The Forty Column Castle (22 page)

Zach had changed into black shorts, T-shirt and running shoes. In my black dress and
cute little sandals, I felt over dressed. They each shouldered a duffle bag, and I
followed them down the dock and over to the harbor parking lot. Helena opened a Honda
SUV, a blue one this time. It brought back memories.

Zach stowed the bags in back and turned to me. “Claudie, when we get to our destination,
promise me you’ll find a taxi and go back to your aunt. You won’t be implicated in
this unless you tell the authorities.”

He pulled me close and searched my eyes. “I wish things had turned out differently.
I tried to figure how we could disappear to that island you wanted, but this planet
is small, and they’d eventually find me.”

“Of all the lives in this world, why did you have to walk into mine?” I said.

He tried to smile but ended up embracing me. “Things will move fast from here on.
Here’s money.” He placed a wad of bills in my hand. “I’m asking you not to make any
calls until I’m gone. Deal?”

I nodded, not trusting to speak. I wouldn’t jeopardize his getting away.

“Okay, here we go.”

We sped up the street from the dock and out onto the main drag of Pafos, Helena driving.
I was in the back staring into nothing, overcome with weariness. A few late night
revelers were on the streets, but the night was winding down, and they were on their
way home or back to their hotels.

I thought of that long ago phone call from my aunt. I didn’t feel like the same person
who had answered the call. My cares and worries from that world seemed light years
away. I counted the days since the phone call. Less than a week.

We passed the same stores and hotels in Pafos that I had known and visited for the
last ten years. My favorite restaurant, the street where we rented a house, the highway
stretching up ahead to all the beautiful beaches on the west coast of Cyprus. All
in the dim past.

Helena parked a few doors from our destination -- the house the American couple had
rented. They put on vests, the kind that camera buffs wore with tons of pockets. There
wouldn’t be cameras, film, and lenses in those pockets.

As he walked away, Zach blew me a kiss. I couldn’t smile. I watched them disappear
into the dead end alley. They’d be circling around to enter the back of the house.
I got out of the car.

The air possessed the stillness of dawn. A lone mongrel dog trotted down the street
intent on his next meal and didn’t give me a glance. The exit scheme involved the
car so I put some distance between me and it and found a low stucco wall to sit on
and figure out the rest of my life.

Gunfire might be part of this caper, and I prayed that no one would get hurt. Not
the neighbors who snuggled in their beds, not Zach who had the most to lose, not even
Helena. I couldn’t move my butt from that wall or get my feet to move down the street
and away from trouble and out onto the street and to a phone. I waited.

The sky lightened and a breeze blew off the sea. The restaurant across the street
cranked up the metal screen, and the smell of coffee stirred the air. Still they didn’t
return. Half an hour passed, forty five minutes. I imagined them dead inside, killed
with silencers. I imagined them tied up, gagged, unable to breath. Indecision settled
in a cloud over my mind. Should I go around and see what I could find? They should
have been back by now. Even if they searched the house, it wouldn’t have taken this
long.

My feet on their own volition walked to the two story adobe house with red geraniums.
I slowed as I neared, searched the second story balcony with hanging ferns. Dark green
plastic trash cans stood in a row by the rounded door which was not closed. It stood
wide open. At first I didn’t see the figures standing in the shadows, looking out.
I froze. Then I recognized the familiar outline. Zach and Helena were watching me
approach. He motioned me in.

“What happened?” I whispered, I’m not sure why. Didn’t want to wake up the neighbors,
I guess.

“They cleared out. Their gear is gone,” said Zach. “It took us a while to search what
was left.”

He studied me. “I thought you were leaving.”

“So did I.”

Zach and Helena looked like a tourist couple ready to meet the day, ready for a walk
around town, having breakfast, taking photos to send back home to the family. She
was petite against his height and dark to his sun-streaked beauty.

“Now what?” I said.

“We’re going to have breakfast. Care to join us?”

I smiled and nodded. When was I not ready to eat?

Over eggs and beans and chips with big, red slices of juicy tomatoes we talked. Helena
excused herself to go to the ladies room.

