Clive Cussler - Wrath of Poseidon

“Have you been to Fourni before?”

“My first time.”

“Oh. Well, I guess that means you don’t know the best place to eat lunch once we arrive.”

“Sadly, no.”

She held out her hand. “Emma,” she said, then cocked her head at the man on her right. “My husband, Geoff. With a G .”

“Nice to meet you,” he said, shaking her hand. “Sam. With an S .”

She smiled, then moved to the railing, next to him, taking in the view. A few minutes later, her husband joined them, pointing to a large yacht floating in open water between the islands. “Someone important,” he said, lowering his sunglasses and looking out over the rims.

“And rich,” Emma replied. She pointed to a smaller yacht in the distance. “If we win the lotto, that’s the type of boat I want. Much more manageable.”

“That little thing? No. Definitely the big one,” Geoff said. He nodded to a long, black speedboat. “What do you suppose that costs?”

Sam glanced up as the sleek Omega 41 zipped past, then pulled up to the superyacht. “About four, five hundred thousand dollars.”

Emma laughed. “Sorry, Geoff. You’ll have to win the lotto twice at that price. Guess it comes as a set.”

Sam listened with half an ear as the couple discussed other vessels they’d buy with their imagined lotto winnings. His mind, however, was solely on Remi Longstreet and the odd call from her phone, hoping it was all one big misunderstanding. Surely they’d joke about it when he got there, she pointing out the fact he didn’t speak Greek, and how could he ever have imagined anything was wrong?

His hopes for an alternate reality were dashed when the ferry docked an hour later. Emma and Geoff waved goodbye as they followed their group down the ramp. As the crowd thinned, Sam noticed a man wearing a blue ball cap, standing off to one side on the dock. Recognizing the logo on his hat as being from the Fourni Underwater Archeological Preservation Society, Sam approached. “Nikos?”

The gray-haired man gave a grim smile. “Sam Fargo?” They shook hands. “Do you have luggage?”

He held up his backpack. “Just the carry-on. I travel light.”

“Thank you so much for coming out. Still, I don’t know what good it’ll do,” he said, his thick accent much easier to understand in person. “The port police assure me they’re doing everything they can. Remi’s parents have been in touch with the FBI. Beyond that . . .”

“Have the police told you anything more?”

“No, nothing. That’s why I worry. Their belief is that my son and Remi may have fallen off the boat, or perhaps went diving. But their dive gear is back at the office. And Dimitris would never dive without someone on the boat. He is very experienced.”

Sam, hoping for a miracle, asked, “What do you think happened?”

“I don’t know.” He drew his gaze from the water, his dark eyes troubled. “If they were kidnapped for ransom, surely they would’ve made a demand by now?”

“Possibly,” Sam said. “In the meantime, maybe we’ll see something that stands out to help the police with their investigation.”

Nikos gave a doubtful nod as they walked from the port, past the group of people lined up waiting to board the ferry. He led Sam up a narrow street paved with gray flagstones. It was lined on either side with mulberry trees, their trunks painted white to guard against the harsh summer sun. The Fourni Underwater Archeological Preservation Society was located about halfway up the street on the right. At the office, Nikos led Sam into a room with a table and several chairs set around it. A large map of Fourni was tacked on the wall. “Can I get you anything to eat or drink? We have nothing here, but we can go to one of the cafés.”

“I’m fine. Thank you.” Sam studied the map, noting grid marks drawn in various places in the water around the island, some in black, some in red. “What are these?”

“Shipwrecks,” Nikos said, joining him. “The red areas are where we’re currently mapping. The black are documented wrecks that we’ll get to in the future.”

“Where were Remi and Dimitris when you last saw them?”

He tapped an area in the lower left quadrant of the map. “Here. You actually passed by it on the ferry. It’s where we found the Asteri ,” he replied. “Another reason I know they weren’t diving. The sonar wasn’t reeled in. My son knows how important this site and the equipment is to our group. He would never treat it so carelessly.”

The office door opened. Both turned to see a petite woman in her early thirties walk in. Her shoulder-length wavy brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail, her cheeks pink from the wind. She paused just inside the doorway, regarding them with her bright blue eyes. “Sorry we’re late,” she said.

“We only just arrived,” Nikos replied. “Where’s Manos?”

She glanced behind her as a bearded man walked through the door a moment later.

“Good, good,” Nikos said, waving them in. “Manos Mitikas is responsible for helping start the documentation and preservation of all the Fourni shipwrecks. His girlfriend, Denéa Buckingham, is from Australia. They’re helping with the search.” After Sam shook hands with both, Nikos looked at the young couple expectantly. “Any news?”

“Not yet,” Manos said. “We’re heading back out after lunch.”

Nikos gave a brief nod, then turned to Sam, his face looking haggard and drawn. “Where were we? Ah, yes. The boat . . .”

“Where is it now?”

“Docked. We passed it on our way in. The port police examined it, but maybe you’ll see something?”

“Can’t hurt.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

Sam and Nikos boarded the Asteri , which was, as Nikos said, empty. No blood, nothing to indicate anything violent had happened. “Who discovered the boat?” Sam asked.

“One of the local fishermen found it not too far from where they were working. The only thing left on the boat was an empty camera bag, and Remi’s backpack. That’s where we found her sat phone.”

“What about where Remi was staying? Has anyone taken a look there?”

“Not that I know of. She was staying in one of the cottages down in Kampi.”

They took Nikos’s car, a small white Suzuki sedan, which was parked at the port. The village of Kampi was to the south of Fourni, less than five minutes away. The main road turned off to the right, then veered sharply on the steep road, ending in a cul-de-sac about halfway down the hill. Nikos parked, then led Sam down a long, narrow staircase into the small beach community.

Remi’s cottage was located at the far end of the beach. A jingle of bells caught Sam’s attention and he looked up to see several goats grazing on the low shrubs sprouting from the otherwise barren rocks that jutted out next to the cottage.

Nikos, seeing the direction of his gaze, smiled. “Goats. You’ll see them everywhere on the island.” He opened a low gate into the courtyard of a small white house with dark turquoise trim around the windows and door. “This was Remi’s.”

Sam checked the door. Locked. “Do you have the key?”

He dug a ring from his pocket and opened the door.

Everything seemed in order. Assuming Remi had been the last person in there, the bed appeared slept in, but neatly made. A carry-on and two larger suitcases were stacked in a corner by the bed. Yup, that’s Remi, prepared for any occasion. In the closet, he saw a neat row of sandals, boat shoes, and barely-worn hiking boots. There was even an evening dress and fancy strappy red shoes with high heels that women love to wear. They walked out to the kitchen. A table and two chairs were set up before a window that looked out over the quiet bay. An empty coffee cup sat in the sink. Other than that, everything seemed to be in its place.