Wrath of Poseidon

by Clive Cussler

  “I don’t intend to let them get that close. Dimitris, I’ll need you to climb up to the top of the hill. Let me know when they’re on their way. We may not have much time.”

  Remi unzipped her largest suitcase, pulling out bulky clothing items. Zoe and Sam kneeled beside her to help stuff them into the yellow raincoats, grabbing whatever was closest.

  “Not that,” Remi said, pulling a silk blouse from Sam’s hands.

  “If we fail, that shirt will be the last thing you miss.” He finished stuffing the first jacket, then picked up Nikos’s much larger coat, realizing for all the clothes Remi had packed, there might not be enough. He nodded at her carry-on. “That’ll make a good body for Nikos’s coat.”

  Remi emptied it, then handed it over to him.

  “I think we’re good,” he said, eyeing the stuffed dummies. Grabbing his backpack, he climbed down into the smaller boat, which Dimitris had left idling. “Nikos.”

  The older man put both dummies into the larger, empty suitcase and lowered it down to him. Sam positioned the dummies on the seats behind the wheel, then opened his backpack.

  Zoe’s eyes widened as he took out the block of C-4. “That’s evidence!”

  “Which will do us no good if we’re dead.”

  “You’re going to blow up my stuff?” Remi said, looking close to jumping over into the smaller boat.

  “If I win the lotto, I’ll buy you new everything.”

  “Ha! Do you know what the odds of that are?”

  “A heck of a lot better than us surviving if they find us sitting in this cove.” He dug into his pocket, pulling out the remote and the detonator. “Probably a bad time to ask, Nikos. What sort of batteries do you have on board? I need a few triple A’s.”

  Nikos held up his flashlight. “Sorry. All I have is this and a spare nine volt for the radio.”

  “I’ll take one of those.”

  Nikos ran into the cabin, retrieved the radio battery, and tossed it to Sam. He used his knife to cut open the casing, revealing six triple A batteries inside. He took those batteries and inserted them into the remote and detonator.

  “They’re coming!” Dimitris shouted.

  “Let me know when they’re about a minute out!” Sam lashed the dummies in their seats, then set up the detonator and C-4. When Dimitris’s signal came, he set the detonator, shifted the motor to forward, then grabbed the ladder of the Asteri as he pushed the Star Catcher out toward open sea.

  The two stuffed jackets looked like a couple of people sitting at the controls. None too soon. The Omega appeared. It kept pace as the Star Catcher continued out to sea. One of the men aimed an automatic weapon at the boat.

  Sam, clinging to the ladder of the Asteri, counted the seconds. The gunman fired, the muzzle blast flashing yellow. Several shots hit the boat, ripping through the air tubes and hitting the dummies. When the smaller decoy came loose, flopping over sideways, Sam pressed the remote. A millisecond later, a blinding explosion rocked the air.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  The Asteri pitched from side to side as Sam held on to the ladder. The black speedboat veered away, then idled slowly toward the flotsam and what was left of the Star Catcher’s hull. It was still floating, upside down, thanks to the air-filled ribs. As the driver circled the capsized boat, his passenger stood, aimed his weapon, peppering the smaller craft and the water around it. Apparently satisfied there were no survivors, he lowered his rifle and the Omega sped off in the opposite direction.

  Waiting until the sound of the 1,400-horsepower twin outboard engines faded, Sam boarded the Asteri. He looked up to the top of the cliff, where Dimitris kept watch. Finally, the young man looked over at them. “They’re back at the port.”

  They remained where they were another fifteen minutes after the Omega finally took off again, this time toward Patmos. Once Sam gave the okay, Nikos piloted the Asteri out of the inlet, none of them relaxing until they were halfway to Fourni. Sam borrowed Remi’s sat phone and stepped outside the cabin to call Rube and update him.

  “We’re back,” Sam said. “I got everyone out of there. In one piece, I might add.”

  “Do I want to know?”

  “Probably not. But I’m going to tell you anyway.” He gave Rube a quick version of events. While they spoke, Remi walked out onto the deck and started pacing, alternating glances between the inside of the cabin, where Nikos, Dimitris, and Zoe were having a frank conversation, and at Sam. When she noticed him watching her, she moved to the railing, gripping it tightly while her foot tapped relentlessly. Although she’d been through a lot these last few days, this seemed different. No doubt, seeing someone killed for the first time was not something she’d bargained for, and so he kept his voice low while detailing what happened. “The good news is that we found some C-4 you might be able to match to the residue on that ship explosion.”

  “Why does it sound like there’s bad news to follow?”

  “I had to use it to get away. If someone wants to come collect the capsized Star Catcher, they might be able to get residue from that. I have a feeling the Kyrils might not keep the rest of the C-4 around for anyone to test. On the bright side, we do have a blurry photo of their detonators.”

  “Casualties?” Rube asked.

  “One.”

  He heard Rube drawing in a deep breath, followed by a second or two of silence. Then, “In my experience, I see this going down a couple of ways. They cover up the death, or they report it, and shift the blame to you for breaking into their facility.”

  “If they are running drugs, do you really think they’re going to report this?”

