Marcus said something to the new man in response to something the man had said. The new man then pulled out what looked like a 32 caliber automatic, judging solely by its size, and handed it to Marcus. Marcus accepted it and pulled the slide back. The slide remained open, indicating the clip was empty. The new man then nodded at the first man while Marcus examined the handgun.
All of a sudden, I saw the man who had accompanied Marcus in the car bring something down on Marcus's head, and Marcus collapsed to the ground. The new man picked up his handgun, while the first man went through Marcus's pockets and came up with his wallet. He pulled out the cash, counted it, then gave half to the new man. The new man then appeared to whistle, and two other men came rushing over. The new man gave some orders and the two men dragged Marcus away.
I assumed he was already dead or soon would be after seeing the viciousness of the assault. I knew where the two men were taking him, so I didn't need to see the rest. As I'd said, the world was better off without Marcus. I had an intense dislike for the man, first because of the way he had treated Mia while they were still together, but mostly because of what he had done after she finally left him by making her think they were divorced.
I took the gizmo down, secreted it in my lighter, and then walked out to grab my bags and head to the airport.
* * *
Chapter Eighteen
Overseas flights had become even more maddening than transcontinental flights in the U.S. because the airlines kept making the seats smaller and smaller, and the passengers were required to remain in their seats for a much longer time. It probably wasn't nearly as bad for the average five-foot-tall woman, but for a six-foot-two man like myself, it had become all but impossible to be comfortable on a flight unless I traveled first class.
I always traveled first class at this point when it was available, not for the significantly better food and complimentary alcohol, but simply for the larger seats. And I had booked a direct flight from New York to Athens so I wouldn't have to sit for hours on end in an airport at London, Paris, Rome, or some other hub while waiting for a connecting flight to Greece. For a time, most direct flights from the U.S. to Athens had been cancelled, so it was wonderful they had been reinstated.
Traveling to Memphis aboard the insurance company's jet, with its spacious cabin, extremely comfortable seating, and a flight attendant who was there just to cater to my needs, had been like a dream. But a person would have to travel often enough to justify the great expense of not only the original cost of the plane but also the salaries of the pilots and crew, plus the constant aircraft maintenance.
Once we were airborne and had climbed to altitude, I enjoyed a couple of glasses of wine and stayed alert long enough to enjoy the meal they were serving. Then I put the seat back down and closed my eyes. The air over the Atlantic was bumpy, and I was awakened several times by the turbulence, but I managed to get enough sleep overnight to feel pretty good when the cabin attendants came around with the simple breakfast fare they were offering to first class passengers on the flight.
The economic situation in Greece had become so bad that there had been protests and work stoppages everywhere. The Athens airport had even been shut down at various times by workers protesting wage and pension cuts as Greece struggled to repay bailout loans so they could remain part of the EU. I was happy we were able to land without incident on this day.
When it was my turn to be checked by customs officials, I produced my passport, FBI credentials, European Firearms Pass (EFP), and the license issued by the DNR to carry my weapons in the Netherlands. The eyebrows of the official raised as he looked at each document and then me before returning his eyes to the next document.
"Are you armed, sir?" he asked, when he had looked at everything.
"Yes, I am. I'm carrying the weapons listed on the EFP."
"And are you here on an investigation?"
"No, I'm here on holiday."
"Then why have you brought your weapons with you?"
"I've made a great many enemies in criminal circles because of my law enforcement efforts. I must remain armed at all times in case they decide I'm an easy target because I'm not working a case."
"I see. And where will you be staying?"
"I'm to be the guest of Yannis Kosarros and family at their home on Thasos."
"Do you know Mr. Kosarros?"
"I've never met the gentleman yet, but I'm a close, personal friend of Mia Kosarros."
The official's eyebrows rose again before he said, "One moment, please." He walked over to a small counter where another official was looking at a computer monitor and said something, then handed him my documents. The second official, perhaps a supervisor, looked at everything, then at me, then said something to the first official, who returned to me. He stamped my passport and said, "My supervisor has heard of your law enforcement efforts in the EU and approved your carrying the licensed weapons for personal protection. Enjoy your holiday, Special Agent James."
"Thank you, sir."
As I passed beyond the customs area I saw a man holding a makeshift sign on which was written 'Mr. James.' Mia had told me that someone would meet me at the airport and that I would be brought to the house on Thasos Island, so I said to him, "I'm Colton James. Are you waiting for me?"
"Yes, sir. I'm to take you to the helipad. May I take your bags?"
The guy was only about five-three and couldn't weigh more than a hundred-ten pounds, so I said, "Let's each take one. These suitcases with wheels can be tricky when you have more than one because they sometimes decide they want to go in different directions." It was a slight exaggeration, but my cases were the large ones, and when trying to pull two of them I had to hold my arms out a bit and be extra careful not to trip someone else going in the opposite direction, or even myself. What the manufacturers needed to do was make a way to hook the suitcases together so I could pull them with one hand and the cases were in alignment behind me like a train on a track.
