The Schliemann Legacy (26 page)

"For a time, but the tide of the war was turning. Their forces had rapidly thinned and the Albanians started drafting all women between the ages of sixteen and fifty. My mother went to fight just after I was born. I never heard how she died."

Katrina's eyes brightened slightly. "My maternal grandmother, Anna, raised me. She was an amazing woman. All her children and most of her grandchildren had been taken away from her, but she never gave up. One night, she gathered the remaining villagers and led them through the mountains to the one of the Royalist battalions. The Greek troops took us to a relocation center, but we left immediately for Athens."

Katrina turned to David and her voice became more animated. "She gave me an education far from the traditional Greek upbringing. I learned about being strong and independent. She always told me, 'woman or not, you can do anything.' She taught me to survive."

David said nothing, but raised the armrest and pulled her against his shoulder.

Katrina sighed, the strength going out of her voice. "The Communists took my father and mother from me and kidnapped over 100,000 of my people, mostly children. Over half of them are still behind the Iron Curtain. I'll never forgive them."

David gently covered her with the blanket. He listened to her breathing until it became deep and regular. Then, he too fell asleep.

* * * * *

"How did you find me?"

Henri Mardinaud smiled at the note of surprise in the voice coming over the speaker phone. "You're joking," he replied.

"Smithers," Duman said, more to himself. "What do you want?"

Mardinaud chided him. "You're not very civil to me today. I take the time to call you and you snap at me."

"I don't have time for this."

"I quite agree," Mardinaud said.

"What does that mean?" asked Duman. "What do you know?"

Henri ignored the questions. "Congratulations on acquiring the Schliemann artifacts," he said. "I understand you left some destruction in your wake."

"Not me. That was the Jew."

"Which brings me to why I called."

"Yes?"

"Morritt knows you are in Jamaica. He's on his way."

Duman was silent and the line crackled. Mardinaud waited.

"You told him," Duman said finally.

The fat man sounded innocent. "What profit would there be in betraying you?"

"None. Believe that," Duman snapped. "How and when is the Jew arriving?"

"I'm quite sure I don't know. Besides, telling would be unfair. However, considering Morritt's resources, a private jet is not out of the question."

"And the Greek?"

"I understand they have become quite inseparable."

"Yes, insufferable."

"Oh, very good," Mardinaud chuckled. "You have retained your sense of humor."

"And my sense of revenge," Duman said. "This is not finished, Frenchman."

The line went dead.

Martin Erhart leaned forward and pressed the disconnect button, then studied his employer. The fat man looked disturbed, possibly even frightened. Duman's threat had found its mark. Perhaps, Mardinaud had gone too far.

"Monsieur, a question?" Martin asked quietly.

"Yes, Martin?"

"Who are you more afraid of, Duman or Morritt?"

Mardinaud paused for a long time. "In truth," he said finally, "whichever one survives."

PART FIVE

JAMAICA

LET US ALONE...IN SINGLE COMBAT DUEL...

WHOEVER GETS THE UPPER HAND IN THIS

SHALL TAKE TREASURE AND THE WOMAN HOME.

THE ILIAD -BOOK III

Chapter 31 - WHITE SANDS

The tall Jamaican slapped a tile on the table. The man watching the game smiled, nudging the tall man's opponent. "Michael's got you," he said. "Game be done, soon."

Michael's opponent leaned forward and examined the arrangement of dominoes, then snorted and sat back, looking at his own pieces. He played his tile, but Michael did not notice. He was watching a white couple cross the baked tarmac. They avoided the long terminal of the Montego Bay Airport and headed to the left, passing through the hangar reserved for VIPs.

Michael's opponent noticed the tall man's stare. "You best be watchin' the game instead o' the scenery."

Michael flashed a row of brilliant teeth. "Like to give that one the big bamboo."

The three Jamaicans laughed and returned to the game. Michael took off his hat and tossed it on the ground beside him before making his next play.

* * * * *

"What do we do now?" Katrina asked.

