The Eye of Heaven

by Clive Cussler

  “Of course. Give me five minutes.”

  They loaded into a fiberglass skiff, twenty-four feet long with a single powerful outboard, and then they were slicing through the gentle waves, an occasional bump and splash as they encountered a bigger swell sending a curtain of salt spray high into the air. Sam and Remi sat amidships on a hard bench seat as Dominic captained the craft from the stern. Twenty minutes later, they arrived at the commercial port in Cartagena, where, after saying their good-byes, they flagged down a taxi to take them to Murcia–San Javier Airport, fifteen miles away.

  Their jet waited on the tarmac. The two pilots, Brad Sterling and Rex Fender, were running their preflight checklists while Sandra, the flight attendant, supervised the provisioning of the sleek plane, watching the catering personnel with a sharp eye as food and drink were loaded aboard. When the Fargos arrived, she greeted them warmly, her weeklong vacation in Spain now at an end, and Remi noted that she’d found time to catch some sun in the seaside town, no doubt having a more relaxing time than they’d had on the Bermudez with a round-the-clock diving schedule.

  “We filed a flight plan and should be in the air within twenty minutes, tops,” Brad informed them. “Flight time will be eleven hours at forty-eight thousand feet, and it should be smooth sailing—we’ll be above any weather.”

  Sam and Remi settled into the oversize, hand-stitched leather seats. A separate cabin in the rear was furnished with a bed that occupied most of the width. Sandra had thoughtfully arranged for a chilled bottle of 2004 Veuve Clicquot La Grande Dame champagne and two crystal flutes to ease their wait for takeoff. Sam popped the cork with a flourish and poured them each a portion, which they sipped with relish.

  The powerful turbines whined as Sandra closed and secured the fuselage door, and after a brief taxi to the far end of the runway the sleek jet was streaking into the sky in defiance of gravity, climbing at a steep angle over the Mediterranean before executing a gentle bank west.

  Once they were at their cruising altitude, the Spanish mainland disappearing behind them, Sam and Remi logged on to their respective computer terminals to prepare for their next outing: an expedition in the northern reaches of Canada to assist in a U.S. Coast Guard–sponsored exploration of the fjords of Baffin Island to study the cataclysmic melting of the glaciers. They’d been invited by their friend Commander Wes Hall, and would spend a week there using Sam’s specialized equipment to collect data on the geophysical changes.

  They touched down at San Diego International Airport just before nine p.m., where they were greeted at the charter terminal by Selma, who was driving the Cadillac CTS-V. Remi hugged her while Sam loaded the bags into the expansive trunk and soon they were on their way to their oceanfront home in La Jolla.

  “So, did you miss us?” Sam asked.

  “Of course. The house isn’t the same when you’re not there,” Selma said.

  “How’s Zoltán? Is he being a good boy?” Remi asked. Zoltán was their king-sized German shepherd, brought back from Hungary after one of their adventures involving Attila the Hun’s lost tomb.

  “You know him. He doesn’t know how to be anything but good. Although you can tell he misses you, of course. Remi, you’re the love of his life. I really think if he could talk, your husband there would have a run for his money,” Selma joked.

  “Hey. He’s a handsome beast, but I’ve got opposable thumbs,” Sam reminded, and everyone laughed good-naturedly.

  When they pulled into the garage, Sam and Remi could hear Zoltán barking even with the car doors still closed.

  Sam said, “You go ahead. I’ll bring up the rear with the bags. Sounds like your second love is going berserk. Better say hi before he tears the wall down.”

  The garage door closed behind them, and Selma popped the trunk while Remi made for the entrance. When she opened the door and stepped into the connecting hall, Zoltán’s barking ceased, replaced by a low whine as his sensitive nose detected Remi’s presence. She entered the kitchen to find Zoltán sitting obediently, quivering with anticipation but too disciplined to rush her. She approached, got down on one knee, and gave him a long hug, and he reciprocated with a kiss and a nuzzle, in a kind of canine heaven to have the mistress of the house finally back, his lush tail sweeping the floor in a fan of joy.

