Clive Cussler - Wrath of Poseidon

“If you were to ask Olivia, I’m an expert planner.”

“Ah. Polar opposites.”

“Guess you could say I’m a navigator, always laying out the plans.”

“That must make me the pilot.”

CHAPTER SIX

The day was beautiful, sunny and warm, and the two-hour drive along the coast to La Jolla passed too quickly. Saturday was gone and soon Sunday evening was all that was left. Sam suggested a walk on the beach before the drive home.

The shadows were growing long and Remi’s internal clock was telling her it was time for them to leave. But Sam seemed determined to reach a certain spot on the beach.

“Don’t you think it’s time to head back?”

“In a little bit. I’ve got something I want to show you.”

As they strolled hand in hand, the sunlight shimmered, its deep orange hues contrasting against the beauty of the blues and purples of the Pacific Ocean.

She sighed. “It really is beautiful.”

“I know,” he said.

But he wasn’t looking at the sunset. He was looking at her and the way the offshore breeze played at her hair. He’d pictured her like this, almost at this very spot.

Apparently, she noticed his attention. “We’re not looking at the sunset, are we?”

“Not the sunset. That.” He pointed to the bluffs, where the setting sun turned the folds of earth jutting from the ocean a warm gold. Seagulls flew overhead, then disappeared to the north. “That’s where we’re going to build our home.”

Remi stilled.

“You own that?”

“Yes. Even a pilot can have plans.”

For a few moments, she let herself imagine that life was that easy. Buy a piece of land, and everything would simply fall into place. But she knew it was not the way life worked. Now she understood. Buy a cliff top, eat peanut butter.

The walk back to the hotel was quiet. Remi could feel a sense of calm in Sam. She was certain he could feel a sense of disquiet in her. Perhaps he wanted to test the waters. Almost to the hotel he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and turned her toward him. The kiss was natural, warm and meaningful. And neither felt the need to let go. Then just as suddenly, reality returned and it was time to get into the Jeep and head back.

Sam cranked the engine over. Nothing happened. He tried several more times before opening the hood.

It was after dark when they’d managed to find a local mechanic, who confirmed the extent of the problem. “Sorry,” the man said, wiping his hands on a rag. “No one’s going anywhere until the alternator gets replaced. And that won’t happen until tomorrow afternoon.”

Remi watched them working, her unease growing as time ticked away. They were at least two hours from Long Beach, but it was getting later and later. “Maybe we can rent a car?” she asked.

“You could,” the mechanic said. “If you can find someplace that’s open this late on a Sunday.” He tossed the rag into his toolbox, then slammed the hood shut. Noticing the worry in Remi’s eyes, he said, “You don’t have somewhere you have to be, do you?”

“Just an early-morning flight.”

“Can’t help you there.” He looked at Sam. “Want me to order the part? Or do you want to wait for a tow truck?”

“Order the part.”

Before she had a chance to voice her concern, Sam was on the phone, explaining the situation to whoever was on the other end. “Nothing to worry about,” he told her.

“Easy for you to say.”

“Trust me?”

“When I’m on my way to the airport, then yes.”

He gave a nod, finished his call, then settled up with the mechanic.

Less than an hour later, the sound of rotor blades from an airborne helicopter grew louder. Sam looked up. “I think your ride’s here.”

“You hired a helicopter?” But it wasn’t just any helicopter, it was a big, no, a very big, double-rotor Marine helicopter.

“Not exactly. I called a buddy of mine. He owes me a favor.”

Twenty minutes later, they were in Long Beach. They caught a cab, and ten minutes later, they were at her apartment. Sam unloaded her suitcase, then walked her to her apartment.

Their goodbye kiss was cut short when Olivia opened the door. “About time,” she said. “You were supposed to be home hours ago.”

Sam smiled at Olivia as she stepped out and rolled Remi’s suitcase inside. Turning back to Remi, he kissed her once more. “Have a safe trip.”

“I will,” she said. “And good luck with your investor meeting.”

“Thanks,” he said, and headed down the stairs. When he got to the bottom, he looked up at her. “I’ll be pining away until you get back.”

She stopped to look back at him. “You don’t strike me as the pining type.”

“I’ve never had anything to pine over before now.”

Remi laughed. “See you in three weeks, Sam Fargo.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

Fourni Korseon, Greece

Three days later . . .

Adrian Kyril moved to the mouth of the near-vertical cavern, looking down as Fayez lowered himself into the dark depths, the glow of his headlamp disappearing from view. “You’re sure this is the right cave?” Adrian asked Tassos Gianakos, the resident expert on pirate lore.

The gray-haired man nodded. “I don’t know of any other cave on the island that fits the description you gave me. Votzos . Straight down. With bones.”

The cave wasn’t exactly what Adrian had read about, but it was the closest that he’d found. And he’d spent a veritable fortune searching for it in hopes that it contained the legendary Sardi treasure, stolen from Cyrus the Great.

After years of meticulous research, most of which turned out to be false leads, this possible location was discovered by accident. An overheard conversation between two archeologists about an inscription found in a cave attributed to a man who’d hidden there to escape hanging for piracy. That discovery had led to an obscure reference in another book about another cave that led them to Fourni and eventually to Tassos.

Unfortunately, Fourni was a very small island with a little over a thousand inhabitants. While Adrian had gone to great pains to make sure his name wasn’t associated with this search, he worried constantly about word getting out. “Who else knows about Poseidon’s Trident?”

Tassos drew his gaze from the cave and looked over at him. “On Fourni? Everyone. Some of the islanders claim to be related to the very pirates who hid the treasure.”

Eventually, Fayez emerged. As he pulled himself over the top, the loose limestone rock crumbled beneath his weight, showering down into the cavern below. “There are definitely bones in there. I took photos if you want to see them.”

The news of the bones was encouraging. That, at least, fit with the history. Adrian glanced at Tassos. “You’ve certainly earned your money.” Again, he asked, “You haven’t told anyone about my interest here, have you?”

He shook his head. “No. I made a promise.”

Adrian moved next to the old man, clasping his thin shoulder. “Good,” he said, then shoved.

Tassos tumbled into the opening. His scream echoed as he fell.

“Adrian . . .” Ilya, one of Adrian’s oldest and most trusted friends—and in charge of his security team—stood a few feet away, looking through a set of binoculars.

“What is it?”

“At the top of the hill, over there.” He pointed to the northwest, then handed Adrian his binoculars. “Two people just walked up. One is taking pictures with a telephoto lens.”

Adrian focused, seeing a red-haired woman with a camera talking to a man standing next to her. “What are the chances her lens could capture anything here?”

“Hard to say without actually seeing it. It looks big enough.”