“Not exactly,” Remi said. “Although they did mention something about killing us and not wanting to bring attention to the island. I gathered they’re looking for something.”
“Whatever it is,” Sam said, “it must be worth a lot for them to risk an open kidnapping. Any chance the shipwreck you two were mapping has more to it than a bunch of broken pottery?”
“I have no idea.” Remi glanced at Dimitris.
“There are certainly enough amphorae down there,” he said. “On the black market, intact pottery can be worth a lot of money.”
“Worth kidnapping for?” Sam found it hard to believe they’d take such a risk for a couple of sunken vases.
“No,” Nikos said. “The seafloor around Fourni is littered with shipwrecks. Why not go after one of the other sites, where no one is attending?”
“If I’m not mistaken,” Remi said, “the Kyrils’ yacht was there at least the day before.”
Dimitris nodded. “It was. Why bother us now?”
They tossed around several ideas and wild theories, but by the time they finished their drinks, they were no closer to determining why the two of them were targeted. Eventually, Nikos picked up the empty ouzo bottle, shook it, and peering inside gave a sad smile. “I’d say that’s our cue to call it a night. Let the Aegean sing you to sleep. I suggest we continue this discussion in the morning.” He stood. “Come, I’ve put clean towels in your berths.”
They followed him down to a narrow cabin with two bunks, both with a small towel and a facecloth neatly folded at the foot.
Nikos smiled at Remi. “My apologies. The quarters are tight and the mattresses are stiff.”
“We’ll be fine,” she said, hugging him. “Thank you.”
He left them alone.
Remi sat on the lower berth, lying back, closing her eyes. “I’m just going to lie here for a minute. After two nights sleeping on the floor, this mattress is the softest I ever slept on.” Then, very quietly, almost a whisper, she said, “Sam? You’re here.”
He was about to answer, but when he looked over, she was fast asleep.
First thing in the morning, he’d call Rube and let him know all was well. Too tired to do much of anything, he climbed up on the top bunk, thinking about the events that led up to the kidnapping. Something had to have occurred to bring Remi and Dimitris to the attention of a man like Adrian Kyril. What that might be, he intended to find out. For now, they were safe. But he doubted Adrian Kyril was simply going to pretend that nothing had happened.
He’d be back—looking for retribution.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Adrian stood just inside the open-air pool house of his cliff-top home, his gaze fixed on the young woman swimming laps in the infinity pool, her long blond hair streaming across her back as she moved. Phoebe, a model he’d picked up in France, had been staying with him these last few weeks. Though he’d long tired of her company, his mother seemed to like her, which made her an asset. Impatient, he finished his drink, set it on the table, then walked out to the glass wall to see if Ilya’s boat had arrived yet. He was halfway across the terra-cotta tiles when a red light flashed on the control panel of the lift as someone rode it up to the topmost patio, one of three terraced onto the cliff face. Stone-paved steps led down to each level as well as to the dock built at the base of the cliff, though he couldn’t recall the last time anyone but the gardeners had taken the stairs or even gone down to the lower patio.
Today, however, would be different. He needed a place to talk where they wouldn’t be overheard by his staff or his girlfriend. Finally, the lift door opened, and Ilya stepped out, his expression grim.
“This way,” Adrian said, leading him down to the next level. Both men leaned against the glass balcony. About twenty-five feet below, the azure sea rippled at the base of the cliff. The view had always calmed him in the past. Not now. “What happened?”
“Someone managed to board the Mirage. Whoever he was, he overpowered one of the guards and freed them.”
“How did he get on the boat without being seen?”
“We were shorthanded. He managed to get in from the swim deck. The good news is that he and the two hostages may not have survived their escape attempt.”
“What makes you think that?”
“He lost control of his boat when my men gave chase. There was an explosion when it hit the swim deck.”
“Any bodies?”
“No time to look. They were worried about the attention it might bring should anyone decide to investigate the accident.”
Adrian gripped the balcony railing, then forced himself to let go. “They should worry about the attention that escaped hostages might bring. You realize what this will do? We left a body on that island with two witnesses.”
“Even if they did survive, it doesn’t appear that they saw anything. We found nothing on the camera.”
“Maybe not. But they were held hostage for two days. On my yacht. How do we explain that?” Angry, Adrian looked over at him, trying to read his expression. A shadow on the stairs caught his attention. He turned, seeing his girlfriend walking down, a towel draped over her shoulders. “Phoebe.”
Still dripping from her swim, she smiled innocently. “What are you two doing down here?”
“Problems with the early harvest. I’ll be up in a minute.”
“Hurry,” she said. “I don’t want to eat breakfast alone.” She gave a bit of a pout, but headed back up.
Ilya waited until she disappeared. “Do you think she heard anything?”
“If she did, she’s not privy to enough to know what it is we were talking about.”
“Never underestimate a woman’s power of observation. Especially if it’s something she thinks she can use for her advantage.”
