Fatal Tide (2 page)

“You don’t have to—”

“Promise me.”

He wasn’t going to give up. “I promise. Satisfied?”

“No, I hated to ask you. And I hate being in this spot. If I hadn’t been so stubborn, I wouldn’t have had to—” He drew a deep breath. “But that’s water under the bridge. I can’t look back now. There’s too much to look forward to.”

“Then why make out your last will and testament, dammit?”

“Because they didn’t get a chance to do it.”

“What?”

“We should learn from their mistakes.” He paused. “Go home. Who’s taking care of Pete and Susie?”

“Cal.”

“I’m surprised you’re letting him do it. You care more about those dolphins than anyone on two legs.”

“Evidently I don’t, if I’m here. Cal will take good care of Pete and Susie. I put the fear of God in him before I left.”

He chuckled. “Or the fear of Melis. But you know how important they are. Go back to them. If you don’t hear from me in two weeks, go get Kelby. Good-bye, Melis.”

“Don’t you dare hang up. What do you want Kelby to do? Is this about that damn sonic device?”

“You know it’s never really been about that.”

“Then what is it about?”

“I knew it would upset you. Ever since you were a child, you’ve always had a thing about the
Last Home
.”

“Your ship?”

“No, the other
Last Home
. Marinth.” He hung up.

She stood there, frozen, for a long moment before she slowly closed her phone.

Marinth.

My God.

T
HE
Trina
V
ENICE,
I
TALY

“What the hell is Marinth?”

Jed Kelby stiffened in his chair. “What?”

“Marinth.” John Wilson looked up from the pile of letters he’d been scanning for Kelby. “That’s all that’s written in this letter. Just the one word. Must be some kind of prank or advertising gimmick.”

“Give it to me.” Kelby slowly reached across the desk and took the letter and envelope.

“Something wrong, Jed?” Wilson stopped sorting the letters he’d just brought on board.

“Maybe.” Kelby glanced at the name on the return address of the envelope. Philip Lontana, and the date stamp was over two weeks old. “Why the hell didn’t I get this sooner?”

“You might have, if you’d stay in one place more than a day or two,” Wilson said dryly. “I haven’t even heard from you in two weeks. I can’t be held responsible for keeping you current if you don’t cooperate. I do my best, but you’re not the easiest man to—”

“Okay, okay.” He leaned back and stared down at the letter. “Philip Lontana. I haven’t heard anything about him for a few years. I thought maybe he’d quit the business.”

“I’ve never heard of him.”

“Why should you? He’s not a stockbroker or banker, so he wouldn’t be of interest to you.”

“That’s right. I’m only interested in keeping you filthy rich and out of the clutches of the IRS.” Wilson set several documents in front of Kelby. “Sign these in triplicate.” He watched disapprovingly as Kelby signed the contracts. “You should have read those. How do you know I didn’t screw you?”

“You’re morally incapable of it. If you were going to do it, you’d have taken me to the cleaners ten years ago when you were tottering on the verge of bankruptcy.”

“True. But you pulled me out of that hole. So that’s not really a test.”

“I let you flounder for a while to see what you’d do before I stepped in.”

Wilson tilted his head. “I never realized that I was on trial.”

“Sorry.” His gaze was still on the letter. “It’s the nature of the beast. I’ve not been able to trust many people in my life, Wilson.”

God knows that was the truth, Wilson thought. Heir to one of America’s largest fortunes, Kelby and his trust fund had been fought over by his mother and grandmother from the time his father died. Court case had followed court case until he’d reached his twenty-first birthday. Then he’d taken control with a cool ruthlessness and intelligence, jettisoned all contact with his mother and grandmother, and set up experts to manage his finances. He’d finished his education and then taken off to become the wanderer he was today. He’d been a SEAL during the Gulf War, later purchased the yacht
Trina
and started a series of underwater explorations that had brought him a fame he didn’t appreciate and money he didn’t need. Still, he seemed to thrive on the life. For the past eight years he’d lived hard and fast and dealt with some pretty unsavory characters. No, Wilson couldn’t blame him for being both wary and cynical. It didn’t bother him. He was cynical himself, and over the years he’d learned to genuinely like the bastard.

