The raft came along side the stern. Zach lifted in two duffle bags and his partner. She was small and built like a gymnast. The wet suit outlined her trim figure. Zach gave her a quick hug and turned to me.
“Helena, this is Marie-Claude, who’s come along to help.”
Helena gave Zach an are-you-crazy glance and then stared at me. She looked Cypriot which was all the more unusual because my idea of Cypriot women was more traditional. They wouldn’t be out on a caper in the middle of the night. She was a young sprite with a mane of black curls that were tamed with a loose ribbon at the nape of her neck. Her facial features were stark, sharp nose and chin, winged eyebrows and dark, dark eyes.
She held out her hand. “My pleasure. Zach didn’t mention a helper.” She looked back at him, shook her head, and said, “Does she know?”
If Zach shook his head, I didn’t catch it. He was preoccupied with unzipping the bags and searching them. He pulled out what he sought. A very large gun. Back we were in that world I only read about and saw in the movies. I was living it. We watched him, waiting to see what he would do, waiting for orders from the commander, because it was clear that Zach was the one who called the shots.
“Helena, you have a gun?”
She nodded and patted the black bulge on her hip.
“All right, help me haul the raft up, and we’ll be under way.”
They sprang into action and stowed the raft. Zach powered up the yacht and turned out to sea.
Helena stood by him at the wheel. They talked in low voices, and I couldn’t hear a word of what they said. But I knew the next step. We were going to Pafos to find Berengaria’s jewels.
Seventeen
Darkness still reigned over Pafos Harbor when we motored in. Some pre-dawn fishermen were on their way out to sea, caught up in their own world and not interested in the domain of the wealthy and the criminal. Zach dropped anchor at a long dock filled with fishing boats. Helena had changed into shorts and tank top. She was all business and had spoken only a few words to me for the remainder of the short trip to Pafos Harbor like she was afraid she would give away secrets.
Zach had changed into black shorts, T-shirt and running shoes. In my black dress and cute little sandals, I felt over dressed. They each shouldered a duffle bag, and I followed them down the dock and over to the harbor parking lot. Helena opened a Honda SUV, a blue one this time. It brought back memories.
Zach stowed the bags in back and turned to me. “Claudie, when we get to our destination, promise me you’ll find a taxi and go back to your aunt. You won’t be implicated in this unless you tell the authorities.”
He pulled me close and searched my eyes. “I wish things had turned out differently. I tried to figure how we could disappear to that island you wanted, but this planet is small, and they’d eventually find me.”
“Of all the lives in this world, why did you have to walk into mine?” I said.
He tried to smile but ended up embracing me. “Things will move fast from here on. Here’s money.” He placed a wad of bills in my hand. “I’m asking you not to make any calls until I’m gone. Deal?”
I nodded, not trusting to speak. I wouldn’t jeopardize his getting away.
“Okay, here we go.”
We sped up the street from the dock and out onto the main drag of Pafos, Helena driving. I was in the back staring into nothing, overcome with weariness. A few late night revelers were on the streets, but the night was winding down, and they were on their way home or back to their hotels.
I thought of that long ago phone call from my aunt. I didn’t feel like the same person who had answered the call. My cares and worries from that world seemed light years away. I counted the days since the phone call. Less than a week.
We passed the same stores and hotels in Pafos that I had known and visited for the last ten years. My favorite restaurant, the street where we rented a house, the highway stretching up ahead to all the beautiful beaches on the west coast of Cyprus. All in the dim past.
Helena parked a few doors from our destination -- the house the American couple had rented. They put on vests, the kind that camera buffs wore with tons of pockets. There wouldn’t be cameras, film, and lenses in those pockets.
As he walked away, Zach blew me a kiss. I couldn’t smile. I watched them disappear into the dead end alley. They’d be circling around to enter the back of the house. I got out of the car.
The air possessed the stillness of dawn. A lone mongrel dog trotted down the street intent on his next meal and didn’t give me a glance. The exit scheme involved the car so I put some distance between me and it and found a low stucco wall to sit on and figure out the rest of my life.
Gunfire might be part of this caper, and I prayed that no one would get hurt. Not the neighbors who snuggled in their beds, not Zach who had the most to lose, not even Helena. I couldn’t move my butt from that wall or get my feet to move down the street and away from trouble and out onto the street and to a phone. I waited.
The sky lightened and a breeze blew off the sea. The restaurant across the street cranked up the metal screen, and the smell of coffee stirred the air. Still they didn’t return. Half an hour passed, forty five minutes. I imagined them dead inside, killed with silencers. I imagined them tied up, gagged, unable to breath. Indecision settled in a cloud over my mind. Should I go around and see what I could find? They should have been back by now. Even if they searched the house, it wouldn’t have taken this long.
My feet on their own volition walked to the two story adobe house with red geraniums. I slowed as I neared, searched the second story balcony with hanging ferns. Dark green plastic trash cans stood in a row by the rounded door which was not closed. It stood wide open. At first I didn’t see the figures standing in the shadows, looking out. I froze. Then I recognized the familiar outline. Zach and Helena were watching me approach. He motioned me in.
