Stormchaser

by Cherry Adair

  “Well?” he said into the mike in his mask as he shone the powerful flashlight at the ground. Blue, green, and gold mosaic glittered back. Refute that, Dr. West! “What do you think?”

  Crouching, she ran both hands over the surface. Sand drifted up and hung in the water, leaving a larger surface for her to inspect. “It’s … spectacular.”

  “Is it Atlantis?” Leslie demanded, kneeling beside Callie to get a better look.

  “It’s a stone carpet.” Callie’s voice was choked with emotion and broken up some by static. “Beautifully preserved—God, look at the colors in this peacock—” She traced the bird with a fingertip. “This was a small temple, or someone important’s home…” She glanced around, eyes intense behind her mask. “That could’ve been a wall. Did you measure?” she demanded, turning back to pin Jonah with an intensity he found sexy as hell.

  He smiled. “Sixty feet by twenty-eight.”

  She was only a foot away from him, and the sheer joy on her face almost knocked Jonah on his ass. Her eyes, the same deep turquoise as the surrounding water, seemed to be lit from within. No fucking fair. Her smile, unexpected and without artifice, lit up every dark corner of his soul. Her breath sounded sexy as hell right in his ear. “A public building, then.”

  Jonah had stood exactly where she was standing, and seen the animals, birds, and plants on the mosaic carpet when he’d come down to inspect Ji Li for the first time. It was as spectacular and exciting seeing it through Callie’s eyes as it had been a year ago. “Here, come and take a look at this.” Taking her hand, his fingers engulfing hers, he pulled her effortlessly through the water, swimming south about a hundred yards. Everyone followed like ducklings. He pointed to the bathing human figures illustrated by the mosaic glass tiles on the floor.

  “A bathhouse!” she marveled, drifting to her knees to get a better look. She waved him closer, without looking up, then grabbed his wrist to angle the light for better viewing. Instead of letting go, her fingers tightened around his wrist.

  “Oh, my God—look at this!” These mosaics depicted mostly naked human figures in various stages of bathing. At the crumbled edge the regular, circular shapes of clay piping typically used to deliver hot and cold water, and to heat bathhouse pools, could be seen sprouting from beneath the floor’s edge.

  “Breathe,” he told her drily when her regulator bubbles stopped. Wanting her was like a drug coursing through his body, making him needy and guilty as hell. Jonah left his arm where it was, enjoying the hard grip of her fingers. Clearly she wasn’t even aware she was clutching his arm like a lifeline. Would she be this intense and focused in bed?

  Would her eyes have the same intense gleam and be filled with the same almost otherworldly glow?

  Yeah. Probably.

  He’d never know.

  “I found a pillar over here,” Saul said excitedly in his ear just when he was enjoying the sound of Callie’s uneven breath. Jonah glanced up to see where the others were. Leslie was nearby, but Saul and Vaughn were far enough away that they were a murky blur through the water. “It looks to be about thirty feet high! Jesus, this is amazing!”

  “I wish I could be in a dozen places at once,” Callie whispered reverently, walking on her knees to inspect the floor close up, and inadvertently tugging Jonah along for the ride. He grinned, enchanted by her enthusiasm.

  “Jonah?” Maura Sennett’s strained voice said directly in his ear.

  “Yeah?” The last damn thing he wanted was to be brought back to the real word with a thump. A man should be able to fantasize about a beautiful woman in private and for as long as possible. “What’s up?” His captain wouldn’t contact him in the middle of a dive unless it was important. Shit. “Are they predicting another quake?” He could deal with that and still stay down here.

  “We have visitors.” Her voice crackled in and out. Damn, Thanos had to get the damn comm system fixed sooner than later. “Get your butt topside ASAP.”

  * * *

  Maura waited for him on the dive platform when Jonah pulled himself up beside her, leaving the other divers below to continue exploring.

  “Who’s on board?” he asked, squinting up at her as he stripped off his gear. Late-afternoon sunlight angled white across the surface of the water, bouncing off the crisp white hull. Not a cloud in the robin’s-egg-blue sky, and visibility good enough to clearly see the peak of a mountain on a small nearby island that had been no more than a smudge earlier that morning.