  Selma came in, followed by Sam with their luggage, and Zoltán whined again, his every dream now reality. Sam dropped the bags by the refrigerator doors and clapped his hands together, inviting Zoltán to him, and the dog gladly leapt forward. Sam scratched behind his ears, and Remi joined him, petting Zoltán, as Selma watched the reunion with a smile.

  “Do you want me to take your stuff up to your room?” Selma asked.

  Remi shook her head. “Sam will do it. After a week of loafing around, he could use the exercise.”

  “That’s right. It was nothing but gin and donuts out on the water. I let Remi do all the hard work. Didn’t want to pull something or hurt myself,” Sam said.

  Selma’s poker face didn’t twitch. “Well, then, if you don’t mind, I’m going to call it a night. I’ll see you both in the morning.”

  “Thanks for picking us up, Selma,” Remi said.

  “No problem. All in a day’s work,” Selma said, and then retired to her suite.

  Up in the master bedroom, Remi threw herself down on the king-sized bed with a sigh of happiness, Zoltán already curled up on the floor by the footboard.

  “It’s good to be back,” Sam said. “And as an added bonus, the floor’s not rocking. I’m going to take a shower. I’ll be out in a minute.”

  “Relax. We’ve got nowhere to be.”

  “Yeah, but the time difference has got me coming and going. I don’t know whether I should be having breakfast or a nightcap.”

  Remi sat up. “Did Selma seem odd to you?”

  “Odd? In what way?” Sam asked as he pulled off his shirt.

  “I don’t know. Subdued. Maybe a little preoccupied.”

  “Possibly. But didn’t you tell me she’s been having problems sleeping recently? I know I get kind of grumpy when I’m short on rest.”

  “Kind of grumpy? More like a bear whose hibernation was disturbed.”

  “Bears need ‘me time,’ too.”

  “Maybe you should talk to her tomorrow. Ask her. As for me, I’ve got seven thousand miles of travel dust to hose off.”

  “I didn’t see much dust inside the plane you wing us away on these days.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “And soon, squeaky clean as a newborn.”

  “I’ll be the judge of that.”

  Selma was already up, the rich aroma of coffee in the air, when Sam and Remi made it down to the research level of the house, where morning sun streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows. The Pacific’s calm blue spread before them like a lapis tapestry, and Selma was gazing out at the view.

  “Good morning, Selma. How are you today? Sleep any better?” Remi asked as she poured herself a cup.

  Selma turned, seemingly startled by their arrival, a troubled look on her face.

  “Oh, Mrs. Fargo! No, I didn’t. I . . . I’m not good at some things, and I guess this is one of them . . .”

  “Selma. What’s wrong?” Remi asked. And Sam joined her, both obviously concerned.

  “I want you to promise you won’t overreact,” Selma said.

  “Overreact to what?” Sam demanded, and then softened when Remi threw him a sharp look.

  “That’s what I was afraid of,” Selma muttered.

  “Don’t worry about him. He’s just grouchy in the mornings. You should know that by now. Just tell us what’s going on, Selma,” Remi coaxed.

  “I’ve never said anything before, but my hips have finally gotten so bad that I have to have them both replaced.”

  “Oh no, Selma. I’m so sorry to hear it,” Remi said.

  Selma drew a long breath, as if steeling herself to dive off a cliff. “I went to the doctor about a week and a half ago, and t
hey say I can’t put it off any longer.”

  “Selma! Why didn’t you tell us? No wonder you haven’t been sleeping,” Sam said.

  “I know I should have said something. But the timing is terrible. We’ve got so much going on, and you’re leaving in a couple of days. I just don’t want to let you down. You’re both so busy.”

  “Nonsense, Selma. You’re one of the family.”

  “When do they want to do this?” Sam asked.

  “They’ve scheduled me for surgery in six days. At Scripps.”

  “That’s one of the best in the country, isn’t it?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “We’re canceling our trip to Baffin Island, or at least postponing it, until you’re back in the saddle and recovered,” Remi said, her tone firm, moving to Selma and giving her a long hug.

