Calypso snorted a laugh. “If I’m any judge of character, your Romeo-of-the-day is already spoken for. Quite a tasty little thing, too.”
“Oh, Callie,” Lyra said, shaking her head.
The blonde on the dive boat pressed the binoculars into the young man’s chest and made her way to the flybridge ladder. It was clear to Lyra that she was a divemaster as well, as she began to address the divers, and everyone gave her their attention.
“You know…” Lyra mused dreamily. “I believe I’d fancy a little diving during our stay.”
“Maybe they charter.” Calypso took the binoculars from her and scanned the boat’s flank, bow to stern. “Lunasea. Ah, very droll. Behind that it says Bubble Chasers Diving, which I’m assuming is the business. I suppose it could be fun.”
“Lyra! Callie!” a voice bellowed from behind them.
Callie groaned and the sisters turned toward the voice. Her brother Achilles was across the pool, dressed in stylish slacks and a crisp white shirt, his arms bulging beneath rolled-up sleeves. The shirt was open to the navel, displaying an expanse of waxed pectorals, his hairless chest sporting a number of gold chains that would make the most egregious stereotype shake his head in disapproval.
“We’re over here,” Lyra called out from behind the tropical plants that fringed the pool area. Their brother crossed over toward them.
“What do you want, Chilly?” her younger sister asked.
Lyra stifled a laugh. Achilles was so proud of his pompous name and Callie loved to wind him up.
“Stop calling me that, Calypso!”
Lyra sighed. “Callie, be nice.” The youngest Othonos had been teasing him with that nickname for as long as Lyra could remember, yet Achilles reacted as if each time were the first. Their eldest brother wasn’t the deepest thinker in the family. “Do you need us for something, Achilles?”
“Nicholas has called a meeting.”
This time it was Lyra who groaned. Her younger brother, Nicholas, was always assembling them for one thing or another. “What is it about this time?”
“I don’t know, but Father’s going to be there. The nurses are getting him ready. Nicholas talked him into it.”
“I swear, it’s like Nicholas thinks he’s running the family business…” Calypso said, a half-smile on her lips.
Lyra turned to the side and could see her sister watching their eldest brother intently from behind her overlarge sunglasses.
Achilles reddened, the blush managing to penetrate his carefully cultivated tan. “I’m the one who will be running the business once Father passes. Me! It’s in the will! That nerd can play at board meetings all he wants—it won’t make a difference!”
“Chill, Chilly… we know you’re the eldest. You make that clear on a daily basis.”
Lyra pinched her younger sister’s flank and felt Calypso wince. You could only push Achilles so far before he went ballistic. His jaw was already twitching, so Lyra raised a slender hand and spoke in her musical voice. “We’re coming, brother. Just give us a moment to change. The Owner’s Suite?”
Achilles jaw softened. “Yes. Fifteen minutes. Thank you, Lyra.” He pivoted on his heel and made his way forward along the promenade.
“You really shouldn’t tease him like that,” Lyra chided. “You know how angry he can get.”
“Probably all the steroids,” Calypso remarked.
“One day, he’ll hold the purse strings, Callie.”
“A fact of which I am painfully aware. Come on. Let’s get changed into something Father will approve of.” Calypso ascended to the poolside seating area and grabbed her book, leaving her towel and drink for the food service crew to deal with.
“What are you reading?” Lyra asked, as she retrieved her sarong from her chaise.
“Something Italian… one of the guests left it.” Calypso held it aloft.
Lyra nodded. Most of the family spoke multiple languages. “What happened to the cover?”
“I didn’t like the artwork, so I tore it off.”
Lyra laughed. “Of course you did.” She wrapped the sarong around her waist and the two sisters made their way toward the accommodation decks.
About time. Nicholas Othonos looked down from the wrap-around balcony of the Owner’s Suite as his sisters left the pool area. They would stop to change out of their swimsuits, of course, but he estimated the meeting would occur in fifteen minutes, as scheduled. Nicholas valued punctuality, and he had tried very hard to get that trait to rub off on his siblings.
