Wrath of Poseidon (Fargo Adventures 12) - Page 75
“When the weather clears, I’ll assign a couple of my men to follow him.”
“For what?”
“Maybe we’ll learn something we can use. If opportunity arises, we need to be ready.”
“Weren’t you just asking me if I could afford my girlfriend? How can I possibly afford surveillance?”
“Do you want Fargo or not? A cat doesn’t catch the mouse if he doesn’t watch the mouse hole. If that’s not incentive enough, ask yourself how much you’re willing to pay to stay out of jail.”
Adrian thought about what little money he had left. Less than one hundred thousand euros. As much as Ilya was one of his oldest friends, he and his men did not come cheap. “We’ll fire the maid.”
“Not the cook?”
“Unless you know your way around a kitchen, the maid is a better choice. Now show me this video.”
Ilya took out his phone and opened the surveillance app.
Adrian watched the footage showing Fargo shooting out the lights before taking out one of his guards. “Does my mother know about this?”
“Not yet.”
“Do whatever you can to keep it from her.” If she found out, any hope he had of changing her mind about reinstating him into the family business—and access to the bank accounts—would be far more difficult. This wasn’t the firs
t time she’d locked him out. It was, however, the first time she’d so severely limited his income. That part was very problematic. His search for Poseidon’s Trident had cost a small fortune, and now that he knew this cave on Fourni did not contain the fabled treasure, he was beginning to regret the effort.
His gaze went back to the security video, the feed now showing how Fargo managed to take out two armed guards with a rope. “They know too much. Is there some reason you can’t just go to that island and kill them?”
“Besides the weather? No one in, no one out.”
That was, unfortunately, one of the hazards of living on the smaller islands. The weather dictated all movement. “I mean after it clears.”
“Fourni is far too small. If it’s not done carefully, you’ll be the first person they investigate for it.”
He was right, but that didn’t make the news any easier to bear. “There has to be some way we can get rid of these interfering—”
Once again, Phoebe appeared at the door. This time, though, her face was pale, her expression a mix of confusion and fear. “The police are here.”
It was only then that Adrian noticed that someone was actually holding her by her arm. Whoever it was pulled her aside. Four uniformed Hellenic officers stepped in, the two in front pointing guns at him and Ilya.
“Adrian Kyril?” one of them said, looking right at him. “You are under arrest for the murder of Tassos Gianakos.”
The armed officers stepped aside as the other two approached his desk, one to the left, the other to the right. They each took an arm, lifting him from his chair, one slapping handcuffs on him. He looked at Ilya as they dragged him to the door. “What should I do?”
“Say nothing. I’ll call your lawyer.”
* * *
—
Adrian refused to make a statement. A parade of investigators came in, each one trying to get him to talk. He wasn’t about to make a statement, demanding he would talk only to his attorney. They left him handcuffed to the table for a couple of hours—as if there was any way he could somehow get out with the door being closed and locked each time they left.
“Is anyone there?” he called out after a while. He yanked at the cuffs, rattling the chain that secured them to the bolt on the table, hoping to draw someone’s attention. “Hello?”
He wasn’t sure how much time had passed, an hour or more, when he heard someone turning a key in the lock, then the door opening. The last person he expected to see walked in.
His mother.
An officer stepped in after her, but only to close the door, leaving the two of them alone.
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