Wires leading to explosives that when they blew would send this entire side of the castle into the sea far below.
Chapter 50
McGarvey stood just within the hatchway that Papagos had disappeared through, and held his breath as he listened for a sound, any sound. But the ship was dead. Nothing moved, not even a whisper of air.
This entire thing had been a setup from the moment he’d shown up in Piraeus looking for a boat to bring him out to Santorini. Spranger had anticipated his every move and had stayed at least one step ahead of him since France.
“Kathleen.” he shouted. “Elizabeth?” He stepped to the opposite side of the corridor, flattening himself against the bulkhead in the darkness.
There was no answer. No cry, no pistol shot, no movement. Nothing. But Papagos could be anywhere. There were a thousand places aboard for him to hide in the darkness.
A thousand ambushes.
The question was, were Kathleen and Elizabeth aboard now? Was it Spranger’s intentions to let them go down with the ship, knowing that an enraged, out-of-control McGarvey would come after him? Or was this just another of the man’s obstacles before the final confrontation?
Straight down the corridor, about midships, a stairway led up to the bridge deck.
He was going to have to search the ship for them.
Now. Immediately. Which meant he was going to have to start taking chances.
Tightening his grip on his pistol, McGarvey darted down the corridor and took the stairs two at a time. At the top he halted for just a second.
A narrow landing led to an open hatch onto the bridge. No lights illuminated any of the instruments or gauges, and only a very dim light filtered in from outside.
A figure of a man was lying on the deck. He was dead, there was little doubt of it.
All the crew would be dead, and the hatches locked in the open position so that when the sand kickers blew out the ship’s bottom she’d sink in a couple of minutes, attracting no attention from shore.
Something moved below, on the main deck. McGarvey turned and looked down the stairs, but he couldn’t see a thing. He’d heard a noise, lightly, metal against metal, perhaps.
But there was nothing now.
Papagos trying to get off the ship?
McGarvey started down the stairs, and halfway to the deck he dropped low so that he could see into the corridor. The figure of a bulky man was outlined against the open hatch, his back to McGarvey. Something outside, on deck or out on the water was apparently holding his interest.
He backed up and turned around as McGarvey came the rest of the way down, and he stopped short. It was Papagos. He held what looked like a Russian Makarov automatic loosely at his side, the muzzle pointed down.
“Your wife and daughter are not aboard,” he said. He was clearly agitated. There was no insolence about him now.
“Who’s out there?”
“I don’t know. I thought I saw something.”
“Is that why you didn’t jump ship?”
“Did you bring someone with you?” Papagos asked, his eyes narrowing. He looked like a cornered rat getting ready to spring.
“I didn’t bring anybody. It could be Spranger.”
“He wouldn’t come here now.”
“This boat is going to blow up. When?”
“I don’t know. I swear to God, I don’t know.”
“Where are my wife and daughter, if they’re not aboard now?”
“On the island. In the monastery.” Papagos nervously glanced over his shoulder.
“How do I know you’re telling the truth?”
“You must believe me,” Papagos pleaded. He came forward a step and McGarvey raised his pistol.
“Put your gun down.”
“Kill me and you’ll never see your wife and daughter again. He’s crazy. He’ll kill them first, and then he’ll kill you. He means to do it. He’s got the power, even more than Constantine does. But I can help you. I know what he’s up to.”
Something bumped against the hull on the portside of the ship. The Dhodhoni, or a distraction? McGarvey, still holding his gun on the Greek, stepped farther back into the darkness.
“What are you doing?” Papagos whispered urgently.
“Put your gun down, and you might come out of this alive,” McGarvey whispered back.
If it was Spranger’s people out there coming back to the ship for some reason, Papagos would provide a brief delay. Possibly long enough for McGarvey to gain the advantage.
It would also mean that this ship wasn’t set to blow after all.
“Fuck you,” Papagos snarled, and he spun on his heel, darting for the open hatch as a black-suited figure appeared on deck.
The Greek cried out and got off one shot that staggered the man in the hatchway, but did not knock him down. McGarvey figured he was wearing a bulletproof vest. Then three silenced shots were fired down the length of the thwartships corridor from the starboard side, slamming into Papagos’ back and head. He fell forward on his face, dead.
A second later another black-suited figure rushed down the corridor and as he passed, McGarvey reached out and yanked the man back into the shadows, putting the muzzle of his Walther to the man’s temple.
“Tell your people to back off,” McGarvey said in German. “Or I will kill you now.
Do it!”
The man McGarvey was holding didn’t move a muscle. He was obviously a well-disciplined professional.
“Mr. McGarvey,” someone called in English from the darkness above on the stairs.
“I am pointing my pistol at your head. I want you to release Frank, and step away from him.”
“Who are you?”
“My name is Ed Lipton. I’m a U.S. Navy lieutenant. We’re SEALS here to rescue your wife and daughter.”
Spranger? the thought immediately occurred. McGarvey wouldn’t put this past the man.
“How did you find me?” he called.
“The walkie-talkie you were given in Paris was modified to include an EPIRB. Do you know what this device is?”
“Yes,” McGarvey said. “Who gave it to me?”
“Mr. Littel on Mr. Lynch’s instructions,” Lipton answered.
“What else have you been told about me?”
“That you’re one tenacious son of a bitch,” the man McGarvey was holding said. “My name is Tyrell, and if you don’t mind I’d like to be set free. My back is killing me.”
McGarvey moved the gun away from Tyrell’s head, released his grip around the man’s neck and stepped out into the middle of the corridor. He was covered from the hatches at both ends of the corridor, as well as from Lipton on the stairs.
“Any sign of your wife and daughter,” Tyrell asked.
“No, but I didn’t have the chance to look,” McGarvey said. “I think this ship is about to blow.”
“Then we’d better hurry,” Lipton said, coming down the stairs. “Frank, take Bryan, Tony and Bob, and start with the bilges and engine room. Jules and McGarvey will come with me on this deck and above.”
“Everything is set here,” Diirenmatt said, laying the remote control detonator on the table.
Spranger had been looking out to sea in the direction he knew the Thaxos was lying, although in the
