When Andrea saw him coming, she relieved him of the coats and sweaters so he could carry everything else. They left the house and hurried out to the Jeep. By the time they were packed up and ready to go, twilight had fallen over the lush landscape.
He started down the road toward another one that would lead to the Dragon Cave. “Did you talk to your boss?”
“Yes. He’s already informed Darren’s parents. They’ll be on the next plane to Thessaloniki.”
“Could they shed any light concerning their son?”
“No. He’s a scholar who’ll be attending Yale in the fall. They’re baffled and in agony.
“Sakis told me not to come back to work without the boy. That’s how anxious he is.”
“We’ll find him.”
“Since this is your backyard, I believe you.”
Her faith in him was humbling. “How about digging in that hamper for a couple of sandwiches. My housekeeper makes them up for me.”
“Sure.”
She turned around on her knees and reached in the hamper behind his seat. Her movement sent a faint flowery scent wafting past his nostrils, igniting his senses, which had been in a deep sleep for longer than he cared to remember. After handing him one and taking one for herself, she pulled out two ice-cold bottles of water.
They rode for a few more minutes before she asked, “How high up are we?”
“About four thousand feet.”
“That’s high for an island. Have you climbed to the top of Mount Ypsarion?”
“Many times.” He darted her a glance. “Have you ever climbed a mountain?”
“Yes. Mount Kilimanjaro.”
At her unexpected answer, Stavros let out a whistle. “That’s over nineteen thousand feet high.”
“I found that out when I needed to stay on the oxygen above fourteen thousand feet. My dad took me up while he was working in Tanzania.”
Fascinated, he said, “Does he still work there?”
“No. From there he was sent to French Guiana for two years, then India for three. Later he spent two years in Paraguay and another two in Venezuela. From there he was sent to the Brusson area of northwestern Italy for three years. Then he came to northern Greece. We live in Thessaloniki, where I got my degree in history and archaeology from Aristotle University.”
Stavros marveled. “What does your father do?”
“He works for W.B. Smythe, an American engineering company in Denver, Colorado, where I was born. Gold practically built the state. His company designs and fabricates modular plants and equipment for the extraction of gold and silver. As of this year, they’ve established a global presence in twenty-four countries. From the time I was born, I’ve lived with my father wherever he was sent.” He’d be going to Indonesia next.
“How many languages do you speak?”
She let out a sigh. “Besides the obvious, I’m fluent in Italian and French, and speak some Hindi, Afrikaans, Swahili, Spanish and Guarani. It’s no great thing. You have to learn a country’s language while you’re there if you hope to survive. Lucky for Darren, a lot of your countrymen speak English.”
“Amen.” He cleared his throat. “What about your mother?”
“She died giving birth to me.”
He smothered a moan. No mother...
“Dad and I have been nomads, traveling the globe. He was the one who taught me about the white marble quarries here.”
The feminine fountain of knowledge sitting next to him was blowing him away. Everything about her had already gotten under his skin. “What exactly did he tell you?”
“Besides the fact that the quartz crystalline structure resembles freshly fallen snow and is only quarried on this island?”