The Asteri pitched from side to side as Sam held on to the ladder. The black speedboat veered away, then idled slowly toward the flotsam and what was left of the Star Catcher’s hull. It was still floating, upside down, thanks to the air-filled ribs. As the driver circled the capsized boat, his passenger stood, aimed his weapon, peppering the smaller craft and the water around it. Apparently satisfied there were no survivors, he lowered his rifle and the Omega sped off in the opposite direction.
Waiting until the sound of the 1,400-horsepower twin outboard engines faded, Sam boarded the Asteri. He looked up to the top of the cliff, where Dimitris kept watch. Finally, the young man looked over at them. “They’re back at the port.”
They remained where they were another fifteen minutes after the Omega finally took off again, this time toward Patmos. Once Sam gave the okay, Nikos piloted the Asteri out of the inlet, none of them relaxing until they were halfway to Fourni. Sam borrowed Remi’s sat phone and stepped outside the cabin to call Rube and update him.
“We’re back,” Sam said. “I got everyone out of there. In one piece, I might add.”
“Do I want to know?”
“Probably not. But I’m going to tell you anyway.” He gave Rube a quick version of events. While they spoke, Remi walked out onto the deck and started pacing, alternating glances between the inside of the cabin, where Nikos, Dimitris, and Zoe were having a frank conversation, and at Sam. When she noticed him watching her, she moved to the railing, gripping it tightly while her foot tapped relentlessly. Although she’d been through a lot these last few days, this seemed different. No doubt, seeing someone killed for the first time was not something she’d bargained for, and so he kept his voice low while detailing what happened. “The good news is that we found some C-4 you might be able to match to the residue on that ship explosion.”
“Why does it sound like there’s bad news to follow?”
“I had to use it to get away. If someone wants to come collect the capsized Star Catcher, they might be able to get residue from that. I have a feeling the Kyrils might not keep the rest of the C-4 around for anyone to test. On the bright side, we do have a blurry photo of their detonators.”
“Casualties?” Rube asked.
“One.”
He heard Rube drawing in a deep breath, followed by a second or two of silence. Then, “In my experience, I see this going down a couple of ways. They cover up the death, or they report it, and shift the blame to you for breaking into their facility.”
“If they are running drugs, do you really think they’re going to report this?”
“Stranger things have happened. They’ll have to come up with some story once the inquest starts. Let me get with my contact at Interpol and find out how best to proceed.”
Sam glanced at Remi, then lowered his voice even more. “What are the chances we can hop on a plane and get home?”
“You have to ask?”
“Figured it couldn’t hurt.”
“I’ll get back to you once I hear anything.”
Sam disconnected and joined Remi on deck, returning her phone. She didn’t move, just stared out to sea, her eyes bright, whether from the moonlight reflecting in them or a sheen of tears, he couldn’t tell. “Are you okay?” he finally asked.
She gave a noncommittal shrug. “What happens now?”
“We don’t know. Rube thinks there will probably be an inquest into the shooting.”
She turned back toward the water, her mouth clamped shut, her nostrils flaring slightly with every breath. After a short while, she looked over at him, the sheen in her eyes even brighter. Definitely tears. “How is it you know how to do all this? The fighting, the shooting . . . everything else . . . ?”
His gut instinct told him that whatever he said next was going to make or break any chance they might have of a relationship. “Boot camp.”
Her eyes searched his for several long moments. “I have a couple of friends who enlisted right out of college. None of them learned any of this stuff. And I doubt any of them could commandeer a helicopter because their date was going to miss her flight.”
“My training was a little more advanced than the standard.”
“How advanced?”
“Very.”
“I thought you were an engineer.”
“I was. For DARPA.”
“Doing what?”
“I designed military systems. In order to know what works best, DARPA sent me to the same training facility that the CIA uses.”