Clive Cussler - Wrath of Poseidon

“Weren’t you the one who wanted to write a book?”

“About a shipwreck. In California.”

When she reached the top, she rolled onto her back, both exhausted and exhilarated.

Sam looked over at her. “You have to admit, this beats sitting in a gray cubicle.”

Dimitris and Nikos climbed up behind her. As the four of them rested on the top of the boulder, they looked down, seeing the crashed helicopter about fifty yards to their south. And a man using a rifle to sift through wreckage. They quickly ducked out of sight, and Remi looked over at Sam. “Between you and me? Unless you can come up with a good plan, that cubicle’s looking pretty good.”

CHAPTER SEVENTY

Grateful they hadn’t been spotted, Sam shifted to where he could see between the rocks. The gunman was still using the tip of the AR-15 barrel to poke through the wreckage.

Remi moved beside him. “What do you think he’s searching for?”

“Sat phone, maybe?”

Sam wasn’t sure why the man hadn’t taken off in the Lazy Krab. The only explanation was that he didn’t know it was there, or they’d shot it on their way in, to make sure there was no chance of escape. “As long as he’s out there, we’ve got a huge problem.”

Remi’s eyes were filled with worry. “Why can’t we just wait here until help comes? You know Zoe’s going to call someone when we don’t come back.”

While the last thing he wanted to do was instill a sense of panic—especially after everything they’d been through—Remi needed to know what they were up against. “Whoever shows up here looking for us, he’ll kill them the moment they step foot on this islet.”

“He’s right,” Nikos said. “We need to do something.”

“What about your gun?” Dimitris asked. “Can’t you just take him out?”

“Empty. Used up the ammo shooting at the helicopter. Still, we have one very big advantage. He thinks we’re buried beneath a ton of rock. Which means I’m the last person he’s going to expect.”

Remi reached out, touching his arm. “There’s already dead people in that helicopter.”

He had no idea if she was telling him to be careful or to not kill the other man. Figuring it was both, he said, “Let’s hope my idea works.”

His plan was simple. He would approach the gunman from behind, his goal to disarm the man. Unfortunately, it meant he’d have to go back down the cliff face to the tunnel entrance and come up the other side. Still, he was an experienced climber, and it was much easier on his own without having to worry about the others. Within minutes, he was pulling himself over the ledge, just a dozen yards behind the man, using the large rocks to hide behind and work his way closer.

The gunman crouched, picking up something too small for Sam to see. Sam moved out from behind the boulder toward him. Less than five feet to go, Sam stepped on a piece of brittle rock. It cracked beneath his weight. The gunman heard the snap, looked up, swinging his rifle toward Sam.

So much for that plan. Sam froze, raising his hands.

“Hey!” Remi shouted. “Over here!”

The gunman turned toward her. Sam rushed him, slamming one hand at the rifle barrel, pushing it up, while grabbing the stock with his other hand. The two struggled for control of the weapon. Sam, holding it tight, brought his knee up into the man’s groin, then wrested the rifle from his grasp. He drove the stock into his gut, stepped back, swung the barrel around, aiming. The man held both hands palms-down, then suddenly reached for something at his waist.

Sam fired. The gunman fell onto his side, his dark gaze staring at nothing. Sam, his ears ringing from the high-velocity round, kept the AR-15 aimed as Remi and her friends climbed down from the rocks, racing toward him. Remi stopped just short of the fallen man, her mouth dropping open as she looked at Sam. He could see it in her eyes, the questioning look.

Nikos kneeled beside the man, placing his fingers on his neck, and shook his head. He started to rise, then stopped, rolling him over, revealing a handgun in the dead man’s grasp.

Remi eyed the weapon, then took a deep, shaky breath. “I think I need to go sit down.”

Sam started to follow her, but Nikos stopped him, then nodded at Dimitris. “Go with her.” After the two left, he turned to Sam. “I know you want to help, but I think giving her space will be the best thing for her right now.”

“Why does it feel as though everything that’s happening is drawing us apart?”

“Because it is,” Nikos said as he and Sam walked toward the wreckage. “I have no idea what your background is, but it’s clear you’re no stranger to any of this. But for someone like Remi—even the rest of us—this is all more than we’re used to. It will take time.”

Sam glanced over at Remi and Dimitris, who’d taken a seat on an outcropping of rock near what had been the cave entrance. “I hope so.”

“If she is able to get past this, she’ll let you know.”

“And if she isn’t?”

“She’ll let you know.”

Sam knew he was right. It was bad enough Remi had seen a man killed on the Kyrils’ island. Here, with the helicopter crash, there were four deaths, Sam directly responsible for each of them.

And no cover of darkness to hide the fact.

Finally, he turned his attention to the downed helicopter, looking through the shattered windshield into the crushed fuselage, seeing the dead pilot, the other gunman, and the woman beside him, their bodies crumpled on the floor of the cabin.

Nikos shaded his eyes, peering in. “Minerva Kyril,” he said.

“You’re sure?”

“Positive.”

“I guess that answers the question about who was behind all of this.” Sam pulled out his phone and took a few photographs, intending to forward everything to Rube once they were back on Fourni with cell phone service. When he finished, he and Nikos walked over to where Dimitris and Remi sat.

Remi was staring at what was left of the cave entrance, now covered by the fallen rocks. She stood, walking over to it. “It would have been nice to actually see if that broken amphora really was part of Poseidon’s Trident.”

“We could,” Dimitris said. “By going in through the same way we got out.”

“Right now,” she said, “all I’m looking forward to is getting back to Fourni.”

CHAPTER SEVENTY-ONE

The first person Sam called once they were back on Fourni was Rube. “Minerva Kyril’s dead.”

“What? How?”

“I may be indirectly responsible. Directly if you count that I was the one who shot at the helicopter she was riding in.”

“Holy—” Rube drew in a deep breath. “Is everyone okay? Where are you?”

“We’re fine, in Fourni, and Nikos is with the police chief now.” Sam gave him a quick version of what happened.

“How’s Remi taking this?”

“Shaken at first,” he said, glancing at Remi and Dimitris. The two sat silhouetted in the dark about twenty yards away on the low wall at the entrance of the port parking lot, both looking out over the water. “I’d say she’s doing better.”

“Good to hear. Let me get with Interpol and see what the next step is.”

Apparently, the next step was sending a parade of Interpol agents and Hellenic police investigators to the island of Fourni to take statements, and crime scene technicians to the islet to gather evidence and retrieve the bodies. The process was exhausting for all. Sam, being the shooter, was questioned last. Sergeant Petros Kompouras, the Interpol agent whom Sam had spoken to about the explosives and Kyril’s olive oil facility, had borrowed the Fourni police chief’s office. “Good to finally meet you in person,” he said, shaking Sam’s hand.