Terror Cell (Danforth Saga Book 2) Read online

  TERROR CELL

  Joseph Badal

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Text copyright © 2004 by Joseph Badal

  Previously published by Suspense Magazine

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  Published by AmazonEncore, Seattle

  www.apub.com

  Amazon, the Amazon logo, and AmazonEncore are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates.

  eISBN: 9781477870600

  This title was previously published by Suspense Magazine; this version has been reproduced from Suspense Magazine archive files.

  DEDICATION

  This book is a work of fiction. Although Eleeneekee Aneexee (“EA”) (Greek Spring) mentioned here is a fictitious terrorist organization, it is based on the 17 November terrorist group, which operated in Greece from 1975 to 2002, assassinating both Greeks and non-Greeks. Many of the victims of 17 November mentioned in “Terror Cell” are real.

  Suspected members of 17 November were on trial in Athens at the time this book was written. The leader of the group was convicted in December 2003 of 2,500 acts of terrorism and sentenced to life in prison, which in Greece means that he will probably serve no more than twenty years. Other members of the group, if convicted, will also more than likely serve no more than twenty years. So, they will, in all likelihood, be free men someday.

  I dedicate “Terror Cell” to the victims of 17 November and to the victims’ family members who have had to live with the memories of the crimes perpetrated against their loved ones and with the frustration of what seemed to be more often than not the incompetence and indifference of the Greek Government to the acts of 17 November.

  17 November’s victims included:

  1. Richard Welch, CIA Chief of Station, murdered 12/23/75.

  2. Evangelos Mallios, Police Officer, murdered 12/14/76.

  3. Petros Babalis, Police Officer, murdered 1/31/79.

  4. Pantelis Petrou, Police Officer, murdered 1/16/80.

  5. Sotirios Stamoulis, Police Officer, murdered 1/16/80.

  6. George Tsantes, U.S. Navy Captain, JUSMAGG, murdered 11/15/83.

  7. Nikolaos Veloutsos, Driver for George Tsantes, murdered 11/15/83.

  8. Robert H. Judd, Jr., U.S. Army Master Sergeant, JUSMAGG, wounded 4/3/84.

  9. Nicolaos Momferatos, Publisher, murdered 2/21/85.

  10. P. Rousetis, Driver for Nikolaos Momferatos, murdered 2/21/85.

  11. George Theofanopoulos, Public Prosecutor, murdered 4/4/85.

  12. Demetrios Angelopoulos, Businessman, murdered 4/8/86.

  13. Dr. Zaharias Kapsalakis, Physician, wounded 2/5/87.

  14. Seventeen U.S. Air Force Personnel wounded in bombing 4/24/87.

  15. Eleven U.S. Air Force Personnel wounded in bombing 8/10/87.

  16. Alexandros Athanasiadis, Businessman, murdered 3/1/88.

  17. William E. Nordeen, U.S. Navy Captain, murdered 6/28/88.

  18. Konstantinos Androulidakis, Prosecutor, murdered 1/10/89.

  19. Panagiotis Tarasouleas, Deputy Prosecutor, wounded 1/18/89.

  20. Anastasios Vernardos, Deputy Prosecutor, murdered 1/23/89.

  21. Giorgos Petsos, Minister of Public Order, wounded 5/8/89.

  22. Savvas Bakogiannis, Member of Parliament, murdered 9/26/89.

  23. Vardis Vardinogiannis, Industrialist, wounded 11/20/90.

  24. Ronald Odell Stewart, U.S. Air Force Master Sergeant, murdered 3/12/91.

  25. Four Turkish Diplomats wounded in bombing 7/16/91.

  26. Cetin Giorgu, Turkish Diplomat, murdered 10/7/91.

  27. One Greek Police Officer murdered and five wounded in rocket and grenade attack 11/2/91.

  28. Two Greek Police Officers wounded in shootout 11/20/91.

  29. Ioannis Palaiokrassas, Bystander, murdered in rocket attack 7/14/92.

  30. Eleftherios Papadimitriou, Member of Parliament, wounded 12/21/92.

  31. Mihalis Vranopoulos, Former Governor of Bank of Greece, murdered 1/24/94.

  32. Nikolaos Griskpos, Driver for Mihalis Vranopoulos, wounded 1/24/94.

  33. Omer Haluk Sipahioglou, Turkish Diplomat, murdered 1/24/94.

  34. Konstantinos Peratikos, Businessman, murdered 5/28/97.

  35. British Brigadier Stephen Saunders, murdered 6/8/00.

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  My sincere thanks go to:

  My family, for your encouragement, love, and support.

  Patricia Kushlis for suggesting that I write this book.

  Rick and Peggy Story and Karla Ponder, for your careful and thoughtful editing. You made this book a better read.

