by Diane Rapp
Natalia’s warm hand rubbed Kayla’s icy fingers and abruptly the disorientation halted.
“You okay, Kayla?” Natalia asked.
Kayla managed a faint smile and squeezed Natalia’s hand. “Our friend made contact,” she whispered. “We’ll talk when we’re alone.” Kayla cast a sidelong glance at Paula.
Natalia frowned. “Okay.”
Kayla leaned back. The ghost felt worried. There was still a killer lurking nearby. They must proceed with caution!
The nose of the airplane tipped down. The pilot said, “We approach Sao Miguel, the largest of our islands, and the seat of government. As we fly over Sete Cidades you will see a large volcanic crater filled with two lakes, one lake is green and the other blue. Legend says a blue-eyed princess fell in love with a green-eyed shepherd but her father forced the princess to marry someone else. When the two lovers met for a final farewell, their tears formed the two lagoons.”
Steep cliffs rimmed three sides of the lakes, while luxuriant growth bordered the remaining shoreline and a village nestled near the center of the lakes where a narrow causeway separated the two bodies of water.
“In a few minutes we land at the commercial port in Ponta Delgada, our largest city,” the pilot said. “Please have your passports ready for the customs official, who will greet us at the dock to apply the entry stamps.”
Flying over the southern shoreline from the west, the island transformed from a pastoral patchwork of fields to an urban landscape. European-style white structures with red-tiled roofs spread from the foothills to the edge of the water. Very few tall buildings graced the cityscape, a testament to the threat of earthquakes on the volcanic island, but old-world structures tempered the ambiance of the increasingly modern city.
The seaplane landed, spraying water as pontoons plowed through the water, and gently motored past fishing boats, tankers, and freighters to the pier. A yacht club across the harbor housed small pleasure craft on their way to Mediterranean waters.
The commercial port hummed with activity. Large crates filled with oranges, tobacco, pineapples, and other island produce were stacked along the dock waiting for outgoing freighters. Incoming cargo dangled from nets overhead. Noxious odors of diesel fuel, putrid fish, and scummy saltwater intermingled in a repugnant stench. The steady whine of engines, shrill beep of trucks, and the boisterous shouts of seamen motivated the seaplane passengers to scurry into the two-story port authority building.
A customs official grumbled in Portuguese as he peered into handbags and stamped passports. Later, walking them out of the building the pilot shrugged off the man’s attitude. “He wasn’t happy an unscheduled arrival interrupted his breakfast. Such is life. Follow the walls of the fort to the road. Taxis don’t park near the port until the cruise ship is scheduled to arrive, but they regularly pass on the road. You can arrange a city tour and I highly recommend a day-trip to Furnas Lake. The countryside is beautiful and you can visit the gardens, the geysers, and enjoy a lunch cooked by the volcano.” He waved and sauntered back toward his plane.
“Sounds like fun,” Paula said. “If we go sightseeing, reporters won’t find us.”
As Paula and Natalia walked ahead, Steven eyed a man, who stood in the shade of the massive black rocks forming the fort walls. He nudged Kayla and said, “I recognize that bloke!”
“One of the smugglers?” Kayla asked.
Steven shook his head. “No. He works in our customs division—one of the chaps who coordinated the investigation between our departments.”
“Do you suppose your superiors sent him?”
Steven shook his head. “I doubt it. My boss didn’t mention anything when I called him last night. Look! He’s pointing us out to that other dark-haired chap.”
“Should we get the police?” Kayla asked, glancing back at the port authority.
“We don’t speak Portuguese so they could just detain us. Let’s move!”
Steven grabbed Kayla’s arm and propelled her toward the street. Paula had already flagged down a taxi and waved from the open door. Steven pushed Kayla into the cab and slammed the door shut.
“City tour?” the driver asked.
Kayla said, “Can you take us to Furnas Lake?”
The driver nodded enthusiastically. “Lagoa das Furnas? Very beautiful! We go?”
“Yes. Go!” Steven said, urgently waving his hand.
