The Forty Column Castle (6 page)

“Right.”

“I had no idea though I can’t say I’ve had much interest up to this point.”

“But there’s more bad news. Terrorists deal in the market.”

“To finance terror,” I said. Here we sat right off the coast of the Middle East. Great.

I let go a big sigh. “This is not good. We’re going from petty theft to major league
crime. I can feel my stomach knotting up.”

“You need to hire a lawyer to protect your aunt.”

“You’re right. Thanks, Lena. If you find out anything else, give me a call, any time,
day or night. I’ll be staying at Yannis’s tonight. I don’t know what will happen after
tomorrow morning. I’ll let you know.”

“Okay, and Claudie? Don’t worry about things back here. I got the info you emailed.
I agree with your buy and sell recommendations. I can handle this for now. Get things
straightened out over there and come back soon. Take care.”

I hung up and studied the icon of Saint George the Dragon Slayer that hung on the
wall next to the entry way mirror. I might need a dragon slayer. Real soon.

I returned to the group around the table and gave them a rundown of my conversation
with Lena. Mother Vasilis, humming a happy tune, moved around the table clearing dishes
and replenishing food and coffee.

“We haven’t had problems with terrorists that I know of,” said Yannis. “We’ve had
more problems with organized crime on the island. Back in 1995 a big scandal hit that
involved the upper echelons of the police in gangland shootings and car bombings.
Mafia kingpins fight over gambling, drugs and prostitutes. Smuggling could be in their
league.”

I hoped Lena was wrong about the terrorists. The thought made my skin crawl. I couldn’t
get excited about running into members of the Mafia either. Was Salvatore Bellomo
connected?

Zach had been silent, but now he spoke up. “Do you know a good lawyer, Yannis?”

“Sure,” he said. “My brother-in-law. He lives in Limasol. Lawyers are a tight group
on Cyprus, and he’s well-connected. He’ll know what to do. He arranged bond.”

“What did Mr. Philipides say?” Lonnie asked.

“He says,” said Yannis, “that the ladies in question are loaded with money. His cousin,
who lives in London, referred them. They always pay their rent in advance. Mrs. Crawford
seems to have some business savvy so he deals with her. They aren’t extravagant in
an obvious way. And get this, his cousin said that Mrs. Crawford enjoys art collecting.”

“Does she enjoy it enough to steal is the question?” Zach said. “Does she prefer art
or antiquities or isn’t she particular. Would she frame a fellow tourist?”

“Isn’t that the million dollar question?” said Lonnie. “But why would these women
get into smuggling, if they are so wealthy. They seem very respectable.”

“Seem is the key word in this puzzle. Maybe they need the thrill,” Zach said. “I’ve
seen stranger things.” He stood, signaling his intent to leave. “Claudie looks tired,
and we could all use some sleep.”

He thanked Mother Vasilis for dinner.

She was a tiny lady with gray streaks in her midnight black hair that she wore in
a tight bun. She didn’t understand English but nodded and smiled like she did. She
clasped his hand in both of hers and squeezed.

“I better get back to the Coral Bay. Claudie, call me tomorrow after you bail out
your aunt. You can reach me on my cell phone or through the hotel. I’ll help any way
I can.”

“Thanks. You’ve been a great help already.” I smiled up at him.

“I can give you a lift, Zach,” Lonnie said.

“Thanks. I might live another day if I don’t have to be driven back to the hotel by
a Cypriot taxi driver.”

A phone was ringing. I couldn’t get to it. I ran to the kitchen. Couldn’t find it.
Ran to the living room. Searched. No Phone. Still ringing. I couldn’t tell where it
was. The bathroom. The linen closet. Not in the towels. It rang and rang and rang.

Where was I? What day was this? I couldn’t remember. The phone was still ringing.
A funny ring. Two quick short rings. What was wrong with my phone? It never rang like
that. The ringing stopped. Something was wrong. Whose voice was that? A man? In my
loft? What was a man doing in my loft at this hour? That wasn’t English.

My eyes flew open.

It was Greek.

The door to my room slammed open, and Yannis burst in. “Claudie, wake up. Your aunt’s
gone.”

I threw the sheet back before Yannis finished the sentence and was upright on the
floor by the time he did. My night shirt was twisted around my body. I swiped tangled
hair from my face.