“Has Lontana tried to contact me before?” Kelby asked.

Wilson sorted through the rest of the mail. “That’s the only letter.” He flipped open his daybook. “One call on the twenty-third of June. Wanted you to return his call. Another on June twenty-fifth. Same message. My secretary asked what his business pertained to but he wouldn’t tell her. It didn’t seem urgent enough to try to track you down. Is it?”

“Possibly.” He stood up and walked across the cabin to the window. “He certainly knew how to get my attention.”

“Who is he?”

“A Brazilian oceanographer. He got a lot of press when he discovered that Spanish galleon fifteen years or so ago. His mother was American and his father Brazilian, and he’s something of a throwback to another age. I heard he thought he was some kind of grand adventurer and sailed around looking for lost cities and sunken galleons. He discovered only one galleon, but there’s no doubt he’s very sharp.”

“You’ve never met him?”

“No, I wasn’t really interested. We wouldn’t have much in common. I’m definitely a product of this age. We’re not on the same wavelength.”

Wilson wasn’t so sure. Kelby was no dreamer, but he possessed the aggressive, bold recklessness that typified the buccaneers of this or any other century. “So what does Lontana want with you?” His gaze narrowed on Kelby. “And what do you want with Lontana?”

“I’m not sure what he wants from me.” He stood looking out at the sea, thinking. “But I know what I want from him. The question is, can he give it to me?”

“That’s cryptic.”

“Is it?” He suddenly turned to face Wilson. “Then, by God, we’d better get everything clear and aboveboard, hadn’t we?”

Shock rippled through Wilson as he saw the recklessness and excitement in Kelby’s expression. The aggressive energy he was emitting was almost tangible. “Then I take it you want me to contact Lontana.”

“Oh, yes. In fact, we’re going to go see him.”

“
We’re?
I have to get back to New York.”

Kelby shook his head. “I may need you.”

“You know I don’t know anything about all this oceanography stuff, Jed. And, dammit, I don’t want to know. I have degrees in law and accounting. I wouldn’t be of any use to you.”

“You never can tell. I may need all the help I can get. A little more sea air will do you good.” He glanced down at the envelope again, and Wilson was once more aware of the undercurrent of excitement that was electrifying Kelby. “But maybe we should give Lontana a little advance warning that he shouldn’t dangle a carrot unless he expects me to gobble it with one swallow. Give me his telephone number.”

She was being followed.

It wasn’t paranoia, dammit. She could
feel
it.

Melis glanced over her shoulder. It was an exercise in futility. She wouldn’t have known whom she was looking for on the crowded dock behind her. It could be anyone. A thief, a sailor eager for a lay . . . or someone who was hoping she’d lead him to Phil. Anything was possible.

Now that Marinth was involved.

Lose him.

She darted down the next street, ran one short block, ducked into an alcove, and waited. Making sure you weren’t being paranoid was always the first rule. The second was to know your enemy.

A gray-haired man in khakis and a short-sleeved plaid shirt came around the corner and stopped. He looked like any casual tourist who frequented Athens this time of year. Except that his annoyed attitude didn’t match his appearance. He was definitely irritated as his gaze searched the people streaming down the street.

She was not paranoid. And now she would remember this man, whoever he was.

She darted out of the alcove and took off running. She turned left, cut into an alley, and then turned right at the next street.

She glanced behind her in time to see a glimpse of a plaid shirt. He was no longer trying to blend in with the crowd. He was moving fast and with purpose.

Five minutes later she stopped, breathing hard.

She had lost him. Maybe.

Christ, Phil, what have you gotten us into?

She waited another ten minutes to make sure and then reversed her path and cut back toward the dock. According to her street map, the Delphi Hotel should be on the next block.