  “Stranger things have happened. They’ll have to come up with some story once the inquest starts. Let me get with my contact at Interpol and find out how best to proceed.”

  Sam glanced at Remi, then lowered his voice even more. “What are the chances we can hop on a plane and get home?”

  “You have to ask?”

  “Figured it couldn’t hurt.”

  “I’ll get back to you once I hear anything.”

  Sam disconnected and joined Remi on deck, returning her phone. She didn’t move, just stared out to sea, her eyes bright, whether from the moonlight reflecting in them or a sheen of tears, he couldn’t tell. “Are you okay?” he finally asked.

  She gave a noncommittal shrug. “What happens now?”

  “We don’t know. Rube thinks there will probably be an inquest into the shooting.”

  She turned back toward the water, her mouth clamped shut, her nostrils flaring slightly with every breath. After a short while, she looked over at him, the sheen in her eyes even brighter. Definitely tears. “How is it you know how to do all this? The fighting, the shooting . . . everything else . . . ?”

  His gut instinct told him that whatever he said next was going to make or break any chance they might have of a relationship. “Boot camp.”

  Her eyes searched his for several long moments. “I have a couple of friends who enlisted right out of college. None of them learned any of this stuff. And I doubt any of them could commandeer a helicopter because their date was going to miss her flight.”

  “My training was a little more advanced than the standard.”

  “How advanced?”

  “Very.”

  “I thought you were an engineer.”

  “I was. For DARPA.”

  “Doing what?”

  “I designed military systems. In order to know what works best, DARPA sent me to the same training facility that the CIA uses.”

  “Spy camp?”

  “That’s probably the easiest explanation.”

  “Give me the Reader’s Digest version.”

  “That is the Reader’s Digest version. There are things I just can’t talk about.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  Though it wasn’t cold
, Remi held her arms protectively across her chest. “Have you ever killed anyone before tonight?” Then, before Sam could answer, she said, “Never mind. Of course you have. You’re far too calm.” She narrowed her eyes. “Are you really a grocery stocker, or is that a cover?”

  “I am a grocery stocker, and it pays the rent while I work on my project.”

  “The argon laser.”

  “Yes.”

  She was quiet for so long, he didn’t know what to think.

  Finally, he reached out, touched her shoulder. “Remi . . . ?”

  She turned away, brushing at her eyes.

  All he could do was give her space. He reluctantly left her, and returned inside the cabin.

  Nikos, at the helm, looked back at Sam as he entered, then looked at Dimitris.

  His son stepped forward. “I wanted to thank you for coming after us. And to apologize for putting you both in danger. I know it was foolish. I only wanted to help Zoe.”

  Sam nodded. “I appreciate you saying so.”

  “But maybe what we saw will help?”

  “Maybe.”

  Zoe looked hopeful. “What about the fact they were shooting at us?” she asked. “And the man you killed? That has to mean something.”

  As much as he wished they could avoid this discussion right now, there was no helping it. “All it proves is that we were there, trespassing on private property. Fortunately, we all survived,” he said as Remi walked in.

  She strode directly up to him, holding out her phone. “Rube,” she said.

  He examined her face, unable to tell much beyond the tension in her eyes. Taking the phone, he put it to his ear. “That was fast.”

  “I got hold of the right person this time,” Rube said. “It’s a mixed bag. Are you somewhere we can talk? It’s not all good news.”

  Sam, feeling Remi’s eyes on him, stepped outside the cabin for privacy. “Give me the good news first. I could use some right now.”

  “The federal police,” Rube said, “are going to investigate the original kidnapping in concert with the circumstances surrounding Tassos’s death.”

  “And the bad news?”

  “Don’t expect to be going home anytime soon. Which means the two of you need to be careful. You and I both know what happens when the police start dredging up things no one wants exposed.”

  “Kyril would be a fool to come after us. He’ll be the first one they suspect.”

  “Let’s hope he’s the logical type.”

  Sam’s glance strayed toward Remi, who stood in the cabin watching him through the window. Despite her show of bravado as she’d accompanied him through the rugged terrain, tracking and rescuing Dimitris and Zoe, that fire he’d seen in her eyes was gone. In retrospect, he should have tried harder to convince her to return to the Asteri without him. “Thanks for your help. I’ll go break the news.”

  Sam returned Remi’s phone to her. “I just got word that there’s going to be an official investigation.”

  “Into what?” Remi asked.

  “Everything. The kidnapping.” He looked at Zoe. “Your grandfather’s death. And the shooting tonight. That’s the good news,” he said focusing on Remi. “The bad news is that we’ll be needed for the inquest.”

  “You mean we’re stuck here?” Then, as if realizing how that might sound, she glanced at Zoe, Dimitris, and Nikos. “I didn’t mean—”

  Nikos smiled kindly at her. “Who can blame you?”

  “Unfortunately,” Sam said to Nikos, “I have no idea how long it will take. But I’d be glad to rent the cottage so you won’t lose money on it.”

