Clive Cussler - Wrath of Poseidon

“I’ll be right there with you, every step of the way.”

Sam went first, testing the route, deciding it wasn’t too difficult for the novices—Remi and the sergeant—to scale. Once everyone had descended safely, Sam lowered himself into the chute, shimmying down. Remi went next, the others followed, with Dimitris bringing up the rear.

When Sergeant Kompouras made it into the low cavern, forced like everyone else to move about on his belly, he took a good look around. “Tell me it gets better than this?”

“It does,” Sam said. “But not before it gets worse. Whatever you do, when we get to the tunnels, keep your head down.” As they cleared the domed section and started into the long tunnel, he heard several clunks from plastic helmets hitting the low ceiling. Finally, they emerged into the large cavern, and from there, climbed the rope to the upper chamber. Kompouras moved next to Sam, using his phone to take photos, the flash lighting up the space with each shot. “I’m not sure I wouldn’t have gone into a total panic if I’d been trapped in here.” He glanced down at his screen, then at Sam. “So, where are these shards you found?”

“Over there. To the right of that pool.”

At the base was the pile of rubble where Dimitris had found the shards. Sam shined his light on it, seeing several more. Remi reached down and picked up an elongated piece of terra-cotta, something that looked like it might be the handle of an amphora.

She traced her finger over a distinctive rectangular marking. Sam noticed Greek letters in the middle of it. “What is it?” he asked her.

“Possibly the stamp of whoever manufactured it.”

Nikos took a closer look. “That’s quite the find. They may be able to date the piece based on that.”

Dimitris, digging through the pile of rubble just a few feet away, stood, excited. “Look what I found! An ancient Greek sat phone!”

Remi laughed as he handed the device over to her. She pressed a button. “Battery’s dead, but it looks pretty good otherwise.”

Sam turned his attention up toward the now-blocked cave entrance. The rope still hung down, and he gave it a good tug, then climbed up. “This,” he said to the sergeant, “is where we came in.”

There wasn’t much left of the outcropping that Remi had been sitting on right before the helicopter crashed. The impact had caused a cascading effect, shearing off the ledge, and sending the pieces crashing into a pile of rocks and dust. What had once been a narrow crevice between the cave mouth and the outcropping of rock was now over two feet in width.

A hollow area had opened behind where the ledge used to be—one he hadn’t seen after the crash because of all the dust in the air. Now that everything had settled, there was no doubt the area was quite large.

“What is it?” Dimitris asked.

“Looks like a pocket opened up.” He glanced at the rubble on the cave floor, noticing the largest pile was directly beneath this hollow, exactly where Remi and Dimitris had found their pieces of terra-cotta. Gripping the rope, he slung one foot across, straddling the crevice, testing his weight on the opposite rock wall. Rope firmly in one hand, he reached into the hollow, brushing some of the debris and dust away, seeing a large orange-red terra-cotta piece. No doubt about it. He was staring at the bottom half of an amphora lying on its side, the top having been crushed and covered by the fallen rocks. Just beyond it, he saw another broken amphora, also on its side. He jumped back, hooked up his harness to the rope, then straddled the space again, this time using both hands to sift through the rubble of the broken amphorae, feeling mostly rocks, but then something smooth, thin, and round. “I think I’ve got something. It feels like a coin.”

He ran his hands through more of the broken amphora. “Make that several.”

“Photos, Sam,” Remi reminded him.

He left everything where it was, then pulled out his phone to take pictures. It was the flash from the camera that lit up what appeared to be a third and intact amphora, lying on its side behind the broken two.

He tucked his phone in his pocket, then reached out, his fingers brushing against it. He stretched farther, grasping the handle, at the same time trying to pull himself into the opening. As he leveraged himself, the neck split open. Coins spilled from the jar’s mouth, revealing rocks beneath.

“You’re not going to believe what I found,” he said.

“The treasure?” Dimitris said. “Poseidon’s Trident?”

“Don’t get too excited. Unless you think a jar full of rocks is worth everything we’ve been through.” He grabbed a couple, holding them out for the others to see. “But there is a layer of coins covering the rocks.”

“You’re sure?” Kompouras asked.

“Very.” Once again, he used his phone and took photos of the amphora, the gold coins that had spilled from it, and the rocks clearly inside. He stuffed two of the rocks and several coins in a pocket, tucked his phone away, then started down. At the bottom, he dug the coins from his pocket, handing them to Nikos. They certainly glittered like the real thing, and the lion’s head stamped on the face certainly made them look authentic.

The older man looked them over, then sighed. Sergeant Kompouras plucked one of the coins from Nikos’s hand, holding it in the light. “This one’s been gouged,” he said, making the same conclusion that Nikos had made. “You can see the lead.”

“If I had to guess,” Sam said, showing them the photos from his phone so that they could see the rocks contained in the intact amphora, “whoever hid the treasure went to a lot of trouble to pretend they were hiding a hoard of gold.”

“So, we have nothing?” Dimitris said. “All this trouble. For what?”

“History,” his father said. “We found a piece of history.”

Sergeant Kompouras seemed to be the only one who wasn’t disappointed. “You do realize what this means? It proves that the legend behind the gold is real, even if the gold isn’t. It’s a direct connection to Tassos, and from there to Adrian Kyril.” He looked at Remi. “In fact, I’d say that we have about everything we need, and you should be able to go home. You, on the other hand,” he said to Sam, “will get to enjoy our Greek hospitality for a while longer.”

CHAPTER SEVENTY-THREE

At the counter of the Samos airport, Remi handed over her passport.

“Any more luggage?” the clerk asked.

“No. Just the carry-on,” she said. It sounded odd. She wasn’t used to traveling so light, and briefly wondered if she could actually learn to travel this way.

Probably not.

The woman printed up her ticket, then slid it and the passport across the counter. The ticket was only to Athens, the first leg on her flight back to the States. Picking it up filled her with an immense sadness, no doubt due to the man standing next to her. Sam had insisted on escorting her in, making sure she got her ticket, then made it safely to security.

In all likelihood, she was never going to see him again—not after everything that had happened. They were polar opposites, she and Sam. He deserved someone more suited to his lifestyle. She couldn’t picture herself with someone who could simply pull a gun and kill a man, then carry on as though nothing had happened.

“That’s it,” Sam said. “Looks like you’re all set.”

She started to reach for her oversized carry-on, but he picked it up. “Thank you,” she said when they reached the line for security.

He set it down at her feet. “It’s light.”

“I mean for everything. For coming all this way. Helping me and Dimitris . . . I’m sorry I ruined your chances to get investors.” She smiled at him, feeling equal parts guilt and relief. “I guess this is it. Thank you.”