The Midas Legacy (Wilde/Chase 12) (25 page)

22

Greece

The mountains of Greece rolled past beneath the chartered business jet as it cut across the country on its way to Athens International Airport. Nina was not admiring the view, however, instead reading a digest of a scientific paper about nuclear transmutation on an iPad.

Eddie was not looking through the window either, but nor was he engrossed by a screen. He was watching his wife with a pensive expression that became deeper – and more aggrieved – as the minutes passed.

Finally he could contain his feelings no longer. ‘We shouldn’t have done this.’

Nina looked up from her tablet. ‘What?’

‘Come to Greece. Or left Macy with Holly again.’

‘We could hardly bring her,’ she said. ‘I’m not prepared to put her at risk, not after what happened in Iceland. Especially when we’re going to see someone who’s attacked us twice already.’

‘Which is why we shouldn’t even have come in the first place. You should have handed the whole thing over to Interpol and let them sort this twat out.’

‘I would have – if Trakas hadn’t made it personal. I want to confront him face to face about what he’s done.’

‘And he’s letting us do that,’ Eddie said suspiciously. ‘How do we know we’re not walking straight into a trap?’

‘For one thing,’ said Lonmore from a nearby seat, where he was enjoying a glass of whisky, ‘he’s got nothing to gain. He’s got both Crucibles, so it’s not as if there’s anything else he wants from us – and he must know that we’ve told other people we’re meeting him. If anything happens to us, he’s the number one suspect. For another . . . I
know
him. He’s been my friend for over forty years – he’s my son’s godfather!’ He shook his head. ‘To be honest, it’s hard to believe that he’s behind all this.’

‘Well, maybe he’s changed. Money does that to people. Especially when it’s in the form of a shitload of gold.’

‘We’ll see.’ The businessman sighed. ‘I hope you’re wrong. I really do.’

‘How old is your son?’ Nina asked.

‘Oh, he’s not mine,’ Petra quickly clarified from beside her husband. ‘We’ve thought about having kids, but haven’t gotten around to it yet. We’ve only been married for two years.’

‘Spencer was my son with my first wife,’ said Lonmore. ‘She passed away twelve years ago. Cancer.’

‘I’m sorry,’ said Nina. Lonmore nodded in appreciation.

‘Sorry,’ Eddie echoed, before continuing: ‘Hang on, you named your son after yourself? That’s such an American thing. If you did it in England, nobody would ever stop taking the piss out of you.’

‘Fortunately, we don’t live in England,’ said Lonmore. ‘But Spencer’s now twenty-five, and he’s gone his own way.’

‘I’m surprised he isn’t on the Legacy with you,’ said Nina.

Lonmore and Petra exchanged looks. ‘That’s, ah . . . kind of a contentious issue,’ he said, shifting awkwardly. ‘He actually
did
have the Lonmore family’s second seat. But he had some personal problems, so he . . . stepped down. But,’ he quickly continued, escaping the uncomfortable topic, ‘it’s not the first time someone’s left the Legacy. Laura did the same when she married your father.’

‘You knew her?’

‘Yes, although not too well, I’m afraid. She was several years older than me. Fenrir knew her much better. I do remember that she was very sharp, though, very smart. She could easily have had a career in politics or law. But she was also very focused on what she wanted to do, which was archaeology, so . . . Well, no one knows better than you. I guess you’ve got a lot in common with her.’

Nina smiled a little. ‘Thanks.’

‘How does it work if someone leaves the Legacy, then?’ Eddie asked. ‘Seems like it’d mess up the balance.’

Lonmore put his hand on Petra’s; she grinned in response. ‘I was lucky because I had Petra to take Spencer’s place.’

‘Yeah, over some objections,’ she said, her good humour dissipating at the memory.

Nina cocked her head, intrigued. ‘Sounds like they don’t like new blood coming in.’

‘The others like to keep it in the family, yes,’ said Lonmore. ‘Especially Fenrir.’ His voice dropped, becoming almost conspiratorial. ‘Sarah only has a seat because she’s his proxy while he holds the chair. He may be married to her, but it’s Anastasia he fully trusts with the Legacy. She’s utterly devoted to him.’ A snigger. ‘It’s a little creepy, actually.’

‘And what about Olivia?’ asked the redhead.

The businessman slowly leaned back and drained the remainder of his glass. ‘I’m not sure it’s my place to tell you this kind of thing, but . . .’ He popped back upright. ‘Okay, she was absolutely livid when Laura left. They had a huge bust-up over her wanting to marry your dad, yes, but some of it . . .’ He hesitated, only continuing at Nina’s urging look. ‘It meant that Olivia lost a huge amount of her say in the Legacy, because she didn’t have another family member to back her up.’