Nicholas was third in the line of succession for the Othonos fortune, ahead of Calypso but behind Achilles and Lyra. Their father, Karras Othonos, had built a shipping empire from the ground up, beginning with a single ship and growing to a substantial fleet. The latest venture had been Nicholas’s idea. Branching out from his father’s flourishing business in container ships and oil tankers, the company had formed a new corporation—based in the Cayman Islands, of course—and had begun building cruise ships. But not just any cruise ships.
Rather than targeting the hoi polloi who swarmed the gigantic ships of the major cruise lines, these vessels were designed to cater to a very specific clientele: multi-millionaires who wished they were billionaires. Most cruise ships these days had more in common with a Vegas hotel than the elegant liners of yesteryear. Nicholas’s idea was Olympus Cruises, a small fleet of mega-yachts and giga-yachts offering “a billionaire experience” to a select passenger list. Although they were still ironing out the exact dollar amount of assets to warrant a ticket, the demand had been sufficient to allow only eight-figure earners aboard. This worked out very well for the high-stakes gambling in the multi-room casino. In addition, investment opportunities were on offer: the Othonos family owned a Cayman bank with an offshore branch onboard each Olympus ship, and Nicholas himself had used his considerable high-tech skills to design their very own cryptocurrency.
Nicholas took a deep breath of salt-filled air as he looked down at the elegant aft promenade of the newest entry to the fleet, the Apollo. This was her maiden voyage, her sea trials having been completed last month. Her sister ships were off on cruises elsewhere: Zeus was in the Cyclades Islands in the Aegean. Nicholas checked his watch. She should be docking in Santorini shortly. The Poseidon was in the Pacific, bound for Bali, and Athena was in the Western Mediterranean, currently transiting the Strait of Gibraltar on her journey between Mallorca and the Canaries. The Artemis had just begun construction in the Netherlands.
One major advantage of their smaller size: many islands that didn’t permit cruise ships could let in Olympus vessels. They were officially designated as “yachts,” and even Venice had allowed the Zeus to include the city center on her itinerary—although that had required a little behind-the-scenes incentive.
She’s magnificent! Nicholas thought as his eyes glided across the elegant lines of the Apollo. His gaze came to an abrupt halt as he looked to starboard at their hideous neighbor across the Puerta Maya pier. Indeed, the Nordic Starr was the subject of their meeting.
A rattling cough from the suite drew Nicholas back inside. Closing the enormous sliding glass doors with a tap on the control panel, he made his way to his father’s side.
“I’m here, Father.”
Karras Othonos was a shadow of the man he once was. While still among the wealthiest shipping magnates in the world, the one-time jetsetter and playboy was now wheelchair-bound, his body ravaged by several named illnesses, and at least one that hadn’t yet received a moniker. Holding an oxygen mask in a death grip, he coughed again. When Nicholas reached out to assist, the Othonos patriarch angrily raised a hand and coughed a third time, with purpose. Satisfied that the phlegm was now better situated, he nodded with satisfaction.
“Where is your brother?” Karras rasped, before taking a brief pull off the oxygen and holstering the mask.
“He should be h
ere any minute.”
“That ‘minute’ is now!” a voice boomed from across the vast, open-plan suite.
“Achilles, my boy!” Karras turned his chair toward the newcomer and held his arms out, inviting a hug.
Nicholas stepped aside to allow his father to greet the eldest son. The favorite son… he thought bitterly.
“Kaliméra, Father!” Achilles gave him a spirited hug—vigorous enough to elicit a couple more coughs. But Karras recovered and gave a pair of alternating cheek-kisses to his son.
“So good to see you up and about,” Achilles said. “You’re looking well.”
“That is what I like about you, my son… you are a terrible liar. I detest duplicity.”
“Sorry we’re late,” Lyra said, entering the suite with Calypso, the pair of sisters dressed in demure tropical dresses.
“My girls, good to see you both.” Karras beamed and greeted them as he had Achilles.
