Chapter 5
Dax sat across the narrow aisle from Giva. Though the distance was short enough he could have reached for her hand, he didn’t. It was one thing to touch, kiss and hold her in public, where people expected Evan Maas and Sasha Royce to demonstrate their love or lust for each other.
It was another thing entirely when they were only with their small team of Brotherhood Protectors, each knowing this mission was only a charade necessary to get them inside the meeting of the wealthy and powerful.
Giva was a member of the team, just like Dax, Fearghas, Peter and Dmytro. They were professionals on a mission.
Not a couple on their way to an all-inclusive adult resort to float in a pool and drink Mai Tais.
At that moment, a couples’ retreat sounded amazing.
Instead, they were heading into the lions’ den of world players who wouldn’t hesitate to kill anyone who got in the way of their goals.
The more Dax had learned about the Nexus Collective, the more he realized just how dangerous the mission would be.
“Want to go over the players again?” Giva asked into her headset.
“Sure,” Dax replied. “You can start.”
“Dieter Strüngmann, German, owns one of the largest Global transportation empires. A shutdown on any front could impact the world economy.”
“He’s self-made, started out in the mailroom of a trucking company, and worked his way up,” Dax added. “Bought the company, invested in shipping and air cargo movement.”
“Divorced twice. One ex-wife moved to Mexico and was killed by a Mexican cartel. The other ex-wife crashed on the autobahn.” Giva leaned her head back against the headrest and continued. “Two children, grown. His daughter lives in an undisclosed location, rumored to be in the Canary Islands. He's grooming his son, Fredrich, to take over the business.”
“Hammer said that Swede ran a search on Fredrich’s current whereabouts,” Dax said. “He’s back at their corporate headquarters in Munich and isn’t expected to attend this meeting of the minds.”
“Your turn,” Giva said.
“Vitaly Rabinovich,” Dax said. “Russian Oligarch. In exchange for his support of the President of Russia, he received huge contracts that made him a wealthy man. It’s believed the President of Russia charged him to use his tech company to employ the most skilled hackers to break into energy grids of countries all over the world. All the president has to do is point his finger, and Rabinovich can crash grids in countries like the UK, France, Canada and the US.”
“Except he’s lost favor with the President because he let one of his other ventures get out of hand,” Giva said. “A bio lab in Siberia that was cooking up weaponized viruses. It was shut down, but no one knows if the viruses were destroyed.”
Dax hadn’t liked the sound of that one.
“Let’s hope he didn’t bring a virus with him to Dubrovnik,” Giva said.
“No kidding,” Dax agreed. “From the sound of it, those viruses would make the pandemic of 2020 look like a case of the sniffles.”
“Marco Galeotti,” Giva prompted.
“Italian,” Dax said. “Shipping magnate with real estate all over the world and links to the Italian mafia. There’s another Russian. What was his name? Yuri?”
“Yuri Kagalovsky,” Giva offered.
“Oh yeah. I knew that.” Dax scrubbed a hand over his face. “Another oligarch. He controls forty-five percent of Russian oil exports and weapons production.”
“Which brings me to my favorite, Hochi Yamaguchi.” Giva’s lips pressed into a thin line. “She’s a piece of work. All proper Japanese businesswoman on the surface. Rumor has it she killed her father to take over his business and his connections with Yakuza.”
Dax nodded. “Japan’s version of mafia. Which brings us to Evan Maas,” he said.
Giva leaned her head toward him. “For the next couple of days, that will be you.”
“He certainly meets the global wealth criteria as one of the wealthiest men in the world.” Dax frowned. “But why him? From all the data Swede presented, there wasn’t anything connecting him to mafia organizations or cartels.”
“He’s been vocal about wanting to affect change in areas historically mired in strife. He has been known to go after what he wants no matter what it takes,” Giva said. “His timing is impeccable. He swoops in and snaps up corporations in countries that have suffered economic collapse or destruction of infrastructure. As the dust settles, he sends in building contractors and buys up real estate and failing corporations for pennies on the dollar. Then he turns them around and sells them at huge profits.”
“What do they all have in common?”
“A lot of money,” Giva answered.
