074 Greek Odyssey (10 page)

It was an easy drive over the open road, but Nancy’s nerves were tense with anticipation. What if the two men met with Dimitri—or Theo? If she and Mick interfered, the results could be deadly.

Once they reached the outskirts of town, the chase became complicated by the narrow, zigzagging streets scattered with people, carts, and animals.

“We’re losing them,” Nancy said, wincing as a young girl with a basket darted in front of their bike, forcing Mick to veer away.

Mick drove with caution, but it cost them. “I can’t keep up with them in these congested streets.” He rolled to a stop as a pair of burros hauled a wagon into the center of the street, blocking the way.

Disappointed, Nancy pushed her hair out of her eyes and frowned. “Oh, well. Better safe than sorry.”

At last the donkeys moved on, and Mick steered the moped onto a wider street. They were back at Naxos’s main square now, Nancy realized, near the ferry terminal. The square was filled with tourists and merchants rushing to do business before the afternoon siesta. It was like a crazed obstacle course.

“Let’s get away from this traffic,” Mick said, taking a sharp turn down a narrow alley.

Neither he nor Nancy saw the silver moped careening toward them until the last second. “Look out!” Nancy screamed, bracing herself for the impact.

Mick managed to steer away from the silver moped, but the motion sent their bike skidding to the side. It nearly slid out from under them as the silver moped zoomed off.

A cloud of dust rose around them as Nancy and Mick struggled to regain their balance and finally wobbled to a stop. “You okay?” Mick asked, turning back toward Nancy.

“Fine,” she said. But a moment later her nerves twanged as she looked up into the eyes of the man with the scar. The silver moped had circled back, Nancy saw, and it was just a few yards away. The man with the scar was standing next to the bike, staring at Nancy and Mick. Nancy caught a quick glimpse of the man on the bike. He was thin, with dark hair and a full beard.

Oh, no! Nancy thought. The man with the scar had recognized them from Dragonisi!

“What now?” Mick muttered through clenched teeth.

Before Nancy could answer, the man hopped back on the moped and revved the engine. The silver bike sped away into the square.

“Come on,” Nancy said, getting off the bike and following on foot. She had gone only a few steps when the bike disappeared around a corner. With all of the activity in the square, there was no way she and Mick could follow them now.

Nancy let out a frustrated sigh. Not only had the crooks lost her and Mick before they could find out where they were going, but two very dangerous people knew who she and Mick were. “This case is definitely heating up,” Nancy said under her breath. “I just hope we don’t get burned!”

Lunch was a loud affair. The taverna Zoe had suggested was filled with a spirited crowd of students and tourists. Nancy tried a dish of lamb and vegetables wrapped in crispy pastry leaves called
filo
. While everyone ate, she and Mick filled them in on the commotion in the market square.

“Sounds like we missed a pretty dramatic scene,” Kevin commented.

“It really got out of hand.” Mick shook his head, looking miserable. “I can’t believe we blew our cover
and
let those guys slip away.”

“It’s not your fault,” Nancy said, touching Mick’s hand. Then she turned to George. “How did it go with Dimitri?” She still needed evidence to connect him to the people with the explosives.

“Did you see him talk to a woman with red hair—”

“Or two guys—one bearded, one scar-faced?” Mick added hopefully.

Unfortunately, George and Kevin had nothing to report. From what they’d seen, it looked as if Dimitri had come to Naxos to make some money photographing tourists—nothing more.

Later that afternoon, when Nancy spotted Dimitri on the hydrofoil headed back to Mykonos, she decided to confront him. She doubted that he would actually confess to forgery, but with a little pressure he might let some useful information slip out.

She found him waiting in line at the hydrofoil’s snack bar. “I have a confession to make,” she told him. “Remember how I wanted to see your studio?”

Dimitri’s dark eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Yes . . .?”

“Well, I just couldn’t resist.” Nancy hesitated as color rose in Dimitri’s face. “One day when you were out, I sneaked in and checked out the equipment.”

The photographer slammed his hand on the snack bar counter. “That was a stupid thing to do! You could have been hurt.”

“Of course, I didn’t touch anything,” Nancy lied, surprised that Dimitri was so upset.