The little guy led me to one of those golf-cart-style electric vehicles and put my suitcases in the back. I climbed aboard and he was off like a taxi driver in Manhattan. He could weave and jog with the best of them and used his horn with abandon.
When we exited the terminal I discovered what a beautiful day it was. I breathed deeply and enjoyed the fresh air after breathing recycled air all night. The Athens airport was huge and spread out, so I was glad I didn't have to walk to where the helicopter was parked. The little guy removed my suitcases from the cart one at a time and took them to another man who put them aboard the air-taxi while I watched. I assumed the little guy wasn't going along, so when he was done I gave him a twenty. He smiled and nodded, then climbed into the cart and zipped back towards the terminal. The baggage guy gestured towards the air-taxi, so I climbed in.
It turned out that the baggage guy was also the pilot. I guess employment attrition in the country had people performing multiple roles, or perhaps that's the way it had always been for air-taxi pilots here.
I knew from having checked an atlas that Thasos Island, or Thassos Island, depending on the source, was in the northern Aegean Sea about four miles off the shore of northern Greece, so I estimated the flight would take about an hour. I supposed it wasn't a popular destination right then because I was the only passenger. The flight was mostly over water, so there wasn't much to see. I just sat back and relaxed as the pilot competently flew us to Thasos.
As we approached Thasos, I could see the beautiful white sand beaches that ringed the island and made it a popular resort destination. I imagined the local population was probably small, limited to those who worked as part of the tourist trade and those fortunate folks well-heeled enough to actually reside there. While the major industry was definitely tourism, the island was also known for its beautiful white marble. Agricultural products of the island included honey, almonds, olives, olive oil, and wine, and there were residents who earned their living through sheep and goat herding, or fishing.
&
nbsp; The air-taxi pilot knew exactly where he was going, and the helicopter began to slow as we approached a large compound surrounded by high walls. What appeared to be the main house sat in the center of the compound, and there were several smaller buildings towards what I assumed was the rear of the compound. The main house appeared smaller than I'd been expecting. I suppose I thought I'd see something like the U.S. White House from the way Mia had talked about it.
The pilot expertly set the craft down onto a helipad outside the walls of the compound and wasted no time removing my bags and getting aloft again. Using a helicopter definitely saved many hours of time driving up from Athens and taking the car ferry from the mainland to the northern port city on the island, then driving to the house.
As I stood on the perimeter of the helipad looking at the surrounding landscape, Mia appeared from around a corner of one of the high walls. She raced at me with a huge smile and then jumped into my arms as she always did whenever we'd been separated for any amount of time, kissing my face a dozen times before I had a chance to catch my breath.
"Oh, darling, you're here at last," she said happily. "I was beginning to think you weren't coming."
"Now, sweetheart, you know I would have been here sooner if I could. But I had to wrap up that investigation in Memphis."
"I know," she said with a slightly repentant voice and matching expression. "And I know I'm being a silly little girl. I just missed you so much."
"You keep right on being silly. I love it, even if I do defend my absences just a little."
She smiled widely and started kissing my face again. I imagined it was going to take me several minutes to clean all the lipstick off.
"Come inside, darling. Leave your bags here. Someone will bring them in. I want you to meet my family."
Mia took my hand and led me to the gated entrance and then to the house. I supposed the house had looked small from the air because of the size of the compound, but as we entered, I saw it was anything but small. It was a three-story Mediterranean villa in the Italian Renaissance style. I estimated that each floor was perhaps five thousand square feet, making it a sizable house.
At that time I didn't know there were also two floors below ground that were used for storage and for safety in the event someone attacked the compound. It wasn't only law enforcement folks who had to always be concerned with safety. Anybody with a little money, or a lot, had to be aware that there were always people who would use any opportunity to take what others had worked for and accumulated.
I assumed the entire household had gathered to meet me because all of the chairs in the main salon were occupied. Mia took me around and introduced me to each individual. I met her grandmother first, then all of her cousins— at least the ones who lived at the estate—then an aunt and, lastly, Uncle Yannis. Yannis appeared to be in his sixties but still had the virile appearance of a much younger man. I had several inches on him, so he was about the same height as Mia when she wasn't wearing shoes.
"Welcome to our home, Mr. James," Yannis said in excellent English.
"Thank you, sir. But please call me Colt."
"And you must call me Uncle," he said with a huge smile. "Everyone does, even mother, whom everyone calls Grandmama."
"Thank you, Uncle."
"Mia has told us much about you. And I have done a bit of— research— on my own. I think I shall like you."
"I'm glad to hear that. From what I've heard from Mia, I believe I shall like you as well, and the entire family."
I was pleased that everyone smiled.
"It was an unpleasant business that brought Mia home, but we were delighted to have her back with us. And now the unpleasant business is all behind us."
"Really?"
"Yes. I just learned a short time ago that the divorce decree will become final thirty days from now. Marcus has that long to protest it in person. And if he appears in person, he'll be arrested on charges for the fraud he committed, as well as blackmail charges for his threats against the law clerk. So I don't ever expect to see him in Greece again."
"Uh, that's a certainty, Uncle."
"Why do you say it like that."
