Dreamboat (39 page)

The motorboat, on the sea now, free of its restraints, pitched and heaved wildly, and Valentin held onto the small, deck-mounted operator's chair with all his might. Pushing with his legs, he managed to shove himself between the chair and the motor, his entire body soaked through with water. Reaching up with both hands, he felt for the manual starter for the boat's engine, but the constant tossing to and fro prevented him from getting a grip on it with his bound hands.

Then suddenly the pitching and heaving all but ceased. The motorboat had cleared the
Sea Nymph
and apparently was in the center of the big ship's wake, where the water was relatively smooth. Using the chair, he pulled himself to a squat. Looking forward, he could see the lights of the
Sea Nymph
disappearing directly ahead of him, bound for Belém. Valentin allowed himself a smile, then pulled himself up into the operator's chair. With both hands, he pulled on the manual start.

The boat's motor roared to life, and he immediately took hold of the control and began steering to the port side of the big ship. He knew that there would be some big waves from its wake coming up, but he was prepared to handle them. Once across, he was virtually home free. Within minutes he would reach Brazil, and he knew that along this coast and the tributaries that ran in and out of it, there were literally thousands of fishing shacks that served as homes, nearly all of them with homemade docks where he would have no trouble pulling the motorboat in. Nor would he have trouble with the local fishermen: He had plenty of euros secured in the Teflon belt he wore beneath his jumpsuit. He cast a final glance at the
Sea Nymph.

All I have to do now is get in touch with Vilos,
he thought.
The old man may not want to give me the rest of the money, but he's not going to have a choice. He pays, or I talk.

Crissy and Luca reached the hospital, and he unlocked the door. Voula was already seated at the desk, just hanging up the telephone. “What the hell happened?” she asked. “I was almost thrown out of bed, so I knew I'd better get in here fast.”

“We hit one of those little tropical storms,” Luca said. “One of those squalls that come and go in a matter of minutes, but it played hell with the ship.”

Voula's eyes did a quick inventory of them both, noting Crissy's beaded chiffon gown and Luca's dress white uniform. “I see,” she said, unconvinced that what he'd said was true.

“That's what you tell the passengers,” Luca said, seeing the expression on her face. “We'll tell you all about it later. Anyway, we're going to have three bodies brought in shortly. They'll be coming in the back way so no one can see them here in reception. We'll have to get the morgue ready right away.”

“Three bodies?” Voula exclaimed. “What's going on?”

“Later, Voula. There's no time now. What's the story on the telephone?”

“We've got eight people on their way down now,” she said, a slight pout in her attitude, “and another ten or twelve have called to make appointments. So far nothing sounds too serious.” She shrugged. “But you never know. Thank God it was the middle of the night. Most of the people left in the disco were drunk and didn't notice or laughed it off.”

“And nearly everybody else was sound asleep,” Luca said. “Some of them were probably thrown out of bed, so injuries shouldn't be too bad.”

There was a knock on the door. “Time to roll up our sleeves,” Luca said. He turned to Crissy. “Ready?”

“Where're the lab coats?” she asked.

Chapter Twenty-One

G
eorgios Vilos slumped in his chair.
I've lost everything
, he thought.
Everything
. He felt as if the lifeblood were running out of him, that every ounce of vitality, every reason he'd had for living, was draining away. He glanced at the painting of the
Sea Nymph
that hung over the mantelpiece, a painting that he'd only recently commissioned of the two-year-old ship. It never failed to remind him of the heights to which he'd brought his family's company, the company that he'd worked so hard to grow and leave as a legacy for his son. Now there would be no son, no heir.

Leaning down, he pulled open the bottom drawer on the right-hand side of the desk, his hand feeling for the plastic and steel object he knew was there under a small pile of folders. When he had a grip on it, he slid the Glock 9-mm Parabellum pistol out of the drawer. He removed its form-fitting synthetic holster and placed it on the desk next to the cell phone. Georgios knew it was a draw-and-fire gun; the mechanical safety on the smooth Austrian Glock was built into the trigger. He also knew that the semiautomatic was fully loaded, with seventeen rounds of ammunition in the magazine and one in the chamber, but such considerations were not of any importance now. A single shot would suffice.