“That’s not the point,” he said. He motioned Nancy to a corner by the snack bar so that no one could overhear their conversation. “You must stay away from the studio,” he said emphatically. “The truth is, it doesn’t really belong to me. My friend lets me use it.”

Nancy shot him a dubious look. “And all the fancy equipment,” she persisted. “Does that belong to your
friend
, too?”

Dimitri nodded. “My friend—Spiros. He owns the stationery shop right below the studio.”

All at once, Nancy felt her investigation shifting. Spiros? Was Dimitri lying to her? She couldn’t be sure. He was obviously upset, but that would be natural if he had just learned that she was closing in on his forging operation.

“And what does Spiros use the equipment for?” Nancy asked.

Dimitri shrugged. “Please don’t tell your friend, the one with the blond hair and the pretty smile,” he asked.

“Bess?” Nancy said. “Does this have something to do with her passport?”

“Passport?” Dimitri raked his fingers through the dark curls over his brow and looked confused. “No, no. Please don’t tell her that the studio isn’t mine. I lied about it to impress her,” he said. “Does she ever mention me?” he asked hopefully.

Nancy didn’t know if he was serious or if he was just trying to throw her off the track. Dimitri
was
attentive to Bess whenever they met. Not knowing what to think, Nancy made an excuse to Dimitri and went back to her seat.

When she told everyone what she’d just learned, Mick had an inspiration. “Spiros makes miniatures, doesn’t he? I mean, didn’t you buy a tiny windmill from him?” When Bess nodded, he added, “He probably uses the equipment to help with his sculptures.”

“But you saw those machines, Mick,” Nancy said. “They were pretty sophisticated—not just arts and crafts stuff. I’m not sure I trust Dimitri, but if Spiros really owns the equipment, he could be our forger.”

“Not Spiros,” Zoe objected. “I’ve known him since I was a child. He and my father are good friends. He has been like an uncle to me.” She shook her head. “This has gone too far! First you suspect our maid, then my friend Theo, and now Spiros,” she said, her voice cracking with strain.

“I’m sorry,” Nancy said. She didn’t want to hurt Zoe’s feelings, but she had to follow the trail of clues if she wanted to get to the bottom of the passport theft.

“This is the perfect way to end the day,” Bess said later that evening. She swayed to the strains of
bouzouki
music that was piped into the hotel’s taverna. “What do the words mean?” she asked Zoe.

“The lyrics to most Greek songs are about love,” Zoe explained.

Bess sighed. “It figures. That’s probably why I’m crazy about Greek music.”

A ballad began, and Nancy and Mick got up to dance. He swept her across the dance floor and twirled her under a trellis covered with fragrant hibiscus. Nancy felt as if she were floating on a cloud. Then a stern-looking young man appeared at the terrace door. He stopped a waiter, who pointed toward Nancy and Mick.

“Looks like we have a visitor,” Nancy whispered into Mick’s ear.

Mick turned his head and stared at the man in the doorway. “Looks serious,” he said. He took Nancy’s hand, and they went over to the edge of the terrace, where the young man was standing.

As it turned out, the man was a diplomatic courier. “I have a package for you from Thomas McCurdy,” the courier said, handing Mick a thin manila envelope. After Mick thanked him, the courier disappeared as suddenly as he had arrived.

“What is it?” Nancy was dying of curiosity as she followed Mick back to the table.

“McCurdy is my father’s friend—the ambassador in Athens that I mentioned before. This must be some information on Bess’s stolen passport,” Mick said as he broke the wax seal on the envelope.

Everyone leaned forward as Mick pulled out a letter and began to read in silence. A moment later he stopped and shook the envelope. Three glossy photographs spilled out—headshots of two men and a woman.

The air was heavy as the group stared at the photos. “That looks like the two guys you chased on Naxos today,” Bess said, pointing to two of the pictures.

“And that’s the redheaded woman who was in the cave on Dragonisi,” Nancy said.

“What does the letter say?” Kevin wanted to know.

Mick looked soberly around the table. “That these people are terrorists,” he replied, “and we should avoid them at all costs!”

Chapter Twelve

A
N AUDIBLE GASP
rose from the table. Nancy’s heart plummeted as she realized just how deadly the situation she and Mick had stumbled into was.

“Terrorists!” George echoed, looking scared. “Nancy, you’ve been tangling with killers!”

“What else does the letter say about the terrorists?” Kevin asked.

