Clive Cussler - Wrath of Poseidon

“We’re back,” Sam said.

“I didn’t know you were gone. Hold on.” They heard a click.

“Fargo,” Rube said. “Why aren’t you answering your phone?”

“There’s no service on this island.”

“For good reason. You need to get out of there. Now.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

Are you somewhere you can talk?” Rube asked.

Sam glanced down the side of the cliff, then at Remi, who was sitting next to him as he held the phone between them. “Good enough place as any. But we’ll need to cut to the core. We’re sort of out in the open, where I’d rather not be.”

“I guess I don’t want to ask. Okay, I’ll start at the beginning. We’re talking several decades ago. In the early seventies, a Nazi war criminal, Admiral Erich Heibert, assumed the identity of one Bruno von Till, turning Minerva Lines into one of the largest heroin smuggling operations in the Mediterranean.”

“Heibert. Minerva Lines,” Sam said, not sure where Rube was going with this. “I’m assuming this has something to do with the Kyrils?”

“It does. Admiral Heibert, aka von Till, died without issue. His brother, Kurt, who died in World War I, had a son who was very close to his uncle, and was believed to have actually interned at Minerva Lines, presumably years before the drug smuggling started. He eventually left to start his own shipping company, Heibert Lines. Long story short, he had a son, who then had a daughter, Minerva Heibert.”

“Coincidentally named after this defunct shipping line? Or a nod to it?”

“So it seems. In fact, you’ve met Minerva’s son. Adrian Kyril.”

“Any chance there’s a condensed version of this family saga?”

“I wish there was,” Rube said. “I’ve been in touch with Interpol. The past connection to von Till wasn’t lost on them. They’ve been looking at Heibert Lines for a while. Apparently, they received intel that Heibert Lines has been picking up the slack in the heroin market. Thing is, they don’t know how it’s being smuggled in or out. Way back when, Minerva Lines used drone subs. That’s not the case here. Whatever the Kyrils are doing to get drugs out, they’re making it look like a legit operation.”

Sam looked out to the valley, seeing the processing facility. “I’ll lay odds on it has something to do with olive oil.”

“That’s their thinking, too. The ships registered to Heibert Lines have been inspected on numerous occasions. The one time that Interpol actually managed to inspect the cargo after it was delivered to suspected dealers, someone set off a charge. It exploded, killing two of their officers.”

“We’re not anywhere near their ships.”

“No. And my goal is to keep you away from them. Last thing you want to involve yourself in is an international drug smuggling ring. Whatever you’re doing, turn around, get to the airport, and go home.”

“About that. I might need to make a slight detour on my way out.”

“I’m serious, Sam. This group is not one you want to mess with. Get off that island.”

“If it makes you feel any better, pretend I’m on my way back to the boat. I’ll call as soon as I get there.” He disconnected, then looked at Remi. “Change of plans. You go back to the boat. I’ll go after Dimitris and Zoe.”

“No. I’m going with you.”

“Remi, you heard what he said. They’ve already killed a couple of officers. I’m not going to let you be next.”

She tucked her phone into her pocket. “And what? You’re going to go in like a one-man wrecking crew?”

“I work better by myself.”

“That’s what you said at Kyril’s party. What if I’m the one factor that makes a difference?”

“I’ll admit your quick thinking was . . . appreciated, but—”

“Appreciated? Why is it so hard to admit that I might be able to help? Those two guards would’ve definitely caught you if not for me.”

“I don’t want anything to happen to you. It’s easier to work if I know you’re safe.”

“That settles it, then. I have to go with you.”

“Your twisted logic isn’t going to work this time.”

“You have no way of knowing that I’ll be safe once I leave. I could fall and break my neck on that steep trail. And let’s not forget the scorpions, or the four hundred pounds of mother boar protecting her babies.” She crossed her arms, then lifted her chin, her expression defiant. “The way I see it, you can worry about me there, or here with you.”

“There’s nothing I can say that’ll convince you to go back?”

“Nothing.”

When it came right down to it, he’d rather Remi take her chances with a boar and the scorpions over Kyril’s thugs. Realizing he wasn’t going to change her mind, he let out a frustrated breath. “Fine. But you have to do everything I say.”

“Let me guess. No going rogue. Where have I heard that before?”

Sam rolled his eyes. “She won’t take my advice but, ‘Oh yes, Sam, I’ll do everything you say. No going rogue.’”

Remi arched her brows. “I sound nothing like that.”

He looked down over the edge at this side of the gorge. There was about fifteen feet of cliff jutting out, but once they cleared that, it sloped out slightly the rest of the way down—something he thought Remi could handle. “I don’t suppose you’ve ever done any rappelling?”

“Only if you count cliff-jumping at Adrian Kyril’s party.”

He stood, pulling a coil of rope from his backpack. “Our only hope,” he said, taking a knife and cutting off a section, “is to get to Dimitris and Zoe before they get to the processing facility. If we head straight down on this side instead of following the mule trail, we can cut off a good chunk of time. Maybe a couple of hours.”

Remi peered over the edge, her brows rising. “I’m going to need you to define exactly what you mean by straight down.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

Sam pointed to the base of the gorge. “As in, we’re way up here, and we need to be way down there.”

Remi eyed the rope, then the edge of the bluff, wondering if maybe she’d been a bit rash in her decision to accompany him. Once past the twenty feet of sheer cliff, there was at least a hundred more feet of steep slope down to the bottom. “You’re sure that’s doable?”

Sam finished knotting the length he was working with. “The hardest part is getting down the cliff to where the slope starts. You see that tree growing down on that ledge?”

She carefully peered over, seeing the treetop about twenty feet below. “Yes.”

“I’m going to lower you, then I’ll follow. We’ll rappel down from there to the next tree. And then the next.”

She eyed the distance to the bottom of the gorge. “That rope isn’t near long enough.”

“It’s called the Texas Rope Trick,” he said, tying the longer length to the much smaller circle. “It’s like a giant slipknot. The sling,” he said, holding up the circle, “allows us to secure it to the tree trunk. At the bottom, I pull the middle strand threaded through it, bring the whole thing down, and we start all over again.”

“You’re sure it’s safe?”

It wasn’t a method Sam would recommend except under the most dire circumstances. “Have I ever led you astray?”

“This from the man who made me jump off the back of a speeding boat? And a cliff into the sea?”

“Rappelling is much safer.”

“At least I was landing in water the other two times. That,” she said, nodding down to the bottom of the gorge, “looks a lot harder.”

“I’ll lower you from here. All you need to do is hold on to the rope. Use your feet to walk backward down the cliff. Once we start down the next level, it’ll be much easier.”