He placed the steel barrel against his temple. It felt cold, but only for an instant. He pulled the trigger. The blast of the bullet was the last thing he heard before he slumped over on his desk, the gun falling out of his hand onto the floor. Outside, rain beat steadily against the windowpanes. But Georgios Vilos didn't hear it.

Chapter Twenty-Two

T
he
Sea Nymph
pulled into the port near Belém around nine a.m., and passengers lined the deck railings, snapping photographs or taking videos of the arrival. The ship couldn't moor here because there wasn't a deep-water dock, and had to drop anchor offshore. Tenders would take the passengers ashore who were going on excursions. There was a great deal of chatter about the squall they'd run through the night before, although many of them were completely unaware of it. The injured, most of them elderly, quickly spread the word, displaying their cuts and bruises, their bandages and canes as if they were medals for surviving heroic action in a war zone. Fortunately, there were no serious injuries. Those who heard the explosion were told that a tanker had caught on fire but had presented no danger to the
Sea Nymph
at all.

When they disembarked onto the tenders for excursions to Belém and a jungle tour, the rickety pier was a mass of color. They were greeted by vendors of all kinds, selling local wood carvings, paintings, jewelry, even tropical fruit, and their numbers were supplemented by beggars and pickpockets. Loud music accompanied dancers on the beaches next to the pier, who shouted and waved to the new arrivals, along with sunbathers and swimmers who braved the sewage-filled waters. The street lining the beach was filled with colorful bars and shops that sold tourist trinkets, but the tour buses were waiting to take the passengers into Belém, so there was little time to browse.

Crissy watched from the pool deck, snapping pictures of the colorful scene. After staying at the hospital late, she got very little sleep, but Luca wanted to show Crissy a bit of Belém if she was up to it.

The passengers who were disembarking had all left, the tenders making several trips ashore to accommodate all of them, and the ship was relatively quiet. She went down one deck to the cafeteria-style dining room to have some breakfast. After filling her tray, she took it out onto the deck, where she had no problem finding an empty table at the railing to eat. There were very few people about, and the crew, she noticed, were taking advantage of the time to do a lot of sprucing up and organizing. The sun was bright, the air hot and humidity-laden, but she quickly became enamored of the colorful scene ashore and the view on the opposite side of the ship. She could see jungle growth on the other side of the tributary in which they were docked, with wooden houses—rundown shacks most of them—set amid the towering palm trees and other vegetation. They all had wooden docks with small boats jutting out into the water.

As she studied the tropical scene, she suddenly heard an uproar on the shore opposite, where the
Sea Nymph
's passengers had landed. Sirens rent the morning air, and the rumble of a long procession of military or police vehicles almost drowned out the music blasting from the beaches. Turning her head, she saw that the crowds on the beaches, those on the thronged dock, and the people milling about the street lining the shore had all turned to look at the arrival of government vehicles. Jeeps, Humvees, trucks, and cars came to an abrupt stop near the dock, and dozens of soldiers—or police?—jumped from the transports and converged on the dock. They carried weapons that ranged from drawn handguns to what looked like submachine guns.

What now
? she wondered, sipping her second cup of coffee.

As she got up to get a better view, speeding boats, sirens wailing, began converging on the
Sea Nymph
from every side. Some of the boats had submachine guns mounted on their decks, and even on the smaller vessels, she could clearly see that men in uniform had weapons of different kinds drawn and aimed at the ship. She set down her coffee cup and rushed inside, heading back down to the hospital to look for Luca. On her way, she saw officers rushing up the stairwell, apparently on their way to the bridge.

