Clive Cussler - Wrath of Poseidon

“Me?” Remi said. “You won’t even know I’m there.”

Considering how very aware he was of her presence at all times, he doubted that very much.

“In that case,” Nikos said, “I have something for you.” He opened a cabinet, removing a small black pouch. Unzipping it, he pulled out a holstered .38 Smith & Wesson, which he held toward Sam. “I bought this on a trip to America several years ago. I want you to take it. Just in case.”

Sam unholstered the weapon, saw there were six rounds in the chamber, then held it by the grip, index finger along the trigger guard. He aimed it out at the water, testing the balance, the feel of it. Though more compact than what he was used to, the revolver had a nice weight. “This should do,” he said.

Remi looked at the gun, then at him. “I hope it doesn’t come to that.”

“I’m with you,” Sam said, returning the gun to its holster. “In this case, though, better safe than sorry.”

—

While Remi changed, Sam and Nikos decided on a suitable in-case-of-emergency plan. “If something comes up,” Nikos said, “I can use the ship’s radio. If I can’t reach Manos at the office, between his cousins and mine, there’s bound to be someone within ship-to-ship radio distance.”

Remi emerged a few minutes later, dressed in khaki slacks, a safari-style olive-green shirt, and her pristine hiking boots. She looked more like a model about to embark on a photo shoot than someone about to do search and rescue. “Almost ready,” she said, kneeling in front of her carry-on bag, searching through it. She pulled out two scarves, both beige, one with large red roses, the other with tiny blue flowers, holding them up side by side as though trying to decide which matched best with her outfit. When she looked at Sam her gaze narrowed slightly. “I sense you don’t approve.”

“I didn’t say a thing. But if you want my opinion—”

“I don’t,” she said, smirking.

“We’re trying not to be noticed.” He gave a pointed look at the red-flowered scarf.

She dropped it back in the bag, and tied the other around her ponytail. “Laugh all you want. A good scarf always comes in handy.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” He picked up his backpack, heavier now that it contained a coil of rope, in addition to his binoculars and two bottles of water. He slung it over his shoulder. “Ready?”

“Ready.” She smiled at Nikos, giving him a hug. “We’ll be back soon.”

He nodded, then turned and extended his hand to Sam. “Be careful, my friends.”

“We will.”

Nikos helped them lower the skiff into the water, then stood at the railing, watching as Sam and Remi rowed toward a small, pebbled beach.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Sam disembarked, helping Remi out, then looked at the narrow trail leading up between the cliffs. “At least we know he’s here,” he said.

“Do you think we’ll have any chance of finding him?”

“Let’s hope.” He examined the dry, rocky soil, surprised to see two sets of footprints, one much smaller than the other. “From the look of these tracks, I’d say Zoe’s with him.”

“What was he thinking, bringing her here?”

Looking over at her, he said, “Imagine a guy letting a girl talk him into doing something he shouldn’t.”

She crossed her arms. “I was being rhetorical.”

“The good news,” he said, standing, “is that it doesn’t look like either of them are too worried about being followed. If we’re lucky, we’ll catch up with them before they get into trouble.”

About twenty minutes later, the graveled path veered north and inland. It was, as Nikos described, very rugged, and all too soon, Sam lost their trail completely. When the route eventually branched off into more than one direction, Sam suggested they backtrack to make sure he hadn’t missed anything.

“Go on,” Remi said. “I’ll catch up.”

He looked back to find her in the shade of a rocky outcropping, kneeling to untie the laces on one of her boots. If he had to guess, her shoes were giving her blisters. She did not complain, he had to give her that. “I’ll wait. Just be careful where you choose to sit. An island this remote, there’s probably any number of things we wouldn’t want to run into.”

“Please don’t say snakes.”

“I wasn’t. But now that you mention it.”

She turned a dark glance at him.

“The least of your worries,” he said, crouching to examine the trail again. “Trust me.”

“What could be worse than snakes?”

“Scorpions. Extremely painful. And possibly deadly if you’re allergic.”

She eyed the ground, her gaze darting from rock to rock. “If this is your way of helping me relax, it’s not working.”

“Were you thinking about snakes?”

“No.”

“See? It worked.”

“Very amusing, Fargo.” She hurriedly finished tying her shoelaces, then suddenly looked up. “Do you hear that?”

In fact, he did. A sharp breeze rustled the leaves of the surrounding olive trees. As it died down, the scuffing of heavy feet on hard-packed earth grew louder.

“Maybe it’s them,” Remi whispered.

From the sound of it, far more than two people were coming their way. The olive trees on this side of the island definitely weren’t large enough to hide behind. He glanced up at the massive outcropping jutting up from the hillside next to Remi, motioning for her to follow him. They climbed to the top of the jagged rock, about ten feet above the path, then dropped to their bellies, hiding behind a few fragrant patches of sage that grew from the cracks.

Sam drew the little Smith & Wesson, holding it in front of him. A moment later, five men came down the trail below them, two leading pack mules loaded with full sacks of olives.

When they disappeared from view, Remi leaned in close to him, whispering, “What are we waiting for?”

“Making sure no one else is following.”

He set his gun on the dirt in front of him, then took out his binoculars, focusing on the beaten path. Their higher position made it easier to see exactly where Dimitris and Zoe had left the trail. Their tracks reemerged about thirty yards beyond that point—something they wouldn’t have seen from the ground. “Those men are going in the same direction we need to go.”

“We’re going to wait longer?”

“Just a bit.” A few minutes later, a steady stream of men leading pack mules followed the first group.

The sun beat down on their backs, and Remi shifted, wiping the dust and perspiration from her brow. “Not quite what I pictured when I booked this trip.”

“I could think of worse ways to spend the afternoon.”

“Really? Name one.”

“How about being cooped up in a cubicle?”

“At least the cubicle I work in has air-conditioning. I count that as a plus right now.”

“So, camping is out?”

“Unless you’re pitching a tent with hot and cold running water, carpeting, and electricity, I’m definitely out. Honestly, what’s the appeal of sleeping in a bag with zippers on the hard ground?”

“You realize all sleeping bags have zippers?”

“That’s not the point.”

“What is the point?”

“Trying to figure out why anyone finds camping appealing.”

“It’s the totality of the experience, and the company. Especially the company.” He glanced over at her. “Being in the outdoors, listening to the rustle of the breeze through the trees, the birds singing, the blue sky above. The beautiful girl beside me . . .” Unable to resist, he leaned forward and kissed her.

When she didn’t object, he moved in for a second kiss. She suddenly stiffened, pulling back. “Sam . . .”

“Not quite the reaction I expected.”