by Joseph Badal
“I think your father was playing a joke on someone,” he said to Zoë. “But that someone wasn’t you. I believe he drew the map so only you would have the chance to solve the riddle. I’d guess the fourth circle your father drew on his map is nothing more than a false clue. A red herring.” John saw the confusion on Nick’s face, but he waved him off, preempted a question. “I’ll bet the fourth circle’s only significance,” he continued, “is that it lies at sea. I think your father wanted to tell you your objective is under water, but it’s up to you to determine exactly where. Leidner’s hired assassin confirmed that. Your father made an inquiry about salvage rights.” John hesitated a moment, wanting to be sure he put enough conviction in his tone. “I think the essence of your father’s message is what he wrote on the back of the map.”
They stared at him as though he had a screw loose. “That nursery rhyme, or whatever the hell it is?” Nick said.
John nodded, then turned to Zoë. “Do you remember when we were in Christo’s office and you said the lines that connected Mount Kastri, the mole, and the Temple of Hera—the Heraion—formed a right triangle?”
“Of course! But all three of those sites are on land. You said a minute ago our objective is under water.”
“That’s right! But hold on a moment longer. The rhyme about triangles and rectangles your father made up has to do with bisecting a rectangle to create two triangles and combining two triangles to form a rectangle. Is that correct?”
They both nodded.
“Okay. So what do we have so far? One right triangle and no rectangle. Right?”
“Yes,” Zoë said.
“So what!” Nick blurted impatiently.
John ignored Nick’s outburst. “Now take the rest of the words your father wrote on the back of the map: ‘Pythagoras is our friend.’ What was Pythagoras most famous for?”
“The Pythagorean Theorem,” Nick answered. “Every high school kid in the world knows that—‘a squared plus b squared equals c squared.’ ”
“That’s right, Nick. And that may be the key. The triangle formed by the three sites on the map is only half the picture! Your father wanted you to add another triangle to the one on the map.”
“Huh?” Nick said.
“According to Zoë’s calculations,” John continued, as he consulted the measurements Zoë had written on the copy of the map, “we know the distance between Mount Kastri and the mole is 1.1 miles, and the distance from the mole to the Heraion is 3.6 miles. Although you didn’t measure the distance from Mount Kastri to the Heraion before, if we use the Pythagorean Theorem we can quickly figure it out.”
On a piece of paper John drew his own map. First, he laid out the same diagram Petros had drawn on his map. Then he added another triangle to the map, creating a rectangle:
“We say in America, X marks the spot. But, in this case, X doesn’t mark the spot. The X is the red herring I referred to before. The Sabiya may be at the right angle of the other triangle, where I drew the large black dot.” He tapped the spot on the map with his pencil. “Remember what your father said: ‘When you marry two triangles, you get a rectangle.’ That’s part of the clue.”
“Son of a bitch!” Nick shouted. “Didn’t I tell you Papa knew what he was doing?”
Zoë looked at John with a sparkle in her eyes.
John held up both hands. “Whoa, wait a minute, you two. Let’s not get carried away. This is just a theory. We won’t know until we dive the spot I drew on the map.”
He could see that his warning about getting carried away was lost on them.
John, Zoë, and their police escort took the dinghy back into Pythagorio to restock supplies while Nick stayed on the boat. They strolled around town with the cop shadowing their every step.
“You think we could dump our friend back there?” John said, joking with Zoë.
Zoë laughed. “I don’t think that would be a good idea. Christo’s already angry enough with us for going off on our own the other day.” Then she seemed to realize that John was teasing her.
She looked up at him and smiled. “I was very proud of you back on the boat,” she said.
John’s heart to swelled. Her words of praise affected him more than he would have imagined they could.
Despite the joy that showed on her face, John could see Zoë was exhausted. Between the stress of the past few days and the physical toll three dives had taken, she looked spent. There were dark circles around her eyes and her skin had become pallid, instead of her normally healthy ruddy tone. They reversed direction and walked back to the hotel where they had spent the night a couple days earlier. He took two rooms this time and made sure Zoë was tucked into bed. Then he sat down at a table in her room and removed his drawing from his backpack. He alternated between studying the map and checking on Zoë. Only a couple of minutes passed before her breathing settled into the slow rhythm of sleep. He continued to watch her for a few more minutes and marveled at how quickly they had connected with one another. Connected, hell! It was way beyond that!
He left her then, went to his room, but left the adjoining door open. He used the telephone in the room to call the Vathi police station.
Christo was eager to learn the results of their dives and was disappointed they’d come up empty-handed.
“I have a plan,” John told him. “Do you think you could meet us here in Pythagorio at 8:00 tonight? We can all get together for dinner.”
“I’ll be there, but why don’t you and I meet at 7:00—just the two of us,” Christo said. “I’ve made progress since we last talked and have received some information on Fritz Leidner and the bank he owns, Banque Securite de Swisse.”
“I noticed a taverna one block up from the quay, at the corner of the street that runs up the hill to the north. It’s called Dionysos. We can meet there,” John suggested.
