by Nick Carter
"Not exactly, but you have the right idea."
She leaned across the table toward me. Standard move, I thought, as her breasts pushed against the nubby fabric of her shift. "You are long in Pirgos?" she asked.
"I don't expect to be."
"Oh. Where do you go from here?"
I pushed back a little in my chair. She was asking too many questions, even for a hooker. "Haven't made up my mind yet," I said carefully.
"Perhaps…" She was thrusting even closer to me, as though the table weren't there. Her eyes glittered as though they had their own internal circuits. "Korfu wouldn't be bad?"
"It's a possibility," I acknowledged. No sense in lying.
"Then perhaps you would like a companion?"
The question wasn't exactly unexpected, but I didn't have an answer. I looked at her for a long, deliberate moment before I replied. "You want to go to Korfu?"
"I wouldn't mind."
"Why?"
It was her turn to hesitate. She looked away, twitched those marvelous shoulders indifferently. "It is a nice place to be."
"So is this."
Suddenly she grinned, like a small girl caught in a harmless lie. "But Korfu is much better, no?"
I was getting some tingles. "Maybe…"
She reached across the table and touched my hand. "You would not mind having me as a companion for a few days, would you?" Her grin widened even more. "Mr. McKee?"
I hadn't mentioned my name.
Eight
It was hardly the most subtle contact I'd ever made, and it worried me as I drove the girl to the hotel where she'd parked her clothes. We didn't talk much in the car; I didn't encourage her, and she didn't offer. But before we arrived at the stretch of public beach, lined by small second-rate hotels, where she had taken off on her water-skiing expedition, I slowed down so I could look at her.
"So you're Christina," I said. She hadn't even told me that much, so far.
"Of course. Do you have the boat?"
"I have one lined up, yes."
"Then perhaps we should… court. Isn't that the word you use?"
I frowned, "Maybe. Depends on what you mean."
"I mean that we should be seen in public, obviously attracted to each other." She took my hand, placed it on her warm, bare thigh. "Like this, no? American tourist, Greek girl on vacation. Isn't that the way it was planned?"
She knew a hell of a lot more about the plans than I did, obviously, but she was making sense. "What do you hear from Alex?" I asked bluntly.
It was as though her skin suddenly turned to marble, cold as a tomb, but she made no move to push my hand away. "We will talk about that later."
"Why not now?"
Her smile was like a death mask. "Because you and I, Mr. Daniel McKee, know nothing about Alex. For now we celebrate the discovery of each other, and tomorrow when we set out on our little cruise to Korfu will be time enough to speak of such matters."
For an amateur, she seemed to have a pretty good idea of how things worked in my business. I had to go along with her. For the moment, anyway.
* * *
Her hotel was a featureless little place, pink stucco with a broad terrace overlooking the narrow strip of beach. We went through the ritual of having a drink at one of the terrace tables, holding hands and looking into each other's eyes a lot. Every once in a while I checked to see if anyone was paying attention to us, but saw no one who showed more than the expected interest in Christina. Finally, when the sun was about to plunge into the sea, she rose, pulling me to my feet with her.
"We will have dinner?"
"Of course."
"Of course," she echoed. "Come for me in an hour and a half. Perhaps… you could arrange for us to sail tomorrow morning?"
"I don't know." I nuzzled her ear, as I was expected to, but mostly because I wanted to be sure no one could hear what I had to say. "Don't rush it, sweetheart. I wouldn't want to arrange to leave tomorrow until it's damned obvious you're coming with me."
"So let's make it obvious now." She thumped her groin into mine in the most obvious manner, lifting a leg slightly to rub a bare knee against my thigh. It was only a brief gesture, but no one watching could have missed it. Or its implications.
"Yeah," I said, and I had to clear my throat before any more words would come out. "We'll be set to leave in the morning."
