Clive Cussler - Wrath of Poseidon

“So we have nothing,” Remi said.

“Not necessarily. Herodotus being Herodotus, any scholar would wisely try to confirm the man’s narrative with other sources. We know that Pactyes hired mercenaries to move the Sardis treasury from Lydia to the coast. With that sort of wealth to protect, Pactyes had the means to hire the best. And that brings us to the Samian pirates.”

“Why the Samians?” Sam asked.

“Proximity.” She took a bite of cheese, then nodded out toward the marina. “You can see Lydia—or Turkey, as we now know it—from here.” They looked out, seeing the hills of the Turkish coast in the distance. “More importantly, Pactyes needed mercenaries who’d be willing to go up against Cyrus. Pythagorio, the oldest man-made harbor in the Mediterranean at the time, was filled with them. And it probably helped that the Samians were the sworn enemy of the Lydians. From the Samian point of view, I imagine the prospect of helping to loot what was left of the Lydian kingdom found great appeal.”

Sam glanced at the portfolio next to her. “So you think there could be some truth to this children’s story?”

“There’s nothing to suggest otherwise.”

“Any idea where this cave could be? We’ve heard conflicting reports, that Poseidon’s Trident might be the name of a treasure, or the name of the cave where it was hidden.”

“That I can’t say. I can tell you this much, though. The cave where your friend’s grandfather was found could not possibly be the cave in the book.”

“Why not?” Remi asked.

“Quite simply, the boys want to whisper into Poseidon’s Ear. He was, after all, the god of the sea, so it would make sense that his ear opens up to the water.”

Sam and Remi exchanged glances. “Definitely not the cave on Fourni or Thimena,” Sam said.

“The takeaway from your book,” she continued, “is that the pirates hid their treasure in a cave that opens up both somewhere on land, and also to the water.”

“Any chance you happen to know of any caves that fit that description?” Sam asked.

She laughed. “This being Greece, sea caves past and present were and are somewhat plentiful.”

“So much for that lead,” Remi said. “I don’t suppose you happened to notice the sketch of an ugly sun face at the end of the book?”

“I did.” She opened her portfolio, turning the sheets of paper until she found the photocopy of the sketch.

“We were told it might be Helios.”

“I suppose that’s one possibility.” She studied it a moment, then shrugged. “It certainly looks like flames around the face. I have to admit, Helios is usually depicted as being handsome. This,” she said, tapping the sketch, “is quite the opposite. If I had to make an educated guess. I’d go with one of the three Gorgon sisters. They’re often depicted with broad, round heads, large teeth and fangs.”

“Sisters?” Sam said.

“The most common reference is that they’re three mythical sisters, Stheno and Euryale, immortals, and their human sister, Medusa.”

He looked at her in surprise. “As in snakes-for-hair Medusa?”

“As in turn-you-to-stone Medusa. Because of that ability, their images were often placed upon objects and buildings as protection. You really can’t travel through Greece without running into one somewhere.”

Remi tapped on the thing growing from the head. “That could be a snake.”

Sam was about to agree, when he happened to glance up, seeing two men, one of them wearing a red ball cap, stopping in front of the next restaurant over. The pair stood in front of the menu displayed near the maître d’ podium and appeared to be searching the faces of the patrons sitting at the waterside tables. “Remi.” Sam tapped her foot with his, nodding toward the patio seating on their right. “The men from the ferry.”

She looked over as the one man pulled off his ball cap, running his fingers through his curly hair. “That’s Fayez.”

The moment she said the name, it came back to him. Kyril’s party. He was the man Remi had thrown her knife at—and missed. “Professor. You’ve been a big help. But . . . something’s come up, and we really need to go.”

CHAPTER SIXTY

Their only option for a quick exit was a narrow street leading behind the restaurant. Remi had enough time to grab her purse before he led her out, the scent of cooking meat and fresh baked bread hitting them as they hurried past.

“What about the professor?” she asked, looking over her shoulder.

“She’s definitely safer on her own. Those two men are looking for us, not her.”

“But Kyril was arrested—”

“And you’re a witness who will need to testify against him. Get rid of you, go after Dimitris, no trial.” Once past the restaurant, they hid behind a delivery van parked nearby. Sam peered out, then ducked back as Fayez came around the corner and stopped on the other side of the vehicle.

He looked around. “Zenos,” he called out to his partner.

The other man ran up, slightly out of breath.

Fayez rattled off something in Greek. Zenos took off toward the marina, while Fayez started walking the opposite way.

Sam, holding tight to Remi’s hand, waited a minute, making sure they didn’t return. “What’d he say?”

“He told Zenos to walk on the waterfront.”

Sam rose up high enough to look through the windows of the van. Fayez, apparently, intended to parallel his partner, walking up the street behind the restaurants. Unfortunately, both men were heading in the direction that Sam and Remi needed to go to get back to their motorcycle. “I think if we head up another block, we can parallel the both of them, and keep out of sight.”

They made a right turn, walking up a steep street, the cobblestones slippery from being so worn. Keeping the port on their left, the streets and alleys were easy to navigate as they worked their way west, then south. They turned the corner, then stopped, seeing Fayez blocking their way.

“Time for Plan B,” Sam said, taking her arm.

“Which is what?”

“We run.” He pulled Remi down a narrow, covered street crowded with shops and kiosks. A cacophony of sounds carried toward them, music and the drone of voices. Merchants called out, trying to entice customers into their space, some selling fine linen and Egyptian cotton, others jewelry, souvenirs, and T-shirts. Sam and Remi ran past, then jumped over a dog napping at the entrance of a catwalk between two buildings. The wire-haired mongrel was apparently used to the comings and goings. Sam looked back. “I think we lost him.”

Remi, however, was looking in the opposite direction. “Doesn’t that remind you of the drawing in the back of Zoe’s book?” She pointed at a banner strung across the awning of a ceramics shop on the opposite side of the street.

Sam glanced up as a gust of wind caught at the sign, rippling the material like a ship’s sail. When it finally settled, he saw an angry face surrounded by snakes staring at him. He was about to agree when he heard the sound of footsteps echoing somewhere behind them.

Remi looked up at the Gorgon as they crossed the street. “The professor did say Gorgons ward off evil.”

“Let’s hope she’s right,” Sam said, then drew her inside the store.

CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE

A young man sat on a stool, carving away at a block of wood, while pale-colored shavings accumulated on the floor at his feet.

His dark eyes regarded first her, then Sam, with mild curiosity as Sam returned to the door, keeping watch outside. Remi, trying to look like a normal customer, eyed the ceramic pieces, many depicting the same angry face as that on the sign out front.

She picked up a mug sitting on a shelf, rubbing her thumb over the carving on the mug. “I’d say this looks far closer to Zoe’s sketch, don’t you think?”