Clive Cussler: The Eye of Heaven

Sam got a better look at his battered fin, sliced laterally. The prop blade had missed his foot by inches — an unnecessary reminder of how close he’d come. Thankfully, Remi didn’t register it in the dark, and he decided not to share his brush with disaster.

“The statue he got away with looked like the full-height one of Athena,” Remi whispered.

“We’ll notify the authorities, if and when they arrive. I don’t trust anyone on this boat.”

Remi’s eyes widened. “You don’t think one of the team …?”

“I don’t know what to think. I just know that Benedict’s dirty money seems to have bought a lot of indifference to obvious robbery, and I don’t want to take any chances.”

She nodded. “Think we could get another few hours of shut-eye?”

“That’s my hope. We’ll heat up the phones and the radio tomorrow. For now, I’d say mission accomplished, even if he did get away with one relic.”

“Once it’s reported, he’ll be hard-pressed to smuggle it anywhere or sell it.”

“Hopefully, that’s true, but, as you know, some collectors are pretty unscrupulous.”

“But by the time anyone responds to us, he’ll be in international waters. I’d be steaming for the sanctuary of either Morocco or Algeria. It’s only a hundred and something miles. Piece of cake for that vessel.”

“It doesn’t sound like today’s the day he gets his, does it?”

“I wouldn’t bank on it. Now, can I talk you into some serious pillow time?”

Janus Benedict stood on the transom deck, his color high, obviously angry, as the head of the dive team reported that the only thing they had to show for their trouble was one statue. Reginald looked ready to strike the unfortunate man, who was nothing more than the bearer of bad news.

“You idiot. How could you let this happen?” Reginald shouted, his silk Versace shirt shimmering in the sunlight.

Janus held up his hand to silence his brother and spoke in a calm, evenly modulated voice. “Hector isn’t to blame, Reginald. This does no good.”

“What do you mean, he’s not to blame? We just lost millions because he failed to secure the cargo properly!”

Hector shook his head. He held up a piece of thick yellow nylon rope and pointed to diving gear he’d placed at the deck edge. “No, sir. All the lines were still attached to the ties. These ropes were cut. Look at the ends. And that dive rig was caught in the netting. This was no accident.”

Janus nodded as he stared at the nearby coast, glimmering like a mirage on the horizon.

“It was the Fargos. Had to be.”

“I knew I should have shot them when I had the chance.”

Janus spun to face his brother. “Really? That’s your solution? Commit cold-blooded murder in front of a host of witnesses? Have you taken leave of your senses?” he asked through clenched teeth, then shook his head and addressed Hector. “Very well, Hector. Bring the statue up onto the deck and pack it as agreed, and we’ll hand it off at the rendezvous.”

An Algerian commercial fishing boat would be coming alongside within the hour to ferry the statue to safety, leaving the yacht to continue on its way to Majorca. In the highly unlikely event it was stopped and searched, there would be nothing to find. It would be the word of the Fargos against his, and with what he’d paid in bribes to lubricate the Spanish system, he was confident there would be no lasting trouble.

“I still say a bullet between the eyes would have solved a lot of problems,” Reginald muttered as Hector left, relieved to be off the hook for the failed expedition.

“How many times do I have to tell you that taking rash action is a fool’s game? These are high stakes, and you don’t have the luxury of behaving impulsively. We’re playing chess, not rugby. It’s all strategy, not brute force and silly risks.”

“Says the man who just lost millions by being restrained,” Reginald said, and then immediately regretted it when he saw the cold in his elder sibling’s eyes.

“Well, old boy, I make the millions, so they’re mine to lose, aren’t they? I think you might want to reconsider any further insolence. You’re the one who begged to participate in my operations — as I recall, it was you who decided that the life of a playboy had grown tiresome, not I. And you didn’t complain about my approach when that young woman filed the police report in Cannes. You were more than grateful that I’m respected enough to arrange for that sort of unpleasantness to disappear.” Janus paused for a moment and sighed. “Don’t push the limits of my patience, Reginald. If you want to be a part of my business, you’ll do things my way. Impetuous mistakes only bring grief, whether you believe me or not. This was nothing more than one round in a longer fight. I’m confident we’ll see the Fargos again, and, when we do, things will go very differently.”

Reginald gave him a curious look, chastised but unrepentant. “You say that as though it’s fact.”

Janus put a fatherly hand on Reginald’s shoulder and gestured to the breakfast bounty laid out on the circular table near the main salon.

“Patience has its own reward. This isn’t over. You’ll have to trust me on that.” Janus cleared his throat, the subject closed. “The statue of Athena will bring several million from a buyer in Moscow, so at least we’ll cover the fuel and sundries for our little outing, if not much more. So it wasn’t a total loss. And remember this: good things come to those who wait.”

They walked to the table and took seats opposite each other, and a steward practically ran to pour them piping-hot dark roast coffee. Another arrived with glasses of fresh-squeezed orange juice, and a third stood discreetly in the background until both had been attended to before inquiring how they preferred their eggs prepared.

Reginald ordered an omelet and Janus an egg-white scramble, and when his younger brother returned his gaze to him, Janus was staring off into the distance, an expression of tranquillity on his refined features, as though the plan had gone perfectly and he had not a worry in the world. Reginald knew Janus and he knew that look. If he said it wasn’t over, it wasn’t, and Reginald was confident that the meddling Americans would get their just deserts at his brother’s hands — for all his civilized veneer, Janus was as deadly as a cobra, and equally silent.

There would be a tally of all debts, and when that time arrived, the Fargos would pay.

Of that he was certain.

As morning drifted lazily by, Dominic failed to get any response from his contacts, and Remi decided to take matters into her own hands. She activated one of the satellite phones and called a familiar number. Selma Wondrash answered on the fourth ring.

“Selma? It’s Remi. Sorry to call so late.”

“There you are! I haven’t heard from you for almost a week. I get worried when you two go dark on me.”

“We were busy with the dive.”

“How did it go?”

“We’re finished, but there’s a wrinkle.”

“Isn’t there always? What can I do to help?”

“What kind of contacts do you have with the Spanish Navy?”

Selma thought about it, processing furiously. “Spanish Navy … let me dig around some. If I don’t have an in, I can probably find someone who knows the right people. What did you have in mind?”

Remi explained her thinking and Selma grunted assent. “I understand. Let me get on this. It’s one in the morning here, but I’m still up, so might as well make use of myself.”

“I was afraid I’d woken you.”

Selma hesitated. “No, I’ve been somewhat of a night owl lately. Insomnia. Comes and goes.”