When she reached the hospital, the door was unlocked, and she went on in. Voula was at the reception desk and smiled at her. “Back already? You just can't stay away, can you?”

“Is Luca still here?” she asked.

Voula nodded toward the back. “He's with the last patient. At least I
hope it's the last one. It's been one hell of a long night, but you know that.” She paused and look at Crissy with curiosity. “What's up?” she asked. “You look like you've seen a ghost.”

“I don't know what's going on,” Crissy said, “but a flotilla of boats are surrounding the
Sea Nymph,
and an army of men just pulled up on shore. They're coming down to the dock. It looks very scary.”

“Jesus,” Voula said. “I wonder what's going on. Probably something to do with that tanker last night.” Luca and Crissy had finally managed to tell her of the events during the night in between patients. “I'm going to call Anasthasia in Security and see what she knows.” She picked up the telephone receiver and started dialing.

Crissy nervously sat down and flipped through a magazine, but she didn't really see anything. Her ears were attuned to Voula's end of the conversation, and she could hear Luca's voice in the back as he ministered to a patient.

“Are you shitting me?” Voula said, her magnified eyes growing even larger behind her thick spectacles. “So what do we do?”

Crissy looked over at her, and saw that Voula was tapping orange-painted nails on the desk very anxiously.

When she hung up the telephone, she looked over at Crissy. “You're not going to believe this,” she said.

“What?”

“The ship is being impounded,” Voula said.

“Impounded?” Crissy repeated. “What does that mean, Voula?”

“It means, sweetheart, that this is where we get off.”

“Get off?”

Luca came through the door with an elderly man, leading him out of the examination area into reception. “It's going to be fine, Herr Schroeder,” he said. “Just do as I said, and call me tomorrow if you have any problems.”

The man nodded. “
Danke,
” he said. “
Danke.
”

Luca opened the door for him, and after the man was gone, he closed and locked the door behind him. Then he smiled at Crissy. “Couldn't stay away, you liked it so much down here, huh?”

Crissy returned his smile. “That's it,” she replied. “But there was something else, too.”

“Luca,” Voula said, “the ship is being impounded.”

“What?”

She nodded. “I just talked to Anasthasia in Security, and she told me. Crissy saw a bunch of boats coming in and a lot of police or army onshore, headed this way, so I called her.”

“But why?” he asked.

Voula shook her head. “She didn't know.”

Luca sat down beside Crissy and slid an arm around her shoulders, then flipped his cell phone open. He pressed in the captain's number.

“Demetrios,” he said. “Luca here. What the hell's going on? We heard the ship's being impounded.”

Crissy watched him as he listened to the captain.

“This is unbelievable,” he said. “What about all the passengers? The crew?”

He listened for awhile longer, then said, “Okay, Demetrios. I'll remain aboard until it's all taken care of in case there's a medical emergency of any kind.” Then, “Okay, I'll talk to you later.” He flipped the cell phone closed.

“So?” Voula said, her eyebrows raised questioningly.

“You're right. The ship's being impounded by the authorities in Belém,” he said, stroking his chin thoughtfully. “The banks have foreclosed on Georgios Vilos. Vilos didn't come up with the money due, so they're having all Vilos' ships that they've financed impounded. Oddly enough, they haven't been able to get hold of Vilos and haven't heard a word from him about it.”

“Je-
sus
!” Voula exclaimed. “If I were the man, I'd go into hiding, too. So what do we do, Luca?”

“We disembark,” he said. “Everybody has to disembark. When the passengers on excursions get back, they'll be allowed to board to get their possessions. Crew will be allowed to remain aboard until all passengers have been disembarked, then they'll have to leave.”

“But where will everybody go?” Crissy asked.

Luca looked at her. “The passengers will have to make their own arrangements,” he said. “Demetrios says that the Information Office is trying to arrange to use the tour buses that they're on now to remain ashore after they bring them back, so they can turn around and take them back into Belém to hotels or the airport. In other words, passengers are pretty much on their own from that point on.”