Nicholas made his way to a chair on the side of the polished mahogany dining table, wincing a bit at the pain in his hip as he sat. Achilles wheeled his father to one end that was chairless and seated himself across from the patriarch. Calypso slid into the chair across from Nicholas and Lyra came over to him and kissed him atop his head.
“How are you today, Nicholas?”
“Fair to middling.”
“And the leg?”
“Fine. Thank you for asking, Lyra.”
After Lyra was seated, Nicholas began. “The reason I’ve called you all here—”
“Wait,” Achilles interrupted. “I’ve got some… what is it called? Old business? Stupid parliamentary rules of order…”
Nicholas sighed and sat back.
“Your cryptocurrency…” Achilles began.
“Yes, Croesus Coin. The Croesids. It’s all going very w—”
“It’s a stupid name.”
Nicholas regarded his brother silently for a moment, and then let out a long sigh. “I thought we went over this. Given our lineage, the name is perfect. Croesus was—”
“Yeah, yeah, we all know,” Achilles interrupted. “Richest man in ancient Greece, blah blah blah, rich as Croesus.”
“Nice to know you were paying attention.”
“And he minted the first coins in the world…”
“No, Achilles. The first pure-gold coins, the Croeseids… which, for the individual encrypted monetary units, I’ve simplified to Croesids—”
“Not simple enough. I tried to explain it to some of my mates, and… look, no one knows how to pronounce all that. Let’s just call them Midas Bucks.”
Nicholas felt a vein in his temple pulse, but he kept his tone level. “Midas… Bucks…”
“Yeah. Like King Midas? Guy who turned stuff to gold?”
“I know who King Midas is.”
“Yeah, see? Most people do!”
Nicholas sighed. “The problem with that… we’re trying to cater to the richest, most exclusive clientele. And ‘Midas Bucks’…well… it sounds like toy money a hick might win at a fairground.”
Achilles reddened. “Look, Nicky, you’re not in charge...”
“Nor are you.”
“Not y—” Achilles managed to stop himself. “Father should decide. Or we should vote!”
“Excuse me, Nicholas?” Lyra spoke up, her soothing tones gliding between the heated words. “I’m not the most tech-savvy, and I confess the business side of all of this is not something I’m comfortable with, but… well… wouldn’t changing the name require a complete overhaul of the systems? Perhaps costing us a great deal of money?”
Bless you, sister. Always the peacemaker. “Yes, Lyra. A name change now would create a significant disruption. Especially since we’ve taken advantage of the extraordinary returns and invested a substantial amount of our company assets into our proprietary cryptocurrency.”
Thankfully, Karras ended the spat. “In that case, we will keep the name. Nicholas has already explained just how lucrative this digital money is.” The elder Othonos spoke with strong remnants of the Greek language tugging at his English. Lyra and Achilles retained some as well, but Nicholas had worked hard to strip it from his speech. Calypso, too, could pass for an American. Karras coughed and waved his hand. “Let’s move on to the reason you called this meeting, my son. I’m getting tired.”
“Of course. Well, as you know, the entire point of Olympus Cruises is that we cater to the wealthy. The crème de la crème of society.” He rose from the table and walked toward the starboard side of the room. “We want the entire experience to be luxurious, so you can understand why I would prefer we not be docked across from that.” He pointed out the wraparound window at the Nordic Starr.
The view that greeted the Othonos family was that of a cruise ship that had seen better days. Rust was apparent in many locations, including little streaks beneath nearly every porthole. The radar atop the bridge looked like it belonged in the previous century, and a trip in one of the launches or lifeboats that were clustered amidships would likely be a coin-flip as to whether any were seaworthy. Prominent along the flank at the stern, a long scrape indicated a failed attempt at docking at some point in her past. An attempt to cover this scar had been unsuccessful, as the coat of paint didn’t quite match the surrounding hull.
“Is it one of that Icelandic company’s ships?” Calypso asked. “That cheap ‘no frills’ cruise line?”
“Yes! Hygge Cruises,” Nicholas spat the name. “A company designed from the ground up to emulate the budget airlines… but for cruises. Bargain basement prices for bargain basement people. Exactly the opposite of what we are… and half our passengers will have a view of that for the next few days. And every time they walk to shore on the pier, they’ll be mingling with that ship’s low-rent clientele.”