There it was. A narrow, three-story building whose facade was old, paint-chipped, stained by smog, and yet breathing atmosphere as everything did in this town. It wasn’t a hotel Phil would have ordinarily tolerated. He liked old and atmospheric, but decay wasn’t his forte. He enjoyed his comforts too much. Another mystery that—

“Melis?”

She turned to see a small, graying man in jeans and T-shirt sitting at a café table. “Gary? Where’s Phil?”

He nodded at the water. “On the
Last Home
.”

“Without you? I don’t believe it.” First Cal and now Gary St. George?

“Neither did I.” He took a sip of his ouzo. “I figure I’ll stick around for a few days and he’ll come back and get me. What can he do without me? He’d have real trouble sailing the
Last Home
by himself.”

“What about Terry?”

“Fired him in Rome right after he sent Cal away. Told him to go to you and you’d find him work. Told me the same thing.” He grinned. “You ready to become a headhunter for us, Melis?”

“How long has he been gone?”

“An hour maybe. Took off right after he talked to you.”

“Where was he going?”

“Southeast, toward the Greek Islands.”

She moved toward the dock. “Come on, let’s go.”

He jumped to his feet. “Where?”

“I’m going to rent a speedboat and go after the idiot. I may need someone to run it while I look out for the
Last Home
.”

“It’s still daylight.” He tried to catch up with her. “We’ve got a chance.”

“No chance about it. We’re going to find him.”

They caught up with the
Last Home
just before darkness fell. The two-masted schooner looked like a ship from another age in the soft light. Melis had always told Phil that the ship reminded her of pictures of the
Flying Dutchman,
and in the hazy golden twilight it appeared even more mystical.

And, like the
Dutchman,
deserted.

She felt a ripple of fear. No, it couldn’t be deserted. Phil had to be belowdeck.

“Spooky, huh?” Gary said as he gunned the motorboat toward the ship. “He’s turned the engines off. What the hell is he doing?”

“Maybe he’s having trouble. He deserves it. Getting rid of his crew and taking off like—” She broke off to steady her voice. “Get as close as you can. I’m going to board her.”

“I don’t think he’s going to roll out the welcome mat.” Gary squinted at the ship. “He didn’t want you here, Melis. He didn’t want any of us on this trip.”

“Too bad. I can’t help what he wants. You know Phil sometimes doesn’t make the best choices. He sees what he wants to see and then goes full speed ahead. I can’t let—There he is!”

Phil had appeared from below and was frowning as he gazed at them over the expanse of water.

“Phil, dammit, what are you doing?” she shouted. “I’m coming aboard.”

Phil shook his head. “Something’s wrong with the ship. The engine just stopped. I can’t be sure—”

“What’s wrong?”

“I should have known. I should have been more careful.”

“You’re talking crazy.”

“And I don’t have time to talk anymore. I have to go and see if I can find where he— Go home, Melis. Take care of the dolphins. It’s important that you do your job.”

“We need to talk. I’m not going to—” She was talking to air. Phil had turned and gone back down below.

“Get me closer.”

“He won’t let you board her, Melis.”

“Yes, he will. Even if I have to hang on to the anchor all the way to—”

The
Last Home
exploded into a thousand fiery pieces.

Phil!

“No!” She didn’t realize she’d screamed the word in an agony of rejection. The ship was burning, half of it gone. “Get closer! We have to—”

Another explosion.

Pain.

Her head was splintering, exploding like the ship.

Darkness.

Chapter Two

S
T.
C
ATHERINE
’
S
H
OSPITAL
A
THENS,
G
REECE

“Melis Nemid has a concussion,” Wilson said. “One of Lontana’s crew brought her here after the explosion. The doctors think she’s going to be fine, but she’s been unconscious for the last twenty-four hours.”

“I want to see her.” Kelby moved down the hall. “Get me permission.”

“Maybe you didn’t hear me. She’s out, Jed.”

