Wrath of Poseidon (Fargo Adventures 12)

His brother nodded. “Please? You promised we could help.”

“In the summer,” Zoe said. “After school gets out.” She looked at her husband, raising her brows as if to say, See what you started? The idea of renewing the search for the fabled treasure had been a point of contention between the young couple. In fact, Zoe had asked Dimitris to back out, if not for her, for the sake of the children. She was worried that Adrian Kyril’s early release from prison—not to mention his obsession with Poseidon’s Trident—might pose a danger to them.

But it was that very real possibility that had caused Dimitris to reach out to Sam and Remi, asking for their help. As far as he was concerned, the sooner that treasure was found and turned over to the government, the safer they’d all be. Not that Sam and Remi were about to embark on this quest without taking precautions. They’d hired a private investigation firm to tail Kyril, keeping tabs on his movements while they conducted their search. Dimitris, knowing this, gave his wife a reassuring look before addressing his boys. “Your mother’s right. Besides, we have to find it first. And that’s the boring part. Who knows how long that could take?”

* * *

—

Two weeks later, their enthusiasm waning, they figured they hadn’t identified any wreck that could have been the merchant ship. In a last-ditch effort, Sam suggested they try another video consultation with St. Julien Perlmutter. That night, he, Remi, and the Fourni crew, Dimitris, Nikos, Manos, and Denéa, gathered in the galley around the iPad. Perlmutter’s face filled the screen. “How far past the coordinates have you searched?” he asked Sam.

“At least ten square miles.”

Perlmutter turned, looking at the map on his wall. “Logic would state that the pirates would’ve headed straight back to Samos. And yet . . .” He faced the camera again. “King Cyrus undoubtedly knew the dangers of giving chase to a Samian ship. When you look at the extent of his expanding kingdom, it’s obvious he was a brilliant strategist. He likely would have sent more than just the one ship, blocking their return to Pythagorio, and forcing them into open waters.” He rose from his chair, tapping on the map southeast between Fourni, Samos, and Agathonisi. “I’d say extend your search in this direction.”

“We’ll give it a try,” Sam said.

Perlmutter peered into the camera. “No sign of . . . ?”

“Adrian Kyril? None so far. Not that we’re letting down our guard any. My investigator says he’s still tucked

away in his father’s house on Patmos. Though admittedly in less luxurious surroundings than he was used to before his arrest.”

“Good to hear. And good luck with the search. Remember a shipwreck is never where you think it should be and it’s never found until it wants to be found.”

Nikos reset the coordinates, then steered the Asteri to the southeast. Though it took another week, they found and identified the remains of not one but two wrecks about sixty meters down.

CHAPTER EIGHTY-TWO

With both shipwrecks identified, scanned, the images recorded and sent to the Greek Ephorate of Underwater Antiquities, Sam, Remi, Nikos, and Dimitris decided to begin the long and tedious process of mapping, while Manos and Denéa manned the Asteri.

As they approached the seafloor, Remi marveled at the outline of what promised to be the nearly intact hull. It was buried beneath enough silt to protect most of it from the sea worms and harsh salt water that would have, under ordinary circumstances, rotted the wood. Of course, none of this meant it was the wreck. Or that someone else hadn’t looted it long ago.

Remi, like the others, was equipped with a full face mask with underwater radio capabilities. She hit her talk button. “Amazing,” she said.

Dimitris nodded.

An octopus darted out from a nearby large rock, apparently disturbed when they ventured too close.

They both watched, enjoying the antics of the marine creature, until their attention was drawn to the sound of an approaching vessel.

The pair looked up, Dimitris pushing his talk button. “Archeological society?”

“Looks like it,” Manos said, his voice much clearer, coming from on board the Asteri.

The government archeologists would be working in tandem with the Fourni team, which meant the crew would have access to more equipment and resources.

“Remi . . .” She turned at the sound of Sam’s transmission. He was swimming about twenty yards to her left. “Look at this . . .”

She swam toward him, as did Dimitris and Nikos. The three of them gathered around Sam, who was holding the handle of a broken amphora, aiming his wrist-mounted flashlight at it. The maker’s mark on the handle was the same as the one they’d found in the cave all those years ago. And while that helped prove the connection to both locations, it wasn’t, surprisingly, what Sam had called them over for. He aimed the beam of his flashlight onto the seafloor.

The light glinted off a small sickle-moon-shaped object. Remi reached out, brushing off the sand, revealing a lion’s head on the crudely stamped gold coin.

As exciting as that was, they still had a few centuries of silt to remove before they could verify that it was the ship they were looking for, or that their theory was correct, and that Pactyes hid the stolen treasure in the hold.

Nikos, unable to wait until they surfaced, radioed up to Manos and Denéa. “Gold lions!”

“Perfect timing!” Denéa radioed back. “The Odysseus is pulling up now. I’ll let you know as soon as we’re ready.”