John replaced the receiver and stretched out on his bed. He tried to nap but he couldn’t get comfortable and was too wired to sleep anyway. He’d devised a plan and needed to put it into action. He checked in on Zoë again, then quietly left her room.
John took the stairs to the lobby and approached the reception desk. He remembered from years ago that the Greeks knew how to make things happen and just about every hotel desk clerk in the country could arrange for anything you wanted. He hoped that spirit and skill were still alive and well.
Using his Greek, which had become less rusty with each passing day, he told the clerk he needed a boat and a long list of supplies. He offered to pay him two hundred dollars to arrange for these things and for not telling anyone who paid him to acquire these things. John knew from the smile on the clerk’s face he could count on the man’s assistance and discretion.
John then told the policeman in the lobby he would go out for a couple hours and that he should keep watch over Ms. Vangelos. His plan to leave the hotel alone seemed to make the young officer extremely nervous. The cop protested, but he was in a quandary—either stay with John and leave Zoë alone, or stay in the hotel and protect Zoë, and let John leave. John watched the cop seem to wrestle with himself over his choices, then firmly told the young man to stay in the hotel, and quickly left the lobby.
John looked left and right, searched the street for anyone who seemed out of place. It looked safe. He walked a block from the hotel to a row of shops and found a Greek National Bank branch office. He realized anyone who watched him would have thought he had a serious nervous disorder the way he jerked his head around to see if he had a tail. It crossed his mind that he did have a nervous disorder. But after the past two weeks he had an excuse for paranoia. He cashed five thousand dollars in travelers checks and used his credit cards to get a five hundred-dollar cash advance, as well.
John had thought this out. He used his credit card because the assassin named Josef had said they’d traced him to Vathi through the credit card he’d used at the dive sho
p. This time he intentionally laid a trail of breadcrumbs for Leidner or his men to follow. He wanted the bastard to know his general location, but not what he was up to. And he wanted Leidner to know he was still in Pythagorio, to lure him here. To get him off his home turf in Switzerland and onto Greek soil. It was time to go on the offensive.
At exactly 4:00 o’clock, he returned to the hotel. After he stopped at the front desk to request a 6:30 wake up call, he waved at the policeman, climbed to his room, checked on Zoë, then went back to his room, flopped down on the bed, and slept like a baby.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
Fritz Leidner had not wanted to spend part of his sixth decade dealing with this bullshit. His life had been charmed up to now. Sure he’d worried about the possibility that someone would discover the Sabiya, but when there had been no word about the boat for so many decades, he’d thought he was home free. But now that damned boat could be the end of it all—his wealth, his reputation, his place in Swiss society.
He pushed off the arms of his chair and stared at the three hired guns he’d brought with him from Zurich. The two men, Peter and Tomas, were tall, burly mercenary types, with corded muscles, military haircuts, and sculpted jaws and cheekbones. The third person was Theo Burger. Theo had done Leidner’s dirty work for years. Peter and Tomas worked for her.
Leidner knew he could count on Theo to do his bidding, regardless of the risk or the depravity of the assignment. He stared at the three of them lined up in front of him on the yacht deck.
“I will say this only once. Your compatriots, Hans and Josef, failed.” He glared at Theo when he said this. “They did not get the map. They did not discover the boat’s location. I assume you will be more successful.”
Theo Burger answered for all of them. “Ja, mein Herr.”
“This Hammond fellow is still on Samos. Apparently, he now is in league with Vangelos’s daughter. Find them!” he ordered, a cruel edge in his voice.
Theo led the way down the stairs to the motor launch. She and the two men took the launch to shore and got in the black Mercedes they’d rented at the airport.
“Drive to Pythagorio, Peter,” she said. “That’s the logical place for Hammond to be holed up.”
“You know, he and the Vangelos woman could be anywhere by now,” Tomas interjected, impatience in his voice.
“Yes,” Theo responded, “and they could be in Pythagorio right now, too. We have to start somewhere. Unless you’d like to go back and tell Herr Leidner that you think he’s wasting your time.”
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
Christo met John on the sidewalk outside the Dionysos Taverna at 6:00 p.m. Christo had a cigarette in one hand and a set of worry beads in the other. They entered the taverna. It was too early for the restaurant’s Greek patrons to be out for their evening meal, so they had the place to themselves.
“So what have you found out about this man Leidner?” John asked, after a waiter served their drink order.
Christo leaned forward, elbows on the table, lowered his voice, and said, “We requested information from Interpol on Leidner and learned he is the majority stockholder of Banque Securite de Swisse. But Interpol has absolutely nothing on either the man or his bank. I then called a contact with Swiss Intelligence. Again, nothing. As far as I can tell, Fritz Leidner is just another law-abiding Swiss banker.”