  A twenty-foot fishing boat, in fairly decent condition, was tethered to his ship.

  Maura, dressed in her formal whites, shrugged. “No idea. They showed up in that—” She indicated the boat. “I saw them coming in from over there.” She indicated the small island. “Wouldn’t talk to me, my being female and all.” She rolled her eyes. “Wouldn’t tell Thanos what they wanted, either. Just insisted on speaking to the man in charge. I put them in the library and sent Gayle in to watch them. Tina brought refreshments, but they won’t even sit down.”

  “The island’s inhabited? Might be worth our while to take a tender over there. Convenient for supplies.” Jonah pulled his T-shirt on over damp skin, mildly annoyed that he’d been taken away from something profoundly important to have a chitchat with the locals. He was looking forward to the good doctor eating crow.

  “There’s no indication on my charts that that island is inhabited. It’s too small to have a name. But you can ask our guests. Trust me, not fishermen,” Maura said obliquely, indicating that he should go up the ladder first. “It’s a Mexican standoff.”

  Jonah quirked a brow. “Intriguing. How many of them?”

  “Three.”

  “Let’s go see what they want. I don’t want to waste the last few hours of good dive time today playing host with the most.”

  “Is everyone blown away?” Maura asked enviously as they headed for the second deck and the library.

  He couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah. It’s pretty damn amazing. Where’s Brody? I’ll have him take watch, and you can come down for a bit if you like.”

  “God, I’d love to. As for Brody … Let’s leave that conversation for later, okay?”

  Jonah wished he’d ignored her request and stayed under the water. He could do without conflict to fuck up a great day.

  Together they entered the small library where the men waited. Gayle gave Jonah and Maura a relieved look when they walked in. At an inquiring look from Jonah, she gave a small puzzled shrug.

  The library with its two long tables, computers, monitoring devices, and neatly rolled charts was where they’d be cataloging the salvages in the coming months. It was a comfortable, book-lined room, with a big television set, excellent sound system, and deep, comfortable seating. A great place to relax and Jonah’s favorite room on the ship.

  * * *

  No one in the room looked in the least bit comfortable or relaxed.

  “Jonah Santi—Cutter.” Jonah offered his hand, catching himself with his last name. He’d been Santiago—his mother’s last name—for the first few years he’d worked for Nick, before his connection to the family had been revealed. Dropping his hand when none was offered in return, he inspected the three elderly men. “What can we do for you gentlemen?” He directed the question to a tall, thin man who appeared to be in charge.

  He couldn’t quite figure out if the men were priests or some other member of the clergy. Dressed from head to toe in unrelieved black robe-like garments, they were tall, medium, and small in height. Swarthy skin, black eyes, strong features. Greek? Turkish? Possibly Egyptian? Hard to tell. Definitely not fishermen.

  “Coffee? Something cold?” Maura offered, defaulting into hostess role, even though she was as unlikely a host as Jonah. She indicated the tray on a nearby table. The chef had brought slices of chocolate cake, a pot of coffee, and a pitcher of juice into the library before Jonah arrived. Nothing was touched.

  “No refreshments, thank you.” Tall took the chair Jonah offered with an invitat
ional wave of his hand.

  Jonah suspected this wasn’t a social call.

  “I am Achaikos Trakas,” Tall said, his voice almost hypnotically serene as he arranged the drape of his robes about his legs. He had a heavy lantern jaw, and a prominent nose took up most of the real estate on his deeply lined face. Wispy hair lay flat and transparently pale against his scalp, and his hooded black eyes seemed to be burned into his skull. Jonah guessed his age to be somewhere between 80 and 150.

  Bodyguard-like, Small stood beside Tall’s chair as he murmured his name so quietly Jonah barely heard him. “Bion Eliades.” He must’ve been hitting the high eighties as well. He was about as wide as he was tall, which wasn’t very. Lipless; his hangdog eyes looked terrified. He looked, to Jonah, a little like a well-fed trout. Eliades eyed the plate of cake like a sex offender at a porn show, but made no move to take a slice.