They had avoided discussing their plans during the flight, each appreciating the brief respite. But now it was time to confront the situation. "We're safe, for awhile," David said. "But Duman knows we're headed for the island. We won't be able to hide for long. We need weapons."

"Do you have any contacts here?"

"Nope. What about you?"

"I vacationed here once." Katrina did not elaborate.

The thought of Katrina enjoying the island with someone else bothered him. And his senseless jealousy bothered him even more. Frustrated, he turned to flag down one of the passing cabs. His frustration grew as Katrina whistled sharply. A cab immediately answered her shrill call.

"We can take care of the hotel after," she said, climbing into the back seat. "I know where to get what we need."

David let the driver take the bags to the trunk and settled himself beside Katrina. When the driver slid behind the steering wheel, Katrina leaned forward. "Take us to the market."

The driver stepped on the gas, throwing his passengers backward. As they struggled to right themselves, both missed the tall Jamaican watching them from inside the hangar.

The man stepped out of the shadows, tipped his hat, and motioned to another taxi. Once inside, he nodded to the driver and the vehicle sped after the white couple.

* * * * *

"This is where we get our weapons?" David surveyed the rows of tables lining the street. "Fruits and vegetables?"

"Come on," Katrina said, taking his hand as she propelled him along the booths of the open market. She understood his anxiety at the unfamiliar place, but could not resist taking advantage of his discomfort. David was out of his element in the strange locale and it was obvious he hated not being in control. She knew David Morritt did not follow, he led. "You'll love this place." She pinched his ribs to tease a smile out of him. "Relax," she said. "I'll take care of you."

"You don't have to enjoy yourself so much."

"I don't have the faintest idea what you mean." Katrina made an exaggerated show of fluttering her eyelashes, then her face grew serious. David tensed as she placed a restraining hand on his arm. "Trust me?" she asked.

"What do you want me to do?" he whispered.

Katrina spoke quickly. "Do exactly as I say. Turn when I tell you. Then, as fast as you can, pick out our dinner. Okay, now!"

David twisted around, confronting the table of fruit. His shoulders slumped as her words sank in. Behind him, he could hear Katrina laughing. He turned back and grabbed her by the shoulders. He kissed her and could taste the salt from her tears.

"I'm sorry," she said, trying to catch her breath. "You just seem so serious. I must have caught the fever of the island."

David shook his head and gave her another kiss. He knew he was being too serious, but relaxing with his new emotions was difficult for him. He had not felt this way about a woman in many years. "I promise to relax," he said, "if you promise never to do that again."

"I promise," Katrina said, putting her hand over her heart. "I do want you to buy us dinner though."

"And you will be doing?"

"Woman's work," she said. "I have to go buy our guns. I'll meet you back here in less than half an hour. Can you handle dinner, or do you want a list?"

David drew back his hand in a playful swat, but Katrina slipped away. He felt a flash of concern as he watched her fade into the milling crowd. He didn't like letting her go off alone, but she knew this island and he did not. He had to let her work as she saw fit. And he suspected her confidence needed a success.

David turned back to the table and began picking out their dinner.

* * * * *

In their third taxi of the day, Katrina and David stopped at a pair of wide, ornate gates. An engraved, bronze plaque announced the name of the establishment -
WHITE SANDS
.

After registering, they crunched along the white gravel path which wove around the resort's twenty, white stucco bungalows. Colorful flower gardens surrounded the small palms, breadfruit, and banana plants. White cement benches provided a view of the rocky shore, blue water and small craft moored at the adjoining marina. Closer inspection revealed an oily sheen covering the water, marring the picture postcard perfection. David scanned the area several times but saw nothing unusual. Except the lack of sand, white or not.

At Bungalow Eight, he pulled a key from his pocket. "I hate this," he said, more to himself than to Katrina. He took another look around. "I don't like playing Mardinaud's games."

Katrina was lost in her own thoughts. She remembered Alex dead in the New York apartment's hallway, propped up against the cheap wallpaper. "The treasure might not be worth it," she said softly.

