Wrath of Poseidon

by Clive Cussler

  “Is anyone there?” he called out after a while. He yanked at the cuffs, rattling the chain that secured them to the bolt on the table, hoping to draw someone’s attention. “Hello?”

  He wasn’t sure how much time had passed, an hour or more, when he heard someone turning a key in the lock, then the door opening. The last person he expected to see walked in.

  His mother.

  An officer stepped in after her, but only to close the door, leaving the two of them alone.

  She stood there, her gaze skimming over him, then landing on the handcuffs. A look of distaste crossed her face as she took a step closer. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” she said after several seconds.

  “Me?” Adrian replied. “All I’ve done is try to protect what is ours.”

  “Your reckless and rash actions are putting everything we’ve built at risk. I will not stand by and watch you pull us into ruin.”

  “I can fix it.”

  “Can you? After everything that’s happened? I don’t see how.”

  “I need more money.”

  “How much?”

  “Enough to pay Ilya—”

  “At least he knows how to keep a low profile. You might consider asking him for pointers.” She eyed the chair opposite him, but didn’t sit. “I don’t suppose it even occurred to you as to why I chose to cut off your funds?”

  “I can only assume you like to see me suffer.”

  “I had hoped that you might discover that if you controlled your impulses, stopped to think about what you’re doing once in a while, you might actually succeed on your own. For that, I partly blame myself. I probably shouldn’t have stepped in and fixed your problems every time you found yourself in trouble. I foolishly convinced myself that you’d outgrow your rash ways.” She gave an exasperated sigh. “I really do think you’ll be better off.”

  “In prison? You can’t be serious.”

  “Oh, but I am.” She leaned down, kissed the top of his head, then said in a low voice, “I do hope you’ll own up to all your mistakes and not drag us into this nightmare that you’ve made for yourself. You know your father isn’t well. I don’t think he can handle the stress.”

  “What do you expect me to do?”

  “I’d suggest you listen to your attorney.” She knocked on the door. The officer opened it, standing aside for her. She looked back at him, then gave that smile that had infuriated him his entire adult life. “Goodbye, Adrian.”

  “Mother!”

  She walked out.

  “You can’t leave me here!” He rose, trying to follow, but the handcuffs that were bolted to the table dug into his wrists, forcing him back. “Mother!”

  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

  Sam stood on the rooftop patio, cup of coffee in hand, looking out over the quiet bay. Although another storm was expected later tomorrow, for the moment, the sky was blue, and the warm sun beamed down upon the colorful fishing boats bobbing in the azure waters.

  Not that he was at all interested in the view. The weather aside, it had been a rough couple of days. Remi, unable or unwilling to talk about what had happened on the Kyrils’ island, was having a difficult time navigating the onslaught of emotions. The few times Sam had tried to get her to open up, she immediately changed the subject. If anything, she seemed to be pulling back from him. He knew the emotional toll that a major traumatic event could take on a relationship. It was the rare couple who survived, and usually only because they’d been together long enough to have built a rock-solid foundation.

  While he hated to think that their relationship might not survive, Remi’s well-being was far more important. And why he’d invited Zoe and Denéa to stop by this morning. Maybe the change of company would help Remi to open up about what had happened.

  He sipped at his coffee, then checked his watch. A few minutes before nine. They should be here any time, and he scanned the shoreline, searching for them. A moment later, he noticed the two young women walking on the sand in front of the Kampi Beach Bar. Zoe stopped by the outdoor tables as Denéa continued on. Eventually, she looked up, saw Sam on the rooftop, and waved. “Good morning,” she called out as she unlatched the small blue gate.

  “Remi’s inside. The door should be open.”

  She nodded, crossed the patio, knocked on the door, then opened it. “Hey, Remi. It’s me.”

  “What a nice surprise. I was just about to make some coffee.”

  “Make enough for Zoe. She’ll be along in a moment.”

  He heard the sound of water being turned on, then Remi asking, “How’s she doing?”

  “Zoe? She’s coming along, thanks to Dimitris and Nikos. We were wondering about how you were doing.”

  “Me? I’m fine.”

  And though Sam never intended to eavesdrop, he found himself rooted to the spot when Denéa said, “You don’t look okay.”

  “I’m just tired, that’s all.”

  “Have you talked to anyone about what happened?”

  “There isn’t really anyone.”

  “There’s Sam.”

  “You don’t understand. I—It’s just that—” There was a strangled sob.

  “I’ll get Sam.”

  “No.” Remi’s too-quick refusal was gut-wrenching. He stood at the edge of the roof, knowing he shouldn’t be listening, but unable to move away. After a few moments, he heard her taking a shuddering breath, and then her words came out in a rush. “I’ve never been so scared in my life. I—I didn’t think we were going to make it back.”

  “But you did.”

  “And I keep thinking about the man Sam killed. That’s why I can’t talk to him. I can’t make him feel guilty.”

  “Guilty? About what?”

  “What if that man had a family?”

  “Oh, Remi . . .” There was a scrape of a chair, Remi crying, then Denéa comforting her.

