Kurt moved quickly, exploring the rest of the villa, and then returned with a grim look on his face.
Back in the living room, he switched the lights on. The place looked as if it had been hit by a tornado; couches overturned, cabinets open, and items strewn about. A glass table lamp had been shattered, and shards of glass littered the floor.
“We need to call the police,” Kurt said. He looked for the phone, spotted a pair of flip-flops by the door, and handed them to Katarina.
“Put these on.”
As she slipped her feet into the sandals, Kurt located the phone and picked up the receiver.
No dial tone. He found the wall jack and realized the phone had been ripped out of it. The jack looked damaged. They’d have to find another one to plug it into. He headed for the kitchen.
“What happened here?” Katarina asked.
“The French habit of talking too much got the best of them,” Kurt said. He’d found another phone jack near the sink. He plugged the cord in, got a tone, and began dialing.
As he waited for someone to pick up, he noticed an open drawer. Silverware and other utensils had spilled onto the floor, including a vicious-looking carving knife. It looked like the French had fought back.
With his attention diverted, Kurt didn’t notice Katarina beginning to wander about. When he looked up, she was standing near the doorway to another room, reaching in as if to turn the light on.
“Don’t,” Kurt said.
Too late. The switch flicked, and the room lit up.
Katarina gasped and turned away. Kurt put the phone down and grabbed her, as she looked as if she might faint.
She glanced back in the room and then buried her face in his chest. “They’re dead,” she said.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t want you to see that.” The entire French team had been murdered. Four bodies lay in the room, thrown disrespectfully against the wall like discarded junk. Bullet holes riddled one of the men, another looked as if he’d been strangled, based on the marks around his neck. The others were harder to see, and Kurt hadn’t gone that close. But even from the doorway Kurt recognized the man he’d plucked from the depths with too much weight on his belt.
In Kurt’s arms Katarina trembled, a hand over her mouth, her eyes closed tight. Kurt turned her away and led her to the living room.
He righted the couch and sat her down.
“I have to call the police,” he said.
She nodded, unable to speak.
As Kurt moved back to the open kitchen he kept an eye on Katarina. It was true men had already died that night, but they’d been men intent on killing or harming both him and her. And they’d gone off a cliff hidden in a car, all but unseen. This was different.
These men were fellow scientists. Katarina had apparently shared drinks with them on at least one occasion.
“How could the police not know already?” she asked.
“It probably happened quickly,” Kurt said, hoping for the dead men’s sake it had. “The assailants probably had suppressors on their weapons and took these men by surprise.” “But why?” she asked. “Why would anyone—” “They had the core sample,” Kurt said. “From what I understand it could be extremely valuable, that’s why we’re here while the Spanish and Portuguese figure out who owns it and in what percentages. These guys were bold enough to take that sample illegally but stupid enough to talk about it.” “Too much wine,” she said. “Men like to brag when they’ve had too much wine.” The police finally answered and promised to send both investigators and the coroner. While he waited, Kurt searched in vain for the core sample. He found a long rectangular box filled with foam in a room with other equipment. It lay open and turned over. He guessed the sample had been inside.
An hour of discussion with the police followed, and then Kurt and Katarina were allowed to leave.
“What will you do now?” Katarina asked.
“I have to get in touch with my ship,” Kurt said, raising his eyes toward the harbor and finding himself surprised at what he saw.
“I have a radio set on my boat,” she said. “You could use that.” “I don’t think we’ll need it.” She looked up.
“That’s my ship right there,” he said. “The one all lit up like a Christmas tree.” As Kurt wondered what the Argo was doing in port with every available light blazing he began looking around, hoping he and Katarina could bum a ride from one of the cops. All of a sudden a tiny van came zooming up.
Kurt recognized the driver’s round, smiling face. “I thought the police would never let you go,” he said. “Ready?” Kurt figured a two-hour wait was more than enough to earn a hundred dollars. He fished the other half of the C-note out of his pocket and handed it over.
“Ready,” he said.