The patmos deception, p.15
The Patmos Deception, page 15
27
Carey and Nick loitered around their harbor-front hotel until the naval officer contacted them at midmorning. But all Stefanos could tell them was that he needed another day. Carey joined Nick in assuring the commander it was all good, and they could wait, while mentally she was making plans for their day off.
They toured the Roman amphitheater and the Casa Romana, a restored Roman villa containing exquisite murals and mosaics over two thousand years old. Then Nick declared he wanted to go play. Carey resisted the urge to point out that the Kos Museum was full of ancient treasures, some dating back to Phoenician times. Instead, she watched as he rented a pair of bikes and went over directions twice with the store owner. They cycled north through Kos town, then took the bike path that skirted the seafront cliffs.
The wind off the sea was brisk, and Carey thought she could smell rain. But the sky remained clear, and the frothy sea was a brilliant, shimmering blue. An hour later, they arrived at Tingaki’s Blue Flag Beach. They ate a meal of grilled sea bass and a salad of wild greens at a waterfront shack. They breathed the air and smiled a great deal and were comfortable with the silence of longtime friends. When clouds started gathering to the east, they cycled back and managed to arrive at their hotel before the storm struck. Carey pleaded fatigue and bid Nick an early good-night. Upstairs, she showered and tucked herself in bed with a book, warm and snug while outside the wind howled. She cut off the light and lay listening to the rain hammer her balcony doors, telling herself she was being foolish, indulging in childhood yearnings. After all, Nick had agreed to give her exactly what she had asked for. She had a job. She had a friend. She had every reason in the world to be happy.
The next morning she was downstairs at sunrise and had finished breakfast when Nick arrived. He ordered coffee from the passing waiter and slowly lowered himself into the chair opposite her. He blew out a breath before telling her, “Stefanos called. He’s coming over.”
“Great. What’s the matter with you?”
“I haven’t been on a bike in years.”
She grinned. “You’re moving like an old cowboy after a bad night.”
“Which is exactly how I feel. How about you?”
“I’m just an overgrown college girl, remember? I cycle everywhere. Austin is made for bikes.”
He thanked the waiter and used both hands to cradle his coffee. Sip and sigh. Sip and sigh. “Not to mention how you walked me off my feet the day before.”
“You don’t get much exercise in Paris?”
“I gave up my gym membership. Couldn’t afford it. I jog. Some. Obviously not enough.” He set down his cup. “Here he comes.”
The commander stepped up to their table, dressed in navy slacks and matching sweater. He was perhaps an inch shorter than Carey, maybe five-nine, slender and very fit. His face didn’t appear tanned so much as permanently browned. Carey wondered if he ever smiled.
He spoke with the waiter in Greek, then said, “I apologize for the delay.”
“Not a problem,” Carey said.
“Nobody would call this a hardship post,” Nick agreed.
“There are others involved. There has been much discussion. There would be more, but the situation has been taken out of our hands.”
“There’s trouble?” Nick asked.
“There is . . . confusion.”
“I don’t understand.”
“No. And we feel the same. We have all been looking in one direction, and now . . .”
“How can we help?” Nick asked.
“Yes, that is the question. And finally I have been granted permission for us to see if you can indeed help us.” Stefanos lifted his sweater and pulled an envelope from his shirt pocket. “First, I must explain to you something. We are not working on an official investigation.”
Carey commented, “You suspect some of your superiors are involved in the cover-up.”
He had the most intense gaze she had ever known. Two unblinking gun barrels, dark and fathomless. “No, Ms. Mathers. We know some are involved, just not which ones.”
“So this is off the books,” Nick said.
“We are a group of allies. We know and trust one another. Phyllis Karras has urged us to include you in this group. Others are uncertain. You are unknown. You are not Greek. You are not this. You are not that.” He balanced his hand over the table to show the uncertainty. “Many are afraid for their jobs, their families, their lives. The fear, it makes progress difficult. So for days we have argued.”
“Tell us what we can do,” Nick urged.
In response, Stefanos opened the envelope and pulled out two photographs. He set them on the table. “Have you seen either of these two men?”
Nick inspected them carefully, then passed them to Carey. “No. Should I have?”
“Probably not. The older gentleman is Duncan McAllister. He is part of an international security consortium. He was an investigator with Scotland Yard. Now he supervises teams doing work in this region.”
“What kind of work?”
“Officially, protective services for the very rich.”
“And unofficially?”
“We would very much like to know the answer to that question.” He pointed to the second photograph, the one Carey continued to study. “This is Dimitri Rubinos. He skippers a vessel out of Patmos. His family has fished these waters for generations. Dimitri retooled the family boat and now does tourist charters. Or he did until the financial crisis dried up that business.”
“And now?”
“Again, we very much want to know. Dimitri has been seen meeting with McAllister. Soon after, he had the cash to pay off his debts.”
“In the middle of the worst economic crisis Greece has known since the Depression,” Nick finished.
“Just so. We know they have met twice. Then Dimitri became a fisherman again and has just returned from a very successful voyage.”