‘Two against two against one, right?’ said Eddie.

Lonmore nodded. ‘Sometimes worse than that. But she’s been in that position since the 1970s, and it’s stuck in her craw.’

The pilot announced that they were on their final approach. ‘So, this bloke Trakas is expecting us,’ said Eddie after everyone had fastened their seat belts. ‘Which is a bit Bond villain-ish. What can we expect from
him
?’

‘There’s a helicopter waiting to take us to his yacht,’ said Lonmore.

‘Also Bond villain-ish!’

‘He’s out somewhere in the Cyclades islands. Once we meet him, I guess we’ll have to play it by ear. He’s a direct man, so you won’t need to beat about the bush about telling him why you’re here, Nina.’

‘Good,’ she said. ‘Because I wasn’t planning to.’

‘On the other hand, flat-out accusing him to his face of robbery and murder might not go down too well, so . . . maybe I should handle things to begin with?’

Nina folded her arms. ‘Fine by me. Just so long as you know I’m going to do what I came here to do.’

After landing and clearing customs, the two couples were escorted to the waiting helicopter – which bore a familiar sun-like yellow logo. It took off, turning south-east and soon clearing the coastline to head out over the Aegean.

Islands were strewn across the sea like gravel scattered over blue baize. Most were volcanic in origin; Nina knew that farther out was Santorini, once thought to be a possible location for Atlantis. The helicopter’s destination was closer and more northerly, however: the little island of Poria, nestled amongst dozens of still smaller rocky offspring.

They landed on a beach. A man with the salt-etched features of someone who spent a lot of time at sea waited on a nearby jetty with a motor launch. He helped the new arrivals aboard, then set off. ‘So where’s Augustine?’ asked Lonmore.

‘On his yacht,’ said the driver, pointing out to sea. There were several vessels cruising between the islands, but the one he indicated was considerably larger than the others.

‘Big boat,’ Eddie commented. It was a twin-masted sailing vessel, long and sleek.

Petra nudged her husband. ‘Why don’t we have a yacht, babe?’

Lonmore chuckled. ‘There’s a saying: what’s the quickest way to become a millionaire? Be a billionaire and buy a boat.’

The launch headed towards the yacht. The water was choppy, a stiff breeze kicking up whitecaps. While it made the ride uncomfortable for the visitors, it was clearly to the taste of the local sailors, some of the smaller craft gleefully racing each other. Someone was even parasailing, gliding high above the sea behind a speedboat.

As they approached the yacht, the name on its hull became clear:
Pactolus
. The streamlined gantry of a double boat hoist extended out over the vessel’s stern. One place was occupied by a speedboat, hanging chains beside it waiting for a companion, but rather than take the space, the launch manoeuvred to a small retractable dock below. A pair of crewmen secured it, and the occupants disembarked.

A short flight of steps led up to the aft deck. The mainsail blotted out the sun as it swung across from one side of the ship to the other. Nina instinctively ducked, remembering a painful encounter with a moving sail on the far smaller yacht of a friend of her parents as a child, but from here this one was well above head height. The mainmast was rooted amidships, behind the wheelhouse, so anyone on the uppermost deck would need to watch out for the moving boom. Stairs to one side descended into the hull, while a set of sliding glass doors at the superstructure’s rear led inside the ship.

A bearded Greek man in a pristine white epauletted shirt greeted them. ‘Mr Lonmore! It has been a while.’

‘Captain Rouphos, isn’t it?’ Lonmore replied, shaking his hand. ‘You’re right – the last time I saw you was on Augustine’s old yacht. It was a lot smaller than this one.’

‘Mr Trakas has traded up,’ said Rouphos with a smile. ‘Welcome aboard. He will be back soon.’

‘Back?’ said Lonmore. ‘Where is he?’

Rouphos pointed at the parasailer, who was about half a mile behind them and closing. ‘There.’

The speedboat approached the yacht. Rather than slow so the flyer could make a gentle descent into the sea, however, it swept past. Trakas pulled the release to free his harness from the tow rope, working the steering lines to zigzag down towards the aft deck. The observers held their breath as it seemed that he would collide with the boat hoist, but he brought his legs up to glide over it and make a near-perfect touchdown on the teak planks. A couple of crewmen raced to him and collapsed his parachute before the wind could yank him backwards off the stern.

Eddie chuckled. ‘Talk about making an entrance.’

