Wrath of Poseidon (Fargo Adventures 12)

Nikos went next. When he reached the bottom, Sam looked at Remi. “Your turn.”

She buckled her helmet’s chin strap, then peered into the cavern. It wasn’t getting down there that was the hard part. It was being down there. She wasn’t a fan of deep, dark places. “You sure you don’t want me to stay here and chase the goats out?”

“Something tells me we’ll be fine from any marauding wildlife.”

He held out his hand. She took it, stepping down into the cave, and grasping the rope, let it slip through her hands as she picked her way down the stone steps. At the bottom, she dropped the rope, waited for Sam, then crossed the cavern floor toward Nikos and Dimitris. The two men stood near a pool of water, the surface reflecting the light from their headlamps.

Nikos crouched down in front of it. “Runoff from the rain,” he said. “Undoubtedly why the goats visit.” He stood. “It would have been too much to ask that the treasure was in there.”

They worked th

eir way around the edge of the pool, where, just a few feet beyond, was an opening in the floor leading down into another chamber. Dimitris took a coil of rope from his pack, looking for a spot to anchor it.

Remi eyed the rope, then the cavern below. “That looks pretty dark.”

Sam reached over and switched on her headlamp. “Better?”

She looked down, the beam of light bouncing off the cavern walls but failing to reach the bottom. “Definitely not better. Exactly how deep is it?”

He picked up a large rock and tossed it down.

Clunk, clunk, clunk.

“About that deep,” he said.

She moved away from the edge. “If you find anything good, you can come back and get me. Or, even better, I’ll see it when you bring it up. To the surface. Where I’m going.”

Dimitris looked up from the knot he was tying. “What if we find something?”

“Something tells me I’ll be one of the first to find out. Good luck.”

Dimitris descended first, and Nikos followed. Sam grabbed on to the rope, then looked over at her. “It’s not too late to change your mind. You’ll be missing out.”

“I’ll take my chances,” Remi said as Sam rappelled down after them.

When their lights disappeared, she climbed back up to the cave’s mouth, walking to the cliff’s edge, looking out across the water toward Fourni. So much had happened since she’d arrived here. And then there was Sam . . .

They were completely mismatched. She meticulously planned out every aspect of her life and her future. He acted on impulse. All that aside, when it came right down to it, what did she really know about him? Sam Fargo was an enigma.

Deep in thought, she drew her gaze from the water, aware of the faint sound of a helicopter coming from the south. She smiled at the memory of how Sam had called in a favor to someone high up in the military to secure her a ride back to Long Beach, all so she wouldn’t miss her flight to Greece . . .

Turning, she watched the helicopter as it neared, curious, because it seemed to be headed straight toward them.

As the noise of the rotors grew louder, curiosity turned to alarm when the craft seemed to slow, then hover over the south side of the island. There was only one reason someone would send a helicopter here: they were looking for them. Remi backed toward the cave, seeing Dimitris’s gear bag sitting near the mouth. She shoved it underneath a rock, then grabbed the rope, lowering herself into the cave entrance. “Sam!”

No answer.

She started down.

The slope wasn’t too steep near the opening. “Sam!” she called out again as she extended her foot behind her, trying to find a good toehold. Suddenly she was sliding, the friction from the rope heating the palms of her gloves as she pulled herself to a stop.

“Don’t move, Remi. I’m coming up.”

She looked back, catching a glimpse of Sam’s headlamp somewhere near the bottom. “There’s a helicopter out there. I think they’re trying to land on the island.”

Sam climbed up, then helped Remi to a ledge on the side. “Wait here.”

He pulled himself out of the mouth and crept toward the outcropping of rock that shielded the cave from view. The beating of the rotors grew louder as the aircraft rose from the south side of the island.