The sleek yacht bobbed up and down in the sea as rain furiously lashed its sides.
Inside, Augusta, Nicolas, and the Cosmopolis crew were staring at a bank of computer screens. They had been monitoring known Rumelov supporters for the past week, and there was evidence of movement. Each large screen showed a different location of suspected activity: Corfu, Rhodes, Zagreb, Sofia, Athens. Data points and images flickered across the screens, creating a dizzying panel of shifting, blinking lights. Combined with the howling wind and choppy water rocking the boat, the screens made Augusta feel a bit sick. She turned away and sat down, clutching her stomach.
“There, Rhodes,” Nicolas was saying to his team, pointing at a grainy image on one of the screens. “Can you enlarge the palace please?”
The satellite imagery became clearer as the technician zoomed in. They were looking at what appeared to be a medieval castle, complete with crenellated ramparts and stone watchtowers, exactly like a child’s drawing of a castle full of princesses, knights, and dragons. Except this castle was surrounded not by knights and dragons but palm trees and a bustling modern city—Rhodes.
From above, they could see the castle was shaped like an oblong O, with a large interior courtyard and protective walls extending outward in both directions. It would have been quite an intimidating fortification, Augusta thought, if she didn’t happen to know Rhodes was now a tourist paradise.
“What are we looking at?” she asked her father, trying to ignore the queasy feeling in her stomach. “Why do you think they might be in Rhodes?”
“We know the Rumelovs operate based on historical symbolism,” he said, not taking his eyes off the screen. The technician was zooming in on a corner of the castle, where a delivery truck appeared to be unloading supplies. Switching camera angles, they watched as a uniformed man rolled a trolley full of cardboard boxes across the pavement toward a back entrance. Augusta was impressed by the precision of the camera work. The Cosmopolis obviously had lenses trained everywhere.
“Rhodes is a highly symbolic location,” Nicolas continued, as they waited for the worker to finish his delivery. “Right off the Turkish mainland, but currently administered by Greece. In ancient times, of course, the Colossus of Rhodes was one of the seven wonders of the world. It was massive, as tall as the Statue of Liberty today, and dedicated to the sun god Helios. Then in the middle ages, the Knights Hospitaller took over the island during the Crusades. They modified a Byzantine citadel and created the Palace of the Grand Master, which you see here. It’s a potential location for Rumelov action.”
The courier was now exiting the castle and getting back in his van. Was he suspicious, or was he just making a routine delivery? It was impossible to tell from here. The technician zoomed out again, and Nicolas sighed.
“Okay, check Corfu,” he said. A seahorse-shaped island, just off the coast of Greece, appeared on the main screen. “Start the satellite scan.”
The image blurred and condensed into a close-up of the northern tip of Corfu, then proceeded in a slow, counter-clockwise scan down the western coast, around to the southern tip, and up to the east. The island was sparsely populated, with its densely-forested uplands and villages winding their way between the hills. The satellite scan stopped when it reached Corfu Town. Augusta could hear the machine whirring, as if thinking hard, and then a box popped up on the screen: No Unusual Activity Detected.
“Business as usual in Corfu.” Nicolas sounded disappointed. He tore his eyes away from the screen and looked at Augusta. “The island is rich in history and steeped in mythology,” he explained. “There are Greek temples and Byzantine castles all over Corfu. And it was one of the few Greek territories to never fall to the Ottomans, thanks to support from their neighbors in Venice. It’s exactly the kind of place that might appeal to the Rumelovs.”
Augusta’s stomach was now churning as rapidly as the sea around them. Rain pounded against the windows. The yacht tilted briskly from side to side. She had never been comfortable at sea anyway, and the storm had just intensified her uneasy feeling of nausea and potential doom. She would have gone to take a nap if she thought she could sleep. But she knew sleep was impossible with the boat rocking so heavily.
Nicolas, however, looked as if he barely noticed the storm. He had turned back to the computers, which were now completing a scan of Belgrade, Serbia. The little black box popped up again: No Unusual Activity Detected. They moved on to Athens.
“Why are we here again?” Augusta asked her father. They had rushed away from their mountain hideaway so quickly that she hadn’t even gotten to enjoy Xenia’s vegetable soup. She was still not happy about being dragged away from beautiful Crete to the confinement of a yacht in the Aegean. There was no question that the sea around them was devastatingly beautiful, with its aquamarine waters and dramatic coastal views, and the yacht was luxurious, with its high-end design and high-tech communication systems.
But, as Augusta realized for the first time in her life, there was nothing quite like land. Good old rock and soil. She had never been so long without it before, and she promised herself never to take it for granted again. Two weeks at sea, even in nice weather, was more than enough time to spend without her feet on solid ground.