“What happened?” I whispered, I’m not sure why. Didn’t want to wake up the neighbors, I guess.
“They cleared out. Their gear is gone,” said Zach. “It took us a while to search what was left.”
He studied me. “I thought you were leaving.”
“So did I.”
Zach and Helena looked like a tourist couple ready to meet the day, ready for a walk around town, having breakfast, taking photos to send back home to the family. She was petite against his height and dark to his sun-streaked beauty.
“Now what?” I said.
“We’re going to have breakfast. Care to join us?”
I smiled and nodded. When was I not ready to eat?
Over eggs and beans and chips with big, red slices of juicy tomatoes we talked. Helena excused herself to go to the ladies room.
“You’re only implicating yourself more,” Zach said.
“When you didn’t return, I got worried so I came to see what had happened. I imagined the worse.”
He laughed. “Of course.”
“What will you do now?”
“I can’t tell you, not anymore. I can’t open you up to any more danger. I have been foolish and selfish.” He took my hand in his warm, strong one. “I want you to call Bellomo and have him come get you and forget about me and all this.”
He saw the objection in my eyes before the words formed in my mouth.
“Claudie, someday, I promise you, when this is over, I’ll try to contact you. I know where you are in Boston. For now you must trust me and leave. Sal will get you both off the hook, your aunt will marry, and who knows she might even invite you to live in one of Sal’s palatial homes. Wouldn’t you like that?”
I wasn’t going to be put off with those crazy dreams. “Zach, Helena doesn’t look like a thief, nor do you. You don’t act like some sleazy criminal. If you are, you’re in a class with Cary Grant.”
He squirmed in his seat and would not meet my eyes. Was I getting too close to the truth? Who was Zach Lamont working for?
I stood up. I felt ancient. Every cell in my body ached
for sleep.
“Where are you going?” he asked.
I laughed. “To the ladies room. I’ll check and see what’s keeping Helena.”
He grabbed my hand. “She’s gone. She’s my back up, my link. You don’t need to find her. She won’t be there.”
I sank into the chair. It was hard not to scream, to shake him, to make him share what it was that he was doing. I looked at him and when he wouldn’t turn toward me, I caught his chin in my hand and made him meet my eyes.
“I have a feeling,” I said, “the authorities know exactly what we are doing, that they haven’t picked me up because you are one of them. You have been lying double time all along.”
He shrugged and smiled wearily. “I could use some sleep and a shower and shave.” He rubbed his hand over the stubble on his face. “How about you?”
I smiled at him. “What hotel this time?” The grit in my eyes was the size of boulders, and my dress was all over wrinkles. “I could use some freshening up myself.”
He helped me up. “You pick the place. How about we crash, and when we’ve slept it off, I’ll tell you what we’re going to do to find Berengaria’s jewels.”
“Isn’t someone watching the airport for the American couple?” I asked, playing my hunch.
“No one is watching the airport. They’ve escaped to the Turkish side. That’s how they smuggle the goods for their terrorist friends. They’ll be back. While we’re waiting, let’s get some sleep.”
“Sounds heavenly to me.”
We ended up in a modest, clean establishment after stopping to buy me yet another outfit of shorts, top, and undies.
“You mind if I make a call?” I asked.
We had not turned on any lights. The curtains were closed, creating a false, cool dimness. He was lying on the bed naked after a shower and could barely keep his eyes open.
“Don’t call Yannis. Don’t bring him into this. I know you want to protect him. I’m hoping no one has figured out the connection and gone by his house and done something stupid.”
“You mean someone would?”
“I said I hoped no one would but if you want to protect him, don’t call. Yes, he’ll be worried, but your aunt knows you are okay. At least we know she’s okay.”
“Right.” I put down the receiver.
I stood under the shower head for a long time, the lukewarm liquid splashing over me, feeling the water slide over my body, wishing it could wash away all the bad memories. By the time I collapsed beside him on the bed, he was snoring softly.
I glanced at the clock. Nine A.M.
* * * * *
In the far recesses of my sleep encrusted brain I heard a click. I opened my eyes to a dark room. The clicking sound came again. Zach was not on the bed. I scanned the room. The time must have been close to sundown because dim light outlined the floral pattern in the curtains that covered the windows. I shifted up on one elbow and wished I had put something on to sleep in. I hated the thought of facing a new crisis in the buff.
Damn Zachariah Lamont if he had skipped out on me again. I searched for my shorts and top and in the process saw with a leaden heart that Zach’s things were gone.
The clicking sound came again.
I pulled on shorts and top and listened. The sound was coming from the door. It sounded like someone was in the hall outside my door, trying to pick the lock. I couldn’t see if the deadbolt was on. On more careful scrutiny I found there was no deadbolt, just a simple hotel door with a button lock on the door handle. I couldn’t remember locking it.
As carefully as a tomcat backing away from a bigger tom, I picked up my purse, found my sandals and tiptoed to the window. At least we were on the ground level this time. As I was trying to crank open the window wide enough to crawl through, the door swung open.
“Don’t move.”
The voice was female, low, hard.
I froze.
The light from the hall outlined the figure of a tall woman with a gun in her raised hand.