Nick waited. When Stefanos didn’t continue, he pressed, “Where did Dimitri fish?”
“At first, he held to the deep waters south of the Dodecanese. Then he vanished.”
“You were watching him?”
“I told you. This is not an official investigation. I boarded his vessel and performed a standard search. Supposedly I was looking for out-of-season fish. I saw nothing out of the ordinary.”
Carey asked, “Could he have received an advance against his catch?”
Stefanos rocked back and forth as though approving of their comments. “Most certainly that is possible. Except for one thing. When Dimitri returned, he went straight to the police chief of Patmos. The chief’s name is Manos. His wife, Sofia, is Dimitri’s first mate.”
Carey asked, “Why are you telling us this?”
“Because two hours later, the police chief of Patmos entered the island’s main bank and showed the president two counterfeit twenty-euro notes. Their exceptional quality has raised alarms all the way to Brussels.”
“You think Dimitri obtained these notes from Duncan McAllister,” Nick said.
“We have not been able to ask him. Both because we are not officially part of any counterfeit investigation and because the police chief refuses to tell us where the notes came from. He says this was part of being trusted with them in the first place.”
“So Dimitri goes to a trusted friend with what he assumes is bogus money,” Carey said. “Which means he’s both suspicious and trying to protect someone.”
The rocking continued. “You understand, if this is the case it would be critical for us to learn whether these are simply a pair of false notes from a small batch . . . or something much larger.”
Carey asked, “The money Dimitri used to pay his debts, this was counterfeit also?”
Again Stefanos showed tight approval. “This has been discreetly checked, and the answer is no. The money Dimitri Rubinos distributed about the island to clear his debts was genuine.”
“What do you need from us?” Nick asked.
“We need you to approach Dimitri.”
“Gladly. How do we get to Patmos?”
“You don’t. You need to walk down to the boat moored at the harbor’s far end.”
Carey’s eyes went wide. “The guy is here?”
“He arrived this morning.”
Nick started to turn around, then stopped himself. “Why is he here?”
“That,” Stefanos replied, “is the first question we would like you to ask him.”
28
The Kos harbor was a broad affair with a right-hand bend that joined the small peninsula holding the fortress. Farther down the ancient stone quayside, modern slips had been built to hold the yachts and sailing vessels of the rich. Newer condominiums had been erected a block or so off the water. Carey had the impression of eyes following their progress down the cobblestone street. But when she looked around, all she saw were blank windows and nondescript modern construction.
The boat they sought was moored stern-in beyond the yachts. Like most of the fishing vessels it had for neighbors, the vessel was old but made cheerful by a bright new paint job and a blue canvas shade drawn partway over her rear deck. The tentlike covering was anchored by metal stanchions, outlined with pastel triangles fluttering in the morning breeze. A sign was stationed by the gangplank, reading in Greek and German and English, Boat for hire, guided tours of the Dodecanese Islands and Turkish coast.
Carey’s first impression of the skipper was, a tanned cat. He lounged in a salt-stained canvas deck chair, clad in a sleeveless sweatshirt and cutoffs and deck shoes. His face was turned to the sun, with his back to the quay. Even so, Carey was fairly certain he was aware of their approach. She thought this man was probably aware of everything around him.
He was also, she decided, even more handsome than his photograph.
Nick called, “Are you free for a hire?”
The man turned slowly. “Not only that, I am bored. Which means you can have me cheap.”
Carey thought his accent could only be described as delightful.
The city of Bodrum was soon visible across the narrow Skandari straits. Carey stood to Dimitri’s left in the wheelhouse, Nick at his right. Dimitri was in his late twenties or early thirties, and at around six feet was taller than most of the Greek men she’d seen. He was broad-shouldered and slim-waisted, with strong hands and a face that defined masculine beauty. But it was his eyes that captivated most of all. Dimitri Rubinos had eyes of smoke—slate gray laced with gold flecks. Combined with a cleft chin and high cheekbones, he wasn’t merely handsome. He was arresting.
Twenty minutes after leaving Kos harbor, they passed the tall Turkish headlands and wound their way between two islands that Dimitri identified as Beldisi and Kara. Carey thought the man’s manner was rather offhand, almost as if he were not there with them, his mind somewhere else. As they entered the Turkish harbor, Dimitri politely asked them to go down and be ready to tie up. As they descended the stairs, Carey whispered, “What do you make of him?”
“The guy seems disengaged,” Nick replied.
“Like he couldn’t care less,” Carey agreed. “Maybe Stefanos has identified the wrong man.”
Nick glanced back up at the wheelhouse. “It won’t be the first time I’ve chased a false lead. But somehow I thought . . .”
He didn’t finish the sentence. Dimitri reversed the engines, and the vessel nudged the harbor wall. He called through the open wheelhouse door, “Make us fast.”
They did so, told their skipper they’d be back in an hour, and then walked in companionable silence into the bustling tourist village. Remnants of the sleepy fishing port were visible here and there, but Bodrum had grown up into a town full of glitz and glamour. Fashionable people filled posh-looking cafés and restaurants. The roads were jammed with expensive cars. Many high-rise condos and hotels had security personnel posted out front, wearing jackets and ties and earpieces. This was altogether a different place from the quiet island they had left behind.
