said, his thick jaw tightening with each word. He was the biggest and strongest of the three in the van, but had only been a corporal in the army, having worked for both Demetri and Zendo during his years of service. He owed his life to Demetri, who had saved him from a sniper’s bullet during a peace-keeping mission in the Baltics. And he owed his freedom to Zendo, who had testified on his behalf during a court’s martial following an incident that had killed a group of civilians when he had called in an airstrike in Iraq. Niko was still haunted by the images of those killed, even though he knew these things happened in the fog of war. His biceps were the size of the thighs on most men. The result of daily weight lifting.
“He just about broke the arm of your cousin on the ferry from Tunis to Sicily,” Demetri explained to his young friend. “He did take his gun. Then he somehow lost them in the tiny city of Trapani. They only found out he took a flight to Rome after the plane had already taken off.”
“Hard to believe,” Niko said, settling back into a bench seat. “My cousin can almost lift as much weight as me.”
“I was sent a full briefing on this Jake Adams from Zendo himself. If he is a believer, you should be as well.”
Kyros, the driver, peered over the top of the steering wheel, pointing a finger toward the target. He was a short, stocky man, with wispy hair that tried desperately to hide his bald pate. Secretly he wished Demetri could give him some of his hair. “Should we follow him?”
Demetri turned to the man in the back. “Niko, get out and follow him on foot. But keep back and don’t let him know you’re there.”
Niko nodded quickly and did as he was told, getting out the sliding door and casually taking up the pursuit. He would first move fast to close the gap and then keep a discreet distance. The three of them had all served in Greek army intelligence, trained for this type of work. Observe without being observed.
Back in the van, Demetri glanced at Adams through small binoculars as he crossed the street ahead. “I’ll bet he’s going to the main train station. If Niko loses him there, he could hop a train to anywhere in Europe. Let’s go. We’ll move out and get to the train station first.”
The driver started the engine and they rushed off down the highway. Demetri could keep an eye on the American the entire trip through the streets that led to the main train terminal. They would have to dump the van, which they had stolen that morning.
Just as they pulled up behind a line of taxis and got out onto the sidewalk in front of the train station, Demetri’s cell phone buzzed in his pocket. He considered ignoring the call but saw that it was Zendo’s number. “Yes, sir,” he said, keeping his eye on the American, still two blocks from the front entrance, where dozens of passengers were coming and going. He listened carefully and smiled with the news from Greece. “Understood. Then we will simply verify where he’s going, keeping our distance.” He hit the off button and put the phone away.
“That was Zendo?” Kyros asked.
“Yes. We know where he’s going. Our orders are now to let him go and only verify.”
“How does Zendo know this?”
Demetri smiled. “The bug we placed on Professor Bretti’s phone has paid off.”
“Isn’t that how we knew the American woman was going to Istanbul?”
“Yes. Now hurry and pass off with Niko. You follow the man into the terminal and pass him off to me.”
Demetri watched as his men passed each other, with Kyros just a few feet from the American as Niko continued down the sidewalk to his position.
Demetri stopped for a moment to talk with Niko. “Our orders have changed,” Demetri said to Niko. “We know where he’s going. We just need to verify and then get ahead of him. Have you ever been to Malta?”
Niko shook his head. “I hear the women there are quite beautiful.”