  “Rent?” Nikos made a scoffing noise. “You’re welcome to stay as long as you need.” Outside, the sky turned a deep magenta with the rising sun. He widened his stance as he stood at the helm, his face looking worried. “Red sky at morning . . . From the looks of things, we’ll be lucky to make it back to Fourni before the storm hits.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  The morning rain beat against the windowpanes outside Adrian Kyril’s office as he sat at his desk. He picked up the empty Grand Marnier, shaking the last few drops into his coffee cup, torn between searching for another in the kitchen or calling one of the last staff members left on the premises to get it for him. He’d fired all but one maid, the cook, Ilya, Fayez, and three of his men. And if he didn’t find a way to get more money soon, he’d have to get rid of them and the villa.

  “A bit early for that, don’t you think?”

  He looked up to see Ilya watching him from the doorway. “What do you want?”

  “Apparently, you haven’t heard.”

  “Heard what?”

  “The incident involving the harvest trespasser. There was a shooting at the orchard. One man dead, two disarmed and tied up.”

  A dull throbbing started behind his left eye. “What are you talking about? I thought Dimitris’s death was supposed to be an accident.”

  “He escaped. It was one of the guards who was killed.”

  The pain in his head turned sharp. “Is this going to come back on me?”

  “They were trespassing. The guards were merely trying to defend themselves against what they thought was an attack. At least, that’ll be the official statement released should there be any inquiries. While we were hoping the escapees were killed in a boating accident, sadly that doesn’t appear to be the case.”

  “Again? You thought that the last time.”

  “It seems we were a bit too quick to assume—”

  Both men looked up when Adrian’s girlfriend knocked on the open door. “Where is everyone?” Phoebe asked.

  “I told you,” Adrian said, his eyes dropping to her belly, failing to see any signs of an impending child. He had a feeling his mother was wrong, but he wasn’t about to anger her further and get rid of the woman. “We’ve had to make some cutbacks.”

  “How am I supposed to get to the village, then?”

  “You’ll have to wait or drive yourself.”

  “In the rain?”

  “Yes. In the rain,” he replied, having no patience for her theatrics.

  Her gaze flicked from him to Ilya, then the phone he held. “I won’t be home for dinner, then.” She turned and left.

  As her footsteps receded, Ilya walked to the door and looked out, apparently making sure she was really gone. “Are you sure you can afford her?”

  “I have more important things to worry about than Phoebe. What about Sam Fargo? How do I deal with him?”

  “When the weather clears, I’ll assign a couple of my men to follow him.”

  “For what?”

  “Maybe we’ll learn something we can use. If opportunity arises, we need to be ready.”

  “Weren’t you just asking me if I could afford my girlfriend? How can I possibly afford surveillance?”

  “Do you want Fargo or not? A cat doesn’t catch the mouse if he doesn’t watch the mouse hole. If that’s not incentive enough, ask yourself how much you’re willing to pay to stay out of jail.”

  Adrian thought about what little money he had left. Less than one hundred thousand euros. As much as Ilya was one of his oldest friends, he and his men did not come cheap. “We’ll fire the maid.”

  “Not the cook?”

  “Unless you know your way around a kitchen, the maid is a better choice. Now show me this video.”

  Ilya took out his phone and opened the surveillance app.

  Adrian watched the footage showing Fargo shooting out the lights before taking out one of his guards. “Does my mother know about this?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Do whatever you can to keep it from her.” If she found out, any hope he had of changing her mind about reinstating him into the family business—and access to the bank accounts—would be far more difficult. This wasn’t the firs
t time she’d locked him out. It was, however, the first time she’d so severely limited his income. That part was very problematic. His search for Poseidon’s Trident had cost a small fortune, and now that he knew this cave on Fourni did not contain the fabled treasure, he was beginning to regret the effort.

  His gaze went back to the security video, the feed now showing how Fargo managed to take out two armed guards with a rope. “They know too much. Is there some reason you can’t just go to that island and kill them?”

  “Besides the weather? No one in, no one out.”

  That was, unfortunately, one of the hazards of living on the smaller islands. The weather dictated all movement. “I mean after it clears.”

  “Fourni is far too small. If it’s not done carefully, you’ll be the first person they investigate for it.”

  He was right, but that didn’t make the news any easier to bear. “There has to be some way we can get rid of these interfering—”

  Once again, Phoebe appeared at the door. This time, though, her face was pale, her expression a mix of confusion and fear. “The police are here.”

  It was only then that Adrian noticed that someone was actually holding her by her arm. Whoever it was pulled her aside. Four uniformed Hellenic officers stepped in, the two in front pointing guns at him and Ilya.

  “Adrian Kyril?” one of them said, looking right at him. “You are under arrest for the murder of Tassos Gianakos.”

  The armed officers stepped aside as the other two approached his desk, one to the left, the other to the right. They each took an arm, lifting him from his chair, one slapping handcuffs on him. He looked at Ilya as they dragged him to the door. “What should I do?”

  “Say nothing. I’ll call your lawyer.”

  * * *

  —

  Adrian refused to make a statement. A parade of investigators came in, each one trying to get him to talk. He wasn’t about to make a statement, demanding he would talk only to his attorney. They left him handcuffed to the table for a couple of hours—as if there was any way he could somehow get out with the door being closed and locked each time they left.