Wrath of Poseidon (Fargo Adventures 12)

The kidnapper reached out, grabbed her by the arm, knocking the phone into her bag. Hoping he wasn’t going to kill her right there and then, she dug in her heels. “Can someone tell me what’s going on?”

Whether or not the kidnappers understood English, she didn’t know, nor did she care. The boat driver spoke in rapid-fire Greek, too fast for Remi to catch most of what he was saying, other than the name “Fayez,” and “hurry.”

Dimitris, standing stock-still, his arms raised, translated. “He wants us to get on their boat.”

“Do they want money?” she asked, wincing as Fayez dug his fingers into her arm. Glancing up at the sky, Remi wished it really was dark and said, “Where’s the North Star when you need it?”

With a loss of patience, she was forced to board the speedboat behind Dimitris and his reply was covered by the sound of the motor’s roar as the vessel surged forward. They barely made it to the seats on the port side. Fayez, sitting across from them, rested his gun on his thigh as they sped off toward open sea.

CHAPTER TEN

Sam awoke the next morning to the sound of Blake unlocking the front door to his real estate office, then turning on the overhead lights. “Wakey, wakey!”

“Wakey, wakey? What am I, five?” Sam covered his eyes against the glare of the fluorescents. “You’re early.”

“Apparently not as early as you,” he said, dropping a fast-food bag on his desk. He gave a pointed look at Sam’s feet propped up on an empty, overturned trash can, and shook his head. “When I said you could use the office, I thought it was going to be an occasional thing.”

“So did I.” Sam stretched, his shoulder muscles tight from the hours spent sleeping in the chair. “Maybe renting a room over a garage where budding rock stars live wasn’t the wisest move. I figured I’d come in, get some work done.”

“You and your project,” he said, nodding at the paperwork Sam had spread across the desk, “both need a new apartment. And my office isn’t it.”

“I’m looking. I swear.”

“Not fast enough.” Blake pulled two breakfast sandwiches from the bag and tossed one to him. “Any chance you’re going to get all of that together in time for your investor meeting?”

“That’s my goal,” he said as the scent of fried egg and bacon wafted up. “When that day comes, I’ll pay you back.”

“Should you get rich, remember that I not only found your investors, I gave you office space and fed you so you could keep working on—I’m never going to remember the name of that thing.”

“An argon laser scanner.”

“Right. The fancy metal detector.”

That thing, as Blake called it, was—if all turned out well—going to be Sam’s future. Originally, his intent was that it could possibly be used for mining operations, but as he worked on it the possibilities expanded, including archeological purposes. Some days he looked at the plans and felt he would never be ready—not that he was about to let that stop him.

He bit into the sandwich, then checked his phone, surprised to see a voice mail from Remi not long after he’d called her last night. He played it, but all he could hear was the hum of what he presumed was a boat motor in the background. Clearly the call was unintentional. He heard someone saying, “He wants us to get on the boat.”

Then after a few seconds, muffled by the sound of the boat, a woman’s voice said, “Do they want money?” He couldn’t be sure if it was Remi’s voice until he heard Remi asking, “Where’s the North Star when you need it?”

Beyond that, he heard nothing but the rev of the engine. The call ended soon after. Curious and a bit shaken, he called her number, but it went straight to voice mail.

“Blake,” he said. “What’s this sound like to you?” He played the message on speaker. “What does it sound like she’s saying?”

“That Remi?”

He nodded.

“Sounds like she’s on someone’s yacht. So call her.”

“Already did. No answer.”

“But what did she say?”

“Someth

ing about where’s the North Star when you need it.”

“Stop getting all worked up,” Blake told him. “I’m sure it’s fine. It’s Greece, not some third world country.”