* * *
She looked as good in her midnight-blue dress as she had in a bikini; it was obviously something bought off a rack, but Christina had the ability to make anything she wore look as though it had been run up for her by Givenchy. We went to a small restaurant near her hotel; it was nothing special, and as far as I could see there were no other foreign tourists there. When I was sure no one could overhear us I asked her if there was some reason why we were in this particular place.
She blushed, just a little through her tan.
"I really don't know this town," she said. "This is my first time here."
I thought about that for a few seconds, then leaned back in my chair and grinned across the table at her. "Just a couple of tourists, aren't we."
"Yes…"
It was my turn to get things moving. From a manila envelope I'd dropped beside my chair I took a chart and unfolded it "Show me a few things about this coast," I said in a low voice. "Or tell me what you don't know. Either way."
The chart took in the west coast of Greece — from the Peloponnesos past the islands of Zakinthos; Cephalonia; Ithaca, from where Ulysses sailed to make war on Troy and returned after all those years to history's most faithful wife, Levkas; and a lot of other smaller islands and mainland ports until there was Korfu, shaped like an axe with a warped handle, the blade aimed at the coast of Albania.
"It would be a nice cruise," the girl said carefully.
"Uh-huh. Any stopovers you'd prefer?"
"No. None in particular. But I think perhaps… three days would be a nice time to take."
My gut tightened, not for the first time on this mission. More delay, more time with nothing happening.
"Sure you want to go with me?" I was back playing the role again.
She focused her great, dark eyes on me. "But of course, Daniel McKee."
* * *
After dinner we walked, threading our way through narrow alleys flanked by solid rows of dark houses that seemed to lean over us, blotting out the clear Ionian sky. Christina was soft beside me, her hip pressed against mine, and I had to keep reminding myself to stay alert for a possible tail.
There was no one, no one I could see. I didn't like it.
"Did you… uh… stay at your hotel long enough to hear from…?"
She pressed her lips against mine, but hers were cold and carried a warning. "Do not talk now," she murmured. "Tonight is for us."
I couldn't tell if she was talking to me or to some kind of bug planted on her. Either way, I couldn't object.
We walked along the quay where I had first seen her, decided not to revisit the taverna where we had met, then hip-rubbed in the direction of my hotel, which was only a couple of blocks away. As we were approaching the dimly lighted entrance, a tan Mercedes pulled out of a side street, roared toward us, then slowed abruptly. It passed at a crawl; I looked idly at the car, but could see nothing in the back seat except an indistinct blob. The driver, a hat pulled low over his eyes, looked stolidly ahead. When the Mercedes was a short distance ahead of us, it slid over to the curb on the opposite side of the street. Only a scattering of other cars were parked nearby, and Christina and I were the only pedestrians in sight.
The girl clutched my arm, dragging me to a halt. "McKee!" she whispered urgently. "Who are those people?"
"Nobody I know." I kept my voice light; it was bad enough dealing with a rank amateur without scaring her to death.
"But they saw us and stopped." I could feel her shudder, her body pressed close to mine. "Why are they waiting over there?"
The Mercedes was just across from the entrance of the hotel,
its engine rumbling softly with thin trails of vapor drifting from the exhaust.
I turned to the girl, put my arms around her. "Don't start worrying about everybody you see, Christina. Tonight is ours… unless."
"Unless what?"
"You don't have a husband, do you? Or a boy friend?"
She shook her head, eyes probing mine questioningly. "No. Would I be on vacation alone if I did?"
I nodded agreement. "So what's to be afraid of? We'll have a nightcap in my room, then…"
The girl shut off my words with a sudden, fierce kiss. It caught me off guard, but I recovered quickly and held her hard against me. After a long moment she dragged her mouth away from mine and began to nuzzle my neck, lips close to my ear. "Is your room safe to talk?" she murmured.
"I wouldn't bet on it." There was no point in mentioning my visitors of the night before, even though that had been half a country away.
Slowly she pulled back so she could look at me, eyes shining, mouth wide in a numbing smile. "So we shall have that nightcap, Daniel McKee. And afterward, we shall see…"
As we went into the hotel the tan Mercedes remained where it was, like a squat, lurking dragon breathing exhaust-pipe smoke.
