The Mediterranean Caper (Dirk Pitt 2)

She scratched at an imaginary itch above her left breast. “Ask away then.”

“Question number one: what do you know about your uncle’s smuggling operations?”

Her eyes went wide. “I don’t know what you’re talking about”

“I think you do.”

“You’re insane,” she said, glaring at him. “Uncle Bruno owns a steamship line. Why should a man of his wealth and social standing stoop to petty smuggling?”

“Nothing he does can be considered petty,” Pitt said. He paused a moment monitoring her expression, and then continued. “Question number two: before you came to Thasos, when was the last time you saw von Till?”

Not since I was a little girl,” she answered vaguely. “My mum and dad were drowned when their sailboat overturned in a sudden storm off the Isle of Man. Uncle Bruno was with them at the time. So was I. He saved my life. Since that awful accident he has been very good to me; the best boarding schools, money when I needed it. He always remembers my birthday.”

“Yes, he’s all heart,” Pitt said sarcastically. “Isn’t he a bit old to be your uncle?”

“Actually, he was my grandmother’s brother.”

“Question three: how

come you never paid him a visit before now?”

“Whenever I wrote and begged him to let me come to Thasos, he always wrote back and said he was too busy, involved with some vast shipping transaction or something.” She giggled softly. “I fooled him this time though. I simply popped in and surprised him.”

“What do you know about his past?”

“Nothing really. He talks very little about himself. But I do know he’s not a smuggler.”

“You beloved uncle is the worst scum that a mother ever dropped.” Pitt’s voice was tired. He didn’t want to hurt her, but he was certain she was lying.

“God only knows how many rotting corpses owe their present condition to him; hundreds, thousands more likely. And you’re in it with him right up to your lovely little neck. Every rotten dollar you’ve spent in the last twenty years was soaked in blood. In some cases with the blood of, and yes tears, especially tears, of innocent children. Young girls who were stolen from their parents arms and who finished their adolescence on a filthy, lice ridden pile of straw in a North African whorehouse.”

She jumped to her feet “Things like that don’t happen any more. You’re lying, you’re lying. you’re making this up.” She was scared now, but playing a magnificent scene, Pitt thought. “I told you the truth. I know nothing. Nothing!”

“Nothing? You knew von Till was planning to murder me at the villa. Your tearful little act on the terrace, I admit, had me fooled. But not for long. You missed your calling—you should have been an actress.”

“I didn’t know.” Her voice was low and desperate. “I swear I didn’t—”

Pitt shook his head. “I can’t buy it. You gave yourself away outside the labyrinth when we were arrested by the tourist guide. You weren’t just surprised to see me, you were goddamned shocked to see me in one piece.”

She came over and knelt beside him and held his hands in hers. “Please, please. . . Oh God! What must I do to make you believe me?”

“You might begin by offering me facts.” He raised up from the chair and stood directly over her. Then he tore the soggy bandages from his chest and dropped them in her lap. “Look at me. This is what I got for accepting your invitation to dinner. I was set up as the main course for your uncle’s man-eating dog. Look at me!”

She looked. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

Pitt ached to take her in his arms and kiss away the tears that welled in her eyes, and to softly, gently tell her how sorry he was. Instead, he fought to keep his voice firm and even.

She turned and gazed blankly at the metal sink in the head, wondering if she were going to be sick or not, then she forced her tear-brimmed eyes back on Pitt and spoke in a whisper. “You’re a devil. You talk about Uncle Bruno. You’re worse, much worse. I wish you would have been killed.”

The hate should have been there, but Pitt could only feel a touch of sadness. “Until I say otherwise you’ll remain on this ship.”

“You can’t keep me here, you have no right”

“I have no right, true, but I can keep you here. And while we’re on the subject; don’t get it in your pretty head to try and escape. The men on this ship are

expert swimmers. You wouldn’t get fifty yards even if you tried real hard.”

“You can’t keep me a prisoner forever.” Her face twisted with loathing. A woman had never looked at Pitt like that. It made him feel uneasy.