The driver grinned, gunned the engine and pulled into traffic. Kayla turned to see the dark-haired man jump into a car that swiftly pulled away from the curb.
“He’s following!” Kayla whispered to Steven.
To the driver Steven said, “Danger!” and pointed at the auto following.
Glancing into his rearview mirror, the driver grinned. “Make my day? No problem!”
Swerving through traffic, the driver turned abruptly onto a crowded street, made a sharp right down an alley, and then darted left down another street. After a few more turns they sped away from the city while the other car was gone. The driver thumbed his nose at the mirror and whistled happily.
Sitting in the front with the driver, Natalia held onto the strap bolted to the rim of her door. She sighed. “Who’s chasing us?”
Kayla said, “It could be a member of the smuggling ring.”
Steven frowned. “Their man on the ship probably called his contacts on shore—had them waiting for us when we landed. I should’ve considered the possibility!”
“We’re clear now,” Paula said. “You think they’ll guess where we’re going?”
Steven shook his head. “They’ll stake out the port, waiting for us to return when the ship docks.” He leaned back in the seat with a heavy sigh. “My brilliant plan isn’t working out too well.”
Paula said, “Call Captain Swenson. He’ll alert the port authority and the local police.”
Steven nodded and opened his cell phone. “He should check out phone calls to shore. I’ll call my boss and tell him about the chap I recognized. There’s no signal. We’ll need to find a land line.”
Kayla said, “There should be a phone near Lake Furnas. It sounds like a resort of some sort.”
The drive along the coast reminded Kayla of southern France. The beach area nearest Ponta Delgado was filled with sunbathers and modern hotels. As the road meandered along the irregular coastline, the scenery gave way to lazy fishing villages with picturesque stone chapels, vineyards and crops. Heading into the mountains, the lowlands stretched behind them in a hazy horizon—green blending into blue.
Steven checked the rear window every few minutes. Kayla asked, “See anything?”
“No. I can’t get over that bloke from the customs department. How could a man betray fellow officers?”
“Greed!” Kayla said.
Steven frowned. “Yeah, his bloody greed got a friend of mine killed! Pardon the language.”
Kayla squeezed his hand. “Maybe he didn’t realize what would happen.”
“He compromised security so he’s guilty, and I’ll see he’s prosecuted.”
“Maybe that’s why he’s here. He knows you won’t rest until you’ve caught him.” Kayla said, “You need to stay alive. They’ve already killed, so they won’t worry about another murder.”
“Right you are.” Steven checked his phone again and frowned. “When we get to a phone, I’ll call Interpol and get them to send another agent. We need to split up since we know I’m their target. I won’t endanger your lives.”
Kayla wanted to object but realized there was no point in arguing. She stared out the window and tried to appreciate the scenery.
The focal point of a picturesque valley with lush mountains as a backdrop, Furnas Lake was surrounded by rolling green pastureland, clumps of trees, flowering pink bushes, and a charming village. The steeple of a Gothic church reflected in the water and steam hugged the hillsides like low-lying clouds scented by sulfur. As they got close to the lake’s shore their driver pantomimed eating. They nodded.
At an out
door restaurant near the lake they watched from picnic tables as cooks dug up kettles wrapped in burlap from steaming pits along the beach. Their lunch, a traditional dish the cooks called cozido, was a delightful blend of spiced meat and vegetables cooked in the hot mud of volcanic solfataras.
Steven walked to the pay phone on the outside wall of the restaurant, but came back frowning. “We need to find a hotel where someone speaks English. I couldn’t decipher anything on that phone and the operator only spoke Portuguese.” He asked the driver, “Hotel? English?”
The driver nodded vigorously and pointed up the hillside. “Very close is Park Terra Nostra.”
Steven nodded. “I guess we must drive into the foothills.”
“Just enjoy your lunch,” Kayla said with a smile.
“That infernal smell of sulfur puts me off my feed. It smells like rotten eggs. How do people live around here?”
“The nose adapts to noxious odors by filtering out a bad smell when it’s constantly around.”
“Well, I wish it would work faster.” He took a bite of his food. “This meat tastes good.”
