Wrath of Poseidon (Fargo Adventures 12)

A hollow area had opened behind where the ledge used to be—one he hadn’t seen after the crash because of all the dust in the air. Now that everything had settled, there was no doubt the area was quite large.

“What is it?” Dimitris asked.

“Looks like a pocket opened up.” He glanced at the rubble on the cave floor, noticing the largest pile was directly beneath this hollow, exactly where Remi and Dimitris had found their pieces of terra-cotta. Gripping the rope, he slung one foot across, straddling the crevice, testing his weight on the opposite rock wall. Rope firmly in one hand, he reached into the hollow, brushing some of the debris and dust away, seeing a large orange-red terra-cotta piece. No doubt about it. He was staring at the bottom half of an amphora lying on its side, the top having been crushed and covered by the fallen rocks. Just beyond it, he saw another broken amphora, also on its side. He jumped back, hooked up his harness to the rope, then straddled the space again, this time using both hands to sift through the rubble of the broken amphorae, feeling mostly rocks, but then something smooth, thin, and round. “I think I’ve got something. It feels like a coin.”

He ran his hands through more of the broken amphora. “Make that several.”

“Photos, Sam,” Remi reminded him.

He left everything where it was, then pulled out his phone to take pictures. It was the flash from the camera that lit up what appeared to be a third and intact amphora, lying on its side behind the broken two.

> He tucked his phone in his pocket, then reached out, his fingers brushing against it. He stretched farther, grasping the handle, at the same time trying to pull himself into the opening. As he leveraged himself, the neck split open. Coins spilled from the jar’s mouth, revealing rocks beneath.

“You’re not going to believe what I found,” he said.

“The treasure?” Dimitris said. “Poseidon’s Trident?”

“Don’t get too excited. Unless you think a jar full of rocks is worth everything we’ve been through.” He grabbed a couple, holding them out for the others to see. “But there is a layer of coins covering the rocks.”

“You’re sure?” Kompouras asked.

“Very.” Once again, he used his phone and took photos of the amphora, the gold coins that had spilled from it, and the rocks clearly inside. He stuffed two of the rocks and several coins in a pocket, tucked his phone away, then started down. At the bottom, he dug the coins from his pocket, handing them to Nikos. They certainly glittered like the real thing, and the lion’s head stamped on the face certainly made them look authentic.

The older man looked them over, then sighed. Sergeant Kompouras plucked one of the coins from Nikos’s hand, holding it in the light. “This one’s been gouged,” he said, making the same conclusion that Nikos had made. “You can see the lead.”

“If I had to guess,” Sam said, showing them the photos from his phone so that they could see the rocks contained in the intact amphora, “whoever hid the treasure went to a lot of trouble to pretend they were hiding a hoard of gold.”

“So, we have nothing?” Dimitris said. “All this trouble. For what?”

“History,” his father said. “We found a piece of history.”

Sergeant Kompouras seemed to be the only one who wasn’t disappointed. “You do realize what this means? It proves that the legend behind the gold is real, even if the gold isn’t. It’s a direct connection to Tassos, and from there to Adrian Kyril.” He looked at Remi. “In fact, I’d say that we have about everything we need, and you should be able to go home. You, on the other hand,” he said to Sam, “will get to enjoy our Greek hospitality for a while longer.”

CHAPTER SEVENTY-THREE

At the counter of the Samos airport, Remi handed over her passport.

“Any more luggage?” the clerk asked.

“No. Just the carry-on,” she said. It sounded odd. She wasn’t used to traveling so light, and briefly wondered if she could actually learn to travel this way.

Probably not.

The woman printed up her ticket, then slid it and the passport across the counter. The ticket was only to Athens, the first leg on her flight back to the States. Picking it up filled her with an immense sadness, no doubt due to the man standing next to her. Sam had insisted on escorting her in, making sure she got her ticket, then made it safely to security.

In all likelihood, she was never going to see him again—not after everything that had happened. They were polar opposites, she and Sam. He deserved someone more suited to his lifestyle. She couldn’t picture herself with someone who could simply pull a gun and kill a man, then carry on as though nothing had happened.

“That’s it,” Sam said. “Looks like you’re all set.”

She started to reach for her oversized carry-on, but he picked it up. “Thank you,” she said when they reached the line for security.

He set it down at her feet. “It’s light.”

“I mean for everything. For coming all this way. Helping me and Dimitris . . . I’m sorry I ruined your chances to get investors.” She smiled at him, feeling equal parts guilt and relief. “I guess this is it. Thank you.”

“That sounds so final when you say it like that.”

She hesitated, not wanting to leave him with any sense of false hope. “Maybe if we’d met at a different time in our lives, things might have been different.”