Andy McDermott - The Midas Legacy

Beneath the choppy surface, several scuba divers approached the sailing vessel. Each was being pulled along by a diver propulsion vehicle, essentially a powerful electric motor with a propeller. Even the fastest DPV couldn’t keep up with a ship moving at almost ten knots, though, which was why the group had entered the water ahead of the yacht. Now, they had only one chance to intercept it.

The sailing ship closed on them in eerie silence, the only sound reaching the divers over the hissing whine of their own DPVs was the slap of the waves above. The leader and two of his companions curved across its course to run parallel to its starboard side, the others staying on its port. The keel sliced through the water between the two teams of divers, rapidly overtaking them even with the DPVs at full power—

The leader clamped a disc-shaped object hard against the yacht’s hull as it swept past. The others did the same, their limpet-like suction devices all sticking firmly in place. One by one they let their DPVs fall away, then used second limpets to climb upwards.

The yacht continued onwards, its occupants unaware of the new stowaways beneath the waterline.

‘So, we going to get any introductions?’ said Eddie loudly over the angry babble that had erupted in the lounge. ‘I’m assuming from the whole “Dad” thing that this is Junior Lonmore.’

‘Don’t call me that!’ snapped Spencer Lonmore Jr. ‘I’m not some adjunct of my father. I’m my own man, and I live my own life. At least,’ a poisonous glance towards the elder Lonmore, ‘until he cut me off!’

‘I did everything I could to support you!’ Lonmore protested. ‘And I still am — I’m paying your allowance!’

‘My allowance ? You say it like I’m ten years old and I’m using it for candy and Pokémon cards!’

‘You’re still paying for everything he wants?’ Petra said to Lonmore, surprised and also annoyed.

‘He’s my son, what else am I going to do?’

‘You could maybe tell him to grow up and earn his own money instead of mooching off of you!’

‘Mooching?’ cried Spencer, with a bitter laugh. ‘That’s rich, coming from the gold-digger!’ Petra drew in an affronted breath.

‘Hey, hey !’ said Nina, blowing a shrill whistle. ‘Time out, okay? Everyone shut up and calm down.’

‘You can tell she’s got a three-year-old, can’t you?’ Eddie said, amused.

‘If people act like three-year-olds, what do they expect? All right, what’s going on?’ She looked to Trakas for an explanation.

The Greek nodded towards the new arrival. ‘I have known Spencer ever since he was a boy. When he found himself in, ah, financial difficulties,’ a faint smile, ‘he came to his godfather for help.’

‘He wasn’t in financial difficulties,’ Petra responded sarcastically. ‘He was kicked out of the Legacy for going on a spending spree with everyone else’s money!’

‘And you were all set to replace me, weren’t you?’ snarled Spencer. ‘Poisoning the others against me so you could have my seat!’

‘It wasn’t like that,’ said Lonmore. ‘I gave you every chance I could to turn things around.’

Petra sneered at the young man. ‘But you liked being a playboy too much, didn’t you? You just couldn’t give up the cars and the casinos and the hookers.’

‘At least hookers are honest about what they do,’ he fired back.

‘Do not make me whistle again!’ Nina cut in before the furious Petra could reply. She turned back to Trakas. ‘You were saying?’

‘I wanted to help Spencer, of course,’ Trakas continued. ‘And I knew from my investigators that he had been a member of the Legacy: the same people, meeting in the same place at the same time so often? So I offered him a deal that would help us both. He accepted.’

Lonmore stared at his son, shocked. ‘You told him about the Midas Cave? You told him everything ?’

‘No more than you did when you were drunk off your ass,’ Spencer replied. ‘And you had the nerve to criticise me for having a good time?’

‘I used my own resources to try to find the cave,’ said Trakas. ‘With no success. But then I learned that Olivia had contacted you, Dr Wilde.’

Spencer’s expression slid into smugness as he swaggered to the last place at the table and sat facing his father. ‘You and the others met Olivia in New York right afterwards. That must have pissed you all off, that she went ahead and did it without discussing it first. Not that I’d expect her to change after all this time.’

‘And then,’ Trakas went on, ‘my sources learned that you were going to Nepal, Dr Wilde. To find the Midas Cave.’

‘Which brings us back to why we came here,’ said Nina, anger simmering. ‘Are you going to turn over the Crucibles, or do I have to get international law enforcement involved?’

‘International law!’ barked Trakas, almost spitting out the words, as if they tasted foul. ‘International law is a sick joke, Dr Wilde. Do you have any idea why I want the Crucible?’

‘To make enough gold to turn leprechauns even greener, I’m guessing,’ Eddie offered.

Nina nodded. ‘I’ve met a lot of very rich people over the years. The one thing they had in common is that they all wanted to be even richer.’

Trakas drew back in his chair, almost offended. ‘You think the gold is for me ?’

‘It isn’t?’ asked Lonmore, confused.

The tycoon banged a fist on the table. ‘I am a patriot! Greece is my motherland, and I will fight for the honour of my country, whatever it takes. We have been betrayed and humiliated by the banks, by politicians, by our so-called friends and allies.’ He rose to his feet, glaring down at his visitors as if they were personally responsible for his nation’s grievances. ‘I will avenge that humiliation! And I will use the Crucible to make our betrayers beg our forgiveness!’

The remaining crewman near the bow, a man called Galatas, watched the cruiser as it headed away from the Pactolus . It hadn’t been a threat, then, just bad seamanship. Nothing to worry about…

An odd noise, somewhere behind him. He looked around. There was nothing loose on the foredeck, and it hadn’t come from the headsail or its mast; he was experienced enough to know the sounds made by a ship at sail.

It came again, a dull thud. He crossed the foredeck to investigate. Nobody on the starboard walkway. Another muffled bump. He headed past the lounge and down the side deck to a hatch. It was open, but there was nobody inside. So what had made the—

Something stabbed into his calf from behind — and every muscle in his body locked solid in paralysed agony as fifty thousand volts coursed through him.

Galatas fell to the deck. Unable even to scream, he could only watch helplessly through pain-clenched eyes as two wetsuited figures clambered over the railing. One drew a silenced handgun from a large waterproof pouch and aimed it at the crewman’s face. He didn’t need to speak to communicate his intent: make a sound and you die .

The current cut out, Galatas slumping. ‘How many crew?’ demanded the gunman, in English.

Even in his dizzied, nauseous state Galatas still thought to feign ignorance of the language, but the man’s cold expression warned that he would be considered either cooperative or useless — and the latter would not be good for his chances of survival. ‘Eight,’ he gasped.

The second intruder — a woman — produced a gun of her own. ‘If you’re lying, you’ll be the first to die.’

‘We have eight regular crew, and the captain,’ Galatas insisted. That seemed to satisfy the gunman, though the woman was reserving judgement.