  George (“Chip”) Tsantes, for providing background and opening doors to people who added immeasurably to the authenticity of “Terror Cell.” Your efforts to bring the members of the terrorist group, 17 November, to trial would have made your father proud.

  Doug Smith, Jr., for your advice and counsel regarding terrorism in Greece and Intelligence activities to counter terrorism.

  Alex Kalangis, for your assistance in ensuring the accuracy of place names and in enhancing the physical “color” of Athens.

  Rick Brooks, for your consultation and ideas.

  All former members of the Air Defense Artillery Branch of the U.S. Army assigned to Nike Hercules missile sites, who worked in obscurity defending both the United States’ and NATO’s borders. I ask your forbearance of the license I took with information regarding Nike Hercules missile units in Greece.

  Finally, thanks go to Jim Riordan, Betty Frovarp, Sharon Young, and Heather Buchman, for your contributions in making “Terror Cell” a reality, and to Maureen Walters, for your confidence and counsel.

  CONTENTS

  PRONUNCIATION INFORMATION

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  CH
APTER THIRTY-SIX

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  CHAPTER FORTY

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

  CHAPTER FIFTY

  CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

  CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

  CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX

  CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE

  CHAPTER SIXTY

  CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE

  CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO

  CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE

  CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX

  CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE

  CHAPTER SEVENTY

  CHAPTER SEVENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER SEVENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER SEVENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER SEVENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER SEVENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER SEVENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER SEVENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER SEVENTY-NINE

  CHAPTER EIGHTY

  CHAPTER EIGHTY-ONE

  CHAPTER EIGHTY-TWO

  CHAPTER EIGHTY-THREE

  CHAPTER EIGHTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER EIGHTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER EIGHTY-SIX

  CHAPTER EIGHTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER EIGHTY-NINE

  CHAPTER NINETY

  CHAPTER NINETY-ONE

  CHAPTER NINETY-TWO

  CHAPTER NINETY-THREE

  CHAPTER NINETY-FOUR

  CHAPTER NINETY-FIVE

  CHAPTER NINETY-SIX

  CHAPTER NINETY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER NINETY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINETY-NINE

  CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  PRONUNCIATION INFORMATION

  I have used Greek words in a few places. These words have been spelled phonetically in English.

  In the case of Eleeneekee Aneexee (Greek Spring), the fictitious terrorist cell central to this story, the acronym for the group becomes EA (Epsilon Alpha).

  Other Greek words and their meanings follow:

  Afto eenay ena doro apo . . . . This is a gift from . . . .

  AsAs sto diavolo! Go to hell!

  Avrio stees octo to proee. Tomorrow morning at 8.

  Ee terroreestee xeroun. The terrorists know.

  Eteemos eesay? Are you ready?

  O dievtheendees mou xerei. My boss knows.

  Steen yia sas! To your health!

  Sto speetee konda to panapisteemeeou. At the house near the university.

  Taverna. Restaurant.

  Thavmaseea! Amazing!

  Zeeto ee Ellas! Praise Greece!

  TERROR CELL

  Joseph Badal

  PROLOGUE

  JULY 26, 2004

  “You know, it’s a beautiful day for a killing,” Savvas said in an icy tone that sent a chill down Pavlos’ spine.

  Pavlos Manganos felt Savvas Krinon’s arms tighten around his waist as he slowly drove his motorcycle past the British Embassy in Athens for the third time that morning, squeezing between the creeping automobile traffic on Ploutarhou Street. He again circled the block, driving to the quiet residential street behind the embassy and pulled his motorcycle to the curb, letting the engine idle.

  “What do you think?” Pavlos asked, sliding back the dark visor on his motorcycle helmet and twisting in the seat to look at Savvas.

  “It appears the English have taken no new measures with their embassy security,” Savvas answered. “Just the same number of guards standing inside the vehicle gate and two more inside the building entrance.” Savvas looked at his wristwatch. “Seven forty-five. He should be here in less than ten minutes. Let’s get into position.”

  Pavlos turned around in the seat, closing his visor. He powered the cycle through the residential neighborhood, maneuvering back onto Ploutarhou Boulevard, four blocks north of the British Embassy. He drove to the curb on the embassy side of the boulevard and parked. He then pulled a cell phone from his black leather jacket pocket and rested the hand holding the phone on his jeans-clad thigh, his thumb poised over the TALK button. A wire snaked from the phone, up under his jacket and his helmet, to an ear piece. He had performed the same steps on three previous occasions; he barely had to think about them.

  Three minutes after parking at the curb, the cell phone chirped. Pavlos’ thumb hit the TALK button. “Go,” he ordered.

  “White Citroen is six blocks from your location, in the second inside lane,” the Greek Spring spotter said. “Driver identified as target. Bright red hair. License is UK 747.” The man paused momentarily, and then added, “There’s a male passenger with him.”

