Clive Cussler - Wrath of Poseidon

Within a few short minutes, she watched as the man blew up the pallet load on the back of the truck, effecting their escape from the island after killing one guard and taking down the other two. “Show that to me again.”

He started it from the beginning, telling her, “Based on what a few of my men have said, he’s extremely competent in hand-to-hand combat. His skill set, the way he easily broke into your son’s office, and what you see him doing here in the video, suggests he’s a very competent adversary. Definitely a good shot. And he also managed to convince the two who came after him that they’d successfully killed him in a boat explosion.”

Her brows went up. “Do you mean to tell me that this man”—she nodded at the screen—“has a job whose sole purpose is to put things on shelves in a grocery store? I find that hard to believe. He must be a spy. Or a government agent.”

“I suppose that possibility exists. But my source tells me otherwise.”

Frustrated, Minerva pushed back her chair, then rose, walking to the window to look out. Now that the weather was once again clear, Adrian’s latest flame, Phoebe, was in the pool, swimming. The girl was the last hope that the Heibert name might continue on. Perhaps young Phoebe’s genes might lend a better mix to the Kyril-Heibert line. “Has she heard about the charges?”

“Not yet. I didn’t think it my place to tell her.”

“I suppose I should sit down and have a chat with the poor girl.”

Ilya cleared his throat.

“What is it?” she asked without turning around.

“Are you actually planning to let your son take the blame?”

“He committed the crimes.”

“He did.”

Minerva looked back at him. “Would you rather it was you or I sitting in that jail cell?”

“No.”

“Then Adrian it is. For now.” She cocked her head to the window. “Perhaps, if I’m lucky, I’ll have a granddaughter to carry on the bloodline.”

Ilya’s gaze flicked to the window, but he said nothing.

With a sigh, she returned to the desk, sitting. “Where were we?”

“Sam Fargo.”

“Yes. Do you think he found anything on our island?”

“No. There was no product there at the time. Containers only. As soon as Dimitris was discovered, they stopped the shipment.”

“And where is it?”

“Awaiting your orders.”

“We’ll have to stop all shipments for now. I expect the police will be watching us even closer.” She held her hand out. “May I see that video again?”

He unlocked his phone and slid it toward her.

She scrolled through the video, pausing as the man shot out the truck tire, causing the pallet to explode. “It appears he knew that the explosive was set to go off if the weight shifted.”

“I would agree.”

That smacked of more than just luck and skill. The man had to have had some sort of training, she thought, watching as he shot out the lights a moment before killing a guard. “I don’t suppose there’s any way we could use this against him?”

“Not unless you want to explain why they were holding Dimitris against his will.”

“I suppose you’re right.” With a heavy sigh, she returned the phone to him. “As soon as things calm down, I want that heroin out of here. I hate to think I sacrificed my son for nothing. As for this Sam Fargo, what is it you’re planning?”

“Already implemented. The men who were following him last night informed me that he and the woman with him are boarding a ferry to Samos.”

“Do you know why?”

“I have no idea.”

“Find out. Then take care of him. All of them. I can’t imagine they’ll be able to prosecute Adrian if every one of the witnesses are dead.”

CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT

After Sam and Remi stored their rented motorcycle and helmets in the ferry’s hold, they headed up the stairs to find a spot on the crowded upper deck. The weather was clear, and the waters calm, once the vessel departed, and the two found a couple of seats near the stern.

Sam, his hair slightly damp from the sea mist that sprayed over the side, recognized quite a few of the passengers who were residents of Fourni. Perhaps because of everything they’d been through, he found himself scrutinizing everyone on board. There were two men who caught his attention. He’d seen them talking on the pier as they waited for the ferry to arrive. The taller of the two, wearing a red ball cap and dark sunglasses, seemed familiar, but Sam couldn’t place him. It was possible he was simply a Fourni islander. Once on board, the man took a seat inside, and Sam didn’t see him again. The second man, however, had followed them out to the deck, and stood not ten feet away from Sam and Remi.

Never once looking their way.

It was that last part that bothered Sam, because he and every other passenger on that boat had nothing better to do than look at each other for the one-and-a-half-hour ferry ride into Pythagorio. Not wanting to alarm Remi in light of their near miss on the road the night before, he said nothing. Had Manos and Denéa not driven up when they did, he couldn’t help but wonder if the car might have made a second attempt at running them down. Of course, it was highly possible that Sam was simply being paranoid—easy to do, considering all that had happened to them.

For now, he kept his eye on the man, hoping he was wrong. Remi, apparently, noticed his interest. “Something going on?”

“You didn’t happen to notice that man at the pier, did you?”

She glanced to her left, then looked away, giving no indication that she was at all bothered by his presence. “No. Have you heard back from Selma about where we’re supposed to meet the professor?”

He checked his phone, realizing he should have had Selma send a text to Remi’s sat phone instead. “No signal. We probably won’t get one until we reach port.”

As they neared Pythagorio, the red-tile-roofed houses, set high on the hills, overlooked the busy marina filled with yachts and fishing boats. Gulls flew overhead, one calling out as it dropped down, skimming the surface in search of food.

“It’s beautiful,” Remi said as the ferry backed into the terminal.

Sam paid little attention, his focus on the one man, who hurried inside, getting lost among the passengers filing toward the exit. He and Remi followed, only to find the man lingering near the steep stairs. Seemingly in no hurry to leave, he was focused on his phone screen, glancing up with casual interest as Sam and Remi walked past. He lifted his phone to his ear, speaking to someone on the other end, unfortunately in Greek. The taller man was nowhere in sight.

Sam, following Remi down the stairs to the lower deck, leaned toward her, asking, “You didn’t happen to catch any of that conversation, did you?”

“He said hello to his mother and that the ferry had arrived.”

Definitely not what Sam was expecting. He glanced up the stairs, seeing the man waving other people past him as he continued his call. “Maybe I was wrong.”

“Let’s hope so.”

His suspicion rose when he noticed one of two vehicles stored in the hold. One was a navy-blue compact car with a rental sticker on the windshield. Though he couldn’t be sure, since it had been dark at the time, it was close in size and color to the car that had nearly run him and Remi off the road.

Remi saw him looking at the vehicle. “Please tell me we’re simply being paranoid and that’s not the same car.”

“I wish we were down here when they loaded it. It would’ve been nice to see who was behind the wheel.” Sam handed Remi her helmet, then glanced up in time to see the man in the red ball cap and dark glasses walking past. “There’s the other guy. He seems familiar.”