  That Remi would even think that, spoke to her true character. He doubted the gunman would have given it a second thought had he killed any of them.

  “You can’t worry about that,” Denéa said. “From what Zoe and Dimitris told me, you’re all very lucky to be here right now—”

  “I know. I have to keep reminding myself of that, if not for Sam . . . It—it doesn’t make it any easier.”

  “Have you told your parents about any of this?”

  “Are you kidding?” She sniffed. “They’re already overprotective. If they had an inkling, they’d be on the first plane out.”

  “I suppose you’re right. Still, the important thing is, you found Zoe and Dimitris, and you’re all safe.”

  “But . . . the Star Catcher. I know that boat was important to the archeological society.”

  “It’s a boat. Totally replaceable.” Denéa gave a small laugh. “You have to admit, it was rather genius to blow it up.”

  He couldn’t tell if Remi was laughing or crying. “The dummies,” she said. “They flopped over, making it look like they were ducking the gunshots. Even I thought it looked real, and I helped stuff them.”

  Sam’s phone buzzed in his pocket, and he pulled it out, looking at the screen. Seeing Rube’s number on the caller ID, he was tempted to let it go straight to voice mail. He wanted to know that Remi was going to be okay, but he also knew Rube wouldn’t be calling unless it was very important.

  CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

  The offshore wind swept across the rooftop, making it difficult for Sam to hear what Rube was telling him. He turned up the volume, certain he’d misunderstood. “Say that one more time.”

  “Adrian Kyril was arrested. On kidnapping and murder charges.”

  “That’s outstanding,” Sam replied. “When?”

  “Apparently, yesterday. I only just found out myself. That is not, however, why I’m calling. I’ve got an Interpol agent on hold. He wants to know a lit
tle more about what you saw and heard on that island. If you have a few minutes, I’ll patch him through on a conference call.”

  “Sure,” Sam said.

  A moment later, he heard a click, then Rube saying, “Sergeant Petros Kompouras, Sam Fargo.”

  “Mr. Fargo,” the sergeant said. “I won’t take up much of your time. I was hoping you might tell me anything about the warehouse on the island. What was in it? Anything unusual?”

  “Besides the C-4 and detonators? The one you need to talk to is Dimitris. He overheard a conversation about one of the shipments being intended for the Heiberts. That would be the pallet that blew up.”

  “One of our investigators spoke with him. But, considering your background, I was more interested in your viewpoint.”

  “Other than an overabundance of security, and automatic weapons that seemed overkill for olive oil production, I’m not sure what I can add. I did see a lot of empty olive oil tins, and boxes of glass vials, which, now that I think about it, seems odd. I understand the Kyrils are involved in drug running?”

  “Suspected,” the sergeant said. “Are you familiar with the history of Minerva Lines and the late Bruno von Till?”

  “A very brief history,” he said, recalling the little that Rube had told him.

  “Through a now-defunct shipping company called Minerva Lines, von Till ran one of the largest drug trafficking operations, not only in the Mediterranean, but worldwide. Recent information coming through some fairly reliable sources is that Heibert Lines may involve some of the same players. We just weren’t sure who or how. When Adrian Kyril’s name came up along with their business in olive oil production, it made sense. Private island, no oversight. We’re just not sure how they’re smuggling it out—or where they’re hiding it.”

  “You’d think they’d have more sense than to store their contraband on their own island.”

  “Agreed. Unfortunately, our one successful attempt at getting a look at one of their shipments ended with the death of a couple of our officers from an explosion. It was much like the truck explosion that Dimitris described. Any idea of what was on that pallet?”

  “I think it was empty olive oil tins. Dimitris actually went back for one that looked intact. Nothing in it.”

  “Why would they blow up empty tins?”

  “My gut instinct? They set up the whole thing to lure Dimitris to the truck. Had they been the least bit proficient in placing the explosive, they might have succeeded in killing him.”

  “Well, good job taking it out,” the sergeant said. “In the meantime, we’re gathering information on Adrian Kyril’s role. He may be in custody, but there are still a lot of unanswered questions, motive being one of them. I’m not sure a murder charge is going to stick.”

  “Take this with a grain of salt,” Sam said, looking up, seeing Zoe walking toward the beach house. “I don’t know what, if any, investigative value this has, but we heard that Tassos was looking for a treasure called Poseidon’s Trident. What or where that might be, I have no idea. But it’s presumably why he was up at that cave that morning.”

  “I hadn’t heard that. I’ll add it to the file. Should you run across any more information that will help in our investigation, we would appreciate anything you can pass our way.”

  “Of course. I’ll let you know immediately.”

  “And, Rube,” Sergeant Kompouras added, “thanks for putting me in touch.”

  “No problem.” There was a click, a second of silence, then Rube saying, “Now you know what I know.”

  “Which isn’t much,” Sam replied.

  “I expect we’ll know a lot more by the time this is all done. By the way, how’s Remi doing?”

  “I’m hoping better.” He moved to the edge of the roof, looking down at Zoe as she entered the gate and walked to the front door beneath him. “This news should help ease her mind. Had the police not required us to stay for their investigation into the Kyrils’ olive grove shooting, she’d have been gone by now.”

