The Forty Column Castle (2 page)

I decided to keep my options open. “Gee, I need to catch up on my sleep. Maybe late
brunch.”

“Call me when you get up. After brunch maybe we can do a little sightseeing.”

“Sure,” I said, even though I wasn’t sure about anything.

In my room sounds of the sea drew me to the balcony that overlooked a courtyard below,
where a lighted pool glowed aquamarine in the night. Beyond I could make out the gentle
white crests of Mediterranean waves. The smell of the sea was thick in the air, and
I breathed the exotic, heady fragrance of Cyprus.

I was wide awake. My body was confused as to what time it should be. A seven hour
time difference was a lot to acclimate to. My thoughts turned to Zach. After spending
twenty four hours with him, I felt like we were old friends, that I had known him
a long time. I wondered how it happened that some people I liked instantly upon meeting
and others I couldn’t stand.

My mind nibbled around the plausibility of my aunt being a thief. Here was a person
I had known and trusted all my life, and thief didn’t fit the picture. This was a
person who wouldn’t remove a hairpin from my dresser without asking me first. Of course,
given her past behavior, I knew her logic could be skewed at times. I also knew she
adored souvenirs, but could she have turned to theft to get them?

I needed to talk to someone.

Even though it was late, I decided to call Yannis, who lived in Pafos and tended to
be a night owl. He knew everyone on Cyprus through an intricate web of relatives,
most of whom he referred to as cousin. I had long ago stopped trying to figure out
the web. Like many of the locals, he spoke excellent British English while my Greek
had never progressed past the tourist stage.

“Ney,” I said to the operator, hoping for an English speaking one. “Parakalo, Pafos
357-5-781711.

“Yes, miss. One minute, please,” she said in clipped English.

I heard a vigorous, “Ney, ney?”

“Yannis, darling,” I said, relieved to hear his voice.

“Who is speaking, please?”

“Guess.”

“It sounds like an American Princess I know.”

“It is. It is.” I laughed in delight and relief at getting through to him.

“It is great to hear your voice. How is Boston and when are you coming to see us?”

“Sooner than you think. I’m in Larnaca. I tried to call yesterday before I left the
States but couldn’t get through.”

“Larnaca? You didn’t tell me you were coming. You always call ahead. Is everything
okay?”

“Not exactly. I got bad news. Something awful has happened.” I jumped right into the
dilemma. “Aunt Elizabeth was here on vacation, and she’s been detained in Larnaca
on smuggling charges.”

Yannis hooted. “Claudie, you had too much wine on the trip over, I think.” He continued
to chuckle, somewhat to my annoyance.

“I know this sounds absurd, but it’s true. I managed to get through to the police
before I came. They verified that airport security detained Elizabeth Davies, U.S.
citizen, in jail on the charge of smuggling antiquities in her carryon. They suspect
she’s the leader of the smuggling ring.”

“No. You aren’t kidding, are you? Your aunt? She is not a criminal. Perhaps her bags
got mixed with someone else’s.”

“That’s the obvious explanation. But I’ve been unable to drag any more information
out of the authorities, and since it’s the weekend I’ve not been able to get in touch
with anyone at the American Embassy.”

I huffed a little sigh, hoping he’d rescue the damsel in distress and jump in with
an offer of assistance. It doesn’t hurt to work the male ego when it suits the purpose.

“Do you know if your aunt went to the Turkish sector this time? You know that was
the problem one time when she was leaving the country, and the officials saw the Turkish
stamp on her passport.”

Cyprus is a divided country since the Turks invaded the North coast of the island
in 1974 and refused to leave. Bad blood between Cypriot Greeks and Turks is legendary.

I shook my head into the phone. “I don’t know, Yannis. I told her to be careful and
stay out of the North, but you know how much she loves Kyrenia.”

“Odd they detained someone like Elizabeth,” Yannis said. “I will make some phone calls.
Where are you staying?”

“At the Golden Bay. Oh, Yannis, I’d be so grateful if you could help.”

“Of course, I will. I’ll come to your hotel around ten in the morning to pick you
up. Check out and stay with my family here in Pafos. We’ll get to the bottom of this
and secure your aunt’s release. Then we’ll get in some beach time. Don’t worry, Princess.
I’ll see you soon. Ciao.”

