The Forty Column Castle (4 page)

“Efkaristo,” I said. At least I knew thank you in Greek.

I climbed in the left front passenger side of Yannis’s Mercedes. He yanked the steering
wheel and gunned the motor to get back onto the narrow street.

“I don’t understand why you had to come with me,” he said. “If this is an international
smuggling ring, they could be dangerous.”

“Because, my handsome friend, you might have needed someone to rush you to the hospital
in the event an elderly woman tried to beat you to death.”

I got a half smile and a look out of the corner of his eye.

“Besides,” I said, “I wanted to meet my aunt’s new friends, the ones who might have
led her astray. These fine palatial homes don’t look like a smuggler’s neighborhood.”

“Not in the daylight,” Yannis shot back. He was more than annoyed with me. “We’ll
try later this evening since the widows aren’t at home.”

We rode in silence for a while, bouncing down the uneven, worn pavement.

“We’re at a dead-end,” he said. “Let’s go to the beach you like above Ayios Georgios.
It will cheer us both up and help our thinking process.”

I pictured my aunt sitting in a jail cell while I was sunning on a beach. But I had
done everything possible, down to arranging for bond and a lawyer, a relative of Yannis,
of course. Her friends wouldn’t be around until later, and the beach wasn’t that far.
We could go for an hour or two, then come back to try to find the widows. The sun
was high in the sky, and it would be good to feel it on my skin. I needed to relax
before I tied myself up in a super Gordian knot.

“Okay, you’re right, let’s go to the beach.” I rummaged in my Coach purse and came
up with the business card Zach had given me.

“Zachariah Lamont, Security Consultant,” I read aloud. “Look, Yannis.” I held up the
card for him to see. “Zach, my friend from the plane trip over, is in security. He
never mentioned exactly what kind of consulting he did. Maybe he would know how to
catch smugglers.”

“I doubt it.”

Being the perceptive person I am, my radar picked up on Yannis’s lack of enthusiasm
for the addition of a male companion to our twosome.

“Maybe not, but I’d like to talk to him. The Coral Beach Resort is on the way to the
Ayios Georgios. Let’s stop by and invite Mr. Lamont to accompany us.”

A grunt was his reply.

* * * * *

The man at the desk at the Coral Beach Resort said Mr. Lamont could be found in the
health spa on the lower level. We crossed the lobby decorated in bright white lattice
work and polished wood floors. Everything was open to the outside, and a pleasant
breeze stirred the potted palms.

The spa wasn’t big, and I spotted Zach on the Nautilus leg press. He was clad in white
gym shorts. His muscular body glistened with sweat. His abs were model perfect, his
deltoids nicely defined. He wasn’t bulky like a weight lifter but had the smooth lines
of a competition swimmer.

I discreetly took a deep breath to slow my pulse.

He lowered the leg lift and smiled, as I walked toward the machine.

“Hi,” he said. “Nice surprise.”

I smiled but my tongue seemed to be glued to the roof of my mouth. The display of
beautiful male flesh had rendered me speechless.

Yannis came over and stood behind me.

Zach shifted his gaze to take in the intruder.

“He’s with me,” I said, ungluing my tongue. “This is my old friend, Yannis Vasilis.”
I caught Yannis scowl out of the corner of my eye, like he didn’t care for the term
old.

“Zach Lamont.” He held out his hand and the two shook, Zach with a friendly smile,
Yannis without one.

I cast about for something to say. “How do you like the hotel?” I asked. I decided
to stick to the mundane. It was funny how my tongue was getting all twisted up trying
to talk. I hadn’t had that problem before.

“It’s improved greatly since you arrived,” Zach said, smiling into my eyes. “I have
the day free day to relax.”

“Speaking of relaxing,” I said, rushing, hardly taking a breath between syllables,
afraid if I stopped I’d never get the words out, “we’re going to a lovely, rather
isolated beach north of here, above Ayios Georgios, the church that sits near the
beach. Would you care to join us?”

He picked up a towel and wiped the sweat from his face and neck, as if giving the
invitation serious consideration. He slid the towel over his chest and arms. I followed
every move. My eyes were bolder than my tongue.

“I’d like to,” he said with a grin. “Let me shower and change. Have you had anything
to eat?

