Free The Lost Throne by Chris Kuzneski

trip.”
    “And you’re sure he’s dead?”
    “They shot him in the head. He fell in the fountain.”
    “Allison, where are you in Russia?”
    “Saint Petersburg.”
    “Are you an American?”
    “Yes.”
    “Good. That’s good. Then I want you to go to the consulate. There’s an American consulate in Saint Petersburg. If you go there, they’ll protect you.”
    She sobbed. “I can’t. Richard said we couldn’t.”
    “Why not?”
    “I don’t know. But he said we
couldn’t
go there. He said if anything happened to him that I was supposed to call. He bought me a phone just so I could call you. He programmed your number into the phone. It’s the only number I’ve got.”
    Payne swore under his breath, not sure what to do. Byrd was dead. Allison was freaking out. And she refused to go to the only safe place he could think of. Back in the day, he used to know several places around the city where operatives could hide in an emergency, but he hadn’t been to any of them in years. So there was no way of knowing if they were still in play.
    “Jon,” Jones whispered, “if they killed Byrd, Petr could be in trouble.”
    Payne covered the phone. “Explain.”
    “Byrd went to the Ulster Archives on several occasions to do research. Who knows what he found there. If these people are thorough, they might go there next.”
    Payne nodded in understanding. Suddenly, they had little choice in the matter. They had to get involved to protect their friend.
    “Allison,” he said with a firm voice, “listen to me. Everything is going to be fine. Do you believe me when I say that?”
    “They killed him,” she said meekly.
    “I know that, Allison. It must be tough for you. But let me tell you a secret. Do you know
why
Richard told you to call me? He knew if you needed my help, I would give it to you. And trust me when I say this, I’m a very helpful guy.”
    Static filled the line. Several seconds’ worth.
    “Allison? Are you still there?”
    Another lengthy pause. Finally, she asked, “How can you help me?”
    “It’s pretty simple. I’m coming to get you out.”

14

    W hile Andropoulos sealed the videotapes in evidence bags, Dial strolled into the main chapel and searched for the second camera. He spotted it in the rear of the church, right above the donation box.
    Trying not to draw attention to himself, Dial casually leaned against the back wall and glanced upward. The wire was attached to a wooden beam in the same fashion as in the gift shop. Except in this case, the viewing angle was slightly more favorable.
    With a little luck, they might actually have footage of the killers.
    Ideally, Dial would have viewed the videos right away, but considering their current location, that was an impossibility. Instead, they would have to wait until they drove to the station house in Kalampáka or got to a secondary location like Dial’s hotel. The truth was Dial didn’t care where he watched it, as long as he got to see the recordings as soon as possible.
    A few minutes later, Andropoulos walked into the church and approached a uniformed officer who looked even younger than he did. The kid snapped to attention and listened intently as Andropoulos handed him the tapes and gave him a series of orders in Greek. When their conversation ended, the kid hustled through the same door Andropoulos had entered.
    Dial smiled, watching all of this from afar. “Marcus!”
    He spotted Dial near the back table and walked toward him. “Yes, sir?”
    “What was that all about?”
    Andropoulos blushed. “Did I do something wrong?”
    “That depends. What in the hell did you just do?”
    “I thought someone should view the tapes immediately. And since I can’t leave here yet, I asked another officer to look at them.”
    “That’s what I thought you did.”
    “Did I mess up?”
    Dial shook his head. “Not at all. In fact, that’s the most impressive thing you’ve done all night. You just put justice ahead of your own ambition.