After lunch they drove up a winding road to the north of the valley. Terra Nostra Park was a romantic vision. Ponds draped with ferns, winding pathways, and gardens filled with exotic trees provided an illusion of a tropical wonderland. Nearby, a luxurious resort provided telephone service, including English-speaking assistance to place Steven’s call.
The women stood on a bridge that spanned a reflection pond. While her friends enjoyed the quiet scenery, Kayla thought, Will Steven leave the ship since the smugglers know he’s onboard? Everything’s gone wrong—our wedding plans are on hold and Steven’s job is in jeopardy. If his life is in danger, he might be forced to disappear. Would I go with him, or would Steven decide it’s too dangerous?
“You okay, honey?” Paula asked.
Kayla nodded. “I’m worried about Steven.” Glancing at Paula, Kayla suddenly understood her crazy behavior. Faced with losing the man she loved, a woman could easily act strange.
Kayla’s chest ached. Why did I come on this cruise? We’re in more danger on a ship. No. The smugglers tracked Steven to our cottage in Colorado. On the ship we’re surrounded by friends who can help. We’ll stay together and face the crisis as a team.
Natalia said, “Here’s Steven.”
“Good,” Kayla said, feeling better now.
Steven walked onto the bridge, frowning. “Captain Swenson is trying to find out who called ashore. He wants Paula to stay at this hotel tonight. I agree.”
Paula frowned. “I’ll miss sailing with the ship.”
“No. The ship stays in Porta Delgada until tomorrow night. We’ll get you back onboard before we sail.”
“Okay. But I don’t want to stay here alone.”
Natalia said, “I’ll stay. Just rent a suite with a decent bathtub, I miss soaking.”
Kayla pointed at the steaming water. “They’ve got plenty of thermal pools, so I’m sure the hotel can arrange a soaking tub for you.”
“What will you two do while we’re hiding out?” Natalia asked.
Steven glanced at Kayla. “I’d bet Kayla’s determined to stay at my side.”
“You’re right on that score.” Kayla folded her arms across her chest. “We’ll watch out for each other.”
Steven held up both hands. “I surrender.” He turned to Natalia. “Kayla and I will search around the port. Interpol says the man I spotted hasn’t shown up for work in over a week, so he’s definitely part of the smuggling ring. Another agent is flying from the mainland this afternoon to give us a hand.”
Paula grinned. “So that man last night was a smuggler?”
“I’m afraid so. Sorry for the fright.”
“Don’t worry. I’m happy it wasn’t Vincent,” Paula said. Her eyes sparkled with life. “You go find the bad guys. Natalia and I can rest, soak in these mineral pools, and visit the beauty parlor. I want to look my best when Vincent sees me tomorrow. You think they have a boutique?”
Steven said, “They’ve got everything a tourist might desire. What name do you plan to use? We’ll call you later.”
“Mrs. Delgado—that’s Vincent’s real name.”
“Very sensible. We’ll ring you later tonight, say nine o’clock,” Steven said.
“We’ll wait for your call, and then go straight to bed,” Natalia said.
Steven slipped his arm around Kayla’s waist, guiding her away from their companions. Using a conspiratorial tone he said, “We’re not certain it was the smuggler who fired at us last night. Vincent’s steward discovered a gun in his cabin this morning. It was recently cleaned.”
Kayla stopped in the path. “You think Vincent went to his cabin and cleaned his gun? What about the smugglers?”
“The threat on that score is real enough. My boss confirmed my suspicions about Langley—the man I spotted at the pier. We still can’t be certain Paula’s free from danger.” Steven placed both hands on Kayla’s shoulders. “I wish you’d stay here. I can move faster alone and I’d feel better knowing you’re safe.”
“Safe?” Kayla pushed his hands away. “Do you know how many people die from household accidents? If I stay here, I’ll be half-crazed with worry about you, slip in the tub and drown! How safe is that?”
“But darling.”