  “Let’s hope I can help speed things up on this end and get you two out of there sooner rather than later. Keep me informed if anything else comes up.”

  “I will.”

  Sam disconnected, then went down the stairs. When he stepped in the door, all three women looked up in surprise.

  “Something happened,” Remi said. “What is it?”

  “Adrian Kyril’s been arrested. I just got off the phone with Rube.”

  Remi sank back in her chair. “Thank goodness.”

  Denéa reached over, grasping Zoe’s hand. Zoe, in turn, said, “That must be why the police chief wants to talk to me. He wants me to stop by this afternoon.”

  “Could be,” Sam said. “I expect there’s a long way to go before they finish their investigation.” He glanced at Remi to see how she was taking the news. Though her eyes were red from crying, he had to admit that she seemed . . . calmer.

  Zoe stood, looking at each of them in turn. “I should probably go see what the police have to say. If anyone wants to come with me, I could use the moral support.”

  CHAPTER FIFTY

  The police chief was surprised to see Sam and Remi standing behind Zoe. Denéa had gone down to the port to try to find Dimitris, since he wasn’t answering his phone. “I hope you don’t mind that I brought my friends,” Zoe said as Dimitris burst through the door.

  “No, no. Come in.” He beckoned them into his small office. “I’m sorry there isn’t more space.”

  Zoe and Remi sat in the two chairs on the other side of his desk, while Sam and Dimitris stood behind them, Dimitris with his hands on Zoe’s shoulders.

  Zoe took a deep breath, saying, “I heard that Adrian Kyril was arrested. Is that what this is about?”

  “Not exactly. I have a few more questions, and some property to return.”

  “Property?”

  “The book I was telling you about when we spoke the other day.” He handed her a manila envelope from the desk. “We found it in your grandfather’s pocket—with the note I had you look at. Do you have any idea why he’d have a children’s book with him?”

  “No.” Zoe opened the envelope, finding a small, faded, blue clothbound book inside. She pulled it out, running her fingers over the cover. “I haven’t seen this in so long . . .”

  Sam leaned over her shoulder, unable to read the title, which was printed in Greek letters.

  “The Pirates of Poseidon,” she said. “I loved this story when I was little. You could see his face light up when I asked him to read it to me.” She hugged the book to her chest as she looked at the chief. “I can take this?”

  “Of course. I’ll need you to sign for it when we’re done. As I said, there are a few more questions I need to ask.” He smiled apologetically. “My colleagues in Athens are handling the majority of the investigation, which makes it . . . a bit difficult to coordinate. The one thing they don’t yet know is exactly why Adrian Kyril killed your grandfather.”

  “It’s not enough that he did it?” Zoe said.

  “Not always. The more we know, the better our case. Is there anything else that you can think of? Maybe you remember something more about what your grandfather was doing in the days before he was killed? Or why he was at that particular cave?”

  “I’m sure he mentioned something about looking for Poseidon’s Trident. And he talked about the cave with the bones . . .”

  Dimitris looked at the chief. “That has to be it. There were bones in that cave. We saw them. Maybe—”

  “Goat bones,” the chief said. “I assure you that this is not that cave—assuming it even exists.” He focused on Zoe. “Did someone actually make an inquiry about Poseidon’s Trident? Someone else was looking for this so-called treasure?”

  “Or someone was going to help him find it. I don’t remember, exactly. So much has happened since then.�
�

  The chief leaned back, his chair squeaking. “Try not to take this the wrong way, Zoe. But this is where I’m having trouble with the story. I clearly remember your grandfather claiming to have found Poseidon’s Trident all those years ago. And, if I recall correctly, he was adamant that it wasn’t on Fourni. So why take these people to the Vardia cave?”

  She looked down at the book, her eyes welling. “Maybe he was determined to make money off the legend. If someone wanted to see a cave with bones, then why not take them to see a cave with bones?”

  “He actually found it?” Remi asked. “Poseidon’s Trident?”

  She nodded. “Not that it did any good. After all that trouble, all that time and money, the only thing he brought back was a single coin. And then—” She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “When he took it to have it appraised, he found out it was counterfeit. His friends laughed at him.”

  The police chief’s dark eyes regarded Zoe with kindness. “You do know that everyone here on Fourni loved Tassos. Why do you think so many people came out to his memorial?”

  “I know. But it still hurt him. He tried to tell them that that coin proved the treasure was out there, and that he was going to find it. No one believed him.”

  The chief reached for a tissue box on his desk, handing it to her. “Did he ever tell you where it was? The cave?”

  “Never. Only that it wasn’t on Fourni.” She pulled a tissue from the box, dabbing it at her eyes. “Is there anything else you need?”

  “For now, no. If you could, though, at some time, go through his things. There’s always the chance that we overlooked something.”

  She nodded, looked down at the book, then at him. “You said there’s something I need to sign?”

  He handed her a pen and the property release form. She signed her name at the bottom, then hurried from the office, Dimitris following her out the door.

  “I have a question,” Remi said. “Now that Adrian Kyril’s been arrested, how long will we need to stay here?”