Mick smoothed the sheet of crisp bond paper, summarizing as he read on. “They’re three fugitives from the Middle East—explosives experts who were sent to prison for planting a bomb at a train station. The men are named Mashti and Rashid, and the woman is Shara—”

“That’s it—Shara!” Nancy interrupted. “The guy in the cave kept saying it over and over. I guess he was just calling her.”

“That’s right,” Mick said. Then he returned to reading the letter. “All three of them received life sentences, but two weeks ago they escaped from prison, killing two guards in the process.”

With a shiver, Bess said, “Escaped prisoners? I can’t believe Zoe and I let you go after them.”

“Escaped . . .” Zoe said, thinking aloud. “Maybe that’s why you heard the police saying
diafevgo
over and over—it’s the Greek word for ‘escape.’ They probably realized that you had come face-to-face with these escaped prisoners but didn’t want to scare you with the truth.”

“Why would the police keep it a secret?” asked Bess.

Zoe frowned. “This kind of news could scare off visitors and harm the tourist trade. The police are probably trying to keep it quiet.”

“But they’ve probably tightened security,” Nancy said. “I’ll bet that’s why they were checking passports on Delos.”

Mick tapped the manila envelope in front of him. “McCurdy thinks the terrorists have been moving around the islands in a stolen boat,” he added. “But they need papers to leave the country.”

“So our theory about the three stolen passports may be right,” Nancy said. “It looks as if they’re going to fall into the hands of these three criminals.”

“Wow,” Bess said, her eyes wide. “I feel like I’ve created an international incident.”

“According to this letter, even Interpol is in on the case,” said Mick. “They’re compiling a special list of all lost or stolen passports in the hope that they’ll be able to use it to snag the terrorists.”

“Do you think we should go to the police with our suspicions of Theo and Dimitri?” George asked.

Nancy took a sip of her fruit drink, and thought for a moment. “We still don’t have enough evidence.”

“She’s right,” Mick added. “All we can do is watch and wait.”

“And lay low,” Kevin added.

Zoe nodded her agreement. “Now that the terrorists can identify Nancy and Mick, we should all be extra careful.”

“I’m glad we weren’t planning a trip for tomorrow,” Bess said. “We’ll be better off sticking around here.”

The next morning everyone else was already on the beach by the time Nancy finished breakfast and changed into her suit. As she walked down the path toward the water, she saw Bess and George posing on beached Windsurfers for Dimitri. The photographer was kneeling in the sand, taking their picture. Dressed in a black wet suit, he looked more like a diver than a photographer.

“I will have all your photos back to you tomorrow,” Dimitri promised Bess, smiling as he strapped the bright yellow waterproof camera around his neck. “But now I must meet a group of British tourists who have hired me. They want me to take photos of them snorkeling so they can brag to their friends back home.”

As Dimitri headed off down the beach, Bess walked over to the beach towel where Nancy had just sat down. “I’m afraid to see those photos he took of me that afternoon in Chora when you guys searched his studio. It was such a hot day—I probably look awful.”

“All in the line of duty,” Nancy teased, her eyes on Dimitri’s retreating form. Was his friendly smile just a cover-up for a master forger? Were he and Theo working together?

She lay down on her stomach. She was thinking about how to proceed with her investigation when she felt a splash of cold water on her back. She rolled over and sat up just as Mick tossed a snorkeling mask onto the beach towel beside her.

“Time for a dip, Nancy,” he teased. “There are some amazing fish out there today.”

“You’re on, Devlin,” Nancy said. Grabbing the mask, she raced him to the clear turquoise water.

With the help of the snorkeling gear, she spent the next half hour exploring the underwater world of the Aegean Sea. A school of tiny silvery fish fluttered past her, tickling her legs as they went. Lingering over a clump of seaweed, she discovered fish in dazzling shades of blue, orange, and yellow. She carefully avoided a group of pincushiony sea urchins, whose spines could sting.

Mick was just pointing out a tiny gray octopus when Nancy caught sight of a diver out of the corner of her mask.

Turning her head, she saw that he was wearing a black wet suit, mask, and scuba-diving equipment—she couldn’t make out his features at all. Nancy was about to look away when she noticed a strange contraption in the diver’s arm. It looked like a cross between a rifle and an archery bow.