“And the desire to make more,” Dax said. “And at what cost? The invitation Swede intercepted gave the general location, Dubrovnik, Croatia, and the time when the specific location would be sent.” His brow creased. “And that one other phrase that has everyone worried.”
“ It is time ,” Giva said softly.
“Time for what?” Dax asked, not expecting an answer. That was why they’d embarked on this dangerous mission. Something was about to happen, care of the Nexus Collective. It would be up to Dax, Giva, Fearghas, Peter and Dmytro to identify it and de-escalate.
He opened the electronic tablet they’d loaded with the images of the players in the game and studied the many photos of each to better recognize them at any angle.
Fearghas made his way from the cockpit to where Giva and Dax were seated and plugged in his headset to be heard over the roar of the engine. “We land in Split in ten minutes.” He looked from Giva to Dax and back. “You know the drill.”
Giva nodded. “We leave the aircraft and climb into the waiting vehicle. It drives through a hanger and out the other side.”
Dax picked up the plan from there. “We won’t be with it at that point. Inside the hanger, we all bail, and five other people leave inside the vehicle.”
Peter leaned in. “Fearghas and I will slip into maintenance uniforms, open the hanger doors and drag a helicopter onto the tarmac.
“I’ll be in the pilot’s seat,” Dmytro said into the headset. “Giva and Dax will be keeping low in the rear.”
Peter nodded. “The Scotsman and I will climb aboard, and we’ll take off to Dubrovnik.”
Dax glanced toward Giva. “While in the air, Giva and I will put on disguises so that when we arrive in Dubrovnik, no one will suspect we’re Evan Maas and Sasha Royce.”
“Which will give the four of us time to look around Old Town while we’re waiting for the text containing the location,” Giva added.
“Meanwhile, Dmytro will continue to our hotel and establish computer access, tracking, and communications.” Fearghas clapped his hands together. “Everybody ready?”
Dax, Giva and Peter nodded.
“Ready,” Dmytro said through the headset. “Fasten your seatbelts, we’re about to land.”
The plane circled and then descended, touching down lightly on the tarmac at the Split airport.
As planned, Dmytro taxied to the designated hangar on the general aviation side of the facility, brought the plane to a stop and shut down the engine.
A dark limousine drove up to the plane.
Fearghas opened the door and lowered the steps.
Dax climbed out first, turned, helped Giva to the ground and then into the back seat of the SUV.
Fearghas and Peter climbed in with them and sat across from the pair.
Dmytro slipped into the front passenger seat.
The vehicle drove across the tarmac into a hangar. As soon as the doors closed behind them,
Dax and Giva climbed out of the limo and into the waiting helicopter.
Fearghas and Peter pulled on maintenance coveralls and caps.
Dmytro stepped up into the pilot’s seat of the helicopter, fit his headset over his ears and a pair of sunglasses over his eyes.
Five other people dove into the limousine, and it rolled out the other side of the hangar onto the road leading out of the airport and southeast toward Split and Dubrovnik.
They waited ten minutes. Anyone who might be following Evan Maas and Sasha Royce should’ve followed the limousine and not hung around the airport.
At exactly ten minutes, Fearghas and Peter opened the hangar doors. A maintenance man pulled the chopper out of the hanger attached to the back of a cart.
Once he’d unhooked the helicopter from the cart, he moved the cart out of the way.
Fearghas climbed into the copilot’s seat while Peter slipped into the back with Dax and Giva.
Moments later, Dmytro had clearance and lifted off.
Dax and Giva stayed down, giving them enough time to put distance between them and the airport.
“You can sit up now,” Fearghas said. “We’ll land in twenty minutes.”
Giva pulled a blond wig out of the backpack she’d brought with her. She pulled her hair up into a ponytail and wrapped it around several times, pinning it down. Then she slipped the wig over her head, tugging it into place and anchoring it with hairpins.
Dax reached over and tucked several loose strands of dark hair into the wig cap. His knuckles brushed against the softness of her cheek, sending a spark of electricity zinging through him.
Giva’s eyes flared, and her lips parted slightly. Then she clamped her mouth closed, shrugged into a dark, bulky jacket two sizes too big for her and fit a pair of sunglasses over her eyes. She kicked out of her high heels and slid her feet into running shoes.
