Free The Stone of Archimedes by Trevor Scott Page A

else?” Jake asked.
    â€œNope. I’ll be on the late ferry tonight back to Tunis. So, if you need me, please call.” He got up to leave and then said, “Good luck. I was never here.”
    Jake tried as hard as he could to keep from laughing. This man had watched too many spy movies.
    Elisa shook her head. “Was he with your Agency?”
    â€œHey, I have no idea. I left that life a long time ago. And besides, didn’t you hear, he was never here.” He opened the satchel wide enough to see there was no bomb inside, and then closed it up, got to his feet and started for the door.
    Getting to his side as they reached the sidewalk outside, Elisa grasped onto Jake’s arm and said, “Could you tell me where we go from here?”
    â€œI was going to wait until morning and go to the university to talk with that professor. But I think we should go find the guy tonight. Considering the fact that the Greeks are also in town.”
    She agreed with a nod and then walked toward the car.
    Although Jake had noticed her beauty first when they met at the airport, sometimes perceptions change over time. In this case, she was even more attractive than he first thought. Perhaps, with the death of the last man involved with the death of his fiancé, he had finally shed the demon from his conscience and could now see life more clearly. Sure he had been distracted for a while with his friend in German Intelligence, while he tracked down those who had put a price on his head in Berlin. But he guessed that was over now, with Alexandra back in Munich with the BND. Thankfully they had ended their short tryst amicably.
    As they sat in the car for a moment Jake went through the satchel he’d gotten from the Tunis cultural affairs officer. There wasn’t much there. A cell phone, which he checked over carefully for any tracking device besides the normal GPS. Nothing. It did contain files that had been on his old phone. Those he had put to memory and deleted. Jesus, did this guy think he was a complete dolt? Also in the bag was a couple of pairs of new underwear and socks—nice touch. But the main attraction was a 9mm Sig Sauer P250 subcompact with two extra magazines of 12 rounds each. Jake quickly broke down the gun and checked for serial numbers, which had been removed. Also, it looked like the gun had never been fired. He guessed the hollow point rounds would also be non-traceable. Nice. He made sure to wipe his prints as he put the gun back together within a few seconds and glanced at Elisa, who had been on her phone looking up the professor from the University of Malta.
    â€œWhat?” Jake asked her.
    â€œWas I smiling?”
    â€œYes, you were.”
    â€œWell, it’s just that I’ve never seen anyone break down a gun with such precision. You were like a child at Christmas opening a present.”
    Jake wished he’d gotten a gun like that for Christmas. He had gotten a single shot .410 shotgun one year, and was the happiest kid on the block that year. “Okay. Did you find the history professor?”
    â€œI did.” She handed the phone to Jake. It had the address up and tracked to the GPS.
    â€œLet’s go then,” Jake said.
    The professor lived just a few blocks from the campus in the suburb of Msida, an old fishing village. But the university and the professor’s house were both situated up on high ground. Although it was dark now, the lights from the capital Valletta shone off the water to the south of them as they cruised along a residential street lined with apartment buildings.
    â€œOne block ahead on the right,” Jake said. “That building on the second floor.”
    Elisa pulled up to the curb and shut down the engine. “How do you want to handle this?”
    Jake didn’t even have to think about that. “We use you. The professor is in his early forties and single. Born in France, he’s lived here in Malta for the past