  “Lysistrata Demetriou,” Medium said smoothly, clasping bloodless fingers tightly in his lap as he perched, ramrod-straight, on the edge of his black leather chair.

  Definitely not relaxed, Jonah thought, amused at the theatricality of the men’s demeanors. Three black crows, beady eyes watchful. They were so … odd, so out of place, Jonah was—if not intrigued, at least curious.

  The men’s stress level permeated the air like an invisible sticky fog, brushing Jonah’s damp skin with skeletal fingers. Rubbing the back of his neck, he shoved the overly dramatic image away.

  He’d hear them out, then send them on their way with a go-box of Tina’s excellent chocolate cake.

  Their heavy accents were more international than country-specific, but the names sounded Greek. Not much of a clue.

  Jonah, his captain, and her first officer sat down. Eliades, still standing, folded his hands inside the sleeves of his robe and stared—rather creepily—into the middle distance.

  Jonah paid attention to his instincts, which said the men’s relaxed pose was surface-deep. “I repeat, what can we do for you, gentlemen? We’re in the middle of a salvage. I want to get back to my dive team.”

  “What is it you are salvaging, Kyrie?”

  Greek, then. Jonah leaned back in the deep leather chair. “Not to put too fine a point on it, Trakas, but who are you, and what business is my business to you?”

  “You did not make a request to do any salvage in this area. To do so you are required to ask permission from—” There was a slight hesitation, before he finished. “From Kyrie Spanos. You have been anchored in this location for twenty-four hours, and have not yet done so.”

  “Permission? No, I haven’t,” Jonah responded, letting the chill seep into his tone, and peeling back another layer of annoyance. “Who is he, and why do I need anyone’s permission to salvage here? This is open water. International waters.”

  There was a small, horrified gasp from Demetriou. But a sharp look from Eliades made him blink, then lower his gaze.

  “Kallistrate Spanos is—How you say? Acting grand master of Νησί Fire.”

  “Fire Island?” Jonah glanced at Maura. She raised her eyebrows to indicate she’d never heard of it, either. “Okay. I’ll bite. Where is this Fire Island, since it isn’t even listed on any map, and why does this ‘grand master’ think he can dictate what and where I salvage?”

  “Νησί Fire is seven miles due west, Kyrie. Kyrie Spanos is … caretaker, if you will, of this … area. He asks that you come with us to the island, and report your findings and intentions.”

  “Yeah. I don’t think so. We’re more than seven miles off your island regardless. According to international law, you have no jurisdiction beyond three miles off your coast, regardless of what your big guy thinks.” Jonah rose, and so did the two women.

  “Thank Spanos for the invitation, and let him know I politely declined.”

  Trakas and Demetriou also got to their feet. Eliades shook his head as if horrified by Jonah’s response. Tough shit.

  “You—you cannot refuse, Kyrie! It is not done!” Demetriou whispered, horrified.

  “As I said, you have no jurisdiction over me or my ship, gentlemen. If we find anything I think might interest you, I’ll be sure to let you know. Now, if you don’t mind, my team is waiting for me.”

  Trakas gave Jonah a flat stare and said in ominous tones, “If you do not comply and come with us, we will be put to death.”

  Whoa. The hair on Jonah’s nape paid attention. He huffed out a laugh, which died when he looked at three terrified pairs of ancient eyes. “You can’t fucking be serious.”

  “We are not permitted to fail,” Trakas told him grimly, a muscle ticking in his lantern jaw. “If we do, we will die. If we die, others will take our place. You must obey our directive. There is no other choice.”

  “No other choice? You must be shitting me. I have a plethora of choices. One of which is tossing your bony asses overboard.”

  “What nonsense is this?” Maura demanded incredulously, cheeks flushed. “Which country does Fire Island belong to? I’ll contact the Greek authori—”

  “We are an independent state, and belong to no country,” Demetriou cut in, looking to Jonah as if it were he who’d spoken.

  “You’re the Monaco of the Mediterranean Sea? And put people to death on a whim? Man, I’d hate to live on your island.”