“So, you’ve got nothing,” John said, disappointment heavy in his voice. “I thought you said—”
“Well, not quite nothing. I called our embassy in Bern and talked to the son of a friend of mine. He’s the Greek Commercial Attaché there. He made calls to some of his banker friends and even called Leidner’s office on the pretext of making an appointment with him to discuss the possibility of Leidner’s bank opening a branch in Athens. He gathered a couple bits of information. For example, Leidner inherited the bank from his father, Freiderich Leidner. The old man had a reputation for toughness, to the point of ruthlessness. He was not well liked by his contemporaries. The son has never worked anywhere else but at the bank. He is sixty-two years old now and has a son of his own who works in the bank. He apparently had a reputation for rebelliousness in his younger days, but today he’s a respected part of the banking community.”
Christo paused to sip his drink and then continued. “One member of the Zurich banking community even dropped a hint that the elder Leidner may have been involved with the Germans during World War Two.”
“The Nazis?” John said. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Christo shrugged. “It could have been just sour grapes from a competitor.”
Christo’s face suddenly sagged. “My contact at our embassy can be very charming. When he talked to Leidner’s secretary this morning, he learned her boss left late last night on a business trip. Would you like to guess his destination?”
John felt a chill run down his spine. He knew exactly what Christo would say: Greece. “If you’re about to say Greece, that would be quite a coincidence.”
“I don’t believe in coincidences. I called Olympic Airlines. They told me an ‘F. Leidner’ had booked a seat from Zurich to Athens on a noon flight today. He connected there with a flight to Samos. He’s already on the island.”
“Oh, Jesus,” John said. “Leidner is a step ahead of us.”
“The agent at Olympic told me there were three other persons with Swiss passports on the flight from Athens”—here Christo consulted his notebook—“Peter Muther, Tomas Burkett, and Theo Burger.”
“It ought to have been a pretty simple job to intercept this foursome at the Samos Airport,” John said.
“Yes, it would have been, if I’d been alerted in time. I didn’t get the call from our attaché until after the plane had already landed,” he said, with a hangdog look. “We missed them at the airport. I ordered a search of all the hotels in Vathi and in Pythagorio, but nothing has turned up yet. They could be at any one of a hundred hotels, or in a private residence, or on a boat. By now, Leidner must know he has a problem here. He must be worried he hasn’t heard from the two men who died on Nick’s boat and has probably brought in reinforcements. The other three Swiss passengers on the Olympic flight are more than likely his men. We’ve released no information about the death of those two killers. Whatever is going on, it must be damn important for Leidner to put himself on the ground here with reinforcements.”
“I have to tell you I’m more than a little worried,” John said. “Zoë’s at great risk here.”
Christo gave him a knowing look. “I understand, my friend. And I assure you I’ll take every precaution within my authority to keep Zoë, Nick, and you safe. I’ve got officers on the way here from Athens. I just don’t have enough men on Samos to get the job done. I need the three of you to stay put so I can effectively protect you.”
John didn’t want to get into an argument with Christo at that moment. There was no way he would sit around like a sacrificial goat.
“Did you come up with anything on the Sabiya?” John asked.
“Oh, now that’s another story,” Christo said. “I contacted the Greek Maritime Office in Athens and asked if they had records back to the end of the war. They did. He found a file about the Sabiya. But there was nothing in it more current than from 1940.” Again Christo consulted his notebook. “The boat was fifty-eight meters long, a little over nine meters wide, and had a draught of three-and-a-half meters. It was constructed in 1934. That’s really all the information I got. If they come up with anything else, the director will call me.”
“Did the guy at the Maritime Office know anything about the boat’s owner or who it might have been chartered to?” John asked.
“He did say the owner and the captain were one and the same—some Turk by the name of Mehmet Arkoun.”
John reflected for a moment then shared his theory about the words Petros Vangelos had written on the back of his map.
Christo eyed him skeptically and shrugged. He didn’t appear to buy what John was selling.
Just before 7:00 o’clock, John suggested they start back to the hotel to join up with Zoë and Nick.
“Are you and Nick getting along?” Christo asked when they were halfway to the hotel.
“We’ve spent an awful lot of time together over the last few days,” John said. “He’s a great guy.”
Christo had a mischievous smile on his face again. “I hope he feels the same way about you.”
John started to pretend he didn’t understand Christo’s point, but decided to give his friend his due. “You’ve known from the very beginning the effect Zoë had on me. How could you tell?”
“Other than the look on your face whenever she’s around, a look I usually only see on love-struck teenagers, and other than the fact you could have left Samos and gotten away from this madness of death, maps, and sunken ships, I really don’t have a clue.”
John laughed. “That obvious?”
“Yes, since the first time I saw you look at her. And you know what? I’m thrilled for you. So what will you do about it?”
“Whatever she’ll let me do about it, Christo.”
To change the subject, John asked, “When will Athens send the additional men you requested?”
Christo shook his head. “I don’t get it. They know me well enough to realize I would never ask for help if I didn’t think it was absolutely necessary. The Chief told me that his boss at the Ministry of Public Order is sitting on my request.”
They turned the corner at the bottom of the hill and John saw commotion around the hotel entrance. Nick, obviously agitated, shouted at the cop. The hotel desk clerk stood between the two men. Nick pushed the clerk out of the way and rushed at the policeman. Christo ran toward the hotel entrance. John ran after him.
Christo positioned himself between Nick and his officer. “What’s wrong?” he shouted.