Chapter 13
Dimi wasn’t the only one who wondered: “What the hell happened?” Bowman was shouting as much at Mitch on the phone.
“I don’t know,” Mitch said. He was trying to soothe his boss while making sure he didn’t forget anything in his room at St. George Lycabettus before heading to Athens International Airport. “I mean, the intel was good. We figured out how they communicate. ‘You need to work on your backhand’—or some such advice—is the trigger. What follows are the details.”
“Then what went wrong?”
“I don’t know. And, more to the point, I don’t think Orlov knows. Clearly, he was meant to be the decoy. And he did his job. I mean, we had that place covered. But he’s like a cat, on and off the court, and slipped away.”
Mitch tried not to sound too admiring. Was he getting too close
