The Eighth Sister (Charles Jenkins #1)(78)

At just after 6:00 p.m., an overhead voice echoed from the terminal speakers announcing the arrival of flight GQ240 from Athens. According to Federov’s FSB sources, three passengers had boarded traveling under US passports. Two were newly married, the trip to Chios an apparent honeymoon. The third passenger, a young man, was traveling alone. Each of the FSB officers had been provided passport photographs.

Federov straightened as the first passengers entered the doors of the terminal building. The young man walked quickly to the line forming at customs and immigration.

Federov touched his ear. “The subject has just entered the building and is standing at the back of the line.”

“I have him,” Alekseyov said. Alekseyov sat on a bench across the terminal. Since this was the last arriving flight of the evening, Federov sent the other two officers to retrieve their rented car. Federov listened closely to the messages being broadcast over the loudspeakers and watched the young man for any reaction to any message. Federov saw none.

The young man stepped forward in line. Was he looking for someone? Jenkins? A contact perhaps? Federov doubted Jenkins would be so bold as to arrange a drop at the airport, but this young man could also be acting as a go-between, someone to get the documents to a second courier, who would then take them to Jenkins.

The young man stepped to the immigration booth and slid the officer his passport. Federov took another step closer and heard the officer ask the purpose for the young man’s visit to Chios.

“Vacation,” he said.

The customs officer stamped the passport and slid it back. The young man picked up his bag and walked toward the terminal’s front doors. Federov and Alekseyov fell in step behind him.

The young man stopped, pulled out a cell phone, and pressed it to his ear. An incoming call. He continued to talk as he walked outside the terminal doors and crossed the road to a taxi stand. A stiff breeze rustled the leaves of palm trees.

Federov’s car pulled to the curb. He and Alekseyov slipped into the back seat. The taxi pulled from the airport onto the two-lane road hugging the coastline, driving north, into Chios.

“Give him room,” Federov said.

Minutes later, the taxi stopped at a hotel not far from the marina. The young man stepped out and entered the lobby.

“Pull across the street,” Federov said. His driver did so.

The hotel rooms were located off an outdoor balcony, with views of the marina. After several minutes the young man emerged and climbed the outdoor steps to the second floor. He entered the room second from the end.

“How long do we wait?” the driver asked.

Federov rolled down his window and lit a cigarette. “We shall see.”



Jake descended the stairs to the tarmac, carrying his duffel bag and his backpack. He bypassed the luggage cart and proceeded inside the terminal, standing in line behind the couple he’d met briefly on the plane. Newlyweds from San Francisco, they were honeymooning in the Greek isles and already complaining about the cool temperature.

Jake resisted the urge to look around the terminal and, despite the comfortable temperature, he felt perspiration trickling down his sides. The back of his shirt clung to his skin. He wasn’t about to remove his jacket.

The cell phone in his coat pocket vibrated. Jake reached inside to retrieve it, pressing it to his ear so he could hear over the echoing voice thrumming from the airport speakers.

“Do not look around,” Jenkins said.

“Okay.”

“The terminal is being watched by at least two men. Probably more. Smile like you’re happy to be receiving this call.”

Jake did.

“Now, look to your right. Do you see the man in the blue windbreaker across the terminal?”

Jake did. “Yes.”

“Laugh again.”

Jake did. The woman standing in front of him turned and smiled.

“Now, look to your left. Do you see the blond-haired man seated on the bench?”

Jake turned his head to the left. “Yes. What do I do?”

“Nothing. Just proceed forward.”

The newlyweds stepped to one of two booths at the front of the line. Jake stepped to the booth on his right when the couple in front of him departed.

“Passport,” the customs officer said.

Jake handed the man his passport. The officer opened it and considered the picture, then considered Jake. “Remove your hat, please.”

Jake did as the customs officer asked.

The man eyed him for another moment. Then he set down the passport and typed on the computer keyboard. “What is the purpose of your visit?”

“Pleasure,” Jake said.

The man pecked at the keyboard, then stamped the passport and handed it back to Jake. “Enjoy your stay in Chios.”

Jake picked up his bag and stepped into the terminal. When he did, the man on the bench stood. The man to his right also began to move toward him.

“What do I do?” Jake said into the phone.

“Just walk forward. Do not look around. Smile and look animated for a second. You’re happy to be in Chios.”

Jake tried, but wasn’t certain he was convincing. He departed through the terminal doors. A car pulled to the curb. Jake envisioned the man in the passenger seat stepping out, grabbing him, and shoving Jake into the back seat, but the car drove past him.

Jake let out a held breath.