‘He always did like to show off,’ Lonmore said with an affectionate smile.

Trakas removed his life vest and crash helmet, then strode to meet his guests. ‘Spencer!’ he boomed in a voice as big as he was. The Greek tycoon was both tall and broad, with a bronzed and hairy barrel-like torso on display through an unbuttoned yellow short-sleeved shirt. He sported a chunky gold necklace and an outsized and over-engineered gold watch, as well as several nautically themed tattoos. ‘My friend! So good to see you again!’ He embraced Lonmore in a bear hug, the slender American looking decidedly overwhelmed.

‘Augustine, hi!’ Lonmore managed to say in return. ‘Yes, it’s been a while.’

‘Too long. We should see each other more often.’ Trakas released him and went to Petra, taking her hand and bowing to kiss it. ‘And the beautiful Petra. I haven’t seen you since the wedding!’ He straightened, then turned towards Nina. ‘And you must be Dr Wilde, the famous archaeologist.’

‘Yeah, I must,’ she replied, finding herself struggling not to like him. Their host’s larger-than-life bonhomie was instantly infectious – but she reminded herself that he was responsible for her almost being killed. ‘My husband, Eddie Chase.’

Trakas reached for her hand. She turned it on its side, making it clear that she would go no further than a shake. He did so with a shrug and a small smile before facing Eddie. The Englishman gave him a perfunctory but firm handshake before pulling away, stone-faced.

‘You are not so pleased to see me, I can tell,’ said the Greek, unconcerned. ‘But I always welcome guests, so please! Come inside.’

He led the visitors through the glass doors, the temperature immediately dropping as they entered an air-conditioned combination of gym and lounge. Trakas headed through it and along a lengthy passageway with more rooms to each side. The scent of cooking food wafted up from the deck below as they passed a flight of stairs. ‘My chef will have something good for you,’ he announced. ‘Swordfish, freshly caught. I landed it myself,’ he added proudly.

‘With help, I bet,’ said Lonmore.

Trakas laughed. ‘Spencer is still bitter about the time I took him fishing and he hurt his hands trying to bring in a swordfish
this
long.’ He held his palms about eight inches apart. ‘Including the sword!’ Another booming laugh, then he opened a door and stepped through. ‘Please, in here.’

The new room was another luxurious lounge, wraparound windows giving a panoramic view of the ocean. Glass doors were open to the bow deck, a couple of crew members beyond the foremast. A table had been laid for a meal. Trakas took the seat at its head. Nina noticed that six places had been set, rather than five.

‘So,’ said the Greek as his guests sat, ‘you want to talk to me.’

Lonmore spoke first. ‘Yes, we do. It’s about the—’

‘It’s about the Crucibles,’ Nina cut in. ‘The Atlantean artefact your mercenaries stole from the Detsen monastery in Nepal.’

Trakas showed no surprise. ‘Yes, the Crucible. What of it?’

‘What of it?’ Eddie echoed scathingly. ‘We want you to give the bloody things back!’

‘And why should I do that?’

‘Because if you don’t,’ said Nina, ‘we’ll bring down Interpol on you. There’ll be plenty of charges, but the biggest ones will be the theft of Atlantean artefacts – which the UN consider protected items under the jurisdiction of the International Heritage Agency – and multiple counts of murder.’

‘Murder?’ barked Trakas. ‘I have killed nobody.’

‘But you hired mercenaries who did. It amounts to the same thing. If you don’t cooperate, you’ll be arrested and extradited to Nepal to stand trial.’

‘But if you turn the Crucibles over,’ said Lonmore, in a more conciliatory tone, ‘I’m sure we can come to some mutually beneficial arrangement.’

Trakas shook his head dismissively. ‘You say I am responsible for these deaths. But that is not the version of events I have been told.’

‘We were there,’ said Eddie. ‘We saw it for ourselves.’

‘And so did the man who told me.’ He called out in Greek. Someone came down the passageway – and Eddie and Nina reacted in shock as Axelos entered the lounge.

The Yorkshireman jumped up. ‘What the
fuck
is he doing here?’

‘This son of a bitch tried to kill us!’ Nina cried.

‘Please, please, be calm,’ said Trakas, gesturing for Eddie to retake his seat. ‘Petros works for me – he is my chief of security. I sent him to Nepal to obtain the Crucibles, but because of the short timescale, he was forced to hire local men instead of more reliable ones he had worked with before. This was,’ he brought his hands together as if in prayer, seeming genuinely contrite, ‘a mistake.’