The Pythagorean Solution

by Joseph Badal

  Leidner pointed his finger at her. “You know where Hammond and that Greek woman stayed. Go there. He has to be somewhere on this godforsaken island. Find the sonofabitch. I can feel it in my bones. I think he knows where the Sabiya is; he’s going out to her. When you find out where that is, you come back here and pick me up.”

  “But, Herr Leidner, do you think that’s wise? The police will surely protect him after all that’s happened. We should try once more to get the map. You should—”

  Leidner cut Theo off with a vicious glare. “Don’t you dare tell me what I should or should not do. I should have handled this differently from the start.” He was screaming now, a crazy man whose madness had risen to an even higher level. “I don’t need that map. I don’t need that boat. What I need is to destroy the map and everyone who knows about it.”

  MAY 11

  CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE

  After a night at a Pythagorio hotel, John and Nick were scheduled to meet Christo in the lobby at 7:00 a.m. When they arrived, the desk clerk told them Inspector Panagoulakos had just called to say he would be late. John and Nick found a place across from the hotel to have breakfast and from where they could observe the front of the hotel. Christo finally showed up at 8:30. John thought he looked agitated.

  Christo fell into a chair at their table and blew out a gush of air. “The stakes just got raised,” he said. “Someone blew up the Vathi Police Station. Took down the entire building, as well as the buildings on either side.”

  “Anyone hurt?” John asked.

  Christo crossed himself. “It was a miracle. The man on duty had stepped outside to smoke a cigarette. He’s got a concussion and his hearing’s a bit messed up, but other than that, he’s fine. But the place was a total loss, including the safe in my office.” He looked at Nick. “Your father’s map was destroyed, along with everything else in the building.”

  Nick shook his head. “That’s too bad, Christo, but we don’t need the map. We know where the Sabiya is.”

  “That’s all well and good,” Christo said. “But, my real concern is that Leidner has obviously decided to change tactics. The explosions that destroyed the Coast Guard boats and the buildings in Pythagorio Harbor, and now leveled buildings in Vathi tells me the man has adopted a scorched earth policy. He’s decided to wipe out all evidence of the map and to eliminate everyone with knowledge about it. That means each of us is a target. So is Zoë.” He hesitated, allowing his words to sink in, then said, “I called the Ministry of Justice after the explosion. I’ve asked for more police to be sent over from Athens. The ten men they’ve already sent here won’t be enough. More police officers will arrive tomorrow.”

  They took a rowboat out to the Aphrodite. The atmosphere on the little boat was almost solemn. Each man seemed lost in his own thoughts. John wasn’t surprised they all had fallen into a kind of funk. As though the discovery of the Sabiya was somehow anticlimactic. His concern for Zoë weighed heavily on him, and he suspected Nick had similar thoughts. But, at least she was alive. Leidner and his cronies had done much worse to a dozen policemen and sailors.

  Something else bothered John. He felt as though there was a hot spot on the back of his neck. As though someone watched him. He looked around, back at the shoreline, to see if he had imagined it. He saw no one. But the feeling didn’t go away. He shook his head several times. He knew he was feeling paranoid, but considered that was a perfectly reasonable way for him to feel, considering all he’d been through over the past week-and-a-half.

  John inspected the diving equipment on the Aphrodite. There were enough tanks for multiple dives. Everything appeared to be in tip-top shape.

  “There are enough provisions on board for two days,” Nick advised. He looked at the others. “Are we ready to go?”

  Christo pushed away from the rail and picked up a canvas bag between his feet. He unzipped the bag and removed two pistols. After he handed one to each of them, he said, “No more screwing around. You see anyone who looks suspicious, you shoot his ass. Got it?”