Adrian looked back at the stairs, glad to see she was no longer in sight. Even so, he lowered his voice. “Back to the more pressing matter. What are we going to do about the escaped hostages?”
“As of now, nothing. We continue with the story that they were targeted by pirates for ransom. The woman comes from a very wealthy family. It stands to reason she’d be targeted.”
“Except she escaped and knows pirates had nothing to do with it. They’ll come looking for me.”
“Not necessarily. Your name was never mentioned, you were nowhere near the Mirage—” He nodded toward the top of the stairs. “And you have an alibi.”
Adrian followed the direction of his gaze, suddenly glad that Phoebe was there. For the first time since Ilya had called him about the escape, he dared to hope that things might work out after all. “Exactly how are you planning to make sure this doesn’t fall on me?”
“Because the guard who was overpowered is now dead. I needed someone to blame if the hostages survived that boat crash.”
“That’s your plan?”
The man’s face remained impassive as he stared out at the water. Finally, he looked at Adrian. “Have I ever given you cause to worry?”
He wouldn’t have survived this long if not for Ilya’s efficiency. “No, but I’m this close to having everything pulled out from under me. I don’t need this added stress.”
“Speaking of, have you heard anything from your parents’ attorney?”
“Not yet.”
“Maybe they’ve changed their minds.”
“Even if they have, once they get word about this, it’s over.”
“I have a plan for that, too.”
Adrian pulled himself up straight, took a deep breath, and looked over at him. “Do tell.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Two days later . . .
You’re not going to like this,” Rube said to Sam when he’d called to update him on the case. “The Kyrils are insisting that their yacht was overtaken by pirates, and that the person they’d hired as caretaker probably facilitated the
kidnapping.”
“What a ridiculous lie.” Sam looked over at Remi and Dimitris. Both stood on the dock, Dimitris instructing Remi on how to use a throwing knife. They took turns tossing it so that it landed point-down in one of the wood planks. The object, apparently, was to move the knife one plank forward with each throw. Remi was starting to get the hang of it. “Did anyone talk to this caretaker?”
“Apparently, he was killed when the kidnappers made their escape.”
“So, the only witness to the Kyrils’ claim is conveniently dead? Considering we left everyone very much alive, I’d like to know how he supposedly died.”
“The Kyrils,” Rube said, ignoring the obvious, “have no knowledge of the kidnapping and are cooperating completely with the authorities. They are, however, taking responsibility for not doing a thorough background check on the caretaker. They’d like to formally apologize to both Remi and Dimitris for anything that happened due to their oversight.”
“No one actually believes this, do they?”
“Between you and me? I expect they have too many friends in high places, and without hard evidence, this case isn’t going anywhere.”
“So what happens now?”
“Formally, we add a supplemental to what we have on file, let the local authorities handle it, and move on. It’s out of our jurisdiction. Now that your friends are out of danger, and it isn’t a national security issue, it goes to the bottom of the pile.”
“That’s it? They get away with it?”
“I know you don’t want to hear this, Fargo, but maybe it’s time to call it a day. Return to the States and get on with your lives.”
As much as Sam had tried to convince Remi to leave, she had already made it clear that she planned on staying until the police had made an arrest. “I’m not sure that’ll go over well.”
“Regardless, there’s nothing much any of you can do.”
“Let’s say I decide to do some digging on my own. Any suggestions on how best to go about it?”
“My formal suggestion? Stay far away from this group. They’re dangerous.” Rube paused and let out a deep sigh. “I know, I’m preaching to the choir. If you do find anything, turn it over to me. I’ll add it to the file. Beyond that, I can’t make any promises.”
Which wasn’t much help at all. “I don’t suppose you have anyone on speed dial who’s discreet and can help with some under-the-table research?”
“I might know a few people. Let me check with a couple of my associates. If I come across someone, I’ll contact you.”
“Thanks, Rube. Appreciate it.”
After ending the call, he walked over to Remi and Dimitris. They were about six planks into their game. On Remi’s next turn, the knife landed but didn’t stick, the blade skittering past its intended mark. “So close!” She looked up at Sam as she retrieved it. “What’d your friend say?”
“His first suggestion is to pack up and go home.”
She handed the knife to Dimitris, waiting for him to take his turn—a solid hit—before asking, “Why would we do that?”
“To start, it’s safer.”
Remi glanced over at him, then back to the game, throwing the knife. This time, it actually stuck. “Ha!”
“See?” Dimitris said. “You just needed a little oomph behind it. Try it again.”
She did. When it stuck with a solid thwack, she walked over, pulled it up, then returned to Sam’s side. “That can’t be all you talked about.”
“The Kyrils are blaming the kidnapping on pirates who were given access to the boat by their now-dead caretaker.”
“Dead caretaker? You know they’re lying.”
He eyed the weapon she held. “To be clear, I’m in complete agreement with you. Rube, however, suggests that we return to the States.”
“Exactly what my father said,” she said, handing the knife to Dimitris.