“Ciao.”

I smiled to myself. Yannis would get this mess straightened out. We’d get my aunt
out of jail and on the next plane back to Boston in no time.

I was waiting in the hotel lobby when Yannis arrived the next morning, pushing eleven
o’clock. I’ve never known him to be on time. I’d fallen into an exhausted sleep but
felt disoriented with the change in time and country, even after a hot shower, and
the thunderbolt they called Greek coffee.

As soon as I got up, I had called Zach in his room.

“Something’s come up,” I told him. “I’ve got some business to take care of with a
Cypriot friend this morning, and then I’m going to Pafos to stay with his family.”

“Tell you what,” he said, “give me the phone number where you’ll be staying in Pafos,
just in case. I’ll go on the Coral Bay Resort, and you can call me when you get to
Pafos. We’ll go for a swim this afternoon, if that fits with your schedule.”

“That might work,” I said and gave him Yannis’s home number. I clung to the hope of
a quick resolution to Aunt Elizabeth’s predicament.

I had donned a black jeans skirt, mini version, great for travel which showed a nice
expanse of leg, one of my better features an admirer had once said. I liked silk tees
for travel, the scoop neck version, and had a turquoise one on today with my favorite
pair of black strappy sandals. I sported very dark, red-framed sunglasses to protect
against the bright sun and hide the dark circles under my eyes. I hoped I looked more
presentable than I felt.

Yannis hugged and kissed me, whirling me around. He wasn’t tall but he was strong
and had arms like a weight lifter, so even at my height he threw me around like a
rag doll. His bright eyes danced as he held me at arm’s length to have a look. He
had the build of his ancestors, stocky and broad chested. His olive brown skin set
off his most striking feature, green-gold eyes he inherited from his mother’s side
of the family, originally from Venice way back in the 15
^th
century when the Venetians ruled Cyprus. His black hair curled slightly behind his
ears and had not a hint of brown. He always wore a smile and his shirt collars open.
His enthusiasm for life attracted people to him, especially women.

“It is great to see you. You are as beautiful as ever, but a little too pale,” he
said, releasing me. “We’ll have to work on your tan while you are visiting.”

He threw his hands up in the air. “This news about your aunt is terrible. I talked
to my cousin, the head of the customs bureau, and he has agreed to meet us at his
office in an hour even though this is Sunday and his day off.”

He gave me a beautiful smile. “So, Princess, let’s have breakfast. It will perk you
up.”

I couldn’t argue with that. “I’ll be eternally grateful if your cousin can help us,
and breakfast sounds superb. I’m running on my reserve tank.”

He helped me up into his dark green Mercedes, the preferred brand on the island, then
went round and climbed into the right side. Since Cyprus was a former British colony,
driving on the left was one British legacy. Speaking English with a British accent
was another. I found the accent charming but chose not to drive on Cyprus because
my brain refused to translate to driving on the left side of the road.

Warm breeze, blue sky, hot sun. It was good to be back on Cyprus. We drove down a
side street to a small cafe on the waterfront, Yannis joking as we went, trying to
lighten things up. He parked straddling the curb, an endearing Cypriot custom. At
the restaurant we sat outdoors and ordered Greek coffee and English breakfast of eggs,
tomatoes, beans and chips.

I launched into my breakfast as soon as the swarthy waiter set it before me. I especially
loved the chips on Cyprus made with the yellow potatoes grown on the island and deep-fried.
I picked up the last chip and coated it with the catsup on my plate. I had been relating
the details of what I knew about my aunt’s predicament.

Yannis listened with few interruptions and when I had finished, his intense gaze traveled
over my face and beyond my shoulder for a few moments.

I didn’t like the serious look on his face.

“My cousin says the authorities have been watching your aunt.” His voice took on the
very gentle quality one uses when speaking of the dear departed.

A chill settled over me even though the day was heating up. I was vaguely aware of
the chatter around us as the patio filled with Cypriots. I looked up from sipping
my coffee, eyes wide. “You aren’t serious. You can’t be. Watching her for what?”

“Smuggling.”