“Oh, no, no, no… that won’t do at all!” Karras protested, his words transitioning into a coughing fit. Lyra rose and attended to him until he recovered.
Nicholas returned to the table. “That particular vessel was involved in an incident in Saint Martin, shortly before Hurricane Irma.” He flipped open a folder. “An emergency order went out for all ships to put to sea. Apparently, the captain…” He scanned a file. “Captain Olaf Björnson… failed to remove one of the lines, and the ship swung sideways, smashing into an adjacent vessel and wedging itself in. Guess who the current captain is?”
“The same man?” Calypso posited, incredulous.
“Unbelievable, isn’t it? Particularly since Scandinavian crews are widely considered to be among the best in the cruise industry.” Nicholas closed the file. “I wonder if the Cozumel Harbor Master is aware of the ship’s history?”
Karras barked a cough-laugh. “I assume you will try to get rid of her, then?”
“As soon as possible, and I’d like to reach out to some of your shipping contacts. See if we can’t jump this up the chain. With your permission, of course.”
Karras waved his hand in assent.
“Excellent. I’ll attend to it, then. Now, if there’s nothing else…”
Achilles cleared his throat. “Actually, I’ve got some stuff I want to… um… shit, one sec… I have it somewhere.”
Nicholas watched as his brother searched his pockets. Probably scribbled some illegible notes on a napkin while snorting coke at that nightclub back in Tampa, he thought with disgust. He looked at the faces of his family. His father, the mighty magnate, now a withered husk of his former self. Achilles, the favorite son, more brawn than brains, more interested in the money than the work, and with all the business acumen of a kid running a lemonade stand. Lyra, a free spirit who would be content to simply travel the globe, discovering new worlds and new loves. And Calypso. Who knew what she wanted? The youngest was an odd girl, but the few times she’d shown interest in the business, she had demonstrated promise. But not as much promise as me, Nichol
as thought bitterly. He had read his father’s will and knew that no matter what he did for the company, the future was in doubt.
As Nicholas Othonos looked around the table at his brother and sisters, a smile came to his lips. Things were about to change.
“Oh, oh, oh! This one! It’s the best of all!”
Emily looked up to find Cecilia’s eyes glued to the back of her Nikon D850 camera inside its underwater housing. The diver had been adamant about getting some great shots of the splendid toadfish, and fortunately for her, Paraiso Reef was the best place to spot them. Emily had found six for the excited photographer. They had just completed the dive, and as soon as her gear was stowed, Cecilia had grabbed her camera from the freshwater rinse tub and started advancing through the pictures. Emily was a bit of a shutterbug herself and leaned over to look. “That shot is ace!” she exclaimed. “Brilliant colors, yeah?”
The Cozumel splendid toadfish was one of the most unique-looking fish in the Caribbean, with a purple head and body decorated in vivid light and dark stripes, its fins edged in bright yellow. Protruding eyes sat atop a flat head, and barbels fringed the mouth, putting one in mind of a catfish.
Greg came to peer over Emily’s shoulder. “And that fish is only found here, right?”
“Well, that’s what I always thought, but an oceanographer here set me straight. Apparently, it’s been seen in one spot in Belize, an offshore atoll called Glover’s Reef.”
Boone was nearby, and chimed in. “Em and I worked in Belize for a while, and never heard of these being down there… but we didn’t get to Glover’s very often. Too far south from where our dive op was.” He pointed out to sea. “They’ve actually got some splendid toads across the channel in Playa del Carmen, too. But nowhere near as many as here.”
“Too bad we didn’t see any out in the open,” Cecilia lamented.
“Shy little buggers, they are,” Emily said. “During the day, you pretty much only see them in hidey-holes under the coral, just their heads showing. But if you like, we could bring you back here for a night dive. After dark, we see them hunting along the coral, out in the open. Sometimes we hear them grunting and croaking.”
Deep Devil (The Deep Book 4) Page 3