  “Who?” Pavlos demanded.

  “Unidentified,” the spotter said.

  Pavlos clicked off the phone and inserted it back in his pocket. “We have a complication,” he told Savvas. “There’s a second man in the car with the Englishman.”

  Savvas shrugged and said, “I have plenty of bullets.”

  Pavlos knew the Englishman would have to switch to the inside lane in order to enter the embassy’s driveway, and with the heavy Athens morning commuter traffic, he would have to attempt negotiating the lane change well before he came to the embassy block. He looked over his shoulder and repeated to Savvas what the spotter had told him. It was Savvas’ responsibility to pick out the vehicle and point it out to Pavlos.

  The two men sat in silence. Pavlos kept his hands on the motorcycle’s controls, feeling Savvas’ left hand on his back. Pavlos knew his partner’s right hand would now clutch the pistol inside his jacket. He stared intently at the flow of traffic to his right front.

  Savvas suddenly rasped, “Three cars back and one lane over.”

  Pavlos waited until the Citroen was parallel with his motorcycle, and then slowly merged the bike into inside lane traffic. The Englishman appeared to be having trouble finding an opening to change lanes. Pavlos saw the driver’s red hair. He let the Citroen pass him on the right so he could check the license plate, just to make sure. It was the one. He slipped into the middle lane behind the Englishman and waited.

  Traffic moved like an army of slugs on an inexorable march on an unknown mission. Pavlos felt superior to the drones that surrounded him. At least he had a noble purpose, one that would make a difference. Could these cretins in their cars, on their daily commutes to their meaningless jobs, claim the same?

  The Englishman poked the nose of the Citroen into a space that suddenly opened between two cars.

  Good, Pavlos thought. He followed the Citroen back into the inside lane and crawled along behind it until they were a little more than one block from the embassy. He smiled to himself. The traffic, as thick as Turkish coffee, slogged along at five kilometers an hour. This was going to be easy.

  The Citroen was now about twenty meters
from the intersection this side of the Embassy. Pavlos waited for two deep breaths’ time, and then swung around, just inches from the curb, to the left of the Citroen. He felt Savvas shift on the back of the motorcycle as he pulled alongside the Englishman’s door. He would have loved to turn and watch what happened next, but he knew that would be foolhardy. It was his task to get them away from the scene as quickly as possible. They couldn’t afford him becoming distracted.

  The roar of the .45 caliber pistol sounded in Pavlos’ ear and the bike shifted ever so slightly as Savvas absorbed the recoil. The pistol bucked again and then three times more, and Pavlos, out of his peripheral vision, saw red spray splatter the inside of the car’s windshield.

  Savvas barked, “Go, go, go,” and Pavlos raced the motorcycle to the intersection, turned left, and sped away from the murder scene.

  CHAPTER ONE

  JULY 26, 2004

  Bob Danforth knew the shit had hit the fan. He just didn’t know what shit. His boss, Jack Cole, had sworn he’d leave him alone for the entire week of his vacation. Bob should have known better. Now Liz was pissed off—once again.

  The drive from his home in Bethesda to Langley normally took at least an hour. At four-thirty on a Saturday morning, at eighty miles an hour, Bob figured the trip would take no more than thirty-five minutes. He rubbed his hand over his face and tried to wipe away the cobwebs of fatigue that seemed to have entangled his brain and blurred his eyesight. I’m getting too old for this crap, he thought for about the tenth time in the last month. He swiped a hand through his hair. He didn’t need to look in the mirror to see how gray it had turned, or how high his forehead had become. He prided himself on being in excellent shape for a fifty-eight year old, but the daily jogs and three-day-a-week bend and grunt sessions with free weights couldn’t make him young again. He and his son Michael had been jogging together for the last eighteen months, since the Army assigned Michael to the Pentagon in December 2003. Bob had noticed he was having a tough time keeping up with his son on their runs, despite them setting a slow, ten-minute-per-mile pace.

  Bob smiled as he thought about his son and his daughter-in-law, Miriana. They’d left for Paris four days ago. The Army had just issued orders assigning Michael to the U.S. Army Special Warfare School as an instructor, so Michael and Miriana decided to take a trip before his reporting date at Fort Bragg. The assignment to Bragg ought to be a whole lot safer than his assignment with the 82nd Airborne in Macedonia three years ago, Bob thought. He felt his throat tighten. That assignment had nearly cost Michael his life. Bob’s life, too. He forced himself to think of happier events—Michael and Miriana’s wedding in 2001. It had been one heck of a party. After all the planning and emotion of seeing their son get married, layered on top of the rescue operation to free Michael from the Serb Special Forces unit that had kidnapped him in Macedonia, Bob and Liz had needed a week’s vacation of doing nothing. But Jack Cole had interrupted that week off, and he was doing the same thing again.