Black Harvest (The PROJECT) by Alex Lukeman Read Free Book Online
Authors: Alex Lukeman
what she appears to be. She is part of an elite American intelligence group."
Korov raised an eyebrow. "What is she doing in Greece?"
"Looking for treasure. Or perhaps something else."
"Treasure?"
"She is following a trail that has been cold for a very long time." Alexei told Korov about the tablets and murder of three prominent American virologists.
"What will happen now that Gelashvili failed?"
"That is what you are going to find out, Arkady."
Korov noted the use of his first name. It told him this assignment was important. Vysotsky opened a desk drawer, took out a bottle of vodka and two glasses. He poured.
"Na Z 'drov nya." To your health. The men drank.
"I need more information. That is where you come in."
"Why are the Americans involved?"
"I don't know. This group is not like other American intelligence units. They are mobile and unrestricted, much as we are. If they're pursuing this there is fire behind the smoke. It is a complication, no more. My concern is Gelashvili. If the Americans bring him down, so much the better. Who knows, perhaps they will help you. Maybe you should look them up and introduce yourself."
Korov didn't smile.
"It's a joke, Major. But in this case, there may be a common goal."
Korov waited.
Alexei thought for a moment. "I think Bagrat Gelashvili will suffer complications from his injuries, even fatal ones."
Korov nodded. He didn't need to ask how that might be accomplished while Bagrat was in police custody. It would be up to him to arrange the details.
"You will proceed at once to Greece." Alexei handed Korov a packet. "You leave at 15:30 hours. This contains your legend, tickets, passport, money, driver's license and Bagrat's present location. Our contact in Athens will provide any weapons and supplies you require. Take care of Bagrat. Investigate. Find out anything you can about the Americans. You have full freedom to pursue your mission in any way you think fit."
Korov knew if anything went wrong, he would be blamed. On the other hand, he had all the freedom he needed to succeed. He smiled.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Arkady's flight landed on time. He took a room in the Plaka, the neighborhood below the Acropolis. His contact ran a shop here that catered to the tourist trade. There were always tourists in Athens. Arkady's passport identified him as Wilhelm Wimmer, a German architect on holiday. No one would think it unusual for an architect to visit Greece. Classical Greek architecture was still admired around the world.
Arkady found satisfaction in buildings like the Acropolis. The neat rows of columns, the perfect proportions, the folly of humans reflected in the actions of their gods. Korov had a genuine appreciation of history and Greek culture. He considered himself an educated man, though most of his education had been in the art of war.
The Russian adventure in Afghanistan was over by the time Arkady received his commission as a Junior Lieutenant. There was no shortage of other conflicts. He'd been recruited into Spetsnaz while serving in Chechnya. After that, things got interesting. Counter-terrorism in Tadzhikistan and Uzbekistan against the Islamic militant subversives. Special Advisor duty in Syria. He'd never married and everyone else was gone. His unit was his only family.
It was night in Athens. The Acropolis was bathed in light on the hill above his window. Tomorrow he would get his weapons and rent a car to drive north. Bagrat Gelashvili was being held under close guard at a hospital in Thessaloniki. His injuries were severe.
They were going to get worse.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Monday morning felt gray and damp with the raw smell of spring. Low walls of weathered stone wandered over ancient fields near the tomb. The land was green with fresh grass, sprinkled with white and blue wildflowers. Mount Olympus loomed in the background, shrouded in dark clouds. If the gods were home, no one cared.
The entrance to the tomb yawned in the side of a large hill. Centuries
Korov raised an eyebrow. "What is she doing in Greece?"
"Looking for treasure. Or perhaps something else."
"Treasure?"
"She is following a trail that has been cold for a very long time." Alexei told Korov about the tablets and murder of three prominent American virologists.
"What will happen now that Gelashvili failed?"
"That is what you are going to find out, Arkady."
Korov noted the use of his first name. It told him this assignment was important. Vysotsky opened a desk drawer, took out a bottle of vodka and two glasses. He poured.
"Na Z 'drov nya." To your health. The men drank.
"I need more information. That is where you come in."
"Why are the Americans involved?"
"I don't know. This group is not like other American intelligence units. They are mobile and unrestricted, much as we are. If they're pursuing this there is fire behind the smoke. It is a complication, no more. My concern is Gelashvili. If the Americans bring him down, so much the better. Who knows, perhaps they will help you. Maybe you should look them up and introduce yourself."
Korov didn't smile.
"It's a joke, Major. But in this case, there may be a common goal."
Korov waited.
Alexei thought for a moment. "I think Bagrat Gelashvili will suffer complications from his injuries, even fatal ones."
Korov nodded. He didn't need to ask how that might be accomplished while Bagrat was in police custody. It would be up to him to arrange the details.
"You will proceed at once to Greece." Alexei handed Korov a packet. "You leave at 15:30 hours. This contains your legend, tickets, passport, money, driver's license and Bagrat's present location. Our contact in Athens will provide any weapons and supplies you require. Take care of Bagrat. Investigate. Find out anything you can about the Americans. You have full freedom to pursue your mission in any way you think fit."
Korov knew if anything went wrong, he would be blamed. On the other hand, he had all the freedom he needed to succeed. He smiled.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Arkady's flight landed on time. He took a room in the Plaka, the neighborhood below the Acropolis. His contact ran a shop here that catered to the tourist trade. There were always tourists in Athens. Arkady's passport identified him as Wilhelm Wimmer, a German architect on holiday. No one would think it unusual for an architect to visit Greece. Classical Greek architecture was still admired around the world.
Arkady found satisfaction in buildings like the Acropolis. The neat rows of columns, the perfect proportions, the folly of humans reflected in the actions of their gods. Korov had a genuine appreciation of history and Greek culture. He considered himself an educated man, though most of his education had been in the art of war.
The Russian adventure in Afghanistan was over by the time Arkady received his commission as a Junior Lieutenant. There was no shortage of other conflicts. He'd been recruited into Spetsnaz while serving in Chechnya. After that, things got interesting. Counter-terrorism in Tadzhikistan and Uzbekistan against the Islamic militant subversives. Special Advisor duty in Syria. He'd never married and everyone else was gone. His unit was his only family.
It was night in Athens. The Acropolis was bathed in light on the hill above his window. Tomorrow he would get his weapons and rent a car to drive north. Bagrat Gelashvili was being held under close guard at a hospital in Thessaloniki. His injuries were severe.
They were going to get worse.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Monday morning felt gray and damp with the raw smell of spring. Low walls of weathered stone wandered over ancient fields near the tomb. The land was green with fresh grass, sprinkled with white and blue wildflowers. Mount Olympus loomed in the background, shrouded in dark clouds. If the gods were home, no one cared.
The entrance to the tomb yawned in the side of a large hill. Centuries
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