“Yannis, my aunt raised me after my folks died.” My voice ratcheted up several decibels,
and I could feel heat creeping up my neck. I got a glance or two from alarmed brunchers
and lowered my voice. “Since I was sixteen years old she has been friend, counselor,
and confidante. This woman is not a criminal though I admit she’s a little eccentric.
They have the wrong person.”

He pursed his lips and frowned, as if not knowing quite how to continue. I saw more
bad news written on his face, as he seemed to search for the right words to say.

“Marie-Claude, because of the worldwide crackdown on the antiquities trade, the price
of ancient artifacts has gone sky high and smuggling has become very, very lucrative.”

He was in a position to know. He worked for the Department of Antiquities. He studied
me like making sure this was sinking in.

I sat with my elbows on the table and looked down into my half drunk cup of coffee.
I did not at all like the direction this conversation was going. I glanced at him
when he didn’t continue.

“I’m listening,” I said.

He looked toward the blue-green sea, and the glint of the sun sparkled in his black-lashed
eyes.

“There’s a group of smugglers operating on Cyprus who have been difficult to catch
because they look and act very normal. Greek and Roman artifacts are their specialty.
These bring an extremely high price, especially mosaics, and I don’t have to tell
you we have a lot of those.”

“I know,” I said. I had met him on my first trip to Cyprus when I had visited Pafos
as a volunteer with a group of archeologists who helped in the excavation of the Forty
Column Castle, destroyed by an earthquake in 1223. Yannis had been project coordinator.
We had also helped excavate beautifully preserved floor mosaics in a third century
Roman villa.

“Where does my aunt come in?”

“They think that some of the people involved on Cyprus are a group of well-to-do though
misguided women maybe looking for a little excitement in their lives, who knows. Your
aunt was seen with them. The police haven’t made any arrests because they’ve been
unable to catch anyone with the goods. Picking up your aunt has been the first break
they’ve had.”

“Yannis, this is absurd. Those antiquities had to be planted in my aunt’s luggage.
She isn’t capable of masterminding an elaborate smuggling operation.” I struggled
to keep my voice low and my temper under wraps.

He nodded. “From what I know of your aunt, I agree.” He glanced down at his watch.
“It’s time for us to meet Chris. Let’s see what he can tell us.” He signaled for the
check, paid the waiter, and steered me between the tables to the street. Neither of
us spoke on the drive to the customs house. I was too upset. He knew I was upset and
didn’t want to make matters worse, I’m sure.

In the middle of my black mood, my cell phone vibrated.

“How’re you doing?” It was Zach.

“I’ve been better.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing I can’t handle,” I said. I shouldn’t have let my black mood escape.

“Well, if you need me, I’m at the Coral Bay Resort. I think I might have given you
the wrong number for my cell.”

We checked numbers. I had the right one.

“Will you be able to get away this afternoon?”

I smiled in spite of myself.

“I think so. I’ll call you in a bit,” I said and clicked off.

Yannis looked over and raised an eyebrow.

“A friend I met on the plane over.”

“I can tell by the smile on your face,” he said.

He parked along the curb, scattering birds and children as he screeched to a halt.
He helped me from the Mercedes, and we ascended the worn marble stairs of the customs
house that sat on a hill overlooking the town.

The cousin waited for us at the entrance.

“I am very pleased to meet you, Miss Lowell,” Chris Mikolas said in English with British
overtones, as we were introduced. He was a fatherly looking man, slightly balding,
who had a squinty way of looking and, as most of the men on Cyprus, was shorter than
I. He led us down a corridor of high ceilings and open windows to a corner office.
We sat in the straight back chairs he indicated.

“Would you like coffee?” he asked.

“Yes, thank you.” I never turned down an offer of coffee, though I’d had so much I
was beginning to twitter.

The window in the room was wide open and at street level. Mikolas called out the window
in Greek and a small boy appeared then disappeared as quickly.

“I understand Miss Davies is your aunt?” He cleared his throat.

“Yes, she is. I’m here to secure her release. I’m sure there’s been a misunderstanding.”

“I see.” Mikolas nodded his head and cleared his throat several more times. I couldn’t
decide if it was a nervous habit or I was making him so.