“I want to be there when she wakes up. I have to be the first one to talk to her.”

“This hospital is pretty strict. And you’re not family. They may not want to let you in her room until after she becomes conscious.”

“Get them to do it. I don’t care if you have to give a big enough bribe to buy the hospital. And check back with the coast guard and see if they’ve located Lontana’s body yet. Then go find the man who brought Lontana’s daughter here and pump him. I want to know everything there is to know about what happened to Lontana and the
Last Home
. What room is she in?”

“Twenty-one.” He hesitated. “Jed, she’s just lost her father. For God’s sake, what’s the hurry?”

The urgency was that for the first time in years Kelby had been given hope and it was being snatched away from him. He’d be damned if he’d let that happen. “I’m not going to give her the third degree. To use one of your favorite phrases, that would be nonproductive. I do have a certain amount of tact.”

“When you want to use it.” Wilson shrugged. “But you’ll do what you want to do. Okay, I’ll deal with the nurses first and then go see what else I can find out about the explosion.”

Which probably wouldn’t be much, Kelby thought. According to the news broadcast they had heard on the way here, the explosion had virtually ripped the ship apart. He’d gone first to the disaster site, and there had been practically nothing to salvage. At the moment they were calling it an accident. Not likely. There had been two explosions at opposite ends of the ship.

Twenty-one.

He opened the door and went into the room. A woman lay in the single bed dominating the pleasant, serene room. No nurses, thank God. Wilson was good, but he needed time to pave the way. He grabbed a chair from beside the door and carried it over to the bed. She didn’t stir as he sat down and began studying her.

Melis Nemid’s head was bandaged, but he could see strands of blond hair clinging to her cheeks. Jesus, she was . . . exceptional. Her body was small, fine-boned, and she appeared as fragile as a Christmas ornament. It was incredibly moving to see someone that delicate hurt. It reminded him of Trina and those times when—

My God, he hadn’t run across anyone in years who had brought that period of his life rushing back to him like this.

So smother it. Turn it around. Transform it into something else.

He stared down at Melis Nemid with cool objectivity. Yes, she was fragile and helpless-looking. Yet, if you considered the other side of the coin, that very delicateness was oddly sensual and arousing. Like holding a gossamer-thin china cup and knowing you could break it if you only tightened your hand. His gaze shifted to her face. Beautiful bone structure. A large, perfectly formed mouth that somehow increased the appearance of sensuality. A damn beautiful woman.

And this was supposed to be Lontana’s foster daughter? Lontana was in his sixties and this woman was maybe mid-twenties. Of course, it was possible. But it was just as likely that the designation was a way of avoiding questions about a May-December relationship.

It didn’t make any difference what she had been to him. The only important thing was that the relationship was long-standing and intimate enough that the woman would be able to tell him what he needed to know. If she did know, then there was no question he would make very sure she told him.

He leaned back in his chair and waited for her to wake.

Jesus, her head hurt.

Drugs? No, they’d stopped giving her drugs when she’d stopped fighting. She cautiously opened her eyes. No lacy fretwork, she realized with relief. Cool blue walls, cool as the sea. Crisp white sheet covering her. A hospital?

“You must be thirsty. Would you like some water?”

A man’s voice. It could be a doctor or nurse. . . . Her gaze flew to the man sitting in the chair next to the bed.

“Easy, I’m not offering you poison.” He smiled. “Only a glass of water.”

He wasn’t a doctor. He was wearing jeans and a linen shirt with cuffs rolled to the elbow, and he was somehow . . . familiar. “Where am I?”

“St. Catherine’s Hospital.” He held the glass to her lips as she drank. She gazed warily at him over the rim. He was dark-haired, dark-eyed, somewhere in his thirties, and wore confidence with the same casualness as he did his clothes. If she had met him before, she would definitely have remembered him.

“What happened?”

“You don’t remember?”

The ship splintering, hurling chunks of deck and metal into the air.