Based on her initial reaction, Giva must have felt that same spark. If they weren’t on their way to a dangerous mission, Dax would like to have explored that response further.
But they had a job to do that didn’t involve making love with his partner. Pulling his head back into the game, he slipped out of the blazer he’d worn on the airplane and into a hooded sweatshirt jacket. A fake mustache, a flat hat like those worn by golf caddies and sunglasses completed his disguise.
Fearghas and Peter stripped out of their maintenance coveralls. They would leave the helicopter like two businessmen, carrying a suitcase full of Evan and Sasha’s clothing and another with the equipment Dmytro needed to assist with the operation.
As Dmytro brought the aircraft to a gentle landing at the Heliodrom helicopter pad, Dax and Giva slipped off their headsets and tucked earbuds into their ears.
“Comm check,” Fearghas said into Dax’s ear.
“Evan here,” Dax responded.
“Sasha here.” Giva gave the man a thumbs-up.
“This is where we split up. We’ll meet you back at the hotel in three hours,” Fearghas said. “You can maintain communications with us through the radios.”
Dax and Giva were the first out of the chopper.
A dark car and a scooter were parked near the landing pad.
“I thought we were getting a motorcycle,” Dax murmured into the radio headset.
“Too flashy,” Dmytro said. “You’re tourists.”
“I’ll drive,” Giva said, slinging a leg over the seat of the scooter.
Dax frowned because he figured she’d expect him to when, in fact, he was happy to let her drive. That way, he could hold on around her middle all the way. Besides, she seemed to know more about Dubrovnik than he did.
He slid on behind her, his thighs sandwiching hers, his arms wrapping around her waist.
No, he didn’t mind letting her drive at all.
While Dmytro, Fearghas and Peter loaded the suitcases into the vehicle, Dax and Giva drove away, heading for Old Town.
The others would deliver the suitcases to the hotel. Dmytro would set up the ops center. Fearghas and Peter would change into tourist clothes and merge into the throngs of people visiting Old Town. They’d divided the city into quarters. Fearghas and Peter would split and each take a quarter section.
Dax and Giva would stay together and cover the other half as best they could.
They were looking for escape routes and potential entry points to underground spaces. Mostly, they were looking for people. They’d be studying the faces of the people they passed, looking for the Nexus Collective and anyone who appeared to be a sentry or bodyguard.
Dax and Giva could have stayed at the hotel, advertising themselves as Evan and Sasha. After much discussion with the team, they had opted to do their own reconnaissance to be more prepared when the text came through with the directions to the location.
The plan was to look around for a few hours. When the time drew near, they’d leave Old Town and drive back to the scooter rental place where the vehicle they’d sent from Split would meet them. They’d drop the scooter, change in the vehicle and arrive at the hotel as Evan and Sasha.
For the moment, they were just a couple of tourists, going to see a UNESCO world heritage site.
Giva drove the scooter like someone who’d driven a scooter or motorcycle before, zipping in and out of standstill traffic, arriving at the walls of Old Town in less than twenty minutes.
They parked the scooter and grabbed a brochure as they entered the city through Pile gate and passed Onofrio's Fountain.
Giva led the way to a set of stairs leading up to the wall that encircled the city. From there, they could look down into the city and get their bearings.
They climbed the Min?eta Tower, the highest point, and stared out over the walled city full of tourists and vendors.
When they finally stopped, Dax stood beside Giva. “You’ve been here before?”
She nodded, her lips curling on the corners. “I have. I came with my family when I was a teen. We spent three days exploring the city. My father loved history and took us to what we called old places. We loved it, though. My parents would get frustrated when they lost track of us.”
“I can imagine. This city is bigger than I’d imagined, with many places for a child to get lost.”
Giva nodded. “We’d get caught up exploring and wander off. We always had a designated place to go if we got separated. Here in Dubrovnik, it was right here at the Min?eta Tower. You could see it from most vantage points within Old Town.”
Dax stared down into the city, overwhelmed by the number of tourists crowding the streets and walking along the tops of the walls.
“If you had to place sentries around the city, where would you position them?” Giva asked.
