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HOUSTON, TEXAS... Two days later at Houston's Bush Intercontinental Airport, Susan waited for the last boarding call for her flight to Amsterdam. Jerry had said Mark Ashley would contact her but so far she hadn't heard a word. She craned her neck, searching for a man with penetrating blue-green eyes, who stood a head above the crowd. Snatches of Spanish and German conversation flew by her. Two seedy-looking middle-eastern businessmen gave her a wary smile. But her employer was nowhere in sight.
AMSTERDAM, HOLLAND/NEDERLAND... Relieved, she stepped outside and breathed in a whiff of tangy sea air. Three-story, white-gabled, dark brick houses and storefronts flanked the streets overlooking the tangled web of canals winding through the megalopolis by the North Sea. She stepped over a pile of dog litter, wrinkling her nose. Someone jostled her and she cast a cautious glance over her shoulder as two punk rockers with green and purple hair, dressed in motorcycle leathers, strode past. Again she felt a little uneasy but scanning the crowd she detected nothing unusual. Had Jerry’s suspicions made her jumpy? Colored her perceptions? Or was it just that she was in Amsterdam on her own.
PARIS, FRANCE... On the ride to the hotel, the fast-paced traffic, the crescendo of horns blaring, and the throngs of people, somehow felt menacing. Their taxi driver maneuvered through the confusion with typical French savoir-faire, until they reached a roundabout near the Arc de Triomphe. A young man aimed a pistol at their cab. Susan’s heart pounded. Blood-red liquid squirted from the gun, splattering the window. Her pulse rate slowed, relief warring with horror at the childish prank. The culprit doubled over with raucous laughter, reducing their driver to shouting angry threats. Abruptly, the crisp Paris air seemed to scream danger.
BELGIUM... The Belgium roadside seemed untamed after France. It reminded him in a sense of Houston. Tangled vines, overgrown weeds and bushes grew wild alongside the thoroughfare. Most of the homes were an attractive dark red brick with a definite Flemish influence. Sloping roofs marked the entryways and lace curtains hung from the windows.
His friend's face sobered. "Do either of you remember when Nebut and Dower Consolidated made the headlines last year?" "Yeah, I do," Mark said, thinking back to the incident. "Maybe vaguely," Susan said. Zach continued. "Our agency only has the bare bones on the story. But last year a grand jury indicted Nebut Electronics, a U.S. Corporation, and Dower Consolidated of South Africa for conspiracy. At the time the two companies held eighty percent of the $600 billion global market for industrial diamonds. We're after two of their top men...."
BULGARIA...
Clear skies stretched across the horizon and the Caspian mountains loomed in the distance, as the plane circled Sofia International Airport waiting for clearance to land. Susan wondered, what would they find in Sofia? How was Benjamin coping? It was terrible to imagine him locked away in some crude jail cell. What if he panicked and confessed to crimes he hadn't committed?
PLODIV... They reached Plodiv at twilight. The city’s old quarter built by the conquering Romans centuries ago was lit by the afterglow of a rosy-orange sunset and the violet-ashen iridescence of approaching night. Tension inside the car began to mount as they passed through the narrow-winding cobblestone streets, avoiding some that were too small for a car. A mangy dog darted out almost under their wheels. The driver slammed on the brakes barely missing it. Relieved, they drove on. Susan longed for the open road. Often the upper stories of buildings cantilevered over the street, at times gracefully weaving their way to the other side. On the gentle breeze, she seemed to hear the screech of disaster.
Romania... ARAD... When they reached Arad, the sky had blackened and smoldering clouds veiled the moon and stars. The town looked dirty and deserted with the exception of several stooped peasant women sweeping the streets with bundles of straw tied together with twine. Francois stopped the car in front of an older rundown hotel and shook Susan awake. Apprehension gripped his stomach as they climbed out of the car and up the hotel steps. The door suddenly swung open. A large muscular man blocking the entrance motioned them to leave. BUCHAREST... A grand boulevard in the French tradition led into the city, complete with a replica of the Paris Arch de Triomphe, reminding Mark again of the affinity between the Romanians and the French. Yet, a few feet away were peasants with little to eat, and the city, like much of the country, lay in crumbling decay. Imposing foreign embassies lined the showcase concourse once built to fool visitors as to the Romanian state. Military men in smart, olive-green jackets and trousers trimmed in red directed the flow of traffic with small-white wands through the roundabout. Decades of the disastrous reign of communist dictator Ceausescu had left the economy in shambles and the people poor. Mark wondered if milk was still a black market item, meat unknown and flour rationed? SIBIU... At first she zigzagged from one neighborhood to the next, hoping to leave a trail impossible to follow. When she came near the main road into the city, she avoided it, fearing that would be the first place he would search. She happened upon downtown Sibiu via a side street and parked the car in a crowded lot next to an outdoor market. She stepped out of the car and reached into the back for her tote bag and purse—the only things she had left. She tossed the keys into a nearby shrub and walked away.
HUNGARY...
BUDAPEST... Her last stop before leaving was to purchase Hungarian forints. Outside, the blue skies and sunshine lifted her spirits. A soft breeze ruffled her hair as she scanned the area, detecting no one suspicious. Humming, she crossed to the line of taxis waiting beyond the airport entrance. And then it happened. The green sedan roared toward her. She stood paralyzed, too frightened to move. Horns honked and voices rose. The car didn’t slow. It was almost on her. The world spun before her eyes. She was going to die. Suddenly strong arms thrust her aside and she was thrown to the ground, crushed beneath a stranger’s weight.
VIENNA, AUSTRIA/ WEIN, OSTERREICH... Mark drove to the city's center, circling the inner ring until he found a parking place. As they walked along the busy main street, searching for any sign of Benjamin, he remained preoccupied with his private reflections. Susan felt at home as they strode past the opulent State Opera House, Max's Theater Café and cut across to the walk plaza, a large shopping area closed to automobiles. Young artists and students often made use of the wide paved streets and tonight was no exception. She and Mark passed folk singers playing guitars and a violinist in the midst of an impromptu concert. Once Susan jerked Mark to a halt long enough to watch a pantomime drama enacted on stilts. The longer they stayed taking in the carefree antics of the young people, the more she found herself thinking about Benjamin and Kevin. The question of how they might be spending this same night was chilling. GERMANY/ BUNDESREPUBLIK DEUTSCHLAND...
MUNICH/ MUNCHEN...
He spotted Zach, pausing mid-step when he saw Francois beside him. He greeted Zach, then gave Francois a curt nod. "I should have guessed there would be a crowd." Click here to ORDER YOUR COPY TODAY For More Information Contact: |
SOFIA... 
Mark picked up his bag, made his way to the plane exit and down the metal
steps. A strong wind ruffled his hair, its chill penetrating the light jacket he
wore. Ominous dark clouds scudded overhead in the grey sky, and prickles of rain
hit his face as he rushed across the pavement to the terminal. He shivered.
Germany was always like this when the sun disappeared behind the clouds. It
meant snow in the mountains and cold, wet showers below in the valley. He moved
swiftly through customs. The Munich airport was small and easy to negotiate.