“Phil!” She jerked upright in bed. Phil had been in that inferno. Phil had been— She tried to swing her legs to the floor. “He was there. I have to— He went below and he was—”

“Lie down.” He was pushing her back onto the pillows. “There’s nothing you can do. The ship was destroyed over twenty-four hours ago. The coast guard hasn’t given up looking yet. If he’s alive, they’ll find him.”

Twenty-four hours. She gazed at him dazedly. “They didn’t find him?”

He shook his head. “Not yet.”

“They can’t give up. Don’t let them give up.”

“I won’t. Will you go back to sleep now? The nurses are going to kick me out if they think I’ve upset you. I just thought you should know. I have an idea you’re like me. You want to know the truth even if it hurts.”

“Phil . . .” She closed her eyes as pain washed over her. “Hurts. I wish I could cry.”

“Then do it.”

“I can’t. I haven’t—I can’t ever— Go away. I don’t want anyone to see me like this.”

“But I’ve already seen you. So I think I’ll just stick around and make sure you’re going to be okay.”

She opened her eyes and studied him. Hard . . . so hard. “You don’t care if I’m okay. Who the hell are you?”

“Jed Kelby.”

That’s where she’d seen him. Newspapers, magazines, TV . . . “I should have known. The Golden Boy.”

“I used to hate that nickname and everything that went with it. It’s one of the reasons I became so damn belligerent with the media.” He smiled. “But I got over it. I’m not a boy any longer. I’m a man. And I am what I am. You might find that what I am can be very useful to you.”

“Go away.”

He hesitated and then stood up. “I’ll be back. In the meantime, I’ll try to make sure the coast guard continues to look for Lontana.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Shall I ask the nurse to come in and give you a sedative?”

“No drugs! I don’t take—”

“Fine. Whatever you say.”

She watched the door close behind him. He had been very agreeable, some might have even said kind. She was too hazy and hurting to know what to think of him. She’d only been aware of that air of calm confidence and physical strength—and it disturbed her.

Don’t think of him.

And try not to think of Phil. Twenty-four hours was a long time, but he could still be out there.

If he’d grabbed a life vest.

If he hadn’t been blown up before he hit the water.

Jesus, she wished she could cry.

“Should you be up?” Gary frowned with concern as he saw Melis sitting in the chair by the window the next morning. “The nurse told me you regained consciousness only last evening.”

“I’m fine. And I have to show them I don’t need to stay here.” Her hands tightened on the arms of the chair. “They want me to wait and talk to the police.”

“Yeah, I’ve already given them my statement. They won’t hassle you, Melis.”

“They’re already hassling me. The police can’t get here till later this afternoon and I won’t wait. But the hospital is tying me up with such a string of red tape I can’t make a move. I think it’s just an excuse. They say I shouldn’t leave until tomorrow anyway.”

“The doctors probably know best.”

“The hell they do. I have to go back to where the ship sank. I have to find Phil.”

“Melis . . .” Gary hesitated before he said gently, “I was out there with the coast guard. You’re not going to find Phil. We’ve lost him.”

“I don’t want to hear that. I have to see for myself.” Her glance shifted to the well-manicured lawns outside the window. “What was Kelby doing here?”

“Mainly turning the hospital upside down. They wouldn’t even let me into your room, but Kelby had no problem. And before he came here, he was out helping the coast guard with the search. You don’t know him, do you?”

“I never met him. But Phil told me he was trying to contact him. Do you know why?”

Gary shook his head. “Maybe Cal knows.”

Melis doubted it. Whatever business Phil had with Kelby was evidently part of this deadly scenario that had taken his life. And it was a business he hadn’t been willing to share with even his closest friends.

Dear God, she was thinking of him as dead. She was meekly accepting what they’d told her. She couldn’t do that. “Go find Kelby for me, Gary. Tell him to get me out of here.”

“What?”

“You said he could pull strings. Tell him to do it. I don’t think you’ll have any problem. He came here because he wants something from me. Well, he can’t get anything from me while I’m in this hospital. He’ll want me out.”

