through. The most interesting thing from my point of view is that there is some suggestion that Anne Marcus—our victim’s mother—is somehow involved. That is a bit tenuous at the moment.”
“I called because I have some news, as well,” the DCIA says. “Okay, hit me with it,” I tell her.
“Company people may have located Viachaslau Mazurkiewicz we think.”
“Is he in custody?”
“Not just yet.”
“Where is he?”
“As of two hours ago, he is in an apartment on Han Asparuh Street in Varna, Bulgaria. In case you aren’t all that familiar with Bulgaria, Varna is located on the west coast of the Black Sea near the Stone Forest. The Russian mafia moved him there under the protection of the tlM—the Bulgarian mafia, for lack of a better term. They are protected by the Bulgarian Secret Service, a through-and-through corrupt governmental agency. We cannot expect any help from official quarters.”
“Swell,” I say. “So what do we do?”
“Two of my best people are watching the apartment as we speak. I have ordered a rapid response team to gather in Varna. They should be there in a day. I have to attend to some Company business in Moscow later in the week; so, I plan to take a small detour and go to Varna myself.”
“In disguise, I hope.”
“Of course. We have the best Hollywood makeup artists there are at our beck and call.”
“Any chance of my guy, Ivory White, and I going along?”
“Is he the black guy I’ve heard about?”
“The same.”
“Actually, his race may prove to be a good cover. Is he as good at field work as I hear?”
“Better.”
“Are you up for a little adventure yourself, McGee?”
“Yes, Ma’am. You couldn’t keep me away.”
“All right, come by my office at four this afternoon. This is not for communication on an insecure phone. I will lay out the plan then. Bring a toothbrush.”
As soon as I hang up, I get hold of Ivory and Caitlin for a meeting in my office.
“Hey, Ivory, how would you like to take a little adventure tour of Bulgaria?”
“Sure,” he says. “Do I have to pack anything special?”
“Your best stuff.”
He nods his understanding.
“When do we leave?”
“This afternoon?”
“How about me, boss?” Caitlin asks.
“You have something more pressing to do. I want you to sift through every paper that David, the NYPD, and Homeland Security has on Anne Marcus. The thick looks like it’s beginning to plotten there. I doubt that Ivory and I will be all that long on our trip, and I would like to have a serious and well-planned talk with the matriarch of the Marcus family when we get back.”
“Will do,” she says. “Do I presume that your trip is not to be broadcast abroad? Maybe includes a puzzle palace involvement?”
“Maybe so,” I answer, and flash her one of my patented enigmatic smiles.
She and Ivory laugh.
CIA Special Agents Mac Young and Ed Simonsen are sitting in a small outdoor café on Varna’s Sveti Kliment Street near its intersection with Han Asparuh Street. They have a well-shaded table in a nondescript internet café with a good view of the Armenian Church, Plaza Ekzarh Jossif, and the Draguz Apartment building on Han Asparuh. For the past two mornings they have unobtrusively scoped out the streets for evasion and escape routes, and are satisfied that they are in as good a location as any to prepare for their assault. They have been there all this morning. Mazurkiewicz was seen entering the building at two in the morning after a heavy drinking party at a secret service general’s house near the Sea Gardens on very upscale Bulevard Primorski. The area was quiet all night and is still just beginning to wake up this morning. The only people that Mac and Ed take note of are four obvious security agents—burly thugs—who make hourly patrols around the block where the Draguz Apartment building sits. The two agents presume that the men are secret service. The bulges in their ill-fitting jackets suggest
“I called because I have some news, as well,” the DCIA says. “Okay, hit me with it,” I tell her.
“Company people may have located Viachaslau Mazurkiewicz we think.”
“Is he in custody?”
“Not just yet.”
“Where is he?”
“As of two hours ago, he is in an apartment on Han Asparuh Street in Varna, Bulgaria. In case you aren’t all that familiar with Bulgaria, Varna is located on the west coast of the Black Sea near the Stone Forest. The Russian mafia moved him there under the protection of the tlM—the Bulgarian mafia, for lack of a better term. They are protected by the Bulgarian Secret Service, a through-and-through corrupt governmental agency. We cannot expect any help from official quarters.”
“Swell,” I say. “So what do we do?”
“Two of my best people are watching the apartment as we speak. I have ordered a rapid response team to gather in Varna. They should be there in a day. I have to attend to some Company business in Moscow later in the week; so, I plan to take a small detour and go to Varna myself.”
“In disguise, I hope.”
“Of course. We have the best Hollywood makeup artists there are at our beck and call.”
“Any chance of my guy, Ivory White, and I going along?”
“Is he the black guy I’ve heard about?”
“The same.”
“Actually, his race may prove to be a good cover. Is he as good at field work as I hear?”
“Better.”
“Are you up for a little adventure yourself, McGee?”
“Yes, Ma’am. You couldn’t keep me away.”
“All right, come by my office at four this afternoon. This is not for communication on an insecure phone. I will lay out the plan then. Bring a toothbrush.”
As soon as I hang up, I get hold of Ivory and Caitlin for a meeting in my office.
“Hey, Ivory, how would you like to take a little adventure tour of Bulgaria?”
“Sure,” he says. “Do I have to pack anything special?”
“Your best stuff.”
He nods his understanding.
“When do we leave?”
“This afternoon?”
“How about me, boss?” Caitlin asks.
“You have something more pressing to do. I want you to sift through every paper that David, the NYPD, and Homeland Security has on Anne Marcus. The thick looks like it’s beginning to plotten there. I doubt that Ivory and I will be all that long on our trip, and I would like to have a serious and well-planned talk with the matriarch of the Marcus family when we get back.”
“Will do,” she says. “Do I presume that your trip is not to be broadcast abroad? Maybe includes a puzzle palace involvement?”
“Maybe so,” I answer, and flash her one of my patented enigmatic smiles.
She and Ivory laugh.
CIA Special Agents Mac Young and Ed Simonsen are sitting in a small outdoor café on Varna’s Sveti Kliment Street near its intersection with Han Asparuh Street. They have a well-shaded table in a nondescript internet café with a good view of the Armenian Church, Plaza Ekzarh Jossif, and the Draguz Apartment building on Han Asparuh. For the past two mornings they have unobtrusively scoped out the streets for evasion and escape routes, and are satisfied that they are in as good a location as any to prepare for their assault. They have been there all this morning. Mazurkiewicz was seen entering the building at two in the morning after a heavy drinking party at a secret service general’s house near the Sea Gardens on very upscale Bulevard Primorski. The area was quiet all night and is still just beginning to wake up this morning. The only people that Mac and Ed take note of are four obvious security agents—burly thugs—who make hourly patrols around the block where the Draguz Apartment building sits. The two agents presume that the men are secret service. The bulges in their ill-fitting jackets suggest
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