Agent out of Time (The Agents for Good) by Guy Stanton III Page A

me go before turning briskly and making for the mansion. Soon he was striding down the illuminated hall of the Soviet era bomb shelter that had been constructed in the basement of the Georgia style mansion.
    Temple Boone looked up at his approach and with concern noted the highly flushed face of his mentor. Chantry sat down heavily beside him and dumped the folder in his lap. Temple briefly glanced at it and gave Chantry a clueless look.
    “This is a favor for a friend. The girl’s been kidnapped. I need to know who did it and if she’s still alive.”
    Agent Temple Boone nodded his head affirmatively.
    “Wake up whoever you need to help you.” Chantry said, as he got more comfortable in his chair and prepared himself mentally for an all-nighter.
    He watched, as his technological virtuoso went to work. The big screens at the head of the room came alive, as Temple began to put together the pieces. Chantry watched with interest for several hours, but age got the best of him and he unwillingly nodded off into sleep.
    Temple glanced at him and got up and left the room, but was soon back with a blanket. He covered Chantry up, careful not to wake the old man. That done he grimly turned back to his displays. He wasn’t liking what he was finding out at all.
     
    Chantry gripped the table’s edge as he stared at the morning glass of wine before him. He needed something stronger, but with age the ability to handle strong drink had gone from him to. He picked the glass up and swigged the wine down. Setting the glass down only proved to the fact that he was no longer alone at the table.
    Chantry glared moodily at me, “I intentionally put my security detail on high alert, because I wanted to brag just once that I had caught you and here you are sitting at my table, while my guard dogs sniff at each other’s rears.”His words were slurred and he didn’t have his usual mask of control in place.
    I knew that I was one of the only people Chantry trusted to be seen like this by. Chantry was drunk and that wasn’t a good sign at all, not that I had been expecting a good one.
    “Is she dead?” I asked softly.
    Chantry shook his head and looked up at me his eyes full of raw sympathetic pain, “No, but I wish to God that she was! It would be more merciful.” He pushed the folder reluctantly across the table to me.
    “His name is Ivan Zannar. A thoroughly all around bad character. Deshavi had the misfortune to steal a necklace of some worth from him. He’s recovered the necklace and no doubt would’ve ended it at that, but for one thing.”
    “His son died chasing her.” I said woodenly, as I read the file.
    Chantry nodded, “You know what these Slavic crime lords are like Shalako. I….I… My heart goes out to you Shalako.”
    The report I was reading of this Ivan read more like a rap sheet of a demon than it seemed possible of a mere man. “Where is he now Chantry?”
    “We don’t know, but at the end of the week we know he expects to be in Las Vegas for a high-stakes poker game.”
    “Where’s Deshavi?”
    Chantry seemed to fold down upon himself and I reached across the table and shook him hard, “Where’s my granddaughter?”
    Chantry gathered himself. “Ivan sent off a wooden crate, special delivery yesterday, by plane to Russia. The plane landed in Siberia. We don’t know what became of the crate after that. My suspicion is that he sent her to some secret hellhole prison located somewhere in the vastness of Siberia. Such places are known to exist. They’ll keep her alive, as long as possible, to make the torture of her continued existence last.”
    I nodded.
    In a way I was appalled inside. I truly had been out of the game for far too long. I’d forgotten what evil could be like. I stood up and turned to go.
    “You can’t rescue her on your own, you know that! It’s already autumn and winter is early in Siberia. You’ll have to wait for spring.” Chantry said.
    “There won’t be anything left of her