I turned to Mia before I said, "Marcus is dead."
"Dead?" she said with a slightly pained expression.
I nodded.
"Colt, you didn't…"
"No. It happened while I was in Memphis. I just learned about it yesterday. I had a little time so I looked into it. He was murdered while trying to purchase a handgun in the Bronx."
"A handgun?"
"Yes. I don't know why, but perhaps he was so fearful of me that he wanted protection. I had told him to stay away from you, or else. I assume the act of acquiring a handgun meant he had no intention of staying away from you and wanted to be ready when I showed up again. Or perhaps he intended to use the gun to force you to give him more money. I really don't know what was on his mind. But I know he will never bother you again."
Mia tried to mask it, but I knew she was pained from the news.
"So that means Mia has been widowed?" Uncle Yannis asked.
"Uh, yes sir, unless the official date of the divorce decree predates his death."
"It won't. It hasn't become final yet. So it isn't official." A smile lit up his face. "Well, this is wonderful news, Colt."
"Pardon me?"
"The church frowns on divorce, and Mia could have been excommunicated. But I'm sure I can cancel the divorce decree before it becomes part of the public record. Uh, you're absolutely sure Marcus is dead?"
"Absolutely, Uncle. There's no question that the individual I knew as Marcus Antonio Fabrizzi was murdered four days ago in the Bronx borough of New York City."
"Then we have cause for celebration. I never liked that fool. All he ever wanted was Mia's fortune, and he was so— how do you say in English— like glass?"
"Transparent?"
"Yes. He was so transparent about his motives."
Mia looked even more pained, so I pulled her to me and held her. I expected her to start weeping, but she held back the tears.
"Mia, why so miserable?" Uncle Yannis asked.
"I wanted to get away from Marcus, Uncle, but I didn't want him to be killed. I didn't believe Colt would do it unless he was forced to, so I was only a little worried."
"The world is better off without that scoundrel," Yannis said. "He was— as the Americans say— a waste of skin. He never earned a cent in his life. He only cheated people and stole whatever he could get his hands on. And now, because of his actions, he hasn't lived long enough to get his inheritance."
"Inheritance?" I said.
"Yes," Mia said. "He was to receive his grandfather's estate when he reached forty years of age. His grandfather knew what he was like, so he put his estate into the hands of a trust until Marcus was forty. Marcus used to curse his grandfather and sometimes laugh about the trust in a scornful way. His grandfather thought that if Marcus had to earn his own way until then, he would be more mature when he got his hands on the estate and then not blow it all in a few years."
A sizable inheritance could be viewed as a powerful motive for murder. I hoped we had heard the last of Marcus and his inheritance. Mia certainly didn't need the money.
"Marcus was a fool, sweetheart," I said, "Don't be sad about his passing. He had enormous treasure all along and didn't appreciate it."
"What treasure?"
"You."
Mia smiled. "Thank you, darling." She wrapped her arms around my neck and we kissed.
I didn't know how the family would react to such a public display of affection, but they apparently approved because when we parted, they were all smiling. Even Uncle Yannis.
"Colt, I understand you have quite a bit of wealth," Yannis said.
"Not so much when compared to Mia, Uncle, but I'm comfortable, and I don't need her money."
"I read that you made five million for that art recovery in Amsterdam, and then six million more for recovering a very expensive au
tomobile recently."
"I've done well, sir. I just earned three million for recovering memorabilia in Memphis and acquired eighteen thousand acres in Wyoming from a related deal."
"Eighteen thousand acres? Let's see, that's about twenty-eight square miles?"
"Uh, yes, plus a little bit."
"That's about one-fifth the size of this entire island."
"Yes, sir. It's a large ranch."
"Ranch? Like in cowboy movies?"
"Yes, Uncle, but there are no cowboys on it. It isn't a working ranch. No cows."
"You didn't tell me about that, darling," Mia said. "Is that why you were delayed?"
"Yes. It was for the same individual, even though it wasn't part of the insured property. But the owner made it worth my while to stay on for an extra week after I recovered the other things so I could find something else that was stolen but not insured. I wanted the ranch to be a surprise. After we get back from Fiji, we'll take a trip out there and look it over."
"You haven't seen it?"
"Only from the air. But it looks beautiful."
Looking at Yannis, Mia said, "Colton has an enormous co-op apartment in a beautiful high-rise building in New York City. We have five large bedrooms. You must come and visit us there, Uncle."
"Perhaps one day. Right now all my attention must be on the company. These are difficult days in Europe, Colt, as you know, and Greece is the worst off of all the EU nations. We're a bit isolated here on Thasos from the worst of the problems— unemployment— because tourism is the major industry here.
"But it will reach even us, eventually, as transportation into and out of the country becomes undependable for tourists and then people stop coming here. Spain and France are in bad shape also, and the rest of Europe is not all that far behind. I fear what lies ahead for us here in the EU. I sympathize with the people who are most vulnerable in Greece, but they have to understand that an austerity program is not an option but a necessity.
Vengeance Is Personal (A Colton James Novel, Book 2) Page 22