  “Oh no. That’s exactly what I don’t want. Please, just do what you planned to do. I would feel terrible if you canceled your trip. There’s nothing you can do, anyway.”

  “Yes there is,” Sam replied. “I’ll arrange for the rehab equipment you need to be set up here. You can come home directly from the hospital and we’ll find the best physical therapist. You’ll have twenty-four/seven care if I have anything to say about this.”

  They were interrupted by the bathroom door closing. A young woman with a severe haircut, dyed black with shocking-red highlights, wearing black jeans and an avocado T-shirt, stood looking at them all. Selma pulled away from Remi and cleared her throat.

  “I was waiting to introduce everyone. This is my niece, Kendra Hollingsworth. I asked her to come over and meet you. She’s going to be helping out while I’m . . . in the hospital and recovering. Kendra? Come meet Sam and Remi Fargo.”

  Kendra stepped forward and shook hands with Remi and then with Sam. He noticed that she had a tattoo on her neck and on the inside of her wrist, and a small twinkling dot on her nose—a piercing.

  “Nice to meet you,” Kendra said, her voice demure.

  “Likewise,” Sam said with a quick glance at Remi, whose face was impassive.

  “Kendra recently graduated from USC and she’s got some time on her hands, so she graciously agreed to help out,” Selma said, aware of the slight tension in the room. “I’ve known her since she was a baby and she’s one of the smartest people I’ve ever met. And an amazing talent.”

  “What did you major in, Kendra?” Remi asked.

  “Computer science and history, a double major. I wanted to go for mathematics as well, but it was too heavy a load.”

  “That’s impressive,” Sam said.

  Kendra shrugged. “Not so much, once you start looking for a decent job. At least, not in this environment. It’s either programming or going for a teaching credential—neither of which really interests me much. So I was really excited when Selma asked me to help out . . .”

  “Have you introduced Kendra to Pete and Wendy yet?” Sam asked.

  “Not yet. I was going to do it tomorrow. I wanted to give Kendra an orientation today, being as it’s quiet, Sunday and all.”

  Remi moved to Sam’s side. “Selma, I want to hear more about your plans. Can you make some time to have lunch with me today?”

  “Of course. I want to show Kendra how the systems are networked and take her through everything we’re working on right now. But I should be done by, let’s say . . . one?”

  “That would be perfect. Pick a place.”

  “Oh, you know me, wherever’s fine.”

  “Then I’ll think of someplace special and make a reservation. Come on, Sam. Let’s leave them to it,” Remi said, and they made their way back up to the living area.

  “She seems awfully young, doesn’t she?” Remi whispered as the door closed behind them.

  “We were all young once, remember? As I recall, I was pretty good at what I was doing at that age.”

  “Poor Selma. She looks so down. I mean, she’s putting a brave face on it, but she’s got to be in a lot of pain. I know her too well. You can see it in her eyes.”

  “I know. Thank goodness she’s getting top-notch care.”

  “Still, it’s . . . I mean, we just take for granted that she’ll always be here helping us. And then something like this happens . . .”

  “See what you can glean at lunch. And stay positive. Attitude’s important. Oh, and of course tell her that whatever she needs, no matter what, she’s got it. Any treatment, any physical therapist, wherever in the world . . . whatever. All she has to do is say the word.”

  “I will. Knowing Selma, the biggest hurdle will be keeping her from coming back to work too early. You know how she loves it.”

  “I do, but Pete and Wendy are no slouches. Between them all, things will be fine. Plus, it’s not like we’re going to need tremendous support charting glacier shrinkage. It’ll be about as exciting as . . . well, watching ice melt.”

  Remi walked to the open sliding glass doors and paused at the threshold, a light ocean breeze caressing her hair. “What’s with the tattoos?”

  Sam shrugged. “It’s the thing these days. Seems like everyone’s got them.”

  “I just hope she’s . . . stable.”

  Sam joined her and put his arms around her, hugging her from behind. “Maybe that was her act of rebellion in college. We all had our share. Remember?”

