Clive Cussler - Wrath of Poseidon

“It’s just the four of you. She should be fine.”

“You’re not going?” Sam asked.

“I think I’ll enjoy stretching my feet out and doing nothing tonight.”

“I’m in,” Denéa said. “Manos?” He nodded.

Remi glanced at Sam. “Up for it?”

“And have another chance to sample some home-cooked Greek food? Absolutely.”

That evening, Sam and Remi picked up a bottle of Santorini-grown Assyrtiko white wine, then strolled up the hill to Zoe’s cottage. As they walked in, the scent of savory meat and spices filled the room.

“Whatever that is,” Sam said, breathing in deep, “it smells wonderful.”

“Moussaka,” Dimitris called out from the kitchen. “Ground lamb and eggplant casserole.”

Zoe, seated on the couch, stood up to greet them. Sporting a bruise on her forehead that seemed to be settling down to her right eye, and a cast on her right arm, she looked remarkably spry for someone who’d just taken a good fall down a hillside only the day before. She hugged them both, then offered to help in the kitchen until Dimitris shooed her back to the sofa like a mother hen. Denéa and Manos arrived a few minutes later, bringing another bottle of wine. The men disappeared into the kitchen, opened the wine, then returned and set the table. Surprised that they had talked their way through the first bottle, Dimitris pulled the casserole out of the oven and brought it to the table, the sauce and cheese on top still bubbling. The second bottle opened, and everyone seated, he raised his glass, toasting their safe return.

“To Sam,” Zoe said, “for managing to find me.”

Sam lifted his glass. “To the moussaka. Before it gets cold!”

They laughed and started eating. Zoe watched Sam as he dished up a hefty serving. “Things are still a bit fuzzy, so you’ll have to forgive me if you already mentioned it. But did you see anything at all in the cave?”

“Nothing worth exploring,” he replied. “If there was ever a treasure in there, it’s long gone.”

She sighed. “I was so sure about that marking on the rock.”

“It’s Greece,” Manos said. “There are a lot of markings carved on a lot of rocks.”

Remi laughed. Her smile, Sam decided, seemed far more relaxed than it had in several days. Whether it was news of Adrian Kyril’s arrest, her talk with Denéa, or their shared experience on Thimena rescuing Zoe, he didn’t know. One thing he was certain of, Remi’s spirit had definitely taken a turn for the better.

As much as Sam didn’t want the night to end, if only because Remi was enjoying herself for the first time in a while, he saw how tired Zoe appeared. “We should probably go.”

“I’ll get the dishes,” Remi said.

“Definitely not,” Denéa told her. “You and Sam get a pass for bringing home the Lazy Krab . Who knows what would have happened to it. Manos can do the dishes.”

“Me?”

“It’s your boat.” Her blue eyes sparkled with laughter as she got up to clear the table, shooing both Remi and Sam away when they tried to help. It wasn’t until he and Remi were on their way out the door that she happened to glance at the Pirates of Poseidon book sitting on the coffee table. She stopped to pick it up, looking back at Zoe. “It just occurred to me. Selma seems good at researching. If there’re any historical references to Poseidon’s Trident, she might be able to find them.”

“Not a bad idea,” Sam said. “Would you mind if we took photos?”

“Of course not.” Zoe turned the pages for Sam as he took a photograph of each. “Imagine if your friend actually discovers that Poseidon’s Trident really exists.” Her eyes lit up. “That would be a wonderful way to honor my grandfather.”

A few minutes later, they emailed the photos to Selma. After saying their goodbyes, Denéa waved a dish towel at them. “We’re almost done if you want to wait for a ride home.”

Sam glanced at Remi, who shook her head. “It’s too nice out not to walk.”

He and Remi took the stairs down the hill to the port, then started up the steep, winding road toward Kampi. Because there was so little traffic on the island, there were no sidewalks, and no streetlights. A low stone wall on their right was all that separated them from the sharp drop to the sea, and they could just make out the sound of the waves breaking on the rocks far below.

About midway up the hill, Remi looked back in the direction of Fourni. “Zoe’s right. Finding that treasure would be a wonderful way of honoring Tassos.”

“Assuming it really exists.”

“But if it did, wouldn’t it help prove that’s why Tassos was killed?”

He stopped, looking down at her. “Remi . . .” Whatever might have been said next was lost when a car came speeding up the hill, its tires screeching as it rounded the curve toward them.

CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX

Blinded by the headlights, Sam pulled Remi to the side of the road against the low wall. The dark blue compact car sped past them to the top of the hill.

Sam, still holding Remi tight, felt her heart beating against his chest. And with good reason. Pressed against the wall, they had only to look down to see the sheer drop on the other side. Before they had a chance to even process their close call, a second vehicle drove up and stopped beside them.

Manos was behind the wheel, Denéa in the front passenger seat. She rolled down her window. “Are you two okay? It looked like they almost hit you.”

Sam drew Remi from the wall. “Luckily, we managed to get out of the way.”

“Hop in,” Manos said. “We’ll give you a ride home.”

They climbed into the backseat and Manos took off. At the top of the hill, the blue car was making a three-point turn, and the vehicles passed each other, going in opposite directions. The silhouette of two men sitting inside the other car, one tall, one short, was all Sam could see as it drove back down the hill.

“Probably tourists,” Manos said. “There’s a rental car sticker on the windshield. They’re either drunk or lost. Or both.”

“Lost?” Denéa laughed. “On Fourni? It’s not like there’s all that many places to go. Drunk is more like it.”

A few minutes later, Manos turned off into Kampi, navigating down the long drive, until they reached the stairs. Sam and Remi got out, thanked them, then took the stairs down. A litter of calico kittens jumped off a low wall, then followed them until they reached the bottom by the Kampi Beach Bar. The cats ran off, and Sam and Remi continued on, hand in hand, along the water.

Remi was surprisingly quiet. When they finally reached the cottage, she stopped him just outside the gate. “What were you going to say up there, right before the car—Before Manos and Denéa picked us up?”

Sam was going to tell her that they might be better off leaving the treasure-hunting alone. But there was something about the way she looked at him, and all rational thought seemed to escape him. “This” was all he managed to say, then took her in his arms and kissed her in the moonlight. He pulled back, brushing a lock of hair from her face. “If that’s okay.”

Remi, somewhat breathless, nodded. He reached behind her and opened the gate.

—

By the time Sam and Remi sat down to lunch the following day, Selma called with a report on the photos that he’d emailed to her the night before. “Good afternoon, Mr. Fargo.”

“No need for formalities,” he said, though he was beginning to suspect she would continue to ignore this request. She seemed to be firmly entrenched in using titles.

“I’ll keep that in mind, Mr. Fargo,” she said, proving his point, then launching into the purpose of her call. “After receiving the book pages you sent—”