“I will not reveal this.” Praxus had a wheedling tone in his voice.
“I do not know what you’re talking about,” she said in annoyance. With everything else going on, she had to deal with this pain-in-the-ass kid. He and his stupid memoir were the reasons they were in this mess in the first place. She shoved him aside, but he grabbed her arm again and would not let go.
A big arm snaked around Praxus’ throat and lifted him off the deck. His fingers released Caroline’s arm. He made a rasping sound and his tongue stuck between his teeth.
“Why’s he pestering you?” Dwayne said, easily dangling the boy from his encircling arm. Praxus’ feet kicked wildly, but no sound escaped his mouth.
“He says he knows we’re spies,” Caroline said.
“Should I throw him overboard?”
“No. Let’s hear what he’s up to.”
Praxus gulped in air when released. Dwayne took him by the hair and frog-walked him to the prow and sat him on his ass. Caroline prodded his chest with a finger.
“Tell us what you want,” she hissed.
“If we are captured, you will speak for me? The Carthaginians will hang all aboard and worse. A word from one of their own would stay their hand. I would be spared.”
“Why are the Carthaginians after the Lion?”
“The gold and silver!” Praxus said, some of his wiseass attitude returning. “You know this. Why should I tell you what you know already?”
She slapped his face with an open hand. Dwayne snorted in surprise.
“You want to dance on a rope, fool? You are the one asking me for mercy. I want to know what you know. Then Maximus and I will decide your fate.”
“The box we buried on the island where we found you. That is why they quarter the seas to find us. We captured and boarded a trader bound for Cyrene maybe ten days ago. Hidden in its hold was the chest filled with coins from Carthage.”
“Why was so much coin being shipped?”
“It was payment for mercenaries. A Gilgamae general is threatening revolt unless they are paid. That is what the master of the trader told Ahinadab after they blinded him.”
“Why was the trader unguarded?” she asked. “It lost its escort in a storm,” Praxus said.
Probably the same storm Dwayne and Jimbo ran into on their initial manifestation. And it was certainly one of those escort ships that was following them now.
“What happened to the crew of the trader?”
“They were thrown into the sea to die and their ship set afire.”
“Not all of them died, Praxus.” He tilted his head like a dog might.
“Someone survived to identify the Lion. You can never put into a port again without someone reporting you to Carthage,” Caroline said. “They will look for this ship to the ends of the Earth, and their justice will be terrible.”
A hint of a conspiratorial smile crossed Praxus’ lips.
“Will you speak for me? I have been a friend to you, have I not?”
“I promise. You’ll come to no harm,” she lied. How the hell could she know what was going to happen? They were in undiscovered country here with history being rewritten as they went along. “What about your master, the old man?”
“I do not care. Let him die. I tire of being buggered by him.” Praxus sniffed.
“Get out of my sight and stay out,” she said. “Jesus,” Caroline sighed as the boy scuttled away toward the creaking mast.
“What was that all about?” Dwayne said.
“He’ll keep his mouth shut,” she said. “But Praxus told me what’s going on. Well, what he knows anyway. The gold and silver they buried was meant for mercenaries in Libya. As you and I both know, it never got to them. The check was in the mail for two thousand years. And the Libyans and Celts and the other soldiers of fortune did revolt until a Carthaginian general named Hamilcar Barca put them down in a series of battles over the following year. This year and next. This slowed the expansion of Carthage’s power in the Mediterranean, and another power grew to fill the vacuum.”
“Rome,” Dwayne said.
“Yeah. These assholes caused the Mercenary War and bought the Romans time to build a fighting navy for the first time. Is this getting too deep for you?” she said.
“I’m only worried about tomorrow. That’s all I can handle right now.” He shrugged.
When tomorrow came, the sun revealed the sail of the pursuing warship catching the light farther to their stern than it had been when last seen the day before but still bearing on them. Behind it, a second sail followed in its wake.
42
Rhodes
Lee Hammond was dealing with jet lag at the hotel’s pool bar by nursing a second Crazy Donkey ale from an ice bucket by his lounger. The whole pool area was empty but for him and a solitary swimmer. Chaz was up in the room, trying to sleep himself right with the clock. Lee had his own cure.
Rhodes was a beautiful old-world town with some amazing scenery. But Lee was eyeing the only scenery that interested him at, the moment.
She was doing laps in the crystal water of the pool. She swam easy, her lean, tanned form gliding along with barely a ripple. Aside from her swimmer’s body and raven black hair, Lee’s attention was drawn to the C-shaped scar on her back at the left shoulder. He watched her climb the ladder from the water, and the matching puckered scar was visible just above her bikinied breast.
He waited until she’d slipped on a robe and took a seat at one of the umbrella tables. He walked over and set two frosty bottles on the table before her. Lee said something in halting Greek. He either asked her if she was thirsty or if she was sleepy. He wasn’t really, sure. She laughed.
“Yeah, my Greek sucks.” He shrugged.
“I’m not Greek. I’m from Israel,” she said in English.
“You don’t have an accent.”
“My family emigrated from
