The Ionian Paradigm

by Daniel Leston

  David had no ready answer.

  Instead, he sighed as he silently mulled over their situation. A glance at Elizabeth told him she was doing the same, every bit as conscious as he of their scant options and the prohibitive time restrictions imposed on them. In just three-weeks time they were scheduled to end their vacation and take Jake back to school in Boston—which left a mere twenty-one days to attempt the seemingly impossible. Yet his every instinct told him at least some type of effort really should be made. Despite the enormous odds stacked against success, to do otherwise was simply unacceptable.

  But how?

  Aloud, he said, “Though Elizabeth and I are both fairly competent scuba divers, we’re still only amateurs at best, hardly capable of pulling off anything so complicated. What we need is the expertise of a fully equipped and trained marine archaeologist, someone we can totally trust to properly assess—”

  It suddenly came to him.

  Of course!

  Christ almighty, the answer was so freaking obvious!

  Flicking his eyes to Elizabeth, he suspected by her animated expression that she’d likewise come to the same epiphany. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” he asked.

  Her deepening smile confirmed it.

  “Lana Nazari,” she said. “And the timing may prove ideal. I’ve kept in regular touch with her since last year when we unearthed the so-called Porus Legacy on Egypt’s Red Sea coast. She recently concluded all of her work at the ancient sunken port of White Harbor. With any luck, she should be very much open to a new project.”

  “Do you know if her and Prof. Bayoumi are still an item?” he asked. “I haven’t spoken to Omar in several months.”

  “Oh, very definitely!”

  “Even better. Then this may be doubly perfect. No one I know is better qualified than those two for such a challenge. I’ll try reaching them this evening and hope they’re available to take it on.”

  * * * *

  One hour later and less than two miles east of the Kerkira Hilton, Alexei Talanov sat behind his office desk on the Corrina as his associate took the unusual step of reading to him aloud from an extensive fax transmission. Sent in by one of Pavel’s hired people, it had arrived on their secure line only minutes before—and after finding the contents of such an urgent nature, Pavel gave no consideration to first typing it up for the oligarch’s later perusal. He deemed this couldn’t wait, for it contained a completely unexpected revelation that neither man had seen coming.

  Warned by Pavel’s severe expression that the news wasn’t good, Alexei silently listened in growing disbelief to what should’ve been an innocent log report regarding the recent activities of David Manning and his wife. It wasn’t at all what he anticipated—and his shock rapidly turned to anger.

  How was this even possible? he wondered in complete dismay. Was he to be caught yet a second time by Manning’s damnable interference?

  Now he realized his lengthy procrastination in seeking revenge on Manning had been a grave and indulgent mistake on his part. He should’ve followed his first instincts and settled scores with him a full year ago—back when the financial debacle in Egypt first took place. Now his failure in judgment looked poised to cost him even more dearly.

  Or maybe not . . .

  Perhaps he was becoming alarmed for no sound reason.

  “Read the section about their trip to Benitses back to me again,” he instructed Pavel. “It may well be that Manning entered the small museum by mere chance and was thus meaningless. After all, there isn’t a hell of a lot to see in that village.”

  Pavel shook his head.

  “I’m afraid that’s not the case. He says here upon arrival Manning and his friend immediately separated from their wives and went directly there. Too, they spent a considerable amount of time inside, far more than the meager museum’s contents warranted. It seems obvious they knew exactly what they were doing and what they were seeking.”

  Not the conclusion Talanov wanted to hear.

  “But as far as we know, this Travlos fellow and his family are still heading back to Salonika tomorrow, right?”

  “I’ll have our man reconfirm their check-out if you wish?”

  “Do so. I don’t like the sound of this, Pavel. Not a bit of it.” He paused. “Yet what can we do? Any ideas?”

  His associate set the fax aside.

  “Troubling as this is, I’m thinking there’s no need to do anything,” he said after a thoughtful moment. “If Manning believes he’s onto something, what does it really matter? There’s absolutely no connection he can make to you or what we’re about. We’ve put over six years into this project, Alexei, and we’re on track to have it successfully completed. Just a couple more weeks and it’s done. What possible harm can Manning cause in the interim?”

  “Perhaps you’re right,” said a somewhat mollified Talanov. Yet he pursed his lips and shook his head, wishing he shared such confidence. Of late, nothing seemed to have developed quite as he originally expected. High on this list was Pavel’s report on Manning’s wife, Elizabeth. He’d learned from earlier information acquired through various sources that she came from a prosperous New England family—but the full extent of her wealth came as a major surprise. As it turned out, she was the sole owner of a vast enterprise called DeCaylus Corp, a company founded by her late father that controlled a great many assets in widely diversified fields. According to Pavel, DeCaylus Corp’s estimated worth ran in excess of 530 million American dollars. Nowhere near in his league, of course, but nonetheless admirable.

  Now he better understood why his flirtations aboard the Corrina failed to make any positive impression. If he’d possessed this knowledge in advance, he would’ve tried a much different tactic.

  It was unfortunate the opportunity had slipped away from him.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  The City of El Quseir On Egypt’s Red Sea Coast.