"The treasure isn't, but Duman certainly is. He deserves to die. I want to see that happen. Besides, it's my only chance." David's voice was harsh in its half whisper. "With the reception Mardinaud has arranged, I'll be lucky if they don't put me in jail when I return home. That's assuming I can even get back in. The world press will crucify Israel. Someone will have to take the heat. I'm the logical choice, but Assi will catch it even more. There are people who have been waiting years for the chance to get Assi. I'll just be an extra piece of meat at feeding time. If I'm going to get out of this, it's now or never. And I don't like the idea of never."

The interior of the miniature bungalow was more like a hotel room. David opened a closet to the left of the entrance and peered across the hallway at the small bathroom opposite. Straight ahead, he could see the Caribbean through the sliding glass patio doors. He stepped around the corner created by the bathroom to set the suitcases and the string bag of groceries on the lone, king size bed.

"Don't put those on there," Katrina ordered. "I'm going to be in there as soon as I take a hot bath."

David snapped to attention and saluted. He moved the bags over to a stand against the wall and rummaged through the blue case for his shaving gear. Katrina pulled her newly purchased automatic out of her purse.

"Make you a deal," David said. "Give me a minute to have a quick shower. You check your guns. Then, the bathroom will be all yours while I get our meal ready."

"That's a done deal," Katrina grinned.

He motioned toward the gun. "Gonna tell me where you got those?"

"Easy," she said. "I went to this little bar I remembered. I wasn't there two minutes before a local asked if I wanted to buy some mind mellow. I said no to the drugs, but told him I wanted some guns. He introduced me to the bartender. The whole deal took ten minutes. The boys on this island are different from the sleaze in Bogotá, more laid back. All they want to do is make a deal and a double cross is just too much work in this heat."

"Such resourcefulness for an innocent little girl," David said.

Katrina only nodded and ejected the clip from the gun. In three swift movements, she disassembled the automatic. "While you're at it, check mine," David said, disappearing into the bathroom. He was happy to see her confidence, marred by the episode with the Colombians, return.

After stripping out of his clothes, David lathered his face and scraped the razor across his beard. His eyes were bloodshot and dark bags hung below them. He puckered his face, staring at the complex design of wrinkles. At that moment, more than ever before, he felt his advancing age.

How could he justify being here, he wondered? Katrina was almost fifteen years his junior and appeared even younger.

David stepped back and looked at his body in the mirror. His muscles were still firm, but gray lightly tinged the dark hair on his chest. Nevertheless, he thought, the overall effect wasn't bad. His were mature, good looks. Possibly, he did have enough years left for the beautiful woman waiting in the other room. He hoped so because, he now realized, he was falling in love with her.

The shower slightly revived David's weary body. He briskly toweled dry, then ran a deep bath for Katrina, adding the bath crystals generously left by the management. As the water foamed, he envisioned how she would look buried in the bubbles.

Katrina knocked on the door, causing David to jump guiltily. "You just about done?" she called.

He opened the door and bowed. "My Lady. Your bath awaits."

Katrina was wearing a thin, silk robe. The two of them standing together, she in her robe and he wrapped in a towel, seemed oddly comfortable to David. He felt relaxed and at ease, as though they had been together a lifetime. But the sensation of familiarity did not prevent his arousal. As though sensing his thoughts, Katrina slapped his backside, pushed him out of the bathroom, and slammed the door.

* * * * *

David could hear Katrina getting out of the bath. He placed a bowl of fruit salad, plates of bread and cheese, and chilled bottles of
Red Stripe
beer on the bed.

"A picnic! That looks magnificent."

David turned and felt his heartbeat quicken. The ankle length robe clung to Katrina's body in spots where she had not dried herself completely. Her face, freshly scrubbed of travel dirt and makeup, glowed with a warm flush. Her brown eyes sparkled in the candles he had placed around the room. "
You
look magnificent!" David said as she came over to him and gave him a light kiss on the cheek. He drank in her exotic scent. The gun had not been her only purchase.

Katrina sat on the bed and attacked the food. "How are we going to find Duman?" she asked, forking a piece of melon into her mouth.