“It’s the only thing that makes sense,” Sam said. “A layer of counterfeit coins over the top of the rock found in the one intact jar? I’ll bet the other jars were exactly like that before they broke.”
Remi nodded. “There’s a reference from Herodotus about King Cyrus sending an army after Pactyes to bring him back. I expect the pirates wouldn’t have been too thrilled to find out Cyrus was after them.”
“A good point,” Perlmutter said. “It’s highly unlikely the pirate ship would have survived if Cyrus’s navy attacked. They would have rammed the vessel, sinking it.”
“Exactly what we thought,” Remi replied. “Unfortunately, Selma wasn’t able to find any specific references about Samian pirate ships going down in that area around that time period. Which is what brings us to you.”
“I do love a good challenge. Samian pirates. Archaic period?”
“Five forty-six to be exact.”
Perlmutter lowered his port glass to the table, scooped up his dog, then rose from his chair with surprising quickness for so large a man. “I have a vague recollection of a Samian naval ship that went down around that time. Some skirmish with the Persians. It might very well fit the bill.”
“We’re fairly certain,” Sam said, “it was a pirate ship. Samian pirates.”
“Back then, it was often the same thing. It merely depended on who was financing the operation, and what they were paying the Samians for.” He set Fritz on the carpet at his feet, then began searching his bookshelves. “I’d hazard a guess that might be why your researcher failed to find anything . . . Give me a moment . . . I believe the particular volume I need is in a different room. I’ll be right back.”
Perlmutter returned just a few minutes later with a thin leather book and a pair of white gloves, which he set on a desk. “This,” he said, putting on the gloves, “is a very rare volume of the history of the Mediterranean, transcribed by the Benedictine monks in the thirteenth century from the original, which, sadly, is no longer in existence. I was fortunate enough to acquire it at auction a number of years ago.” He sat down and opened the book, turning the yellowed pages with care as he scanned the spidery, flowing script. Suddenly he smiled. “Here it is . . . Just as I remembered. A report of a naval vessel going down in that very area.”
He finished translating the Latin passage, closed the book, then stood, walking over to the map on the wall, studying it a moment. “Ancient trade routes often brought ships along this route,” he said, tracing his finger along the map from Turkey, past Samos to Fourni. “If I were the one looking, this is where I’d start.”
CHAPTER EIGHTY-ONE
Twenty-four hours later, Sam and Remi boarded their private jet, then set their course for Samos. Sam had sent a message to Dimitris and his father, Nikos, letting them know of the new information Perlmutter had given them. Nikos had immediately contacted the Greek Ephorate of Underwater Antiquities in Athens, which lent the Fourni team the necessary equipment to do preliminary searches, scanning, recording, and measuring with techniques called photogrammetry and photo-mosaicing. In essence, once the wreck was found, they’d be taking pictures with underwater cameras and strobes, creating a 3-D model of the site.
Everything from this point worked in slow motion. Should they find the wreck, a documenting of this magnitude could take five to ten years to process, and millions of dollars. As far as Sam and Remi were concerned, the cost to supplement the Greek Ephorate on behalf of the Fourni crew was worth it.
Returning cultural treasures to the rightful countries was the reason for the Fargo Foundation’s existence—of course, had anyone bothered to ask Sam or Remi, they’d be the first to admit that they’d gladly have paid double that amount just to be involved in the recovery.
Their luggage unloaded from their jet, they hired a taxi to drive them into Pythagorio. Dimitris, Zoe, and two dark-haired boys were waiting for them at the port when they arrived. After warm hugs, Remi turned to the boys, seven-year-old identical twins with curly brown hair and large brown eyes. They’d both grown several inches since their last visit. “How do you tell them apart?”
“Tassos,” Dimitris said, placing his hand on the shoulder of the boy on the right, “always has his nose in a book. And he’s an inch taller.” He ruffled the other boy’s head. “You’ll have to ask Manos about the time he threw some fish in the bathtub to try out his new speargun.”
