Wrath of Poseidon (Fargo Adventures 12)

“Whatever it is,” Sam said, “it must be worth a lot for them to risk an open kidnapping. Any chance the shipwreck you two were mapping has more to it than a bunch of broken pottery?”

“I have no idea.” Remi glanced at Dimitris.

“There are certainly enough amphorae down there,” he said. “On the black market, intact pottery can be worth a lot of money.”

“Worth kidnapping for?” Sam found it hard to believe they’d take such a risk for a couple of sunken vases.

“No,” Nikos said. “The seafloor around Fourni is littered with shipwrecks. Why not go after one of the other sites, where no one is attending?”

“If I’m not mistaken,” Remi said, “the Kyrils’ yacht was there at least the day before.”

Dimitris nodded. “It was. Why bother us now?”

They tossed around several ideas and wild theories, but by the time they finished their drinks, they were no closer to determining why the two of them were targeted. Eventually, Nikos picked up the empty ouzo bottle, shook it, and peering inside gave a sad smile. “I’d say that’s our cue to call it a night. Let the Aegean sing you to sleep. I suggest we continue this discussion in the morning.” He stood. “Come, I’ve put clean towels in your berths.”

They followed him down to a narrow cabin with two bunks, both with a small towel and a facecloth neatly folded at the foot.

Nikos smiled at Remi. “My apologies. The quarters are tight and the mattresses are stiff.”

“We’ll be fine,” she said, hugging him. “Thank you.”

He left them alone.

Remi sat on the lower berth, lying back, closing her eyes. “I’m just going to lie here for a minute. After two nights sleeping on the floor, this mattress is the softest I ever slept on.” Then, very quietly, almost a whisper, she said, “Sam? You’re here.”

He was about to answer, but when he looked over, she was fast asleep.

First thing in the morning, he’d call Rube and let him know all was well. Too tired to do much of anything, he climbed up on the top bunk, thinking about the events that led up to the kidnapping. Something had to have occurred to bring Remi and Dimitris to the attention of a man like Adrian Kyril. What that might be, he intended to find out. For now, they were safe. But he doubted Adrian Kyril was simply going to pretend that nothing had happened.

He’d be back—looking for retribution.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Adrian stood just inside the open-air pool house of his cliff-top home, his gaze fixed on the young woman swimming laps in the infinity pool, her long blond hair streaming across her back as she moved. Phoebe, a model he’d picked up in France, had been staying with him these last few weeks. Though he’d long tired of her company, his mother seemed to like her, which made her an asset. Impatient, he finished his drink, set it on the table, then walked out to the glass wall to see if Ilya’s boat had arrived yet. He was halfway across the terra-cotta tiles when a red light flashed on the control panel of the lift as someone rode it up to the topmost patio, one of three terraced onto the cliff face. Stone-paved steps led down to each level as well as to the dock built at the base of the cliff, though he couldn’t recall the last time anyone but the gardeners had taken the stairs or even gone down to the lower patio.

Today, however, would be different. He needed a place to talk where they wouldn’t be overheard by his staff or his girlfriend. Finally, the lift door opened, and Ilya stepped out, his expression grim.

“This way,” Adrian said, leading him down to the next level. Both men leaned against the glass balcony. About twenty-five feet below, the azure sea rippled at the base of the cliff. The view had always calmed him in the past. Not now. “What happened?”

“Someone managed to board the Mirage. Whoever he was, he overpowered one of the guards and freed them.”

“How did he get on the boat without being seen?”

“We were shorthanded. He managed to get in from the swim deck. The good news is that he and the two hostages may not have survived their escape attempt.”

“What makes you think that?”

“He lost control of his boat when my men gave chase. There was an explosion when it hit the swim deck.”

“Any bodies?”

“No time to look. They were worried about the attention it might bring should anyone decide to investigate the accident.”

Adrian gripped the balcony railing, then forced himself to let go. “They should worry about the attention that escaped hostages might bring. You realize what this will do? We left a body on that island with two witnesses.”

“Even if they did survive, it doesn’t appear that they saw anything. We found nothing on the camera.”

“Maybe not. But they were held hostage for two days. On my yacht. How do we explain that?” Angry, Adrian looked over at him, trying to read his expression. A shadow on the stairs caught his attention. He turned, seeing his girlfriend walking down, a towel draped over her shoulders. “Phoebe.”