The Freedom Broker (Thea Paris #1)(10)

Thea found the twenty-euro note she kept in her shorts for emergencies and slipped it into the woman’s hand. “Kala Hristouyienna,” she said, smiling, wishing her a merry Christmas. She’d bring the woman some food from the yacht after finishing her run.

“Efxaristo.” The old woman tightened her fist around the bill and scurried down the pier, as if afraid her benefactor might rescind the gift.

Thea stretched her hamstrings, calves, and quads, then did a few squats to warm up while Aegis paced. Breathing deeply, she admired the stunning vista of the crescent-shaped caldera, the craters of volcanic eruptions in ancient times. Today, Santorini was peaceful, the cerulean sky complementing the dark sapphire waters.

The Aphrodite’s sleek lines and brilliant white fiberglass hull blended well with Santorini’s low-lying, whitewashed architecture. She gave a little salute toward the tinted windows of the yacht’s upper deck. No doubt Papa was standing behind one, setting his own stopwatch to verify her time.

“Lead the way, Aegis.” While the ridgeback rocketed forward, Thea clipped her phone to the back of her shorts, pressed the start button on her Garmin stopwatch, and zoomed up the wide cobblestone steps, her eyes focused slightly ahead of her feet. The uneven surfaces presented a challenge for every footfall.

The stench of the donkey droppings barely registered. She flew past a few restaurateurs sweeping their verandas, preparing for the day’s celebrations. Already, her lungs seared, her calves burned. She negotiated the switchbacks, lunging upward. Her legs were metronomes, her heart a jackhammer.

She reached the halfway point and glanced at her Garmin.

4:38.

Gotta move faster.

The air thinned. Her feet skimmed the cobblestones, barely touching before lifting off again. Moisture dampened her chest. Her long, dark hair matted against her neck. Her body begged her to slow down, but Aegis spurred her on. He led by several steps, as always. Damn, that dog was in great shape.

6:12.

Her cell buzzed against her spine. Whoever it was could wait three minutes.

The final leg of her climb would present the toughest challenge, the cobblestones worn and slick. She bore down. In spite of her intense concentration, a familiar face sprang to mind. Rif. He’d be at Papa’s party tonight. Was he the one calling?

She wasn’t exactly in the mood to see Rifat Asker, but she’d get over it. Apparently he had uncovered more information from their African contacts regarding Chinese-manufactured weapons floating around the continent. That could be interesting to hear firsthand.

Her thoughts distracted her, and she missed a step. She flailed for endless microseconds, her right foot landing hard on the wrong step, but regrouped. Legs pumping like pistons, she sprinted up the last set of stairs, rechanneling her concentration and breathing. A stitch flared in her side.

8:26.

Her phone buzzed again. Forget the call. Forget Rif. Forget everything. Her arms acted as counterweights, propelling her forward and upward. Five steps . . . three . . . one. She reached the top and slapped her finger on the timer.

8:57.

Her best time yet.

She rested against the white stone wall beside the stairs, gasping for air, blood pulsing through her body. She stroked Aegis’s short coat, the dog already ready for more racing. Must be nice. Still, a painful euphoria filled her. Papa would be impressed. Maybe he was on deck, watching for her arrival at the top.

She straightened and looked down toward the lagoon. But the Aphrodite was no longer docked. Instead, its sleek lines were cutting through the water, headed out to sea. What the hell?

Her father had no plans to go anywhere, and he’d never leave her behind. She grabbed her phone. A private number had called twice, leaving no message. She hit the callback button, but it didn’t ring through. “Come on, boy.” Her legs felt like overcooked spaghetti as she stumbled down the stairs beside Aegis, pressing the call button again and again. Nothing. The pounding in her ears wasn’t from exertion now but, rather, alarm.

The trip back down the cliffside lasted an eternity. Her knees throbbed from the unforgiving cobblestone descent. She tried Papa’s cell, but it bounced straight to voice mail. Unheard of. Her father had his BlackBerry cemented to his hip—he’d never ignore a call, especially from her. Aegis led at a brisk pace, as if he could sense her urgency.

The stitch in her side intensified. The Aphrodite faded on the horizon, disappearing in a haze of clouds. She pressed 1 on her speed dial. Hakan Asker answered on the first ring.

“Let me guess: Christos wants more cigars for the party tonight.” He laughed. “My helicopter leaves in ten from Athens. I don’t have time to shop, but tell him I’ll help smoke the ones he has.”

“I’m having a humdinger of a day,” Thea said. Their code word for an emergency. She had to be careful, because she wasn’t on an encrypted satphone. Her breath rasped as she barreled down the final flight of steps.

“How can I help?” His voice lost all frivolity.

“The birthday boy’s playing shy—he’s heading west on the water, and I’m losing visual contact.”

“With his buddies on board?”

“Can’t imagine they’d let him run off alone.”

She exited the stairs, then sprinted along the wharf to where the yacht had been docked. She skidded to a halt. Piers was sprawled on his back, two holes in his chest, his eyes lifeless. Aegis ran to the bodyguard and licked his face. “Piers is . . . indisposed,” she told Hakan. She tried to swallow the lump in her throat but failed. The South African had been part of her life as long as she could remember.