Zoe laughed as she took the hands of each boy. “One thing they have in common is they both inherited their father’s love of the sea.”
Little Manos nodded. “Especially when we get to go out with Uncle Valerios. It’s the fastest boat anywhere!”
Nikos’s cousin, Valerios, had been the one who’d lent Sam the cigarette boat that he’d used to rescue Remi and Dimitris all those years ago. Sam had never quite gotten over the guilt of blowing it up when he rammed it into Kyril’s yacht. Replacing it with a brand-new cigarette boat was one of the first things he and Remi did after they sold their argon laser scanner. “You’ve been on that, have you?” Sam asked.
Zoe stopped, looking at both boys, then at Dimitris. “You better not be on that boat. That thing’s way too powerful and you’re way too young.”
Dimitris gave a sheepish smile, then nodded toward the port. “We better hurry if we want to catch the ferry. These two have school in the morning.”
Tassos, the older of the two, looked up at his father. “We want to go on the boat with you.”
His brother nodded. “Please? You promised we could help.”
“In the summer,” Zoe said. “After school gets out.” She looked at her husband, raising her brows as if to say, See what you started? The idea of renewing the search for the fabled treasure had been a point of contention between the young couple. In fact, Zoe had asked Dimitris to back out, if not for her, for the sake of the children. She was worried that Adrian Kyril’s early release from prison—not to mention his obsession with Poseidon’s Trident—might pose a danger to them.
But it was that very real possibility that had caused Dimitris to reach out to Sam and Remi, asking for their help. As far as he was concerned, the sooner that treasure was found and turned over to the government, the safer they’d all be. Not that Sam and Remi were about to embark on this quest without taking precautions. They’d hired a private investigation firm to tail Kyril, keeping tabs on his movements while they conducted their search. Dimitris, knowing this, gave his wife a reassuring look before addressing his boys. “Your mother’s right. Besides, we have to find it first. And that’s the boring part. Who knows how long that could take?”
* * *
—
Two weeks later, their enthusiasm waning, they figured they hadn’t identified any wreck that could have been the merchant ship. In a last-ditch effort, Sam suggested they try another video consultation with St. Julien Perlmutter. That night, he, Remi, and the Fourni crew, Dimitris, Nikos, Manos, and Denéa, gathered in the galley around the iPad. Perlmutter’s face filled the screen. “How far past the coordinates have you searched?” he asked Sam.
“At least ten square miles.”
Perlmutter turned, looking at the map on his wall. “Logic would state that the pirates would’ve headed straight back to Samos. And yet . . .” He faced the camera again. “King Cyrus undoubtedly knew the dangers of giving chase to a Samian ship. When you look at the extent of his expanding kingdom, it’s obvious he was a brilliant strategist. He likely would have sent more than just the one ship, blocking their return to Pythagorio, and forcing them into open waters.” He rose from his chair, tapping on the map southeast between Fourni, Samos, and Agathonisi. “I’d say extend your search in this direction.”
“We’ll give it a try,” Sam said.
Perlmutter peered into the camera. “No sign of . . . ?”
“Adrian Kyril? None so far. Not that we’re letting down our guard any. My investigator says he’s still tucked
away in his father’s house on Patmos. Though admittedly in less luxurious surroundings than he was used to before his arrest.”
“Good to hear. And good luck with the search. Remember a shipwreck is never where you think it should be and it’s never found until it wants to be found.”
Nikos reset the coordinates, then steered the Asteri to the southeast. Though it took another week, they found and identified the remains of not one but two wrecks about sixty meters down.
CHAPTER EIGHTY-TWO
With both shipwrecks identified, scanned, the images recorded and sent to the Greek Ephorate of Underwater Antiquities, Sam, Remi, Nikos, and Dimitris decided to begin the long and tedious process of mapping, while Manos and Denéa manned the Asteri.