“I’d start with the entrances. If I had the ability to put up cameras, I’d do it there. Otherwise, boots on the ground nearby and some on the walls above at points they can see down streets, not just looking out across the rooftops.”
Giva nodded. “The walls surrounding Old Town would have some good vantage points.” She tipped her chin toward a corner below where they stood. “See the man below us?”
Dax nodded. He’d noticed the man dressed in a black jacket and sunglasses. He stood with his hands in his pocket, staring intently down at the streets below. “Probably a sentry.” Dax shifted his gaze to take in more of the wall further away. “And the man at the next corner and the one I saw hovering over the entrance we came through. I bet there are more on the far side of the wall.” All three men he’d spotted wore black jackets and sunglasses.
Giva nodded and pushed away from the edge of the wall, lifting her cell phone to snap a picture of Dax.
He shook his head, his lips twisted. “We’re supposed to be tourists. Do a selfie.”
She came to stand beside him and held out her phone, aiming it at her and Dax. She snapped the photo and brought it up on the display.
Dax would have liked it better if she wasn’t wearing the wig and neither of them had on sunglasses. But they were together, and it was a great background picture.
Giva grimaced at the picture. “We should come back to Dubrovnik when we’re not on a mission. I don’t like myself as a blond.”
Dax chuckled. “So, you want to come back and get a picture of you without the wig?”
She shrugged. “I’m a trained combatant, but deep down, there’s a woman who likes pretty things and likes looking good.”
“You look amazing as a blonde and with your black hair.” He leaned close and kissed her. “I like that you’re tough as nails on the outside and soft and feminine on the inside. Beautiful inside and out.”
She wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned up to kiss him back.
His arms wound around her and crushed her to him, deepening the kiss.
“We’re inside the walls.” Fearghas’s voice filled Dax’s ears, startling him out of the kiss. “Evan and Sasha, comm check.”
Giva jerked away, blinking. “Sasha here.”
“Evan here,” Dax followed quickly.
“Location?” Fearghas asked.
“Highest point on the outer wall. Min?eta Tower,” Dax responded, his arms falling to his sides.
“Heading into our sectors,” Fearghas said. “Any sightings?”
“Three men on the walls so far. Black jackets, sunglasses. One of them was positioned over the entrance closest to the harbor.”
“Saw that one,” Peter’s voice sounded in Dax’s ear. “Can you see much from where you are?”
“A lot of rooftops,” Giva said. “As you move along the wall, you can get some views of streets leading into the city center. Not enough.”
“Roger,” Fearghas said. “Heading in. Will report what I find.”
“Same,” Peter said.
“Descending into the city now.” Dax met Giva’s gaze.
She gave a brief nod. Together, they left the tower, taking the staircase down to the wall.
Dax reached for Giva’s hand and held it as they walked past the man who’d been standing below them. Dax noted the dark earpieces he wore, matching the sunglasses.
The man spoke in a low tone that barely carried to Dax’s ears.
Giva leaned close to Dax and kissed his cheek, whispering into his ear, “Russian.”
He smiled at her and slipped his arm around her waist like any other tourist couple, maybe even on their honeymoon. What would it be like to be on a honeymoon with Giva?
Probably not a dull moment.
They found the stairs leading down into Old Town and wound their way through the streets. They did their best to avoid the really crowded areas, knowing it would be almost impossible to spot sentries among so many people. They weaved through the passages, some leading down many stairs to emerge onto Stradun, the main road leading from Pile Gate to the Plo?e Gate.
They walked quickly on the less crowded streets, moving from west to east.
When they reached the Dominican Monastery, they spotted another man in a black jacket and sunglasses leaning against the front of the monastery, smoking a cigarette.
“Got another at the Dominican Monastery,” Dax said into the radio.
“Spotted one at the base of the Jesuit Stairs,” Peter said softly. “And one at the top of the stairs in front of Saint Ignatius Church.”
“I’m not seeing much on the southwest quadrant,” Fearghas said.
“Another guy in Gunduli?’s Square near the statue of the man the square is named after,” Peter said.
“Seems to be more in your area, Peter,” Fearghas said.
“Agreed,” Peter said.
“Any clusters of them in any one place?” Fearghas asked.
“Not so far,” was Peter’s response. “Wait. I think I just saw someone who looks a lot like the guy with the mustache and goatee beard.”