  “Got it!” John and Nick said simultaneously.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO

  Under the cover of darkness, Theo took a motorboat to Pythagorio Harbor. She wished she could have used the cigarette boat, but since the disaster yesterday, it would be a police magnet. Leidner had ordered it scuttled. She made it to a small dock at the end of town and moored the boat to an ancient-looking, rusted metal ring inset in a masonry wall. She found the hotel they’d seen Zoë Vangelos walk out of the afternoon they’d snatched her. The young man behind the reception counter seemed bewitched by her and Theo had no trouble milking him for information. She learned that Hammond had asked for a 6:00 a.m. wakeup call that morning. He’d told the kid he planned to go fishing. The boy even knew the name of Hammond’s boat: Aphrodite. He’d arranged to rent the boat for the American. He told Theo that Hammond and another man left the hotel at 7:00 a.m. and ate at a restaurant across the street, where Police Inspector Panagoulakos had joined them later. The clerk seemed to want to impress Theo with his awareness and his familiarity with important persons on Samos. He told her the three men took a small skiff out to a fishing boat moored inside the harbor. She’d just missed them, he told her.

  Theo dropped a twenty-Euro bill and a million-Euro smile on the kid and she walked outside. She checked her watch: 8:45 a.m. She returned to the motorboat, leisurely took it out beyond the harbor mouth, and hid in a cove a half-mile from the harbor entrance. She sat back against the driver’s seat and enjoyed the early morning quiet, the bobbing movement of the boat, and the warmth of the sun. No craft would be able to exit the harbor without her seeing it.

  The full ball of the sun rested well above the horizon when the Aphrodite left the harbor. Theo lowered her binoculars and let them hang by the strap around her neck. A sudden burst of visceral hatred consumed her. This man Hammond had ruined Leidner’s confidence in her. She would be lucky if the banker ever used her services again. He was the best client she’d ever had. There was one way, she told herself, that she could redeem her reputation. Find the Sabiya, then kill John Hammond and everyone around him.

  She clenched her jaw while she lifted the binoculars to her eyes, focused on the men on the Aphrodite, and picked out one she thought might be the American. She dropped the glasses once again and stared out at the small boat and its three-man crew. Killing John Hammond and his friends would be her pleasure. And then she’d go after the Greek bitch. She’d finish what the muscle-bound idiots she’d recruited failed to do.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE

  Nick steered the Aphrodite to the area where he’d found the Sabiya the day before. The sun was twenty degrees above the horizon, the sea was calm, and the sky cloudless. A perfect day to dive.

  Per Nick’s instructions, Christo stood in the bow and looked down at the crystal-clear water, while Nick eased the Aphrodite forward. He stood there for ten minutes before he finally raised his arm and shouted, “Stop! It’s dead ahead.”

  John ran over and stood by Christo. He looked down and saw the dark underwater scar of the frozen lava flow twenty meters away from the prow. Thirty meters ahead, a rubber buoy that Nick had left yesterday to mark the site bobbed in the sea. By the time Nick yelled at John to drop anchor, the Aphrodite coasted to a stop directly above the lava flow.

  “You ready to go?” Nick asked John.

  John check the second regulator, made sure the pressure gauges on the tanks were operational, then stood up and smiled. “You bet!”

  Nick and John donned their scuba gear, dropped into the sea, and dived toward the gap in the lava flow. Inside the cavern, they explored the exterior of the Sabiya for twenty minutes. Then they drifted to the surface, climbed aboard the Aphrodite, and rested. They dove again in the afternoon and spent twenty minutes inside the hull. They were equipped with underwater flashlights, which helped them find their way around the boat’s confined, pitch-black
innards.

  The stairwells were difficult to negotiate. After they shifted a few metal lockers aside, they found their way into a short passageway just below the main deck. Because the boat lay on its side, the doors to the cabins were above and below them. They swam to the first of three doors along the passageway. It was open enough to peer down into the cabin. There was nothing there but a couple metal bunks and lockers. The doors to the other two rooms, both above their heads, were closed. They tried to open each of them by pushing up against them, but they were either blocked by something inside the rooms, or were sealed shut by years of rust and corrosion.