  “Speak for yourself. I was a good girl.”

  “You still are. The best. You just don’t have particularly good taste in men.”

  “I’m willing to overlook your faults. Besides, you smell good.”

  “You got me this cologne for my birthday.”

  She turned and sniffed his chest, and then gave him a long kiss, before pulling back and looking deeply into his eyes. “Score one for the lady.”

  That night, Remi and Sam enjoyed dinner at the Valencia Hotel, just down from their house, the appetizer of fresh calamari and an entrée of blackened bluefin tuna as good as any they’d tasted. Sam ordered a bottle of 2010 Cobos Reserve Malbec, which was the perfect accompaniment for the fish, complementing its powerful spice-and-pepper seasoning with rich currant and chocolate notes. Conversation revolved around Selma, her upcoming operation, and their misgivings about having to leave on Tuesday morning after only two full days at home.

  “Remind me not to pack our schedule this densely next time around,” Sam said as they watched the surf break on the beach before pulling at its sand in a never-ending rinse-and-repeat cycle.

  “It’s not all your fault. I agreed, remember?”

  “So it’s your fault! After all, you’re supposed to be the brains of the outfit.”

  “I must have missed that memo, Mr. Cal Tech Inventor Guy.”

  “Hey, we all get lucky once in a while.”

  After Sam paid the check, they meandered through the hotel lobby’s oversize mission-style doorway and up the street to the path that cut across the lawn to their house. On the road in front, a figure in a dark sedan focused a telephoto lens and took a series of photos of the couple, their silhouettes framed against the night sky, illuminated by a full moon.

  Sam slowed for a moment and leaned into Remi as his eyes roamed over the street to their right. “Don’t be alarmed but I think we’re being watched.”

  “From where?” Remi asked, her voice low as she continued to match Sam’s pace.

  “I can’t be sure, but I thought I saw movement in one of the cars on the road.”

  “That could be anything. Young lovers. A dog. Someone getting ready to start their car or lock it.”

  “All true. But usually by this hour, the area’s shut down for the night.”

  “So what’s your game plan?”

  “You stop, throw your arms around me, and kiss me, with you facing the ocean. That will give me a chance to scope out the street.”

  “Is this some tricky maneuver to get your way with me?”

  “I think you’ve seen most of my moves by now.”

  “That’s what you always say and then you produce a new
one.”

  “Kiss me, you gorgeous creature. Now, before I’m another minute older.”

  Remi stopped, turned, and, stretching up on her tiptoes, she threw her arms around Sam’s neck.

  Sam scanned the few cars parked along the sidewalk and spotted the sedan. Moonlight caught the camera lens, which glinted as it moved, confirming his suspicions.

  Remi broke from her kiss when Sam squeezed her waist, and they began walking again, now a short way from their house.

  “I saw something, possibly a lens, reflecting light, in one of the cars. The good news is that it isn’t fixed to a rifle.”

  “How do you know?” Remi asked, suddenly serious.

  “Because we’re both still alive. The not-so-good news is that someone’s definitely watching us.”

  “That’s alarming. I wonder why? Could it be autograph hunters or something?”

  “Very funny. Let’s get inside and check to make sure the security systems are on. Then I’ll go for a little walk and see if I can straighten out whoever it is.”

  “Why don’t we just call the police?”

  “And say what? That I saw something shiny in one of the cars? How seriously do you think that’ll be taken?”

  “I guess you’ve got a point,” Remi conceded.

  “Even a broken clock’s right twice a day.”

  Selma had already retired when they entered the house, and after double-checking all the sensors and the alarm from the central control panel Sam deactivated the door on the side of the garage and slipped out into the night. The street was quiet, the only sound the crashing of waves on the rocks at the tip of Goldfish Point and the distant hum of traffic from Torrey Pines Road. Sam crept on rubber soles around the first parked vehicle and made his way to where the watcher was parked, keeping below the level of the windows just in case.

  When he was almost to the sedan, his heart sank. There, in front of him, was an empty parking space, seven cigarette butts on the asphalt the only indication anyone had been waiting there.