“Marco Galeotti,” Dax said.
“That’s right,” Peter said. “He’s got a couple of big guys with him who I assume are his bodyguards. They’re heading back toward the Saint Ignatius. I’m following. They passed the church and headed down the Jesuit Stairs. The sentries are watching them.”
“Stay with them. Try not to be too obvious,” Fearghas said. “I’m heading your way.”
“Heading that way,” Giva said and turned south, Dax at her side.
“They’ve stopped at a bistro,” Peter said. “Marco is settling in for a cup of coffee.”
“Probably waiting for the text with the location,” Dax said. He glanced down at his watch. “Sasha and I have to head back and make an appearance at the hotel.”
“I’ll catch up with you before you head out for the rendezvous,” Fearghas said. “Peter, stay with Marco in case we lose track of Evan later.”
“Roger. I could use a coffee,” Peter said.
“Ready to head back?” Dax asked Giva.
She frowned. “I’d like to see Marco and get at least one face committed to memory.”
“We’re cutting it close on time, and we still have to walk all the way back across Old Town.” Still, he hesitated for only a moment longer and then said into his radio. “I want to see Marco. We’ll swing by the bistro on our way out.”
“That’s not really on your way out,” Fearghas pointed out.
“No, but I’d feel better knowing at least one face going into the meeting,” Dax said.
“Make that two faces,” Peter said. “The German, Dieter Strüngmann, just pulled up a chair to Marco’s table.”
“Headed your way,” Dax said.
He and Giva hurried toward the Jesuit Stairs, passing Saint Blaise’s Church along the way.
As they neared the stairs, Dax spotted the bistro with its array of outdoor seating.
Peter sat on one end of the row of tables and chairs, ordering coffee from a waitress.
At the other end of the seating area were two men, one with dark hair graying at the temples, a mustache and a goatee beard. The other man had dirty blond hair and blue eyes. Standing nearby were four men not doing a very good job at blending in. The bodyguards.
Dax slowed as they neared the two men. He didn’t look directly at them but studied them in his peripheral vision, glad they’d made the detour to get a good look at the two men.
Evan Maas would know them and act like he’d met them before.
Knowing they had to get back to the hotel, Dax didn’t stop. He kept walking, Giva’s hand held tightly in his.
She stayed with him, not trying to slow him down. They hurried toward Pile Gate and out of Old Town.
“You drive,” Giva said as they reached the scooter.
Dax flung his leg over the seat, started the engine and waited as Giva climbed on behind him. He pulled into the stalled traffic and weaved between vehicles, heading toward the scooter rental place.
Dax’s thoughts were on the road, careful not to get run over by impatient drivers. They were running short on time. He wanted to be settled into the hotel when the text with the instructions came through on the cell phone.
He hoped he’d learned enough about the men he’d meet with to make a convincing Evan Maas. Otherwise, the meeting would be over before it got started. And, if they were as brutal as the dark web indicated, Dax would just have to find a way out as quickly as possible.
They’d gone several blocks when Giva leaned close and said into his ear. “We have a tail.”
Dax checked the little mirror on his left handlebar. A motorcycle with a man wearing a black jacket and sunglasses followed them through the traffic.
Dax cut in front of a car and turned right onto a side street.
The man on the motorcycle did the same as the traffic finally started moving. The driver he cut off honked.
At the next corner, Dax turned left. While the other motorcycle was out of sight, Dax pulled into an alley and hid behind a building.
Giva hopped off the back of the scooter, ran to the corner and peered around the structure.
Dax stayed with the scooter with the motor running.
A few moments later, Giva returned. “He kept going a few blocks.” She climbed onto the back.
Dax turned the scooter around and drove back the way they’d come, doubling back on several roads until he was moving in the right direction toward the scooter rental shop.
The man on the motorcycle was nowhere to be seen when they made the switch from scooter to car, the driver heading for the hotel.
“Do you think they knew who we were?” Giva asked.
“Maybe not. They might have picked up on the fact we were scoping Old Town and sent a man after us to see where we’d go.” At least, he hoped that was the extent of their tail. He didn’t want to walk into the meeting with his cover already blown.