As they approached the seafloor, Remi marveled at the outline of what promised to be the nearly intact hull. It was buried beneath enough silt to protect most of it from the sea worms and harsh salt water that would have, under ordinary circumstances, rotted the wood. Of course, none of this meant it was the wreck. Or that someone else hadn’t looted it long ago.
Remi, like the others, was equipped with a full face mask with underwater radio capabilities. She hit her talk button. “Amazing,” she said.
Dimitris nodded.
An octopus darted out from a nearby large rock, apparently disturbed when they ventured too close.
They both watched, enjoying the antics of the marine creature, until their attention was drawn to the sound of an approaching vessel.
The pair looked up, Dimitris pushing his talk button. “Archeological society?”
“Looks like it,” Manos said, his voice much clearer, coming from on board the Asteri.
The government archeologists would be working in tandem with the Fourni team, which meant the crew would have access to more equipment and resources.
“Remi . . .” She turned at the sound of Sam’s transmission. He was swimming about twenty yards to her left. “Look at this . . .”
She swam toward him, as did Dimitris and Nikos. The three of them gathered around Sam, who was holding the handle of a broken amphora, aiming his wrist-mounted flashlight at it. The maker’s mark on the handle was the same as the one they’d found in the cave all those years ago. And while that helped prove the connection to both locations, it wasn’t, surprisingly, what Sam had called them over for. He aimed the beam of his flashlight onto the seafloor.
The light glinted off a small sickle-moon-shaped object. Remi reached out, brushing off the sand, revealing a lion’s head on the crudely stamped gold coin.
As exciting as that was, they still had a few centuries of silt to remove before they could verify that it was the ship they were looking for, or that their theory was correct, and that Pactyes hid the stolen treasure in the hold.
Nikos, unable to wait until they surfaced, radioed up to Manos and Denéa. “Gold lions!”
“Perfect timing!” Denéa radioed back. “The Odysseus is pulling up now. I’ll let you know as soon as we’re ready.”
“Zoe should be here,” Dimitris said as he used his brush to carefully dust the silt from the same area.
Nikos paused from his photo taking, nodding at his son. The Odysseus’s motor shut off, and they were surrounded by silence, until the radio crackled oddly, Denéa’s voice saying, “There’s something wrong with the—”
The four waited. Finally, Nikos pushed his talk button. “Denéa?” After a few seconds, he radioed a second time.
Still no answer.
Dimitris gave a thumbs-up. “I’ll go check,” he told them.
“I’ll go with you,” Remi said.
He nodded, as did Sam, still aiming the light on the treasure, while Nikos went back to taking photos of their initial find.
As much as Remi wanted to stay and see what else they might uncover in their initial search, she also wanted to be there at the briefing of the national archeologists. It was important to her to make sure that they not only planned to give the proper credit to the much smaller Fourni crew, but that they also would let them lead the expedition—not that she doubted they wouldn’t comply, since the Fargo Foundation was sponsoring the search.
She was about to follow Dimitris, when Nikos tapped her leg. She looked back, saw him holding the gold coin toward her. He reached for her dive bag, slipping the coin inside, then said, “Zoe.”
She nodded, then started her ascent, pacing herself with Dimitris. When they reached the first decompression stop, she glanced down, saw Sam and Nikos working away below. It was remarkable how far they’d come since their first visit to the Mediterranean and the Fourni archipelago all those years ago. This find would mean a lot to Dimitris and Zoe as well as their children, not only because of what the finder’s fee would bring to them, but also realizing what had been a lifelong dream of Zoe’s grandfather.
Finding the treasure.
She had to imagine that Tassos was looking down, cheering them on.
Remi and Dimitris both checked their watches, then continued their ascent to the next level, seeing the hulls of the boats above them. The much larger Odysseus was moored right up against the Asteri, while a much smaller speedboat was tethered behind the former vessel. When they finally broke the surface, Remi half-expected everyone aboard to be watching for them. Cheering, even. After all, this was the find of a lifetime.
Even Dimitris was surprised. He removed his face mask, looking up at the boat. “Rather anticlimactic.”