“Yes, but I could use another cup of coffee. Couldn’t you, Yannis?” I hoped my pleasantries
would offset Yannis’s frowning face.

He crossed his arms and grunted.

“Why don’t we wait for you at the restaurant on the outside terrace?” I said.

“Great, I’ll see you there in fifteen minutes.”

I slipped into the ladies room on the way to the restaurant and changed into black
bikini bottoms under my skirt. I never traveled anywhere on Cyprus without bikini
bottoms, beach towel, and sun tan lotion. Topless saved on half the price of a bathing
suit, and I loved the feeling.

I ransacked my brain for the right way to tell Zach about my aunt and enlist his aid,
as I walked out to the terrace where Yannis was seated at a table decked out in blue
and white checked cloth. If I could get my tongue to work, coming right out with the
truth would probably be best.

Yannis stood and helped me into a chair with a cushion that matched the table cloth.
The table was next to the railing and overlooked the cove that the Coral Beach claimed
as its own. A huge, meandering swimming pool stretched below us and beyond that a
beach with a small harbor filled with pleasure craft.

“We don’t need this guy’s help,” he said. His face was fixed in an unbecoming scowl,
and he drummed his fingers on the table. “I have important contacts that we haven’t
used yet.”

“I’ve been mulling that over.” I propped my chin on my hand and looked at him. “I
want to know what a security consultant does. Let’s ask and then decide.” I gave him
a smile, trying to dispel the frown he’d adopted at the sight of Zach. “We may need
all the help we can get.”

Zach joined us in less than fifteen minutes. The waiter brought him a fresh cup of
coffee and refilled ours.

“Great coffee,” Zach said after sampling his. “Sure is nice to be back on Cyprus.”
He looked around, taking in his surroundings. “This is my kind of living.”

I nodded in agreement. The setting was spectacular.

The waiter returned to take Zach’s order. He ordered breakfast even though we were
well into the afternoon. We faced the sea, and the sun blazed on the water. Fair skinned
Northern European tourists were scattered around on blue and white lounge chairs,
working on a sun burn. A slight breeze blew the place mats up on the table, and Zach
leaned forward to catch my napkin, as it tried to follow the breeze. Yannis seemed
unaware of his surroundings. He sat with his arms folded across his chest, scowling
into the distance.

“What have you been doing?” Zach asked, directing his gaze at me.

I shifted my gaze to the beach area, not wanting to rush into a reply. A striking
couple who had very little on between them caught my eye. I watched them, as I thought
what to say.

At last, turning to him, I said, “I’ve been trying to get my aunt out of jail,” like
I was giving the weather report.

Zach’s reaction was in his eyebrows. They rose ever so slightly. “Nice way to spend
a vacation,” he said. “What’s she in for?” He spoke as if we were discussing the possibility
of rain.

“Smuggling. Do you know anything about antiquities smuggling?”

“I might,” Zach said.

I returned his gaze. “You have my attention.”

Yannis unfolded his arms and leaned in. At last, his interest was engaged.

“Maybe you should elaborate on your aunt’s predicament first,” Zach said.

I told him about the call from my aunt and her detainment at the airport. Zach interrupted
with questions about small details. I went over Yannis’s efforts to get her out of
jail and how we would bail her out in the morning.

The smell of fried eggs and sausage wafted over the table, as the waiter set Zach’s
meal in front of him. I continued as he ate.

“The problem is it’s going to be hard to prove that she wasn’t trying to take a few
small souvenirs out of the country, and the penalties are stiff.”

“Yes,” Yannis said. “She could have remained in jail for a long time, but I have important
connections, so I was able to convince the authorities that she should be out on bail.”

I fixed an appreciative smile on my Cypriot friend and patted his arm to acknowledge
his connections and his help. He was absolutely right. Without his web of relatives
I would never have gotten to see my aunt today or arrange bail and a lawyer.

A smile softened Yannis’s face, and he relaxed back against his chair. The sound of
glass tinkling and the murmur of voices around us grew louder, as bathers wandered
up to the patio for afternoon refreshments. Fragrance of coconut oil filled the air.
The heat of the day intensified as the sun blazed overhead.