“Don’t ‘but darling’ me! I’m going with you. If Interpol decides to send you back to England or put you into witness protection, I’m there! You can’t leave me alone, Steven. I love you too much to let—”
Interrupting her with a kiss, Steven crushed her body in his arms. She kissed him until she needed to breathe. “They’re not separating us!” Steven said. “We’ll stay together, no matter what happens. I love you too, my darling, darling girl.” He wiped tears from her cheeks with his thumbs, cupped her face, and kissed her salty lips. “When this is over, we’re going to tackle the INS and get married. I promise.”
Unable to speak for fear of sobbing, Kayla leaned into his chest and inhaled the spicy fragrance of his cologne. She absorbed his warmth and enjoyed the sensation of his hand stroking her hair. “We work better as a team, just remember that.”
Chapter 10 ~ A Ghostly Temper Tantrum
Kayla and Steven met their taxi driver at the hotel entrance. He asked, “We wait for ladies?”
Steven shook his head. “The ladies are staying at the hotel.”
The driver shrugged and climbed into the cab. He asked, “City tour?”
“Airport at three o’clock,” Steven said, holding up three fingers. The driver looked confused until Steven pointed at the three on the face of his watch and again said, “Airport. Pick up passenger.”
“Okay, sure thing.” The driver nodded enthusiastically. “City tour and airport.”
Kayla grinned. “The driver’s happy as long as he can give us the city tour.”
He shrugged. “I manage better in French. It probably costs more to take a city tour than drive straight to the airport.”
Kayla said, “That’s okay, we’ve got time and the scenery’s beautiful. Tell me how we’re going to catch these smugglers.”
Steven frowned. “We are not going to catch anyone! When Jason arrives, he’s in charge of the entire investigation and he won’t place you in danger. Technically I’m on leave. Besides, this is not my area of expertise. I can’t speak Portuguese and I’ve got no contacts here.”
“You don’t speak Greek and you worked there.”
Steven rolled his eyes. “Greeks speak various dialects, including English and French.”
“But you managed to investigate with a little help.”
“I did just fine if you don’t count getting my partner killed.”
Kayla said, “That’s unfair. You didn’t know about the leak in the customs department and the investigation upset the smugglers’ operation.”
Steven shrugged. “We very nearly broke the whole scheme wide open, making them desperate enough to kill. Smugglers do
n’t usually resort to murder.”
“Why do you suppose they took the risk of following an agent already dismissed from the investigation?” Kayla asked. “Surely you don’t represent a danger to them.”
“Good question.” Steven fingered the crease in his trousers as he considered the answer. “They must think I know something important.”
Kayla nodded. “Maybe you overlooked an important clue. Tell me about the investigation from start to finish.”
Gazing out the window, Steven said, “Why not! You already know too much, and we’ve got an hour to kill. Two years ago a customs inspector accidentally discovered a shipment of genuine goods when he got suspicious of a statuette that felt too heavy. He detained the courier, X-rayed the statuette, and discovered the genuine artifact under a thick layer of plaster and paint. The culprit confessed his part in the scheme but didn’t know enough to shed light on the entire enterprise.
“The Greek government called Interpol and we found out that artifacts had infiltrated a high-end market for several years. Most of the items originated in Egypt but there were artifacts from all over the Mediterranean.
“One team of agents exposed dealers who received illicit merchandise while another team traced the culprits in Egypt. There are thousands of unexplored tombs in the Egyptian desert and grave robbers have pilfered artifacts for years. This was a large scale enterprise and the smugglers disguised the artifacts. Interpol uncovered a sweatshop in Cairo where hundreds of people painted plaster casings with no idea they handled genuine art. Unfortunately our agents had to be pulled out six months ago during the riots in Egypt.
“How did you get involved?”
“When I returned to England to sort out my INS paperwork, headquarters called me in. Since I’d been working in the Caribbean, they thought a fresh face would be an asset in Greece. A local policeman, Jeremy was my partner. We traced the distribution network—fishing trawlers, private airplanes, and cargo ships—that hauled crates of merchandise out of the Mediterranean. Traffic nearly stopped during the last six months, probably due to the unrest in Egypt, but Jeremy was determined to sniff out the ring leader until he—” Steven’s voice faltered and his eyes filled with tears.