Clive Cussler - Wrath of Poseidon

“We’re short-staffed. It’s easier to watch them from here.”

Ilya’s gaze narrowed and he suddenly switched to Italian—rebuking the man for discussing staffing levels in front of the prisoners.

Remi, who only spoke what she considered passable Greek, happened to be fluent in Italian. She listened impassively, as though she understood none of it—not an easy task, considering that they suddenly switched subjects and were now discussing how best to kill the two of them.

“We could just throw them overboard,” the guard said.

“You’d have been better off killing them on their boat. Imagine the inquiries on why two divers were kidnapped, murdered, then dumped. The last thing he needs is to bring attention to the island.” Who “he” might be, Remi didn’t know. Ilya might be the one in charge here, but it seemed apparent that he answered to someone else, a fact confirmed when he took out his phone and looked at the screen, which lit up with an incoming call. He answered in Greek, saying, “It’s being take care of.” When he disconnected, he directed his attention to the guard, switching back to Italian. “We’ll put out a ransom demand to string them along.”

“For how much?”

“Does it matter? The American authorities are already speculating that they’ve been kidnapped by pirates. In a few days, you can dump their bodies in Turkish waters.”

In English, Remi asked, “What do you want from us?” When they ignored her, she added, “If you’re going to hold us down here, can you please remove the ties?”

Ilya started to turn away.

“Unless,” she added, “you think we can fit through that porthole?” She gave a pointed look to the tiny, round window.

He walked out, telling the guard, “If they make any attempt to escape, shoot them.”

The guard closed the door, locking it from the outside. Remi waited until she no longer heard their footsteps. “What’d you find?”

“Manicure kit. We can cut our ties.” He slid a small black case from beneath his shirt. Opening it, he showed her a set of plier-style toenail clippers, and a nail file. “I guess they didn’t do a thorough search.”

“I gathered from their conversation that this cabin isn’t normally used as a prisoner hold.” When he started to pull out the clippers to cut their zip ties, she stopped him. “Not yet. If they check on us before we’re ready, we’re not likely to get another chance.”

“I didn’t think of that.” He hid the case beneath his shirt once more. “What else were they saying?”

“Besides that they’re going to kill us? Ilya was angry that one of the guards slipped up and mentioned they were short-staffed. Too bad. We might have had a better chance of escaping through the tender garage.” She eyed the cardboard cases of cola stacked on the lowest berth. “The good news is that we won’t die of thirst.”

“Cola or lemon-lime?”

“Cola. I can use the caffeine.”

He tore open one of the cases, gave her a can, then took one for himself.

She sank to the floor, cracked open her soda, and took a long sip, the room-temperature carbonation bubbles burning her dry throat. “There’s got to be some way we can get out of here. I have someone waiting for me in the States.”

She stopped, surprised by what just came out of her mouth. I’m an independent woman with a career, a future for myself. And now I’m longing for someone who would find me because the North Star is always there.

“They’re going to murder us and that’s what you think of?”

“What about you and Zoe? Aren’t you thinking of her? I saw it in your eyes.”

“Well, I heard it in your voice.”

She stared down at the open can in her hands. As odd as it was for them to be discussing her future love life, it was exactly what she needed to stay calm, keep her head, and not let the stress overtake her. “I at least want a chance to find out if he’s the one.”

“What makes him so special?”

“Good question.” It wasn’t the way he’d raced into the water to rescue that surfer. If anything, his actions that afternoon seemed . . . daring, even reckless. Definitely not the sort of man she’d ever dated before. It was just two weeks that they had dated. But what a two weeks it turned out to be. Spur of the moment. To places she’d only dreamed of. And at a pace she could hardly keep up with. Helicopters appearing out of nowhere. Kelp diving off Catalina. Long walks on the beach. The cliff top. Where he’d said they would build their home.

“He’s sharp, witty, loves the ocean. And if you ignore the fact we come from two completely different worlds, almost a perfect match.”

“Almost?”

“I’m reserving judgment.” Her parents definitely wouldn’t approve. That brought a smile to her face. As much as she loved them, she’d felt stifled by their carefully orchestrated attempts to keep her firmly entrenched in Boston society. It was the main reason she’d taken the lower-paying translator job in California, when there was a higher-paying position with the same company in Boston. And now, faced with the threat of death, wondering if she’d ever see her parents again, she didn’t regret it at all. Well, maybe just a little bit.

“What about you?” she finally said, her voice cracking. “Tell me more about Zoe.”

He smiled. “We have always been together for as long as I can remember. But she is devoted to her grandfather and I’m afraid that as long as she is taking care of him she won’t marry me.”

“Have you asked her grandfather for permission to court her?”

“Not yet. I’m not sure I would like the answer. What about you? Do your parents know about . . . ?”

“Definitely not.” Considering her sheltered East Coast upbringing—her physician mother and architect father making sure she was exposed to only the finest members of Boston society—Sam was an anomaly. A dreamer who wasn’t caught up in the trappings of social standings or privilege. Someone who would take a chance. Even a risk. And if that didn’t work, he’d come up with Plan B.

That’s it. That’s what she needed. A Plan B. Wait a minute, first she needed a Plan A.

She took another sip, then looked over at Dimitris. “It’s settled then. As soon as it’s dark, we’re cutting these ties and getting out of here. And when we do, you’re going to find Zoe. And I’m going to find my North Star.”

“Remi?”

“What?”

“Exactly how are we getting out?”

She shifted around, eyeing the cases of soda behind them. Until this afternoon’s visit with Ilya, they’d seen only one guard at a time tasked with watching them. She hoped that arrangement wouldn’t change. “We could hit a guard over the head with one of those cases. Between the two of us, we can take him down.” She looked over at Dimitris and outlined her Plan A.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Sam was heartened when he learned that Nikos’s cousin Valerios actually owned a cigarette boat and was willing to let him borrow it for the night—as long as he promised to take good care of it. About twenty minutes later, plans made, they walked out to the dock to find Valerios disembarking from the oldest, most derelict-looking cigarette boat Sam had ever seen. Sam could only stare, wondering how it could still be seaworthy.

“She is a beauty, yes?” Valerios said, his accent even thicker than Nikos’s.

“She’s definitely . . . unexpected.”

“I take the engines out and put them together myself. Good as new. Better than new.”

Judging from the shape and condition of the hull, new had to have been a good thirty or more years ago, Sam thought.

Valerios, not noticing his reaction, grinned. “Wait until you see her fly across the water. You will never believe it, I promise.”