Clive Cussler: Wrath of Poseidon

Even Dimitris was surprised. He removed his face mask, looking up at the boat. “Rather anticlimactic.”

“ Very ,” she said.

“Let’s get that radio fixed so we can have a proper celebration.”

They swam to the ladder. She took off her BCD and tank, handed them to Dimitris, then removed her fins, holding them by the straps as she climbed the steps. About to throw them on the deck, she happened to look up as a gray-haired man stepped out of the cabin.

Adrian Kyril.

And he was pointing a gun directly at her.

CHAPTER EIGHTY-THREE

Before Remi could warn Dimitris, he hefted her gear onto the deck, making a loud clatter as he hauled himself up next to her.

As Adrian’s attention shifted from her to Dimitris, she pulled her dive knife from its sheath, slid it between her fins, then dumped the sheath into the water. When Adrian’s focus rested on her once more, she said, “You’re the last person I expected to see. It’s been a while.”

“Isn’t it a pleasant surprise?” He smirked.

“What are you doing here?”

“I’d think that’d be obvious, Remi Longstreet.”

“Fargo,” she said, resisting the urge to throw the knife at him right then and there. She carefully set the fins and hidden blade onto the deck.

“Fargo. Of course. You’d think I’d remember, considering I’ve spent the last decade reading about the two of you.”

“I’m flattered.”

His nostrils flared as he scrutinized her, his dark gaze narrowing. “You don’t seem to have aged at all.”

“And you look at least ten years older.” She glanced past him and saw Fayez and Ilya. “Where’s Manos and Denéa?”

“Aboard the Odysseus . Safe with the other archeologists. When can we expect your husband?”

“I have no idea,” she said, her eye on his two men as they moved out of the cabin, Fayez walking with a definite limp.

“Check her tank,” Adrian said. “I want to know how much air her husband has.”

Remi sensed Dimitris bristling beside her. “They both have plenty of air down there. Don’t expect them anytime soon.”

Ilya walked over and checked the gauge. “Less than half a tank. As deep as the water is, I doubt they can stay down longer than ten minutes at that level.” He glanced over, saw the knife strapped to Dimitris’s leg, and removed it. He looked over at Remi. “Where’s your dive knife?”

“I don’t use one.”

Fayez laughed. “For good reason. She’s likely to hurt herself.”

“How’s that knee of yours?” she asked.

“Enough!” Adrian said. He motioned with his gun toward the open door of the helm. “I’ve never been a patient man. Which means I’m going to need you to convince Fargo to make an appearance.”

“Good luck with that.”

Ilya, his expression never wavering, raised his pistol, pointing it at Dimitris’s chest.

Adrian, however, never took his eyes from Remi. “If you want your friend to live long enough to see his father again, you’ll do as I say. Bring your husband and Nikos to the surface.”

“Don’t do it, Remi,” Dimitris said. “He’s going to kill us anyway.”

Of that, she had no doubt. Especially when she noticed two men in wet suits and scuba gear, each carrying a speargun, standing on the swim deck of the Odysseus . She looked at them, then Adrian. “What’s going on?”

“Let’s just say I was anticipating your refusal to be cooperative. Either Fargo comes up, or those two go down.” His smile was chilling. “The question you might want to ask yourself is if you’d like to see your husband one more time before you all die.”

“Not a very generous choice. Fine. I’ll do what you ask.”

“I thought you might.”

She glanced at Dimitris, then down at her tank and vest. He knew how much air Sam and Nikos had left. Getting her gear into the water might be their only chance. She rested her hand on his shoulder, then squeezed it. “I’ll be fine,” she said.

He gave a slight nod.

“Enough,” Adrian said. He pushed her into the cabin.

Remi stood in front of the underwater radio, which had been switched off. She glanced out the window, past Adrian, saw Ilya picking up her tank and moving it away from the opening, then ordering Dimitris out of his gear.

So much for that idea, she thought, picking up the microphone.

Adrian stepped back, raising his gun. “Choose your words wisely, Mrs. Fargo.”

She took a deep breath, then keyed the mic.

CHAPTER EIGHTY-FOUR

Sam, holding the light for Nikos, heard a slight crackle on the radio, then Remi’s voice on his internal speaker. “How’s it going down there?”

He pushed the talk button. “We’re making progress.”

“You need to come up.”

“Is something wrong?”

He heard her clearing her throat. “Nothing. Most of us are here on the Voreio Asteri .”

“Be there shortly.” He checked his air, saw he had about ten minutes left, and signaled to Nikos that they needed to head up.

The older man nodded, then went back to dusting. He’d uncovered at least a dozen more gold coins very near the location where they’d found the first coin that he’d given to Remi, and was, undoubtedly, eager to find more.

That the Samian ship survived the centuries in the Aegean waters at all was a miracle in itself, but not unheard of. The partial hulls of even older ships, from the late fourteenth century B.C., had been found by sponge divers off the Antalya coast of Turkey in similar depths just east of them. Sam thought that this find would possibly rival that, if nothing else due to the historical connection to Cyrus the Great—never mind Pactyes, the man who’d stolen the gold, then hired the Samian ship to carry it from the mainland.

If this was the fabled Poseidon’s Trident treasure, there was a lot more than these few coins to be found. Other than the one Remi had taken up, they weren’t about to remove anything before they mapped it. A site this significant, the government archeologists would continue to keep the location secret, and be living on-site until the wreck was completely salvaged of the important and valuable artifacts.

Unfortunately, as much as Sam—and no doubt, Remi—would love to be involved every step of the way, the entire excavation could take several years. They’d have to leave the majority of that work to Nikos, the Fourni crew, and the governmental archeologists, who were no doubt setting up shop above them even now.

Sam, seeing that Nikos had no intention of stopping, tapped him on the arm, then touched his dive watch, indicating that they needed to return to the boat.

And, once again, Nikos nodded, then continued dusting the artifact. The water clouded as the particles rose then settled away, revealing the curved edge of a rather large object just visible beneath the sand. Nikos ran his finger against it, revealing something long, round, and encrusted. Too large to be a plate, too small to be a shield. Maybe a serving platter.

Finally, Nikos put away his brush, then signaled that he was ready.

Sam hit the talk button. “On our way up.”

There was a click, as though someone quickly grabbed the radio to acknowledge his transmission. For some reason, that brought to mind Remi’s earlier transmission. While there was nothing outwardly wrong, it struck him that something was off. Not her voice—that had sounded normal.

It was something to do with the boat.

Sam’s Greek was far too rusty. He reached out, tapping Nikos, then picked up his slate board, writing: What is “Vorayo Asteri”?

Nikos eyed Sam’s phonetic spelling, then nodded, taking the pen, writing:

“ Voreio Asteri . North Star.”