“Who are you?” I managed to get out of my constricted throat.
“I ask the questions,” she said and motioned with the gun toward the center of the room. “Over there.”
I held up my hands, I didn’t know why, maybe I had seen too many Westerns. Maybe I wanted to show her I was unarmed.
“Where’s Lamont?”
“He was gone when I awoke.”
“Deserted you, did he?”
I shrugged and tried not to bristle at the ugly broad. “Move toward the door.”
The gun spoke louder than the thousand protests I wanted to make.
“There’s a blue Maruti outside. You are going to get into it without any trouble. I’ll be right behind you and remember I have a gun.”
I nodded.
Outside the last light of sunset turned the air to rose and gold. The battered old Maruti stood at the curb. I got into the passenger seat in the front, the one the dark skinned driver indicated with his hand. The motor was running. The woman climbed in the back. She was broad hipped, clad in baggy jeans and a blue blouse knotted over an unbecoming belly. Her stringy, brown hair was caught back in a scarf. Her tan was the kind that made the face leathery.
My hopes turned to stone. There was no sign of the blue SUV Honda in the parking lot. My situation brought to mind the saying seduced and abandoned. Somehow it wasn’t funny.
We took off down the highway, away from Pafos, onto the road north to Polis. We turned west onto the road to the Tombs of the Kings. My claustrophobia went into overdrive. I had been in the tombs before or rather I had waited outside while my companions explored the dark and gloomy interiors. The tombs encompassed seven different groups of underground tombs dating from the third century BC and were thought to be the burial place of Roman noblemen. I had a feeling I might be exploring them tonight.
We bumped over the road to the tombs as the last of the tourists drove past us, going in the opposite direction, taking my hopes with them. I tried to study the profile of the driver with my peripheral vision. He was small and had the seat up close to the steering wheel which he clasped with large knuckled hands. He had to be the one who had been watching us all along. There was no top to this old Jeep style vehicle. The bangs of his military hair cut stood up in the wind. His clothes were unremarkable and frayed on the cuffs. He looked like the street people that I had seen on my trips to Jerusalem. Would that he were not a suicide bomber.
In some ways I didn’t care where they were taking me. None of it could be good. Zach was gone. Again. Maybe to protect me, maybe to give me the freedom he wanted me to have. I wondered what Miss America in the back seat wanted with me. If she had the jewels like Zach thought, maybe she needed me dead. On the other hand if she didn’t have the jewels and if she hadn’t caught Zach, I might be the ticket she used to get them. I hoped her methods didn’t involve anything with razor blades or electricity.
The setting for the tombs was another spectacular performance by the Cyprus Great Views Department. From the cliffs where the tombs were carved out of rock, you could stand on top and look out to sea. The tombs themselves were built around courtyards with colonnades and open to the sky. You stood on the rocks that made up the roofs and looked down into them or walked down steps that led to a labyrinth of holes and niches that served as the tombs. A person could get lost in those passageways.
The driver jerked the Maruti to a halt, and the woman jumped out.
“Move.” She pulled open my door and motioned for me to exit. “Wait here,” she said to the driver. “If anyone comes and questions you, you’re watching the sunset.
My heart sank into the tombs. I looked around for help of any kind. No guard to be seen, only cars driving away, leaving me with a mad woman.
“Hurry,” the woman said and gave me a nudge toward the most isolated of the tombs. I started walking, trying not to stumble on the uneven rock surfaces.
“Down those stairs and don’t try anything funny. I have the gun, and I wi
ll use it.”
Reluctantly, I started down the remains of a stairway into a hole in the ground. Nausea started in my gut and rose into my chest like black bile, bitter and unrelenting. Panic I could no longer keep at bay. From behind me the beam of light from her flashlight illuminated the stairs that the darkness enclosed. I yelped as a fluttery creature exited the black hole.
“Get going,” she said and shoved me. “You aren’t afraid of a little bat are you?”
“As a matter of fact, they give me the creeps,” I muttered to myself.
I picked my way down the steps the flashlight illuminated. So much for any hope of rescue. No one seemed to have seen or cared that we came in late, that two women had disappeared into the tombs.
Zachariah Lamont where were you now?
The further we descended into the tomb, the more I wheezed and fought for breath. Claustrophobia made me want to push the walls apart. I had had nightmares about places where there were thirty feet of dirt above me and no way out, trying to scream but I could make no sound. I shrank from stories of people buried alive in earthquake rubble.
“Stop,” the hateful woman said.
Like a mindless little ant, I obeyed.
“Sit down.”
I looked down at the dirty, dusty rock floor and thought of scorpions and rats. “No, I’m not sitting down. Who are you and what do you want with me?”
She flashed the light into my face, and I jerked away from the blinding beam. “I told you I ask the questions. Where’s your boyfriend?”
“My boy…” The rest of the words died on my lips. They hadn’t gotten to Zach.
“Don’t play stupid, answer the question.”
“He left while I was asleep. I don’t know where he went. Get that light out of my eyes.” My near hysteria made me bold. “I don’t know what you are involved in, but I am an innocent bystander and don’t have any information.”
The Forty Column Castle Page 17