“You’re only implicating yourself more,” Zach said.

“When you didn’t return, I got worried so I came to see what had happened. I imagined
the worse.”

He laughed. “Of course.”

“What will you do now?”

“I can’t tell you, not anymore. I can’t open you up to any more danger. I have been
foolish and selfish.” He took my hand in his warm, strong one. “I want you to call
Bellomo and have him come get you and forget about me and all this.”

He saw the objection in my eyes before the words formed in my mouth.

“Claudie, someday, I promise you, when this is over, I’ll try to contact you. I know
where you are in Boston. For now you must trust me and leave. Sal will get you both
off the hook, your aunt will marry, and who knows she might even invite you to live
in one of Sal’s palatial homes. Wouldn’t you like that?”

I wasn’t going to be put off with those crazy dreams. “Zach, Helena doesn’t look like
a thief, nor do you. You don’t act like some sleazy criminal. If you are, you’re in
a class with Cary Grant.”

He squirmed in his seat and would not meet my eyes. Was I getting too close to the
truth? Who was Zach Lamont working for?

I stood up. I felt ancient. Every cell in my body ached for sleep.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

I laughed. “To the ladies room. I’ll check and see what’s keeping Helena.”

He grabbed my hand. “She’s gone. She’s my back up, my link. You don’t need to find
her. She won’t be there.”

I sank into the chair. It was hard not to scream, to shake him, to make him share
what it was that he was doing. I looked at him and when he wouldn’t turn toward me,
I caught his chin in my hand and made him meet my eyes.

“I have a feeling,” I said, “the authorities know exactly what we are doing, that
they haven’t picked me up because you are one of them. You have been lying double
time all along.”

He shrugged and smiled wearily. “I could use some sleep and a shower and shave.” He
rubbed his hand over the stubble on his face. “How about you?”

I smiled at him. “What hotel this time?” The grit in my eyes was the size of boulders,
and my dress was all over wrinkles. “I could use some freshening up myself.”

He helped me up. “You pick the place. How about we crash, and when we’ve slept it
off, I’ll tell you what we’re going to do to find Berengaria’s jewels.”

“Isn’t someone watching the airport for the American couple?” I asked, playing my
hunch.

“No one is watching the airport. They’ve escaped to the Turkish side. That’s how they
smuggle the goods for their terrorist friends. They’ll be back. While we’re waiting,
let’s get some sleep.”

“Sounds heavenly to me.”

We ended up in a modest, clean establishment after stopping to buy me yet another
outfit of shorts, top, and undies.

“You mind if I make a call?” I asked.

We had not turned on any lights. The curtains were closed, creating a false, cool
dimness. He was lying on the bed naked after a shower and could barely keep his eyes
open.

“Don’t call Yannis. Don’t bring him into this. I know you want to protect him. I’m
hoping no one has figured out the connection and gone by his house and done something
stupid.”

“You mean someone would?”

“I said I hoped no one would but if you want to protect him, don’t call. Yes, he’ll
be worried, but your aunt knows you are okay. At least we know she’s okay.”

“Right.” I put down the receiver.

I stood under the shower head for a long time, the lukewarm liquid splashing over
me, feeling the water slide over my body, wishing it could wash away all the bad memories.
By the time I collapsed beside him on the bed, he was snoring softly.

I glanced at the clock. Nine A.M.

* * * * *

In the far recesses of my sleep encrusted brain I heard a click. I opened my eyes
to a dark room. The clicking sound came again. Zach was not on the bed. I scanned
the room. The time must have been close to sundown because dim light outlined the
floral pattern in the curtains that covered the windows. I shifted up on one elbow
and wished I had put something on to sleep in. I hated the thought of facing a new
crisis in the buff.

Damn Zachariah Lamont if he had skipped out on me again. I searched for my shorts
and top and in the process saw with a leaden heart that Zach’s things were gone.

The clicking sound came again.

I pulled on shorts and top and listened. The sound was coming from the door. It sounded
like someone was in the hall outside my door, trying to pick the lock. I couldn’t
see if the deadbolt was on. On more careful scrutiny I found there was no deadbolt,
just a simple hotel door with a button lock on the door handle. I couldn’t remember
locking it.