  Prof. Omar Bayoumi opened his eyes in gradual stages, taking distinct pleasure from the steady mid-morning breeze wafting through the open curtains across his shared bed. Awakening in gradual stages, his contentment bordered on pure bliss, for sleeping in was a rare luxury seldom enjoyed in his sixty-one years. Prior to these past twelve months, no reason had ever existed for such a patent indulgence.

  Until now . . .

  Everything changed when Lana entered into his life. For the first time in his bachelor existence, Omar knew himself to be truly, unmistakably, in love. Best of all, he knew the emotion was mutually shared despite the significant age discrepancy separating them.

  Incredible to him, this wasn’t the prohibitive barrier he’d always assumed it would be. Far from it. Now he wished he’d revealed his secret feelings for her much sooner, regretting the time wasted due to his long-held reservations.

  When he shifted his gaze to the right, his line of vision took in the still slumbering form curled next him. Her shapely legs were drawn up beneath the thin cotton sheet, pressing seductively on his thigh, the slim arm draped across his middle. Though the temptation to resume their previous night’s lovemaking was great, a reluctant glance at his wristwatch told him it was already approaching 11 am. That particular delight must be forestalled. At least for the time being, anyway.

  His return call to David Manning in Corfu could no longer be delayed.

  He gently extricated himself from Lana’s arm, then put on his light robe and stepped over to the wooden balcony facing the Red Sea. Rarely closed off to the outside, it effectively eliminated all need for any artificial cooling throughout the two-century-old stone building. Its capacity to gather and circulate the constant onshore breeze was definitely one of the nicer features of the rented house he most regretted leaving.

  His thoughts again turned to his long-time friends currently in Corfu.

  Omar owed both David and Elizabeth far more than he could ever hope to repay—not only in his personal life with Lana, but also in the elevated status he presently enjoyed within Egypt’s archaeological h
ierarchy. The simple reality was neither of these two momentous events would’ve happened, save for the shared adventure of the previous summer when they found what proved to be a national treasure of incredible value. Known as the Porus Legacy, it was a chest of rare natural pearls attained by no less than Alexander the Great in distant India a full twenty-three centuries ago and long believed lost in the mists of time.

  And what an astounding event it was!

  Truthfully, Omar felt privileged just to have been involved, let alone afterward reaping some of the laudatory benefits. He readily acknowledged the majority of the credit for their remarkable success belonged solely to David.

  Thinking back on this recent achievement, he smiled, shaking his head slightly as he again marveled at his friend’s innate aptitude for pulling off the impossible when it came to zeroing in on significant discoveries. To say that David had an uncanny knack for such things would be a gross understatement of the first order, for his proven track record in such matters spoke volumes. If for no other reason than this alone, Omar believed it unthinkable for him and Lana to pass up on this timely offer of the previous afternoon. Also, what David wanted to investigate in the waters off Corfu would provide Lana a new challenge for her considerable skills in her chosen field. As for himself, a few months still remained to him on his extended leave from his duties at the Cairo Museum.

  He looked to the sound of Lana stirring behind him, watching as she sat up on the bed and stretched her arms in a languid yawn.

  “Is it as late as I think?” she asked.

  He nodded, his smile growing, entranced as always by the dusky brown hue of her willowy figure. Beneath her jet-black hair, her delicate features fairly shone in the soft sunlight.

  “I was getting ready to contact David,” he said. “Unless you’ve changed your mind about going?”

  “Not at all,” she replied. “I’m looking forward to it—so long as we’re together, of course.” She paused, lowered her voice seductively as she gestured toward the bedside phone. A playful smile parted her lips. “When you’re finished, I’m thinking we can continue where we . . . you know . . .” She allowed her voice to trail off, seeing by the expression on his face that her meaning was clear.

  Omar required no additional incentive to place the call.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Twenty-Seven Hours Later. Kapodistrias Int’l Airport. Corfu.

  Just right of the open bay doors of Hangar 9, David, Elizabeth, and young Jake stood beside the rented SUV; patiently watching as a distant aircraft grew progressively larger in the afternoon sun. Despite having rapidly dropped altitude to make its approach toward the farthest runway, it yet appeared little more than a reflected glint on the eastern horizon.

  After several moments, Jake asked, “Is that them?”

  David glanced at his wristwatch. The timing seemed about right. The estimated flying time out of Hurghada Airport on Egypt’s Red Sea coast to Corfu was roughly two hours, give or take. If the DeCaylus Corp’s senior pilot was as accurate in his flight estimation as David knew him to be, then it should be them. Reasonably convinced, he looped the strap of his binoculars over his son’s head.

  “I think so. Here, look for yourself.”

  Jake did so as the Cessna Citation CJ4 executive jet dropped even lower before then smoothly touched down, almost immediately reversing its powerful twin engines. The familiar DeCaylus Corp logo now became visible to the naked eye as it pivoted at a right angle and held its position. Within less than a minute it was given radio clearance to taxi across three parallel runways in their direction.

  Jake’s expression was one of admiration.

  “Don’s a top-notch pilot, isn’t he, dad?”

  David winked at Elizabeth before answering.

  “That he is. You two have become friends, I take it.”

