Carolyn Keene - Greek Odyssey

Picking up on Nancy’s thoughts, Mick said, “And since your father is so close to Spiros, he never suspected him, either.”

Now that she had a target, Nancy felt a new sense of urgency. “I’ve got to find a way to catch Spiros red-handed—before he gives those passports to the terrorists. We need to watch him closely.”

“I have a girlfriend who lives across the lane from Spiros’s shop,” Zoe explained. “She is away in Athens this week, but her balcony has an outside entrance, and we can use it to watch Spiros without being seen.”

“Sounds perfect,” Nancy said, picking up a piece of tost , a roll stuffed with spiced pork and pressed into a crispy toasted square.

Kevin passed the sandwich platter to George and asked, “Does this mean we’re staging a stakeout?”

“I guess you could say that,” Mick replied.

“But stakeouts can be boring,” Nancy warned everyone, “especially when they drag on for hours. Maybe we should work in shifts to make it easier on everyone.”

The others agreed that Nancy’s idea was a good one. It was decided that Nancy and Mick would take the first watch after lunch. George and Kevin would relieve them an hour later, and Zoe and Bess would take the third shift.

“This balcony gives us a perfect view,” Mick said. He was kneeling and peering over the waist-high ledge of the stucco balcony. The house that Zoe had brought him and Nancy to was just across the narrow lane from Spiros’s shop. From the balcony they could look right into the windows of the studio and of the shop below it. All they had seen of Spiros so far was the top of his head in the store as he sat behind the counter, reading a magazine.

“I just hope we’re not too late,” Nancy said. She was kneeling, too. She also hoped that George and Kevin would show up soon; her knees were getting sore.

“I don’t think anything’s happened yet,” Mick said, giving Nancy’s ankle a squeeze. “It’s just a matter of time before this whole case is wrapped up. And then what? What’s in store for us?”

Nancy glanced at his angular, rugged face. She leaned back, into a semisitting position. “I’ve been thinking about your proposal,” she said slowly. “And I’d really love for you to show me Australia.”

“Great!”

Before Mick could get carried away, she added, “But Australia is really faraway. I’m just not sure about—”

“We can visit River Heights,” Mick interrupted. “ After you meet my parents. It’ll be terrific, Nancy. You’ll see.”

“I haven’t made a decision yet,” Nancy said, holding up her hands.

“And I’m not rushing you,” Mick told her. He dropped a kiss on her cheek.

“Are we interrupting something?” Bess asked from behind them. Turning, Nancy saw Bess and Zoe climbing the closed stairway to the balcony.

“We brought these binoculars from the inn,” Zoe said, handing Nancy the glasses.

“We’re going to get ice cream,” Bess added. “Want us to bring you some?”

Nancy checked her watch. “George and Kevin will take over in ten minutes or so,” she said. “I think we can hold out till then.”

“Hey, look—he’s leaving the shop,” Mick whispered, nudging Nancy.

While Bess and Zoe ducked behind the balcony wall, Nancy peered over the top. Spiros was just locking up the shop. Then he climbed the stairs and entered the second-floor studio.

“I should have guessed,” Nancy whispered excitedly. “He has time to work on the passports when the shop is closed for siesta.” She and Mick watched as the old man moved about the room for a few minutes, then sat down at a worktable bathed in sunlight.

“What’s he doing?” Mick asked after a few more minutes. “It looks as if he’s sewing.”

Looking through the binoculars, Nancy was able to make out the item on the table. “He is sewing. He’s doing the seam of a passport!” The sight of the large darning needle sent her mind reeling back. “Remember the sewing basket I found in his file cabinet? That’s what it’s for!”

She handed the binoculars to Mick, who held them up, then whistled. “Pretty crafty.”

“So it looks as if he’s almost finished?” Bess asked.

Nancy nodded. “He must have taken the passport apart to remove the identification page—the one with the photo. Then all he has to do is duplicate a single page with a new photo and new information and sew it all back together.”

They watched as Spiros finished his task and then tucked the passports into the sewing basket. Still holding the basket, he headed for the door.

“What do you think?” Mick asked Nancy.

“We know he’s got the passports,” she whispered. “Let’s split up. We need to contact the police—and keep an eye on Spiros.”

“I’ll go for the police,” Zoe volunteered.

Peering over the ledge, they watched Spiros tuck the basket in the crook of his arm. He went down the stairs and headed down the street. “Let’s go,” Nancy said.

The cobblestone lane was fairly deserted, so the teens followed Spiros at a distance. Most locals and tourists had retired indoors for a siesta. A few blocks down, Zoe turned off down a side street, which led to the police station.

As Nancy, Mick, and Bess followed Spiros through the twisting maze of streets, they passed a handful of Japanese tourists and a young boy with a goat. After a few minutes they found themselves at the foot of the staircase leading up to the windmills.

“This is it,” Nancy said as she started up the stairs. “If he’s got those passports, we have to get them now—before he sells them.” She knew Spiros would never hand over the forged passports. She would have to catch him off guard.

Thinking of a plan, she reached into the back pocket of her denim skirt and pulled out her own passport, which she had carried with her ever since the day the safe was broken into. She had had no idea, then, just how handy her own passport would be!

At the top of the stairs, Nancy saw that Spiros was the only person on the hot, dry summit of the hill. His eyes narrowed suspiciously as he spotted them.

Forcing a smile, Nancy held out her passport as she approached him. “We found this on the steps. I think it fell out of your basket.”

Spiros’s gaze fell on the passport in her hand. With its blue cover and gold seal, it could have been one of the forged passports. Spiros pulled his pipe out of his mouth, then slowly reached forward until his hand closed around Nancy’s passport.

Before Spiros knew what had hit him, Nancy tugged the basket out of his grasp, and Mick grabbed his arms, to restrain him.

“We’ll be needing this, too,” Bess said, snatching Nancy’s passport from Spiros’s hand.

Nancy rummaged through the basket and pulled out the three passports, their covers bearing the U.S. seal. Nancy opened the first one and saw the face of the bearded terrorist staring at her. Inside the second one she saw the photo of the woman, Shara. “This must be Bess’s passport,” she said. Flipping through the pages, she saw the stamps they had gotten earlier that summer in Switzerland and Italy.

“Leave me alone!” Spiros shouted, struggling to get away from Mick. “You are crazy to be involved in this!”

“This is all the evidence we need!” Nancy announced, waving the passports as Mick wrestled Spiros down and pinned him to the ground.

“Do you want me to run down to the police station?” Bess offered. “Zoe has no way of knowing that we wound up here.”

“Good idea. And take these.” Nancy handed Bess the three forged passports.

“I’ll be back in a flash—with the police,” Bess promised. Then she ran down the steps of Kato Myli Hill.

Spiros had given up struggling with Mick, but he let forth with a flood of angry Greek phrases.