“I haven’t even answered.”
“Which makes it even easier.”
“And what if it’s something important?”
“She’ll call back.”
“And then we’re exactly where we started.”
Sam took the phone from Remi and moved farther from the trail, behind a boulder and some thick brush.
“Mr. Fargo,” Selma said when he answered. “Thank goodness I caught you. Special Agent Haywood has been trying to reach you. There’s a bit of an issue with the Kyrils.”
“What sort of issue?”
The sat phone went flying as Remi crawled her way into the scrub after Sam, trying to wedge in next to him. Sam caught the phone before it hit the ground, then put it back to his ear, while Remi leaned in close so that she could hear, as well.
“We’re back,” Sam said.
“I didn’t know you were gone. Hold on.” They heard a click.
“Fargo,” Rube said. “Why aren’t you answering your phone?”
“There’s no service on this island.”
“For good reason. You need to get out of there. Now.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Are you somewhere you can talk?” Rube asked.
Sam glanced down the side of the cliff, then at Remi, who was sitting next to him as he held the phone between them. “Good enough place as any. But we’ll need to cut to the core. We’re sort of out in the open, where I’d rather not be.”
“I guess I don’t want to ask. Okay, I’ll start at the beginning. We’re talking several decades ago. In the early seventies, a Nazi war criminal, Admiral Erich Heibert, assumed the identity of one Bruno von Till, turning Minerva Lines into one of the largest heroin smuggling operations in the Mediterranean.”
“Heibert. Minerva Lines,” Sam said, not sure where Rube was going with this. “I’m assuming this has something to do with the Kyrils?”
“It does. Admiral Heibert, aka von Till, died without issue. His brother, Kurt, who died in World War I, had a son who was very close to his uncle, and was believed to have actually interned at Minerva Lines, presumably years before the drug smuggling started. He eventually left to start his own shipping company, Heibert Lines. Long story short, he had a son, who then had a daughter, Minerva Heibert.”
“Coincidentally named after this defunct shipping line? Or a nod to it?”
“So it seems. In fact, you’ve met Minerva’s son. Adrian Kyril.”
“Any chance there’s a condensed version of this family saga?”
“I wish there was,” Rube said. “I’ve been in touch with Interpol. The past connection to von Till wasn’t lost on them. They’ve been looking at Heibert Lines for a while. Apparently, they received intel that Heibert Lines has been picking up the slack in the heroin market. Thing is, they don’t know how it’s being smuggled in or out. Way back when, Minerva Lines used drone subs. That’s not the case here. Whatever the Kyrils are doing to get drugs out, they’re making it look like a legit operation.”
Sam looked out to the valley, seeing the processing facility. “I’ll lay odds on it has something to do with olive oil.”
“That’s their thinking, too. The ships registered to Heibert Lines have been inspected on numerous occasions. The one time that Interpol actually managed to inspect the cargo after it was delivered to suspected dealers, someone set off a charge. It exploded, killing two of their officers.”
“We’re not anywhere near their ships.”
“No. And my goal is to keep you away from them. Last thing you want to involve yourself in is an international drug smuggling ring. Whatever you’re doing, turn around, get to the airport, and go home.”
“About that. I might need to make a slight detour on my way out.”
“I’m serious, Sam. This group is not one you want to mess with. Get off that island.”