Wrath of Poseidon (Fargo Adventures 12)

CHAPTER EIGHTY-SIX

Adrian Kyril, seething with anger, nearly ran into the back of Ilya when the man stopped suddenly on the deck of the Odysseus.

Ilya stood there, one hand on the cabin door, looking in the direction of the Asteri.

“What’s wrong?” Adrian asked, annoyed.

“I heard a splash.”

“Fayez dumping the bodies.”

“Maybe I should check.”

“Leave them. We need to find Fargo. If he’s on board, we’re all in trouble.”

When Ilya hesitated, Adrian pushed past him, pulling open the door. He stepped in, looking around the multipurpose room. Galley on the port side, a couch and two chairs on the starboard side, the room was divided by a long table, where Adrian saw a half-empty coffee cup, an open box of crackers, and Piers’s cell phone. He walked over, touched the mug. It was still warm.

Piers, however, was nowhere in sight.

Adrian’s blood pressure rose at the thought that Fargo might have bes

ted him once again. He’d had over a decade to nurse his hatred for Sam and Remi Fargo. Because of their interference, his mother was dead, their property and assets stolen by the government, and he was left suffering the indignity of living like a pauper, all while the Fargos pretended to be philanthropists, raking in millions of dollars in the process. Taking a deep breath, trying to calm himself, he eyed the passageway leading below deck.

Fargo would definitely try to save the hostages.

“Check up here,” he said, heading for the stairs. Holding his gun close, he started down, stopping at the bottom to listen, hearing nothing. He reached out, opening the first door, pointing his weapon at the four hostages hog-tied to each other. They looked up in fright as he quickly surveyed the room, closed that door, then crossed over and checked the adjoining cabin, seeing the other four there. And no sign of Fargo.

“I found Piers,” Ilya called out from above.

Relieved, he closed the door and hurried up the stairs, seeing Piers standing next to Ilya. “Where were you?”

“In the head. Too much coffee.”

“Where’s Gianni?”

“Right where you left him,” Piers said, pointing upward. “Keeping watch.”

Adrian, still worried about Fargo, dug the gold coin from his pocket, holding it up. “Half of the treasure to anyone who captures Fargo. I want him on this boat with the others when it goes up.”

Piers’s eyes widened. “Is that thing real?”

“Very.”

Ilya glanced at the coin as Adrian stuffed it back in his pocket. “Half the treasure. You’ll have to reconsider the explosion.”

“You’re the one who said we should make it look like an accident.”

“An explosion will only bring the authorities,” Ilya said. “They’ll find the shipwreck when they send divers to salvage what’s left of the Odysseus.”

Adrian felt his jaw clenching, then forced himself to relax. He strode to the door, pushing it open. “We find Fargo first, move the boat, then blow it up. If he’s not on board, he’s lurking around it. Maybe we can see him from the upper bridge.”

Ilya followed him out. “This might be a good time to cut your losses and leave. I have friends who can get you out of the country.”

“I have no intention of living my life a poor man on the run.” He crossed to the starboard side, taking the stairs up. At the top, there was a short open deck leading to the open second bridge, where Gianni was sitting in the captain’s chair, facing forward.

He spun around as they walked in. “Something wrong?”

“Fargo’s out there somewhere.”