As carefully as a tomcat backing away from a bigger tom, I picked up my purse, found
my sandals and tiptoed to the window. At least we were on the ground level this time.
As I was trying to crank open the window wide enough to crawl through, the door swung
open.

“Don’t move.”

The voice was female, low, hard.

I froze.

The light from the hall outlined the figure of a tall woman with a gun in her raised
hand.

“Who are you?” I managed to get out of my constricted throat.

“I ask the questions,” she said and motioned with the gun toward the center of the
room. “Over there.”

I held up my hands, I didn’t know why, maybe I had seen too many Westerns. Maybe I
wanted to show her I was unarmed.

“Where’s Lamont?”

“He was gone when I awoke.”

“Deserted you, did he?”

I shrugged and tried not to bristle at the ugly broad. “Move toward the door.”

The gun spoke louder than the thousand protests I wanted to make.

“There’s a blue Maruti outside. You are going to get into it without any trouble.
I’ll be right behind you and remember I have a gun.”

I nodded.

Outside the last light of sunset turned the air to rose and gold. The battered old
Maruti stood at the curb. I got into the passenger seat in the front, the one the
dark skinned driver indicated with his hand. The motor was running. The woman climbed
in the back. She was broad hipped, clad in baggy jeans and a blue blouse knotted over
an unbecoming belly. Her stringy, brown hair was caught back in a scarf. Her tan was
the kind that made the face leathery.

My hopes turned to stone. There was no sign of the blue SUV Honda in the parking lot.
My situation brought to mind the saying seduced and abandoned. Somehow it wasn’t funny.

We took off down the highway, away from Pafos, onto the road north to Polis. We turned
west onto the road to the Tombs of the Kings. My claustrophobia went into overdrive.
I had been in the tombs before or rather I had waited outside while my companions
explored the dark and gloomy interiors. The tombs encompassed seven different groups
of underground tombs dating from the third century BC and were thought to be the burial
place of Roman noblemen. I had a feeling I might be exploring them tonight.

We bumped over the road to the tombs as the last of the tourists drove past us, going
in the opposite direction, taking my hopes with them. I tried to study the profile
of the driver with my peripheral vision. He was small and had the seat up close to
the steering wheel which he clasped with large knuckled hands. He had to be the one
who had been watching us all along. There was no top to this old Jeep style vehicle.
The bangs of his military hair cut stood up in the wind. His clothes were unremarkable
and frayed on the cuffs. He looked like the street people that I had seen on my trips
to Jerusalem. Would that he were not a suicide bomber.

In some ways I didn’t care where they were taking me. None of it could be good. Zach
was gone. Again. Maybe to protect me, maybe to give me the freedom he wanted me to
have. I wondered what Miss America in the back seat wanted with me. If she had the
jewels like Zach thought, maybe she needed me dead. On the other hand if she didn’t
have the jewels and if she hadn’t caught Zach, I might be the ticket she used to get
them. I hoped her methods didn’t involve anything with razor blades or electricity.

The setting for the tombs was another spectacular performance by the Cyprus Great
Views Department. From the cliffs where the tombs were carved out of rock, you could
stand on top and look out to sea. The tombs themselves were built around courtyards
with colonnades and open to the sky. You stood on the rocks that made up the roofs
and looked down into them or walked down steps that led to a labyrinth of holes and
niches that served as the tombs. A person could get lost in those passageways.

The driver jerked the Maruti to a halt, and the woman jumped out.

“Move.” She pulled open my door and motioned for me to exit. “Wait here,” she said
to the driver. “If anyone comes and questions you, you’re watching the sunset.

My heart sank into the tombs. I looked around for help of any kind. No guard to be
seen, only cars driving away, leaving me with a mad woman.

“Hurry,” the woman said and gave me a nudge toward the most isolated of the tombs.
I started walking, trying not to stumble on the uneven rock surfaces.

“Down those stairs and don’t try anything funny. I have the gun, and I will use it.”