“What about us?” Voula asked. “The crew?”

“The Information Office is working on transport for the crew to the
airport. He says that all the crew will be flown back to Athens on a charter flight. At least that's what they're trying to set up.”

“I don't believe this,” Voula said. “What about our pay?”

Luca looked at her and shook his head. “Demetrios says there won't be any pay. Not for anybody, including him.”

Voula slapmmed a fist down on the desk. “That's outrageous!” she exclaimed.

“It certainly is,” Crissy agreed. “What if some of the passengers or the crew don't have the money to stay over or wait for planes?”

“Then they're going to have to make do somehow,” Luca said. “Most of the passengers have credit cards or enough cash to get home, or they've got relatives they can call. But for the crew it's different. Apparently the Vilos empire is crumbling, and the captain says we'll be lucky if we can even get a charter flight to take the crew back to Athens. There are more than three hundred and fifty men and women who are going to be stuck here otherwise, and most of them don't have the money for a flight back, especially since they're not getting paid. And most of them don't have relatives with the money to wire to them.”

“I don't believe this,” Voula said again.

“You better start believing it,” Luca said. “I suggest we all start gathering up our personal belongs, so that when the time comes we're ready for disembarkation. I'm going to have to be one of the last people off the ship in case of any kind of medical emergency, and I'd really appreciate it if you two would be on hand to help out. There are going to be people with medical issues for certain after they get back and find out they have to pack and disembark.” He paused and looked at Voula. “I can understand if you don't want to. You're not getting paid, Voula,” he said. He turned and looked at Crissy. “And your trip is ending several days early. So you've both got good reason to disembark without helping out.”

“Of course I'll stay,” Crissy said.

“Thank you,” Luca said.

“I will, too,” Voula said. “I don't like it, but I'll do it.”

“Thanks, Voula,” he said. “I'll make it up to you somehow.”

“Maybe you're going to need a nurse when you start your practice,” she said. “Looks like it might be sooner than you thought.”

Luca laughed. “You're right,” he said. “Do you think you could take living somewhere on the Italian coast? Or maybe Miami?”

Voula's orange-painted lips spread in a smile. “I think I could stand it,” she said.

“Good. We'll talk about it later,” Luca said. “In the meantime, we should all get our baggage ready.”

After Voula left, he took Crissy into his arms. “Do you want me to go up and help you with yours before I start?”

She shook her head. “No, I can do it. It won't take me very long, then I can come back down here and help with whatever there is to do.”

Captain Papadapolis came in. “Well, it's another eventful day,” he said.

The three of them sat down in the reception area. “I'm glad you're here,” Luca said to Crissy, because what Demetrios was talking about concerns you.”

“What's that?” she asked.

“It's like this,” the captain began. “Last night when my men went down to get Valentin Petrov and take him to the brig, he wasn't there.”

“What?” she exclaimed. “But that's impossible. Luca had him tied up. And taped up, too.”

Luca shook his head. “The guy must be some kind of Houdini, because he definitely got away. The motorboat was gone, with him in it.”

“I don't believe it,” Crissy said.

“I don't think he represents a danger to you in the future,” the captain said. “He's on the run, after all. I also wanted you to know that we believe he was the go-between from Georgios Vilos to his son.”

“But he was trying to blow up the ship,” Crissy said in amazement.

“That's one reason we think he delivered the messages,” the captain said. “We have reason to believe that Georgios Vilos plotted the entire thing to collect on the insurance.”

“That's unbelievable,” Crissy said. “Surely he wouldn't blow up his own ship and all the people on it?”

“The insurance companies have already got men on the scene,” the captain said. “It turns out that the
Lucky Dragon
was owned by Vilos through a string of offshore corporations.” He paused, looking at her, then went on. “Which brings me to the other reason I'm here. What do we do with Mark Vilos? Do you still want to press charges?”