The Project 04 - Black Harvest

turns up."
    "Where would you start?"
    "I'm not sure. Gelashvili shouldn't know about us, so why go after Selena? How did he get a photo of her? And who ordered the killings in Greece? Not Gelashvili. There has to be more than one player here."
    Sometimes Harker closed her eyes and thought of her father when she needed inspiration. How would he read it? She pictured him sitting in his study in Colorado, sipping bourbon in his green chair. She could almost hear his voice. She remembered when she'd come home after finishing her second year of college. Worried about choosing the right direction for her future.

    "What do you think I should do?"
    "What do you want to do?"
    "That's not an answer."
    The Judge raised his glass and drank, the amber liquid making smoky swirls over the ice. He'd been drinking more lately, since her mother had become ill.
    "Yes it is. An answer. You know I can't decide for you. I'd always hoped you'd take up law. But maybe that's not for you."
    "It might be. I just don't know"
    "What else would you do?"
    "I thought medicine."
    The Judge laughed. "From the frying pan to the fire. You think law is tough...but you'd be a good d octor . Why medicine?"
    "Maybe it sounds naive, but I want to make a difference."
    "Law doesn't make a difference?"
    "Of course it does."
    "Okay," her father had said. "Let's try something. Sometimes I do this when I can't decide what's right. Close your eyes."
    She'd closed them.
    "Picture yourself as a d octor . Go ahead. Check how it feels in your body, good or bad or neither one."
    After a minute she opened her eyes. "It feels like...nothing."
    "Okay, keep your eyes closed. Now picture yourself as someone who upholds the law, defends it, practices it."
    She'd done it and a wave of heat had passed through her, an inner excitement. She'd opened her eyes.
    The Judge had nodded. "See? Now you know what to do."

    "Nick."
    "Still here, Director."
    "Go to Sofia. Our only lead is the inscription in the tomb. I'll clear you into Bulgaria and make it official."
    "That means everyone will know who we are."
    "Think of it as a way to smoke out whoever's making trouble."
    "If I liked bait, I would've taken up fishing."
    "You'll handle it. I'll send Ronnie to fish with you."

CHAPTER NINETEEN

    Ronnie came in on British Airways via London/Heathrow. He had the look people get when they've just spent too many hours in airports and planes. He hugged Selena. He nodded at Nick. Ronnie didn't shake hands. It wasn't the Navajo custom.
    "Never been to Bulgaria before. Anybody start shooting at us yet?"
    Nick smiled in spite of himself. "Taxis are over there. We're at the Hilton."
    "Kind of high profile."
    "We're in the open. Everything's official. The Greeks and the Bulgarians know we're here. For all I know, the Chinese, the Indians and the Pakis. For sure, the Russians. Maybe it will bring someone out of the woodwork. So we might as well enjoy it."
    "Works for me."
    They got in the cab. "You got a weapon?"
    "Yup." he patted his bag.
    None of them had been to Bulgaria. Sofia had open air cafes along the boulevard, like every city in Europe. There were ornate apartment buildings, offices and parks. Electric trolley wires ran in ordered webs overhead, like many cities in Europe. Nick couldn't quite put his finger on it, but Sofia was different. Maybe it was the colors on the buildings. Maybe it was the architecture.
    They drove past an enormous building.
    "Nevsky," the driver pointed. "Very holy."
    The cathedral was huge. It had five or six enormous domes that Nick could see. Most of the domes were green with age. Rows of arched windows lined the ground level. It reminded him of a gigantic wedding cake. If he'd had any doubts he wasn't in Western Europe, Nevsky Cathedral removed them.
    They met in Ronnie's room. It was a nice room, high up. The hotel was like big city Hiltons everywhere. Except for the room service menu and the hot water on the right, it could have been in St. Louis.
    Sofia was set in a broad valley under the shadow of a mountain identified by the tourist guide as Mount Vitosha. From the window of the room they could look out over the city and valley below. The Balkans rose above the valley and formed an ominous wall across the horizon. Snow covered the peaks. Clouds passing in front of the sun threw changing shadows across the slopes. Nick turned away from the hypnotic view.
    "Okay. We're here, where the spring and two rivers cross. What now?"
    "There used to be a public bath