Zach finished his last bite of chips and laid his fork over on the plate. “I did some
private investigation in Texas a while back.”

“Private investigator sounds good,” I said. “We could use that kind of experience
on this case. Do you think you can help us?”

Zach gave me a look, as if trying to assess how much it was worth, or if he wanted
to get involved.

“I mean, maybe you’re too busy,” I said, thinking I was taking a lot for granted.

He kept looking at me and narrowed those intense dark eyes.

Maybe his seeming reluctance had to do with money.

“I will be more than happy to pay you. I guess I should have asked what your rates
are.”

The waiter took away Zach’s plate and topped off our coffee. Zach settled in a hunch
over his.

In that soft, Texas drawl he said, “We might be able to work something out.” His eyes
said even more. I don’t think I was imagining what he meant, because Yannis picked
up on it.

“We don’t need to work anything out,” Yannis said. “I am perfectly cable of handling
this for you, Claudie.”

“My,” I said, “it’s getting hot. Anyone for a swim?”

* * * * *

Yannis’s Mercedes lurched down the gravel road, around a curve and up a rise that
brought us to the beach. It was in a small bay covered with pebble sand, high cliffs
on two sides where swallows darted and swooped, indifferent to our intrusion onto
their private beach. No one else was around and that was the reason I liked coming
here. It was isolated from the tourists.

The waves lapped gently on the beach. The water was clear turquoise with flashing
rhinestone top. I liked to snorkel in deep water, and on this beach the bottom dropped
off to over thirty feet a short way out. The sea nettles tended to stay in the rocks
in deep water, so they usually weren’t a problem.

I put my beach towel close to the water’s edge so I wouldn’t have to walk on blistering
pebbles, stripped down to my bikini bottoms, deciding it was Zach’s choice where he
wanted to put his eyes. Yannis had seen me topless a hundred times before on the beach.
I sat on the towel and smoothed coconut tanning lotion over my breasts, arms, legs,
torso. Yannis stretched out on a towel on one side, propping up on an arm to watch.
Zach sat on the other side and stared straight out to sea behind extreme dark sunglasses.

“Zach, what’s your assessment of my aunt’s case?” I completed my beach ritual and
lay back on propped arms, breasts tilted up to the sun, hair pulled into a loose knot
on top my head. It felt great.

“Her three women friends have to be found,” he said, turning his head in my direction
but returning his gaze quickly to the sea. “You say you tried to contact these women.
Would there be anyone else who might know something about them?”

Yannis spoke up. “Lonnie Walters, the man who runs Escort Tours, would know who they
are,” he said. “I hadn’t thought of him before. We found where the women are staying
because my father knows the man who rents to them.”

“Then we need to talk to Mr. Walters and the landlord,” Zach said. He kept his gaze
trained on the sea.

The view in my direction must have been blinding. I liked his use of the word “we”
and smiled. A new member had joined the investigating team, payment to be worked out
later.

“Lonnie’s usually around on Sunday evenings,” Yannis said. “He hangs out at the California
Bar along Pafos harbor. He’s American and that’s the place where you’ll find ex-pats
Sunday evening.”

“He’s supposed to be CIA,” I said. “But who knows? People speculate on it when conversation
runs out over a drink.” I looked overhead. “What time is it?”

Zach checked his watch. “About five.”

“We can have a swim and then head back to track down Lonnie.”

I waded out into the water, splashed around to stir up my blood, dove in head first,
and came up facing them. “C’mon in, the water is freezing.” It was May, and the Mediterranean
hadn’t warmed up yet.

Zach stood and pulled off tan shorts and a deep blue polo shirt. He wore black Speedo
bikinis. We matched. He sure did fill his out nicely. Yannis scowled his way into
the water in navy bathing trunks.

As I surveyed the beach from my vantage point in the water, parked on the cliff I
noticed a battered blue Maruti that hadn’t been there when we arrived. A man stood
beside the jeep-like vehicle. His arms were raised to his eyes like he was holding
binoculars, and they were trained in our direction.

Now why would anyone be watching us?

I caught sight of Lonnie as soon as we walked into the California Bar. He was hard
to miss since he was semaphoring and yelling my name from his perch on a seat at the
beat-up, old wood bar.