  Sea life had claimed squatter’s rights on the wreck. Minute snail and barnacle shells covered metal surfaces. Fish wandered passageways on what appeared to be aimless routes. They showed curiosity at the humans’ intrusion, but no fear.

  At the end of the passageway they found a door below them with the faded letters of the Turkish word, “KAPTAN.”

  They tried to force it open, but it wouldn’t budge. Nick tapped John on the arm. When he turned to look at him, Nick touched his watch and pointed his arm upward—time to resurface. They slowly rose to the surface—too rapid an ascent could have been dangerous because of the threat of the bends. Christo helped them climb aboard the Aphrodite and shuck their scuba gear. He handed each of them a beer.

  “I think we should concentrate on the captain’s quarters,” Nick said. “If there’s anything of interest on that boat it’s probably there in the ship’s log or a cargo manifest. Reading those documents would be the quickest way to discover what cargo the Sabiya carried.”

  “Yeah,” John said, “but after it’s been under water for seventy years, how in God’s name will we find anything of value?”

  Nick massaged his chin. “You may be right, John, but then why would Leidner be concerned? Most boats of any size are equipped with a waterproof vault or safe that can protect important records such as logs and manifests. Let’s hope this one isn’t the exception.”

  “Well, let’s also hope, safe or no safe, there’s something in the captain’s quarters that will explain Leidner’s actions,” Christo said. “Unless the two old fishermen you took with you are very tight-lipped, it won’t be long before word is out all over the island about where you dived yesterday. And Leidner may hear about it?”

  They planned their next dive and placed by the rail the tools and equipment they needed. Then they discussed how they would break through into the captain’s quarters on the Sabiya. After two hours rest, Christo helped John and Nick load the tools and equipment—a crowbar, a wedge, an acetylene torch and tank, phosphorous flares, and other items they thought they might need—into a cargo net. John and Nick put on their scuba gear and dropped into the water. While Christo slowly lowered their tools in the net attached to a ¾ inch nylon rope fed through a pulley and hoist, they followed it to the sea bottom. They maneuvered the net into the Sabiya’s passageway. They then opened the net and arranged its contents on a bulkhead that now served as their floor because of the boat’s orientation. They tugged on the line to signal Christo he could retract the net. It had taken them thirty minutes to follow the net, guide it inside the hull, and stack the contents outside the door marked, “KAPTAN.” By then, it was time to return to the surface. They left the tools and equipment inside the wreck.

  By the time they shucked their gear, stored it, and had a quick bite to eat, the sun had just touched the edge of the western sea. John felt spent and said goodnight to his two Greek friends. He went below deck and flopped onto one of the four bunks in a cramped room that also served as the kitchen. He was nearly asleep when Nick came in and took one of the other bunks.

  “What’s Christo doing?” John asked.

  “Cleaning his pistol.”

  CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR

  From a mile away, hidden in a three-boat cluster of small fishing boats, Theo surveilled activities aboard the Aphrodite. The fishermen in the boats around her initially seemed transfixed by her presence. But, after fifteen minutes, they ignored her and continued their work.

  Theo fixed the location of Hammond’s boat. She could see a gigantic white marble column from some ancient ruins on shore, directly behind where the boat was anchored. She had seen two men in scuba gear backflip off the starboard side of the boat just minutes after it arrived at the spot. She watched them return to the boat about a half-hour later. They looked as though they were settled into the location. It was time to go tell Leidner.

  “What did you see?” Leidner demanded.

  Theo had noticed he no longer referred to her as “my dear.” She had a lot of bridge building to do as far as her relationship with the man was concerned. “There are three men on the boat,” she said. “Two of them dived the site early this morning. The third stayed on board. He appeared to be alert. Always pacing and looking out to sea.”

  “He didn’t see you?”

  “No.”

  “Were police in the area?”

  “None that I saw.”

  Leidner rose from the chair in his stateroom. He paced the carpeted floor, his arms crossed, his back hunched. Theo followed his back and forth course and wondered what was on the psychopathic old man’s mind.