  “Yeah.”

  David knew this was the case following Jake’s recent flights aboard the company plane. Not a regular passenger by any means—for such occasions rarely arose—the impressionable teenager had twice been allowed up in the forward cabin to observe its operation, apparently getting on a first name basis with the senior pilot. Though he never said as much, the idea that at some point, taking up flying had obviously crossed his mind.

  But as a parent, David likewise understood such youthful ambitions were often ephemeral, usually subject to change with little notice. Being a typical teenager, Jake was no different in this respect.

  “There’s going to be luggage and special equipment on board, so you should offer to help Don and the co-pilot transfer it to the van while your mom and I greet our guests. It’ll need a bit of organizing for the trip down to Benitses. What do you say?”

  Jake readily agreed.

  “Have I ever met them before?”

  “No, but I’m sure you’re going to like them.”

  The boy considered for a second, and then asked, “If she’s an expert diver like you and mom said, think maybe I’ll get the chance for some additional scuba tips before we have to head home?”

  David smiled, seeing his previous point now proven.

  “Count on it.”

  “Cool!”

  This said, they swung their attention back to the sleek aircraft now easing its way across the paved tarmac toward the open hanger doors.

  * * * *

  Going unnoticed three hundred yards away, a casually dressed man in his early forties leaned against a parked green sedan, lowering his binoculars long enough to jot down the time and number of people visibly disembarking from the plane.

  Theo Kormos momentarily toyed with the idea of taking additional photos on his cell phone, but chose not to, thinking the distance too prohibitive. What he already had was adequate for now. Besides, he reasoned, opportunities to take more at a closer range were sure to present themselves.

  Earlier that day he’d watched Manning check out of the Kerkira Hilton and pack luggage in their rented SUV. It was obvious the three were going somewhere. To where exactly didn’t much matter, for he would be discretely following them.

  Tailing people was one of his specialties.

  Kormos believed himself quite good at his profession; most assuredly worth what he charged his clientele for routine surveillance and the garnering of information. Some of his assignments were more interesting than others. Though this particular one was proving monotonous, he hoped it would continue for at least several more days. For reasons unknown—and so far inexplicable—his faceless employer was eager for the most mundane of details. So much so, in fact, that he now required reports by phone a minimum of twice daily.

  Well, so be it, he thought. Hell, as long as the money held out, who was he to complain of boredom?

  Before the day ran its course, however, the man found that his tedious hours of surveillance would soon take a more interesting turn.

  * * * *

  It was 8:10 that evening when Alexei heard the unanticipated knock on the door of his private suite on the Corrina. Having just exited his spacious shower in preparation for a few hours of pleasure with Alena, he found it annoying, to say the least. Short of an emergency, all of his people knew better than to disturb him at this hour.

  He threw on his bathrobe, gesturing for Alena to do the same.

  “Who is it?” he demanded.

  “Pavel.”

  The oligarch’s anger lessened immediately. When he opened the door it was apparent by the grim expression on his associate’s face that this wasn’t going to be pleasant. He turned to Alena.

  “Gather your things and leave.”

  “Do I come back—?”

  “Perhaps later.” It was the best he could offer. “I’ll let you know.”

  Only when alone with Pavel did he ask, “Okay, what’s so important it couldn’t wait.”

  His associate wasted no time.

  “There’s a new development—and it’s not good. I just got off the phone with our man tailing Manning.”

  “Of course! I
should’ve known it would involve Manning.”

  “I told you earlier that he checked his family out of the Hilton and picked up a couple flown in by the DeCaylus jet. What we now know is that all of them drove down to Benitses and took lodging at—” He paused to check his notepad. “The Potamaki Beach Hotel.”

  “Did your man learn the couple’s identity?”

  “Not yet, but he’s working on it. I instructed him to call me back as soon as he has their names. When he does, he’ll also send photos he took on his cell phone while they were registering.”

  “That was several hours ago! What the fuck is taking him so long?”

  “He hasn’t had the chance. Seems Manning and his company have kept him far too busy.”

  The oligarch heaved another sigh.

  “You’re saying it gets worse?”

  “They’ve apparently rented a substantial local boat called the Argus IV, one large enough that it comes with a captain and one-man crew. It must’ve been prearranged before their arrival. Some equipment the couple brought in was immediately loaded onboard. As we speak they’re already working to install it. His guess—and mine—is they intend going out as early as tomorrow morning.”

  “Any idea what the equipment is?”

  Pavel shook his head.

  Talanov pursed his lips in thought, his frustration visibly rising. This was rapidly getting out of hand and his patience had about run out. What the hell was Manning up to? he wondered. Did he already suspect far more than seemed plausible? Or was this just another example of the man’s incredible luck once again manifesting itself?

  Either way, it was time to stop his meddling once and for all!

  “Get the Corrina’s helicopter readied straightaway,” he said. “Then inform Captain Kharov on the Varna that you and I will be flying out within the hour. He needs to be warned—plus I want to personally instruct him on what measures he should take if Manning’s boat gets too close to his operation. We can have no margins for error on this, Pavel. That American bastard cost me dearly once before. I’m not about to let it happen again!”