Project Cyclops Part 17

What would Ulysses have done with a shortwave radio? Talked back to the Sirens? . . .

The broadcasts, however, were mainly about the weather. Sailors did not waste their time on world events. When that news finally trickled down, however, these sideband channels would probably no longer be safe to use--maybe they weren't now, but he had to take the risk. . . .

He tried a few frequencies and then he got lucky. It was a Greek ham operator, probably having a second cup of strong native coffee and waiting for the traffic in Athens to subside. As are all amateurs, he was delighted to talk. He sounded youthful and enthusiastic, eager to help.

"I read you, Ulysses. You're coming in loud and clear on SSB 432.124 megahertz. This is SV5VMS, Athens. What is your callsign?"

"Don't have a handle," Vance replied into the mike, in Greek. "This is a Mayday."

"I copy." The voice suddenly grew serious. "What is your location?"

He paused a second, wondering what to say. No, he couldn't take a chance. Who knew who else was listening in?

"Don't have that either. What I need is a phone patch to a number in Athens. Can you set it up?"

"No problem," came the confident response, using the international English phrase. Vance tried to imagine what he looked like. Probably mid-twenties, with the swagger acquired by all young Greek men along with their first motor scooter. They wanted to impress you with how wonderful their country was, and they also wanted you to know that they were the biggest stud in all the land. "But whoever you want may be gone to work by now."

"This guy probably won't even be out of bed yet. He's a night owl,"

Vance replied into the mike. He didn't add that the best thing Dimitri did at night was handle an infrared-mounted H&K MP5. "It's Athens city code and the number is 21776." He knew that Spiros kept a lovely whitewashed house on the western side of town, just out of the major smog centers.

Moments later the patch was through and he had Spiros on the radio. The patch was scratchy and hill of static, but not so much he couldn't hear.

"Michael, you woke me up. I hope the world just ended." It was Spiros's gruff voice. A thirty-year veteran of an ant.i.terrorist unit in Brussels, he was as tough as he sounded. "By the way, everybody's heard about that _Odyssey_ stunt of yours. Are you in trouble already? We've got a pool going on you. I have ten thousand drachmas saying you'll never make it."

"I appreciate the confidence. Anyway, you can start spending the money.

You'll be relieved to know I blew it. She sank on me."

'Too bad." He laughed. "So what was the problem?"

"Mostly it was some twelve-mil machine-gun fire. Took the wind right out of her sails. I took a swim and then I think a 57mm Euclid finished her off."

'That's Russian." The voice quickly grew serious. "Sounds like vou made the wrong people mad. Who in h.e.l.l did it?"

"Don't know, but they're very meticulous about their work. They used a false-flag approach and sh.e.l.led an American frigate down here north of Crete. Should be making the news any time now."

"Sounds like somebody's getting hot about inviting the Sixth Fleet out of the Med." Then Spiros's pensive tone turned businesslike. "Are you okay? Where are you now?"

"I'm fine, I think. But you've got to get some of the boys down here."

"What do you mean?"

"Remember that job you did for Bill Bates?" Maybe, he thought, we can talk around the problem. "Looks like the security didn't stick."

"That was a good job," Spiros said with a growl. "Need some updating?"

"It's going to be a little more than that. I think maybe a dozen hostiles, give or take, came in by chopper. A Hind-D. Had all the factory extras."

"Had?"

"It just met with an accident."

"And I'll bet you had nothing to do with it." He laughed. "So what kind of hardware do they have?"

"Uzis for sure. Probably also some grenade launchers. Also light machine guns, ZB-26. The odds are good they're going to be here for a while. They've dug in and it's a long swim to anywhere."

"Should we be having this conversation on the phone?" Caution was entering his voice. "Can we secure up these communications?"

"Bight now we've got no choice," Vance answered. "Nothing where I am is secure." Including my skin, he thought.

"All right, then, give it to me fast." He was all business. "What do you have on nationality?"

"It has a Beirut feel about it. But I managed to get some material off one of them, and I think he was a former East German Stasi type.

Whoever they are, they're operating under some phony front name."

"I read you. Usual terrorist MO?"

"Best I can tell."

'Then we have to worry about civilians. That's going to make it tougher."

"Bill may be among them. And all his staff."

"Bad news."

"He's a prize."

"What do you think their game is?" Spiros asked after a pause.

"Ransom?"

"That'd he my first guess. Though it doesn't synch with the attack on the U.S. s.h.i.+p--unless it was intended as a deliberate diversion. Maybe they're planning something else. But my hunch is money's involved.

Anyway, we'll find out soon enough."

"You're d.a.m.ned right we will." The line was silent for a moment as static intervened. "Well, this will teach us to guarantee our work.

It's going to be an expensive insurance policy."

"Nothing in life is supposed to be easy."

"So we keep finding out." He seemed to be thinking. "You know, I sent the layout to Paris when the job was finished. For the files." He didn't want to mention Pierre Armont, the head of ARM, on an unsecured line. "I'll see what the office there can get together for us."

"Do we have any people left on site?" Vance asked.

"Just contract," Spiros responded. "Locals and probably not worth much."

"Well, whoever they are, chances are good they've been neutralized by now. As a matter of fact, I fear the worst."

"That's our motto. a.s.sume everything will go to h.e.l.l and then work around it."

"Time to get off the air. I'll try to raise you at 1700 hours. On 2150 megahertz. By that time you'd better have the team lined up and ready to move in. I owe Bates this one. A nice clean job."