  Finally, he stopped in front of her. “We will move the yacht to where Hammond and his friends are now. It’s not uncommon to see luxury vessels in that area. Hopefully, we will not rouse their suspicions. But, if we do, we will have to react to the circumstances.”

  “Yes, sir,” she said, and turned to leave.

  Leidner placed a restraining hand on her arm. “That can wait until later,” he said, his voice husky. “First, there is something you can do for me that will make up for your mistakes. Something that will wipe the slate clean.”

  Theo recognized the look in Leidner’s eyes. She remembered it from the years they were lovers. But that was a long time ago. It took a great deal of willpower to hide the disgust that came over her. But in a matter of seconds, she made a decision she knew would determine the course of the rest of her life. She took Leidner’s hand and guided him to the stateroom bed. Theo gently pushed him down into a sitting position on the mattress. Then she dropped to her knees, unbuckled Leidner’s pants, and helped him slide them over his hips and down his milky-white, almost hairless legs.

  MAY 12

  CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE

  Christo’s banging around in the kitchen woke John and Nick just before dawn. He looked as though he’d been up all night. His hair was a confused mess and the bags under his bloodshot eyes were puffy and dark. He made them a breakfast of eggs, ham, and potatoes, which they washed down with thick, black coffee.

  “By the way,” Christo said, “while you two slept like babies, I got a call from my office. The director of the Hellenic Maritime Office called and left a message. The Sabiya and her captain, Mehmet Arkoun, had a terrible history of one bad luck incident after another. The ship went aground on at least five occasions before it finally sank. The boat’s captain was arrested four times for smuggling. The guy had a criminal record in Italy, Turkey, and Greece. The last information available came from a man in Turkey. Bear in mind, this is based on rumor. During World War Two, Mehmet Arkoun may have worked for the Nazis.”

  “Doing what?” John asked.

  “No one ever figured that out.”

  By 8:00 a.m., John and Nick were in their wetsuits, ready to dive. They again followed the cargo net—this time weighted with a one-pound sinker—down to the wreck, then dragged the net through the hull to the passageway outside the captain’s quarters.

  Nick took a flashlight and a crowbar and inspected the door. John stood close behind him with his own flashlight. Nick stood on the door, then handed his flashlight to John and used the crowbar to pry at the door’s edges. The sounds of the crowbar banging and scraping against the door were amplified under water. Nick made a lot of noise, but seemingly not muc
h progress. He’d knocked loose most of the encrustation built up around the outside edges of the door, when suddenly his weight caused it to break free and the heavy metal door swung down on its hinges into the room below. Nick dropped through the opening, along with the tools, the acetylene torch, and the flares. The rotted door hinges held for a moment, but then broke loose and the door followed him down.

  John aimed his flashlight through the opening. The door had fallen on top of Nick.

  John checked the connections, hoses, and air quantity gauges on Nick’s breathing apparatus after he dropped into the room. Nick was still breathing and his equipment seemed to be intact and functioning properly. He lifted the door off Nick, rolled him over on his back, and looked at him through his facemask. His eyes were closed. John rapped on his mask, but got no response.

  John forced himself to remain calm. The last thing he needed to do was to exhaust his air supply on a surge of adrenaline.

  Even with the buoyancy provided by the water, he wasn’t confident he’d be able to lift Nick through the opening, a good ten feet above his head. But he had to get him out of there as quickly as possible. They were already at the halfway point of their maximum dive time. Nick’s injuries didn’t appear to be serious—he saw no evidence of bleeding or broken bones. But he couldn’t really check his condition until he got him aboard the Aphrodite.

  John searched the cabin for something that might help him lift Nick. He noticed a safe in one corner. An old combination-lock affair, with what remained of a pastoral scene painted on its door. The safe stood about three feet high and two feet wide. Six metal strong boxes, each secured by a rusted padlock, lay near the safe. Had they struck the motherlode? Was this what Leidner was after?