“What? What are you talking about? What are you saying?”

Yannis grabbed my shoulders and shook me. “Listen to me. My cousin on the police force
just telephoned. Your aunt is gone. The guard reported her cell door wide open about
half an hour ago. The police are on their way here. You’re wanted for questioning.
You’re a suspect.”

I sank onto the bed. “Gone? Where could she go? Who would take her?” I scrubbed my
face trying to think straight, trying not to let desperation and fear overpower me
and render my brain useless.

“That’s what the police want to know. They think you have the motive. You may be arrested.”

“Arrested?” That word wiped the confusion from my brain and motivated me into action.
“I’m getting out of here.” I grabbed the shorts and tank top I had thrown on the chair
by the bed, searched the room for my backpack.

“Out of where?” Yannis asked. “This is an island. It’s not that easy to hide.”

“I’ve got to find who’s behind this, and I can’t do it from a jail cell.” I scooped
up the paraphernalia of my life from the dresser top and tossed the stuff into the
backpack.

“Yannis, call a taxi. Quick.”

“Where will you go?” He stood there, hands clenched at his sides, watching me pack
my things.

I stopped the packing frenzy and looked at him. “I don’t know, maybe North. I’ll get
word to you. Yannis, please help me.”

He looked in such pain I thought he might burst into tears. At last, he moved toward
the door. “I don’t think it looks good your disappearing when you’re wanted for questioning.”

“I can’t be worried about how it looks. I need to find some answers.”

He succumbed to the pathetic look in my eyes and left the room. I could hear him on
the phone requesting a taxi, as I pulled on my clothes and shoved my feet into flip-flops.
I stuffed underwear, cotton tops, jean skirt, shorts into the pack and paused to consider
the large suitcase by the bed. No, I wouldn’t take it. Too big, too cumbersome, it
would slow me down. My hands shook so bad I couldn’t get the brush through my hair,
so I smoothed it as best I could into a ponytail and secured it with a scrunchie.

Yannis returned, unhappy. “The taxi is here. I didn’t know what to say about where
you were going. The driver speaks English. He’ll take you wherever you want. You can
trust him. He’s a cousin.”

“Thanks. Tell the police I left for Limasol to consult my lawyer.” I pecked him on
either cheek, grabbed my pack and purse, and hurried from the room.

I figured the town of Polis on the northwest tip of the island was my best bet, since
it was close and in the opposite direction of Limasol. That’s where I told the driver
I wanted to go. The early morning was bright, blue and cloudless. I checked my watch.
Almost eight A.M.

The driver flew low, the speed most Cypriot drivers favored. As we approached the
turnoff for the Coral Bay Hotel, I debated whether to see if Zach were in. Maybe just
maybe, he could help. Who else did I have to turn to on the island? Everyone I knew
was related to Yannis in some way, and I didn’t want to pull him any further into
this fiasco.

I told the driver to turn in and wait with the motor running while I went into the
hotel. At the reception desk I asked for Zach’s room number and walked to his room
in the left wing of the hotel which overlooked the bay. I beat on the door and heard
a muffled voice call to come back after ten A.M. to clean.

“Zach, it’s me, Claudie. I need to speak to you.”

I heard footsteps, and the door burst open. He stood there in briefs and tousled hair.
He pulled me into the room. “What happened? What’s going on?”

I slipped by him and went to stand before the open doors of the patio. He followed,
and I could feel him behind me, waiting. In the distance the sea lapped in and out
in gentle waves, oblivious and uncaring about the melodrama of human life, in general,
and mine, in particular.

“Someone kidnapped Aunt Elizabeth,” I said, addressing the indifferent scene before
me. “About forty five minutes ago Yannis’s cousin called to warn us that the police
were on their way to his house, that they wanted me for questioning, that I’m a suspect.
So I took off. I have a taxi running outside.”

I turned around to face him. I didn’t know this man well, but maybe he could help
me find my aunt. I took a leap. “Do you have any connections that could help me find
out what’s happened to my aunt? This is a nightmare, and I need help.”

I must have looked pathetic standing there in my bedraggled ponytail, no makeup, my
backpack slung my shoulder. What I felt was frightened, like the walls were closing
in. I didn’t know who had my aunt or where she was.