“Even if it’s not good for you?”

She remembered the impression Kelby had given her of rock hardness. “He won’t care. Tell him to get me away from here.”

“Okay.” Gary grimaced. “But I still don’t think you should do it. Phil wouldn’t have liked it.”

“You know Phil always let me do exactly what I wanted to do. It was much less bother for him.” She had to steady her voice. “So please don’t argue with me, Gary. I’m having a few emotional problems today.”

“You’re doing fine. You always do fine.” He hurriedly left the room.

Poor Gary. He wasn’t used to her not being in control, and it was upsetting him. It was upsetting her too. She didn’t like feeling this helpless.

No, not helpless. She instantly rejected the word. There was always something she could do, another path to take. She was just sad and angry and filled with despair. Never helpless. It was just that right now she couldn’t see clearly what path was open to her.

She’d better decide soon. Kelby was hovering on the threshold and she’d been forced to let him draw closer. He would use that slightly open door to gain purchase and solidify his position.

She leaned back in the chair and tried to relax. She ought to rest and garner all her strength while she had the chance. It would take all her resources to push Kelby out and slam that door again.

Kelby smiled with amusement as he watched Melis Nemid walk toward the front entrance. A nun was trailing behind her with the wheelchair Melis should have been occupying, and she wasn’t at all pleased.

He had a fleeting memory of his first impression of how fragile Melis appeared. That provocative aura of delicacy was still present, but it was balanced by the force and vitality of her carriage, the way she moved. He’d known from the moment she’d opened her eyes she’d be a force to reckon with. How had a dreamer like Lontana managed to get hold of her? Or maybe she’d gotten hold of him. That was considerably more likely.

She stopped in front of him. “I suppose I should thank you for cutting through all that red tape and making them let me go.”

“This isn’t a prison, Ms. Nemid,” the nurse said tartly. “We only needed to know you were going to be well taken care of. And you should have let me follow procedure and wheel you out.”

“Thank you, Sister. I’ll watch out for her from here.” Kelby took Melis’s arm and gently pushed her toward the door. “You have an appointment to give your statement to the police later tonight. I’ve taken care of all the medical paperwork and picked up your prescription.”

“What prescription?”

“Just some sedatives in case you need them.”

“I won’t need them.” She pulled her arm away from him. “And you can send me the bill.”

“Fine. I always believe in keeping everything on an even playing field.” He opened the door of the car parked in front of the hospital. “I’ll have Wilson bill you on the first of the month.”

“Who’s Wilson? He sounds like a butler.”

“My assistant. He keeps me solvent.”

“Not much of a job.”

“You’d be surprised. Some of my explorations are a big drain on the corporations. Get in.”

She shook her head. “I’m going to the coast guard station.”

“It won’t do you any good. They’ve dropped the search.”

It rocked her. “Already?”

“A few questions have come up regarding Lontana’s state of mind.” He paused. “It wasn’t an accident. They’ve recovered traces of plastique and a timer among the salvage timbers. Do you think he may have set that charge himself?”

Her eyes widened. “What?”

“You have to admit it’s a possibility.”

“I won’t admit any such thing. It’s
not
a possibility. Phil was worried when his ship just went dead in the water. He was going below to try to find what had gone wrong.”

“That’s what Gary told the coast guard, but Lontana didn’t say anything definite enough to rule out the possibility of suicide.”

“I don’t care. Phil loved every minute of his life. He was like a child. A new adventure was always just around the next corner.”

“I’m afraid this was his final adventure. No one had much hope of his surviving from the beginning.”

“There’s always hope.” She started to turn away. “Phil deserves his chance.”

“No one’s cheating him of his chance. I’m just telling you what— Where are you going?”

“I have to see for myself. I’ll rent a motorboat at the dock and—”

“Your friend Gary St. George is already waiting for you on the
Trina
. He said you were determined to go and search. We can be at the position where the
Last Home
blew within an hour.”