“Very,” she said.
“Let’s get that radio fixed so we can have a proper celebration.”
They swam to the ladder. She took off her BCD and tank, handed them to Dimitris, then removed her fins, holding them by the straps as she climbed the steps. About to throw them on the deck, she happened to look up as a gray-haired man stepped out of the cabin.
Adrian Kyril.
And he was pointing a gun directly at her.
CHAPTER EIGHTY-THREE
Before Remi could warn Dimitris, he hefted her gear onto the deck, making a loud clatter as he hauled himself up next to her.
As Adrian’s attention shifted from her to Dimitris, she pulled her dive knife from its sheath, slid it between her fins, then dumped the sheath into the water. When Adrian’s focus rested on her once more, she said, “You’re the last person I expected to see. It’s been a while.”
“Isn’t it a pleasant surprise?” He smirked.
“What are you doing here?”
“I’d think that’d be obvious, Remi Longstreet.”
“Fargo,” she said, resisting the urge to throw the knife at him right then and there. She carefully set the fins and hidden blade onto the deck.
“Fargo. Of course. You’d think I’d remember, considering I’ve spent the last decade reading about the two of you.”
“I’m flattered.”
His nostrils flared as he scrutinized her, his dark gaze narrowing. “You don’t seem to have aged at all.”
“And you look at least ten years older.” She glanced past him and saw Fayez and Ilya. “Where’s Manos and Denéa?”
“Aboard the Odysseus. Safe with the other archeologists. When can we expect your husband?”
“I have no idea,” she said, her eye on his two men as they moved out of the cabin, Fayez walking with a definite limp.
“Check her tank,” Adrian said. “I want to know how much air her husband has.”
Remi sensed Dimitris bristling beside her. “They both have plenty of air down there. Don’t expect them anytime soon.”
Ilya walked over and checked the gauge. “Less than half a tank. As deep as the water is, I doubt they can stay down longer than ten minutes at that level.” He glanced over, saw the knife strapped to Dimitris’s leg, and removed it. He looked over at Remi. “Where’s your dive knife?”
“I don’t use one.”
Fayez
laughed. “For good reason. She’s likely to hurt herself.”
“How’s that knee of yours?” she asked.
“Enough!” Adrian said. He motioned with his gun toward the open door of the helm. “I’ve never been a patient man. Which means I’m going to need you to convince Fargo to make an appearance.”
“Good luck with that.”
Ilya, his expression never wavering, raised his pistol, pointing it at Dimitris’s chest.
Adrian, however, never took his eyes from Remi. “If you want your friend to live long enough to see his father again, you’ll do as I say. Bring your husband and Nikos to the surface.”
“Don’t do it, Remi,” Dimitris said. “He’s going to kill us anyway.”
Of that, she had no doubt. Especially when she noticed two men in wet suits and scuba gear, each carrying a speargun, standing on the swim deck of the Odysseus. She looked at them, then Adrian. “What’s going on?”
“Let’s just say I was anticipating your refusal to be cooperative. Either Fargo comes up, or those two go down.” His smile was chilling. “The question you might want to ask yourself is if you’d like to see your husband one more time before you all die.”
“Not a very generous choice. Fine. I’ll do what you ask.”
“I thought you might.”
She glanced at Dimitris, then down at her tank and vest. He knew how much air Sam and Nikos had left. Getting her gear into the water might be their only chance. She rested her hand on his shoulder, then squeezed it. “I’ll be fine,” she said.
He gave a slight nod.
“Enough,” Adrian said. He pushed her into the cabin.
Remi stood in front of the underwater radio, which had been switched off. She glanced out the window, past Adrian, saw Ilya picking up her tank and moving it away from the opening, then ordering Dimitris out of his gear.
So much for that idea, she thought, picking up the microphone.
Adrian stepped back, raising his gun. “Choose your words wisely, Mrs. Fargo.”
Wrath of Poseidon Page 31