  Demetriou’s face went starkly pale, and he spoke through tight lips. “This is no joking matter, Kyrie. A dishonorable death in our culture is just punishment for failure. If you do not come with us to speak to Kyrie Spanos, it will impinge on our honor. Once honor is lost, our lives will be forfeited.”

  “I’ve never heard such bullsh—this is ridiculous!” Gayle told Jonah. “I’ll escort them off the ship. Let’s go.”

  It was as though the captain and first mate weren’t even in the room, as Trakas addressed only Jonah. He pressed a skeletal, freckled hand flat against his own chest as if holding in pain, and said through bloodless lips, his voice stark, “You refuse to accompany us?”

  It was highly unlikely the men were telling the truth about being killed if he didn’t tag along, but they clearly believed it. Jonah plainly saw the strain on the old men’s faces. All he needed was one of them keeling over from a heart attack or stroke while on board his ship. The red tape alone would delay them for months. “How about if I come over and meet this Kallistrate Spanos tomorrow morning?”

  Maura’s head whipped around. “Jonah—”

  “It’s okay. I’d like to see the island for myself. Sounds like a real fun place.”

  “You swear on your honor that you will come, at first light tomorrow?” Demetriou demanded, not looking any healthier than the tall guy. “We have your word?”

  “Not at first light, I need at least three cups of coffee before I function. How about midmorning?” Jonah was curious, not fucking compliant.

  The three men exchanged looks. Eliades looked as though he was about to pass out. He opened his mouth to protest, but Trakas made a slight hand gesture and the shorter man subsided, his face also bone-china-pale, hands shaking. He hastily tucked them inside his voluminous sleeves and bowed his head.

  “We have your word?”

  Fuck. “Sure.”

  * * *

  Callie remembered her mom coming in to kiss her good night. She’d been about ten. She thought her mother looked like a fairy queen that night. Her parents were going to some fancy function, and her mother wore a black velvet dress, diamonds at her throat and wrists. Tonight the sky looked just as magical as that dress, sprinkled with diamonds.

  She held on to the visual memory of a ten-year-old, because it was pretty much the last time she’d believed in magic. The dress had probably been cotton, and the “diamonds” were most assuredly zirconia.

  The adult in her remembered the stink of booze on her mother’s breath that not even a liberal gargle of mouthwash and a dousing of J’adore ever covered.

  She had no illusions anymore.

  “… must’ve swum at least a hundred yards inside. It was mass
ive…” Vaughn was talking about the lava tube he’d discovered that afternoon. Callie let the conversation drift around her as she cradled a long-gone-cold cup of tea, staring out at the glittering water.

  Jonah hadn’t come back down after the captain had called him to return to the ship this afternoon. Whoever the visitors were, he hadn’t joined the rest of the crew until dinner, and he’d been preoccupied for the rest of the evening, his face more shuttered than usual.

  Who were the mysterious visitors, and why had they come? Jonah hadn’t had much to say about anything. He’d asked a few questions of Vaughn and a few of Leslie when she asked what they’d be bringing on board.

  She longed to get back to the lab to spend more time with the small artifacts and bits of glass mosaic she’d brought back on board with her. She’d already cataloged them and done the paperwork.

  The dive team had enjoyed a terrific meal under the stars, lingering over coffee as they discussed what they’d seen and how they wanted to proceed, who was going to work Ji Li and how they would divvy up the city so nothing was missed. Familiar talk. Conversation she was comfortable with.

  She liked remembering her parents from when she was too young to know they were drunks. There’d been good times, she was sure. But they’d been few and far between. She’d been the adult before she was in her teens.

  As the child of alcoholics, she was a stereotype: She’d perfected lying because she always had to cover with the authorities, she was too critical of herself, a perfectionist, and she found it hard to have fun just for the sake of having fun. She’d proven she was crappy at relationships, and she always felt … different.

  The people around the table hadn’t known one another for more than a few weeks, yet they’d already formed a bond she wasn’t a part of. It was such a perfectly beautiful, serene night, for just a second she closed her eyes and wished upon a star.