Nick stopped twice to ask directions, but when they arrived at the antiques business that Carey’s would-be boss, Adriana Stephanopoulos, had mentioned, they found it closed. Steel shutters concealed both show windows, and several bits of mail had been threaded through the bars covering the entrance. Nick pounded on the shutter, then cupped his hands and peered through the door’s dirty glass. He stepped back. “We’re all done here.”
The stores on either side offered no useful information about the shop or its owner. They asked directions and were pointed to the police station, where a bored officer shrugged at Nick’s questions, then replied in heavily accented English, “The store owner breaks no law taking a day off.”
“He hasn’t been there for a lot longer than that.”
“Day, week, is same law.” He flicked his fingers as if he were shooing away flies. “Go find different store. Are many in Bodrum.”
Nick maintained a thoughtful silence as they threaded their way back to the port. Soon the boat came into view, and Nick asked, “Do you want to hang around here?”
“Not a minute longer than necessary,” Carey replied.
“Great. Let’s go.”
But as they crossed the gangplank and Dimitri rose from his deck chair to greet them, Carey said, “Do you think we could make another stop?”
Nick replied, “Where did you have in mind?”
“Ephesus. I know it’s probably too far, but—”
“It’s four hours by boat,” Dimitri put in. “We can do this, but you will be returning after dark.”
“Is that all right?”
Dimitri smiled for the first time. “Can you pay?”
Nick looked at her and shrugged. “Sure thing.”
“Then the beautiful lady gets whatever she wants.” Dimitri clapped his hands. “Cast us off.”
Dimitri continued to play the experienced guide throughout the voyage. But that was all. He gave no indication that he cared who they were or why they were in Greece. They were simply his guests, and his job was to ensure they had a good time. He pointed out the various islands as they passed, yet he did so with the flat tone of a man going through the motions.
Twice, Nick asked leading questions, but Dimitri deflected them with professional ease. Carey imagined it was a routine he used a lot, and mostly with women, for he was one of the most handsome men she had ever met. Whenever he glanced her way, Carey returned to the same thought. Her grandmother would say that this man had been born with moonshine eyes.
Carey studied the brilliant blue waters and recalled the first time she’d heard that expression. For her fifteenth birthday the family had traveled to the annual Fort Worth rodeo. She and her grandmother had been strolling down the carnival’s main drag when a cowhand in a black silk shirt with mother-of-pearl buttons and the silver buckle of a rodeo winner had sparked her night with a smile and an invitation to dance. But her grandmother had leaned in close. “That boy’s got moonshine eyes, Carey. Tell him your answer is no.”
So Carey had reluctantly declined, then asked what Nana Pat had meant.
“Moonshine eyes is when you look at a boy and all you can see is the promise of what you don’t know,” Nana Pat said, using a voice that Carey hadn’t heard before. Like her grandmother had suddenly shed fifty years and was looking back around the bend of time to some recollection only she could see. “The crazy electricity sets your heart to racing. You think one kiss and you might just grow wings. Moonshine eyes are a blessing and a curse all rolled into one look.”
But Carey was still smarting from not being out there on the dance floor, smelling the sawdust and flying to the music. “You sure know an awful lot about a man whose name you never heard.”
Nana Pat had a sharp tongue when she thought Carey was sassing. That night, though, she merely smiled. “I was young once, child. I’ve known my own pair of moonshine eyes. Several of them, in fact.”
Standing there beneath the carnival lights, Carey had the sudden sense of growing up. She studied the woman next to her, the grandmother who’d raised her and loved her and given her more than a lot of her supposedly more fortunate friends could ever know or understand. “So why did you call moonshine eyes a blessing?”
“Because the boy who has them gets pretty much all he wants.” The old woman’s smile was in her voice now, like she was flirting with the shadows and the flashing lights from a long-ago carnival. “It’s the ladies he leaves in the dust who know the cost. Not him. Not till it’s too late.”
Carey knew the answer, but she didn’t want to let go of the moment. “When is it too late, Nana?”
“When the poor boy stops his twirling dance, when the rodeo throws him on his back, when the lights go out and the music stops.” The hand holding Carey’s trembled softly, as though vibrating to a song never forgotten. “When the moonshine eyes don’t spark, and the boy realizes the good times aren’t there for the taking. He’s never learned the lessons a man needs to grow into somebody worth keeping around. And the truth is, he’ll always worry the woman who lands him, on account of how he’s always hungering for that next sweet ride.”
29
Two hours into their journey, Dimitri asked if they would mind taking turns at the wheel. Nick readily agreed. Dimitri stood there for a time, ensuring he could trust Nick with the vessel before disappearing below. A few moments later, he reappeared on the stern deck carrying a portable grill. Carey descended the stairs and followed Dimitri into the main cabin, which was divided into a galley, the head, a lounge, and a forward sleeping berth.