* * *
Christina was neither shy nor wildly eager, but she was hardly indifferent either. She was the kind of girl who could never be indifferent about anything, whether brushing her teeth or making love to a stranger. She sat easily on the edge of the lumpy bed that dominated the room while I poured brandy into a couple of glasses. She took hers, tasted it, ran her tongue lightly over her lips like a cat.
The only chair in the room was too low and in a poor location. Breaking one of my basic rules, I perched on the broad windowsill, after being sure the window shade was tightly closed; even then I knew my silhouette made a perfect target if sniping was in order, and trusted my own instinct that no one wanted me dead. Not yet.
"Well," I said, lifting the thick hotel-room tumbler in a toasting gesture.
"Well?"
It was my first really good look at Christina Zenopolis; the other times I'd been dazzled by too much sunlight and all that damp, toasted flesh; in the restaurant earlier the lights had been dim and there'd been a table between us. Here the light was subdued, but not too much so, and there was nothing to interfere with the view. Even the unadorned, dark blue dress she wore was almost as revealing as the afternoon's bikini, and somehow more exciting. With her thick dark hair and wideset, startlingly blue eyes, she was a visual treasure, and so far she'd shown a mind and spirit to go with the looks. For a moment I regretted that we weren't just what we seemed to be, and immediately told myself to stop being a damned fool.
"So you're a student," I remarked, making the kind of conversation anyone listening might expect a tourist to ask the girl he'd picked up and taken to his room.
"Yes."
"What are you studying?"
She shrugged and took a healthy swallow of her brandy. "I was once hoping to be a nurse, but I had to stop."
"Why?"
"It was…" She frowned. "Oh well, I finally admitted to myself that I could not stand being around sick people for the rest of my life. You know?"
"I suppose so."
"And so I… well, I just study. Perhaps I will be a biologist, perhaps an archaeologist. There is no hurry to make up one's mind, is there?"
"I imagine your folks would like you to." I said it with a knowing grin, but I also knew she didn't have any folks.
Christina looked at me sharply. "I do not have any parents, McKee. Surely you know; I must have told you that earlier."
I nodded. "I guess you did. Sorry. But how do you… ah… how do you make a living?"
"Oh, I work in a boutique in Athens. It's very close to the Hilton. They're very nice about giving me time off when I don't have to go to classes." She leaned forward, the modest neckline of her dress gaping open just a fraction. "Isn't that nice, that I should be taking a vacation now?"
"Couldn't be nicer," I replied, and taking my cue I stood and went to sit beside her on the bed. She didn't move or seem surprised, but there were no automatic caresses either. I was getting to like this girl better and better.
"And you, McKee, have you found what you look for in Greece?"
"In a way."
She laughed. "I was talking about your business."
"Wasn't I?" I grinned back at her. "Well, actually, I've only been here a few days, but I've met some people, looked at boats. I had some idea that maybe I could find a yacht-designing genius in your country, someone who might be able to come up with something new and exciting. So far… but whether I find what I'm looking for or not, I'm learning a few things about Greece. Most of them I like."
This time she kissed me, her lips cool and light on mine. I started to put my arm around her, but she pulled away, not much, just enough to let me know this wasn't the time.
"So tomorrow you will sail away?" she said.
"That's the idea. Funny thing, in my country and probably in yours too, when boating people see a man arrive in a car and start asking questions, they don't tend to talk much. But when the same person shows up in a boat and asks the same questions they'll talk their heads off."
"Yes, I can see how that might be." She took another swallow of her brandy. "And you honestly wish to take me with you?"
Now I was certain she was talking for the benefit of possible bugs, because she knew damned well I had to take her with me. "I would like to very much. Three, four days only, just coastwise sailing. No hurry."
