Wrath of Poseidon (Fargo Adventures 12)

They walked down the stairs, then over to the Café Palace, a bar set on the edge of the waterfront. They took a seat at one of the outside tables. A warm breeze swept in from the bay, rippling the red-checked tablecloths. A waiter took their order, brought their drinks, and the two sat there, enjoying the view, talking about Tassos, Fourni, and the beauty of small-island life. Sam, noticing Remi was truly at ease for the first time since his arrival, was reminded of their time in California, before the kidnapping and Tassos’s murder.

Remi must have sensed his thoughts. She reached out, grasping his hand. “I’ll be glad when this is all over.”

“So will I,” he said.

“Do you think we’ll ever come back here?”

He liked that she was talking about the future. “I hope so.”

She smiled, sipped her drink, then looked out at the water.

Sam had eyes only for her.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Sam and Remi awoke the following morning to clear weather and calm seas, a promising start to the day spent diving. After they walked into town and ate a leisurely breakfast of yogurt and island honey, they all set out on the Asteri to explore one of the more shallow wrecks from the Roman period—much closer to the island than the site where Remi and Dimitris had been that fateful afternoon.

Nikos remained aboard the Asteri, as did Zoe and Dimitris, who both insisted that they wanted nothing more than to sit on board and relax.

Sam, knowing Remi was still a novice, stuck close by her as they put on their dive gear and followed Denéa and Manos into the water.

The seafloor was a mix of bare, sandy patches, and areas filled with crustacean-encrusted rocks, all of it teeming with sea plants moving with the current, while tiny striped fish darted about. It was a few moments before Sam realized that what he’d thought were piles of rocks were actually dozens upon dozens of amphorae, some in pieces, some actually whole.

Denéa swam above a stone anchor, then brushed some sediment from a spot nearby, uncovering a small, intact terra-cotta vase about eight inches in diameter. She pointed it out to Remi.

Remi took the piece, turning it about in her gloved hands, her eyes alight as though amazed that she was holding something over two thousand years old. She showed it to Sam, then returned it to Denéa, who carefully replaced the piece where she found it.

Manos pointed along the edge of the amphora pile, where a moray eel was peering out between some of the pottery. As it disappeared, throwing up a cloud of silt, Sam found an empty, white, conical snail shell. He picked it up, then turned, placing the object in Remi’s palm. She put it into her small dive bag.

All too soon, Manos was tapping his dive watch, indicating that it was time to return to the surface. Once on board the Asteri, Remi took out the shell, her breath catching at the iridescent beauty of it in the sunlight. She held it up to the others, smiling. “My first souvenir from my trip to Fourni.”

Zoe raised her brows. “A snail shell? I think you can find a better one.”

“I love it anyway,” she said, then leaned over and kissed Sam.

“If I’d known you were this easy to please, I could have saved all that money buying you expensive dinners.”

Remi laughed. “Seashells fresh from the Aegean always win a girl’s heart.”

Nikos opened a picnic basket and they enjoyed a late lunch in the warmth of the sun with friends.

Arriving back at port, the police chief was waiting for them. He was happy to announce that their initial questioning was complete. Sam and Remi would be able to leave Greece.

Sam opened his email to send an update to Rube, and was surprised to find a day-old message from Blake. “I don’t believe it. Blake managed to reschedule the investor meeting.”

Remi watched him a moment. “Shouldn’t you be happier? That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?”

“The catch is that I have to be home in three days. And we have Tassos’s funeral tomorrow,” he said.

“Aren’t you paying Selma for research? I’d think booking air flight qualifies.”

“You’re absolutely right. Assuming you’re ready to go home.”

“More than ready.”

He emailed Selma, telling her the date of the meeting, asking her to book them on the earliest—and cheapest—flight to Los Angeles that would get him home in time.

Selma called him back less than five minutes later.