“In this case, I agree. You should probably go home.”
“Me? I thought you said we? I can’t just up and go home. Would you go home if this happened to you?”
“No, but that’s different.”
She crossed her arms, her green eyes narrowing. “Why?”
What could he say? He had a feeling she was expecting him to point out the obvious answer, that she was a woman and he a man.
But that wasn’t what he’d been thinking at all. Nor had it anything to do with the very real answer that, because of his training at DARPA, he was better suited to remain behind and look into things.
The truth, though, was nothing close to that.
While he wouldn’t call it love at first sight, he’d definitely describe it as pretty damned sure—not that he was about to announce that fact. And that knowledge made him terrified that if anything happened to her, he’d never forgive himself. “I work better by myself,” he blurted to avoid the truth. That sounded lame even to him. Clearly, he was turning into a lovesick puppy.
Remi crossed her arms. “I was the one kidnapped. Not you. I’m staying. You’re welcome to go home.”
“Don’t forget, you called me.”
“Please. It wasn’t like I expected you to personally show up. We had things under control.”
“What were you planning to do? Hold the guard hostage with the toenail clippers? The attack on me with a case of soda cans didn’t exactly work.”
“A shame we didn’t hit you harder.”
“Hard enough.”
“Regardless, we would’ve come up with a solid Plan B. Right, Dimitris?”
Dimitris pulled the knife from the plank and handed it to Remi. “I think I’ll check on my father. Let you two work things out.”
Remi ignored him, her attention on Sam. “I’m not leaving.”
Sam could almost see her mind racing as though she couldn’t help what she was saying and knew he was right. She’d wanted him to show up. They didn’t have things under control. There was no Plan B.
Sam broke into her thoughts. “There’s got to be some way we can resolve this.”
She held up the knife. “A game of planks. Person who wins decides if I stay or go.”
“You’re sure you want to decide it this way?”
“Positive. You’re the one who should worry. When it comes to things with a target, I’m pretty good.”
“You just learned how to play.”
“I’ve had half a deck to warm up.” She held the blade toward him.
Sam didn’t move. “I’m not throwing a knife to decide something this important.”
“Worried you might lose, Fargo?” For all her bravado, she couldn’t hide the vulnerability in her eyes.
He took the knife. But instead of the plank, he aimed for the pylon about eighteen feet away. It hit. “You were saying?”
Remi watched the handle vibrating from the impact. “How about a game of rock, paper, scissors?”
Sam just stared at her, wondering how anyone could be so confusing. But before he could say anything, Nikos came storming out of the house, Dimitris right behind him.
“My son tells me that the Kyrils are denying that they’re behind his kidnapping. Is this true?”
“It is,” Sam said. “At least, according to my friend who works for the CIA.”
“How do they believe these lies?” Nikos’s dark eyes narrowed. “I’ll go after Adrian Kyril myself to get the truth.”
“Not without me,” Dimitris said.
“Me too.” Remi looked at Sam. Whatever vulnerability he’d seen earlier was now shuttered. “Are you in? You don’t really want to leave the three of us to fend for ourselves?”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Sam looked at each of them in turn, Nikos, Dimitris, Remi. “If any of you had any idea the sort of danger you might encounter—”
“Considering what Dimitris and I went through, I think w
e do.”
He doubted that very much. But seeing the determination in their eyes made him realize that if left to their own devices, they were likely to go after Adrian on their own. He’d never forgive himself if anything happened to any of them. “Fine. We go together. As long as we do it my way.”
“Really?” Remi said, a smile forming on her lips.
“Why are you so surprised?”
“I was afraid you’d say no.”
“If I had, would it have made a difference?”
“No.” Then, just as quickly, Remi said, “Okay, Fargo, what’s our next move?”
“I think our best bet is to do a little armchair recon. I’ll lay odds that they’ve already made sure any evidence left on their yacht is long gone. Let’s do our research on the Kyrils. Remi, you start online. Niko, Dimitris, hit up any sort of town archives or records you can find.”
The web was filled with article after article on the Kyril family, their olive oil exporting business, and how much they constantly donated to the community from their family charity.
After a couple of hours, Remi closed the lid on her laptop. “If I read one more story on how much the people in Greece love the Kyrils, I’m likely to toss this thing across the room.”
Nikos shook his head. “I’ve lived here my entire life. For as long as I can remember, that family has ingratiated themselves into the community. The Kyrils can do no wrong. They might as well be gods living on Olympus.”
“What we need,” Remi said, “is to find their Achilles’ heel.”
Sam, who’d been using one of the foundation’s computers, leaned back in his chair as he studied the picture of the Kyrils’ cliffside home. “What about a trip to this island? If we’re lucky, one of the locals will know something.”
* * *
—
Nikos piloted the Asteri to Patmos, a two-hour boat drive from Fourni. He motored along the west side of the island, then slowed, pointing. “That is Adrian Kyril’s villa.”
Wrath of Poseidon Page 9
