Clive Cussler - Wrath of Poseidon

“When was this meeting supposed to have taken place?” Sam asked.

“The same morning Remi and Dimitris saw them up there.”

Dimitris stopped his pacing. “That’s why we were kidnapped. Adrian thought we’d seen the murder.” He looked over at Remi, his dark eyes narrowed in anger. “They would’ve killed us if we hadn’t gotten away. And they’re blaming everything on pirates. We can’t let them get away with this.”

Remi reached over and grasped Sam’s hand, her expression urging him to say something to comfort the young man. “We have to trust the police,” Sam said. “They’re trained. They know what they’re doing.”

“Do they? There has to be something else we can do.”

“We’ve done about everything we can. There’s Tassos’s funeral in the morning. And we leave a couple of days later.”

His mouth dropped open as he looked from Sam to Remi, then back. “That’s it? You’re just giving up? Going home?”

“Please,” Nikos said, putting his hand on his son’s arm. “We should be grateful for everything Mr. Fargo has done for us. Now we let the police investigate.”

Dimitris pulled away. “It might be enough for you. But it’s not for me.” He stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

Remi started to follow, but Nikos stopped her. “Give him time. When he cools off, he’ll know we’re speaking the truth.”

If he cools off , Sam added silently.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

The following morning, Sam and Remi walked into town for the funeral, meeting Denéa on the way down the hill. When they arrived at the main street, they saw Nikos, deep in discussion with another man.

“I’ll catch up with you,” Sam said to Remi and Denéa. “I need to speak to Nikos.”

“The mayor,” Denéa whispered to Remi. She and Remi continued to the main square, crowded with those waiting to enter into the whitewashed walls of the church. Once there, Denéa excused herself to meet up with Manos, while Remi waited by the gate for Sam. A white-haired woman wandered up and smiled at Remi. “Did you know Tassos well?” the woman asked.

“Sadly, I never met him. But I know his granddaughter, Zoe.”

“You are American,” she said, switching to English. “Your Greek is very good.”

“And your English is excellent.”

“Thank you.” She smiled and extended her hand. “I’m Helena.”

“Remi.”

The older woman turned her attention to the people gathering at the opened arched doors of the church, then gave a long sigh. “Such a terrible accident. Poor Tassos. Always searching for treasure.”

“That’s what I heard,” Remi said, deciding it best not to mention her involvement, or the true circumstances. “Where do you know him from?”

“We grew up together on Samos. He and my brother were best friends until he fell in love with a girl here on Fourni.” Helena gave a sad smile. “Even so, we kept in touch. I was not surprised when I heard what happened. For as long as I remember, Tassos was searching for the lost gold.” She leaned in close, lowering her voice. “I suppose one could say he died doing what he loved.”

Judging from the conversations Remi had heard the last couple of days, that seemed to be the general consensus. If it gave everyone peace, then she was happy to contribute to the memories. “I’m assuming that’s why he was at the cave when he died, searching for Poseidon’s Trident.”

Helena’s gray brows furrowed. “Very odd that he’d be looking on Fourni.”

“Why?”

“According to my grandmother and the story she used to tell us at bedtime, Poseidon’s Trident is a place, not a treasure. Of course, it broke Tassos’s heart when he’d thought he’d found it, then didn’t. Still—”

Remi looked at her, surprised. “So, you have heard of the treasure?”

She laughed. “I doubt there’s anyone here who hasn’t. Do you see that Roman sarcophagus there?” She pointed across the square, where, behind the gathering mourners, a white marble sarcophagus was displayed beneath a tall plane tree. “A farmer discovered that thing buried on his land, filled with treasure. As you can imagine, the discovery added a renewed interest in the legend of Poseidon’s Trident, the treasure, and the pirates who were part of it.” Her dark eyes sparkled as she again leaned toward Remi, lowering her voice. “It’s a matter of pride for us Samians, many of whom lay claim to their pirate ancestors.”

She stopped when she noticed a middle-aged woman waving at her. “My daughter, informing me that I’m wanted elsewhere.” Helena turned back to Remi, clasping her hand. “A pleasure meeting you. I’m sure we’ll run into each other again. Fourni is not all that large.”

“Unfortunately, I’m flying out in a couple of days.”

“From Samos or Ikaria?”

“Samos.”

“Safe travels, then.” She smiled, and joined her daughter. The two walked through the gate into the churchyard.

A few minutes later, Sam joined Remi, taking her hand in his. While they waited, Remi pointed out the sarcophagus, sharing the story the old woman had told. As the service started, those waiting outside grew silent. There were far too many mourners to fit into the church and its courtyard, but someone had placed a portable speaker outside the wall for the overflow crowd to hear.

At the conclusion of the service, Remi and Sam could hear Zoe’s voice, painfully soft and strained as she invited everyone back to her grandfather’s home to share in food and friendship. Dimitris escorted Zoe through the wrought iron gates of the church, and they slowly made their way home.

By the time Sam and Remi reached Zoe’s house, it was already filled with well-wishers. Remi looked around the crowd, thinking that if not for the somber moments of remembrance, funerals were much like weddings, bringing family and friends from faraway places. Neighbors had outdone themselves with tables of food, fruit, and bread, both indoors and outside on the rooftop patio that overlooked the port of Fourni and the island of Thimena just beyond it. Greek wine was plentiful, and as the afternoon wore on, the remembered stories of Tassos in his youth and as a man were shared by all. Tales of his daring exploits, both as a fisherman and as he searched for Poseidon’s Trident and the lost treasure, filled the yard with laughter. Nikos, who was busy pouring wine, raised his glass in another toast. “To Tassos,” he called out, then related yet another story.

Skavos, sitting next to Sam and Remi, gave a tired smile as he watched over the festivities. “Tassos would have had a great time today. I know he is pleased.” Then he stood, lifted his glass, and in a loud voice said, “May his memory and laughter long be with us!”

A voice from the crowd shouted, “And may he find his treasure in heaven.”

“As ftiáxoume tost me ton Táso .” Let’s toast to Tassos. Skavos smiled. “ The Pirates of Poseidon. It was a favorite book of all of us, but none more so than Tassos.”

Remi was about to ask him what the book was about when Denéa came up the stairs, shading her eyes against the late-afternoon sun as she searched the patio. She spotted Sam and Remi, then weaved her way through the crowd toward them. “Is something wrong?” Remi asked, noticing her look of concern.

“Dimitris sent me to find you. The police chief just arrived and said one of the investigators from Athens wants him to talk to Zoe.”

“I thought they were done,” Remi said as she and Sam quickly rose and followed her across the rooftop to the stairs.

“So did we, which is why Manos is stalling them. We don’t think she should be dealing with the police today, of all days. Definitely not alone.”