He pulled me into a hug. Not a romantic hug, but one you would give a child. I could
feel his warm breath on my hair and he said in that soft drawl, “I’ll help you. Tell
the taxi driver to leave while I pull on some clothes.”

I started to protest but Zach placed his finger on my lips.

“I rented a Land Rover. We can go anywhere in that. I’ll explain in the car. Go. I’ll
get dressed and be out in ten minutes.”

I left the taxi driver with a generous tip then walked through the lobby with my backpack
and huge purse slung over my shoulder. People sat about the lounge in resort garb,
waiting for tours. The sitting area had carved chairs with cushions in a tropical
green pattern. A white grand piano stood to one corner. The area was open to the bay.

It would have been perfect had I been a mere vacationer. But I wasn’t. I was hunted
and I felt conspicuous, like people were staring at me. There was a line for breakfast,
so I went to the coffee bar by the swimming pool and ordered two coffees and sweet
rolls. The waiter was young and Nordic-looking. He asked if I cared for anything in
the coffee.

“Black, thank you. Cream on the side.”

He gave me a once over and that should have made me feel attractive and flirty, but
instead it made me uncomfortable, although I knew he couldn’t possibly know the police
were searching for me. He winked as I paid him. If I needed a date, I knew who to
look up.

When I had opened my wallet there wasn’t much Cypriot currency, so I changed five
hundred U.S. dollars to Cypriot pounds at the banking window. Hoping that by now he
was ready, I walked to Zach’s room with the coffee and tapped at the door. He opened
the door dressed in long tan pants and a bulky black shirt.

“Oh, thanks,” he said, as I handed him the coffee. “I’m almost ready.”

“Do you have business to attend to today?” I asked, sipping coffee as I watched him.

“Not until later.” He was packing a black sports bag on the bed and threw in his shaving
gear. “This should do.”

“Do you plan to stay out overnight?”

Zach shrugged a shoulder. “Just playing it safe.” He shoved a roll of money from the
dresser into his pocket and slid a small pile of plastic cards into the other pocket.
“I have some friends, a trustworthy couple who live in a small place in the Troodos
Mountains. You can stay with them a few days. They’re retired Brits. I worked with
him on a few projects some time back. They’re well-connected. They might be able to
help.”

Zach picked up his bag, looked around to be sure he hadn’t left anything. He held
out his hand. “C’mon, we don’t have much of a lead on them.”

Like a trusting child, I took his hand. He led the way to the parking area and opened
the Land Rover, throwing our bags on the back passenger seat. Out of the corner my
eye I caught a flash of blue and turned enough to make out the blue Maruti sitting
in the parking lot. Zach followed my eyes then got in the driver’s side and started
the Rover.

“He must have followed you from Yannis’s house. Let’s see if we can lose him.”

We sped past the Maruti and out onto the main road, headed south to Pafos.

I looked at Zach. “It looks like there are two in the front. Did you notice?”

“I only saw the car. That is double bad news.” He glanced over. “Any guesses who they
are?”

“Given the circumstances, they might be interested in antiquities. They aren’t any
friends of mine. They looked more Arab than Cypriot.”

“They might be tied to the smuggling operation in some way.” Zach peered into the
rear view mirror. “I’m going through Pafos and on toward Limasol to get to the Troodos
since the access road into the mountains is better. We should be able to lose them
in town. I don’t want to get caught on back roads with these guys following us.”

He floored it, and we streaked down the highway. As we neared the outskirts of town,
traffic slowed us down. The Maruti caught up, staying a few car lengths behind.

Zach wove in and out of town traffic, horns blowing as we sped by. “Scoot down onto
the floor, just in case.”

“Good idea. I don’t fancy being picked up.” I slid off the seat on to the floor and
hunched up facing him. I judged our progress through town by the tops of the buildings
flashing by.

“I admire your skill at evasive driving. Where’d you learn it?” I held on to the seat
to keep from sliding into the dashboard.

“On the job. I’ve done this a few times before.”

“I see. Feel like telling me where? You haven’t told me much about what you do for
a living.”

He shrugged. “I do contract undercover work, mostly with local law enforcement agencies.
I’ve done some work for the FBI. Some international jobs for the CIA.”