"Thirty seconds. That's all you have to stop the bullshit, or your son is dead."
~~~~
Six years ago, Chelsea Doherty lost everything when her husband disappeared without a trace and left her to clean up his past. Now living in Ireland, she has piec...
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Nicosia, Cyprus
July 2024
~~~~
We spill out of the bus together with thirty other tourists in the center of Nicosia. So far, the plan is holding up. When we crossed through the immigration checkpoint at the Limassol cruise terminal, they didn't even check our passports. Knowing port procedures from our arms' shipments, it was something I expected, but it was still a relief when everything went smoothly. Three weeks of preparation went into this trip, nerve-racking days of hanging out in Athens to time our arrival in Cyprus to align with Icarus's hunt for his son's killers, and today will show if our efforts to evade the Disciples and snatch Vitaly from right under their noses were enough.
The tour guide holds up an umbrella with the cruise logo. "We'll be exploring the Leventis Municipal Museum first, so follow me."
I slip him a hundred-dollar bill. "My wife and I would prefer to discover the city on our own."
"No problem, sir. The bus will leave from this exact same spot at five pm to take the group back to the cruise port. Don't be late because I'm unable to wait."
"Don't worry about us. My wife is pregnant and we might leave earlier already. We'll find our own way back to the ship." I wrap his fingers around another hundred-dollar bill to avoid further questions.
He catches my drift. "Then have a good day, sir."
He herds the other passengers away and I motion to Chelsea to follow me across the road. We sit down in a coffee shop; it's the best place to kill the last hours. As we wait for the server to take our order, I drum my fingers on the table. My gaze roams over the faces of the other patrons and the passersby. This is almost too easy.
"Bastian."
Chelsea's hissed word rips through me like a bolt of lightning. I'm sweating and my hands are clammy.
Take a deep breath and calm the fuck down.
"Sorry, did you say something?"
"I asked you twice how far Vitaly's school is from here."
"Four blocks."
"So that's what? . . . About a ten-minute walk."
"More like fifteen."
"And he gets out at two?"
I nod. "It's summer school, so it might even be a few minutes earlier."
As time winds out, every second stretches like rubber. I pat my pocket with Vitaly's birth certificate that will allow me to get his US passport at the embassy in Greece. We'll still be on hostile territory and I'll have to watch my back. In this part of the world, Icarus has a fuckload of government officials in his pocket; this is his stomping ground and anyone here could turn out to be an enemy.