She appeared to be thinking it over; then she nodded slowly. "Yes. That would be very, very nice." And with that she rose, put the empty brandy glass down on a nearby dresser and picked up the white wool stole she wore against the evening chill. "I must be getting back to my hotel now, McKee."
My surprise must have shown clearly, but she stifled my protest with a fierce frown. "Do you… have to?" I said lamely.
"Oh yes. This has been most pleasant, McKee. I feel we have come to know each other well in so short a time, and there is so much to look forward to. No?" She tilted her head to one side and gave me a teasing little smile. "Once we are alone at sea, I am sure we will find a great deal to talk about."
She got the message across, and I made no objections. Christina wouldn't hear of letting me drive her back to her hotel, but I made damned sure the tan Mercedes wasn't across the street before I put her in a cab. I watched until she was out of sight and saw no sign of a tail picking her up, but I still felt a cold worry in my gut; Christina was my only way of contacting Alex, and if anything happened to her…
All I could do now was hope she knew what she was doing, because I sure as hell didn't.
Nine
Elgon Xefrates was waiting for me when I arrived early the next morning, but he wasn't the friendly, smiling man I'd met the day before. He shook his head sadly when he saw me get out of the car and enter his small, cluttered office.
"So sorry disappoint," he started right in, eying the white duffel bag I carried. "Your boat will not be ready to sail today. Tomorrow, perhaps two, three days. I cannot say."
"What the hell's the matter," I demanded.
"Accident last night." He shrugged and pointed vaguely over his shoulder. Through the window behind him I could see the bustling boatyard, the docks and the small cove beyond where several dozen boats, mostly small, were moored. I recognized the thirty-two-foot ketch he'd shone me the day before, snugged up against the dock with a long, thick snake of hose pouring over the side and down into the cabin.
"What happened?"
"Someone comes into mooring late, I think. Must have rammed your Argos pretty hard; this morning we find her with much water, some planks sprung forward. You see, we are pumping her out now." He pointed unnecessarily.
"It can't be too badly damaged if it didn't sink overnight,"
"Perhaps not; we will have to haul her out to be certain."
"Can I go take a look? Maybe I c
an get an idea…"
His eyes were cold. "You know more about my boats than me Mr. McKee?"
"Of course not; I didn't mean that. Look, you said you had another boat I might take. What about that one?"
"Ah, but after you departed yesterday two gentlemen came along and chartered it. You said you preferred Argos at any rate."
I did; she was smaller, easier to handle single-handed, and seemed generally in better shape. Still… "Have they taken her already?"
"Scylla? Not yet, no."
"I need a boat," I said flatly.
Xefrates looked surprised. "But you said there was no haste, Mr. McKee."
"Things have changed. I'd like to do business with you, but if you can't keep your word I'll have to go elsewhere, Mr. Xefrates."
If I'd expected panic from the fireplug-shaped man I was sadly mistaken. He simply looked at me for a long moment, then shrugged. "That is your; privilege."
"Look, I'll pay whatever you ask for Scylla. Let the others wait a day or so for Argos to be repaired."
"It is that important to you, Mr. McKee?"
"It is." I grinned. "You'll understand why before long."
Xefrates looked thoughtful, his eyes somber, and then his dark, beard-stubbled face exploded in a sudden smile. "Ah! Perhaps I do understand." He tapped a stub of pencil against his tombstone teeth. "It is possible that the other gentlemen would understand also."
"When did they say they'd start out?"
"Only some time today. In fact, since it was so late when they came yesterday that I had no chance to take them out on the boat. Usually I must be certain that someone knows how to handle one of my lovelies before I allow them to take her away. Except when they possess such… what is the word? Credentials? Yes, credentials such as you, Mr. McKee."
Among the other documents I'd been provided with was a photostat of a certificate that said I'd been twice across the Atlantic in small boat races, once as navigator and the other as sailing master. I was just as glad that Xefrates hadn't asked me to maneuver Scylla, a broad-beamed sloop with enough room in the cockpit for a flock of goats to be carried as cargo, around the congested cove.