“Remember, the scan detected unusual activity in Athens,” Nicolas murmured, watching images flicker past on screen.
“Well, maybe it was a mistake,” Augusta suggested. “Surely there are false positives sometimes?”
“It’s possible, but not likely. Something must be going on. We just can’t tell exactly what it is.”
Augusta stretched out on a banquette and stared up at the ceiling, her hands resting on her stomach. The sleek wood paneling of the ceiling came into focus, and then the ultra-modern light fixture hanging down above the main workspace. She couldn’t help thinking about the contrast between her current living quarters and the stone monastery where she’d spent the past four months. From middle ages to space age. From bare necessities to all the luxuries. She knew which one she preferred, and it wasn’t this.
“Unusual activity is extremely difficult to detect in an urban environment,” her father continued. “There’s just so much going on, so many people doing so many things. Our cameras and sensors are easily overwhelmed or misdirected. The technology hasn’t been perfected yet. Plus, sometimes people just do weird things, even if they’re not criminals. It’s hard to distinguish between unusual innocent activity and unusual criminal activity. It takes the judgment of an expert agent, and even then sometimes we get it wrong.”
Augusta turned on her side and propped herself up on her elbow, looking at the back of her father’s head. He was sitting with two Cosmopolis technicians, whom she had met when they boarded the yacht in Rethymno. They were polite but didn’t seem interested in chatting, which was fine with her. She wondered if being tight-lipped was a job requirement for spies. It would certainly make life easier if you were never tempted to spill the beans.
“That’s why it’s so important to have good agents on the ground.” Nicolas turned around and smiled at his daughter. “We were able to pinpoint the exact location of the Istanbul Rumelov cell thanks to you and Erol.”
“And Professor Meral.”
“And Professor Meral,” her father agreed.
“But you didn’t have to follow me around and scare the living daylights out of me.”
Nicolas chuckled. “I apologize. I should have done a better job of not being seen. Either I’m getting old or, well, I let my emotions get the better of me. I confess, I worried about you more than I should have. I never want to put you in harm’s way due to my work.”
“It wasn’t your fault I came to Istanbul to sell the book. I just didn’t know what it was, or how important it was for our family. I didn’t mean to cause any problems.”
“I know, Gus.” Nicolas gazed out at the choppy sea. “You did what you thought was right. I considered meeting you as soon as you landed in Istanbul, to explain everything and let you in on the family secret. But that would mean breaking with 200 years of tradition. Ultimately, I decided to respect the Carter legacy and wait until your 21st birthday. I’m glad I did.”
Augusta gave her father a probing look. “Don’t you think there’s an element of danger to the job I’m training for now? It’s risky being an international agent. You spent the past 20 years shielding me from danger, and now you’re bringing me straight to the heart of it. I don’t understand.”
Nicolas leaned forward in his chair, propping his elbows on his knees and tapping his fingertips together thoughtfully. “You’re right, there is certainly an element of danger in this line of work. However, it’s a bit like the difference between soldiers and civilians. Soldiers have made a conscious choice to enter a profession they know to be dangerous. They receive special training and equipment, and they are prepared to enter into combat alongside other soldiers. They know the rules of engagement. Civilians, on the other hand, have made none of these choices. They are not trained and they have not made a choice to perform this work.”
He paused.
“As your father, it has always been my job to protect you until you were ready to make this decision for yourself. I entrusted the work of raising you to my very capable wife and parents. They did a wonderful job, and I’m very proud of the young woman you’ve become.”
Nicolas reached out a hand and grasped Augusta’s in his own.
“No parent can protect their child from all the difficulties of life. Not from illness, or pain, or heartache, or grief. The best I can do is prepare you for them. And that’s how I see your work with me here.”
He swept one hand around the room.
“You’re an adult now, and you’ve made a conscious decision to take on this difficult and demanding work. We both know the risks. One or both of us could face death, torture, or disability at any time. That’s the reality. But we know this work must be done. And as far as I can tell, there’s no one else willing to do it.”
As the yacht swayed furiously from side to side, the cabin lights suddenly flickered.
“Ooh, Poseidon must be angry today,” Nicolas said with a chuckle.
“Dad! Enough with the Greek gods. I feel sick enough as it is.”
Smiling at his daughter, Nicolas stood up and walked back over to the bank of screens at the side of the cabin. “Generators engaged, in case we need backup?” he asked the technician.
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. Let’s take another look at Athens. Start with the Acropolis. Maybe we’ve missed something.”