The floorboards creaked under her weight as she stood. Her knees and back, not to mention her feet, were sore as hell. She stepped lightly, unsure of whether her father was still asleep or not.
He wasn’t.
She leaned over the railing of the loft and saw that the couch was already empty and put back together, exactly the way they had found it the evening before. Her father was sitting quietly at a small table out on the balcony. He clutched a coffee mug in both his hands. Even from here, Zahra could feel the chilly morning breeze coming in off the water.
Zahra dug through her bag and found a clean shirt, tossing it on before carefully making her way down the tight, spiraling staircase. The metal beneath her bare feet was cool and felt great pressed up against her aching soles. The discomfort reminded her that she needed a new pair of boots.
And a foot massage.
The ball of her right foot struck the wooden floor of the living room.
“There’s more coffee in the kitchen,” her father called out, never once looking at her.
“Thanks,” she replied. “How is it?”
“Eh…” He waggled his left hand. “Not as good as the view, that’s for sure.”
Zahra would soon find out. So far, it smelled incredible. She could only imagine how good it would taste. She greedily poured a heavy helping into a mug that had been waiting for her. Slowly, Zahra lifted it to her lips and took the smallest of sips. It was hot, but not too hot.
And it tasted amazing.
“Dad,” she said, laughing, “this stuff is great. How can you say it’s not as good as the…” Zahra stopped and stared. “Oh.”
As good as the coffee was, the view was infinitely better. The sun was still low in the sky, and the traffic on the crystal-clear water was minimal. Zahra spotted a couple of sailboats and a ferry off in the distance, and nothing else. The sea was unbelievably flat, and a pristine shade of blue that Zahra couldn’t recall ever seeing in such a large body of water.
She joined her father on the balcony, closed her eyes, and took in a deep, pleasing breath of fresh air. Zahra let it out slowly, feeling her pulse nearly pause. She hadn’t been this relaxed in a long time. George pushed out a chair, and just as Zahra sat, there was a knock at the front door.
“Really?” Zahra complained. “Come on, man!”
George patted her on the knee and got up. “Stay put. I’ll get it.”
She didn’t argue. Zahra took a long sip of her coffee and watched as another sail came into view. For now, it was just a bobbing blur, but if she waited long enough, she’d be able to see it for what it was. Zahra checked her watch. She’d love to do just that. Sit, and wait.
“Zahra?”
“Yeah, Dad?” she answered, not taking her eyes off the distant watercraft.
“We have a visitor.”
Zahra didn’t have her gun, or even her knife. They were both upstairs in her bag. She was completely defenseless. The only weapon she had was her bruised fists. She launched to her feet, feeling her lower back protest the sudden movement. But as soon as Zahra spun and had a look at their guest, she knew they weren’t in any imminent danger.
“Zahra, this is Sofia, the owner of this place.”
A woman around the same age as her father stepped in and looked around. The only way Zahra could describe the look on her face was satisfied — satisfied that she and her father didn’t wreck her property overnight.
“I trust your stay was pleasant,” her English was easy enough to understand, but Zahra could tell she was struggling with it.
Zahra smiled. “It was,” she replied in Italian. “Thank you. It was very generous of you to let us stay, and on such short notice.”
Sofia smiled wide, responding in her native tongue. “When Vincenzo called me, it was a blessing that I had the room available. What luck! I’ve been booked solid for months, except for last night. And about that…”
“Oh, yes.” She looked at her father. “Get our stuff. We’re leaving. She needs the room.”
George sighed. “Talk about an early checkout.”
Zahra returned her attention to Sofia. “What do I owe you?”
“Ninety euros.”
Zahra nearly choked on her coffee as she went to take another sip. That equated to only one hundred and six U.S. dollars. It was the very definition of a bargain, considering the lady could have just as simply turned them away.
“You don’t happen to take credit cards, do you?”
Sofia looked amused by the question and pulled out her cellphone, attaching a card reader to it in seconds. Apparently, the older woman was accustomed to dealing with plastic currency, rather than the paper variety.
Zahra happily tipped her an extra fifty bucks.
“How far in advance do we have to book for a return stay?”
Sofia smiled. “For you, I can make an exception. You can come back whenever you’d like. I will give you my personal email.” Zahra smiled. Looks like she had just made a very useful friend and ally. She’d need to remember Levanzo the next time she was in the Mediterranean. George came clambering down the stairs. “Take your time getting ready,” Sofia said. “My next guests aren’t due to arrive until this afternoon.”
Zahra shook the woman’s hand. “Thank you for everything. We’ll only be a few minutes.”
Chapter 46
Zahra
The Kanes exited the cottage thirteen minutes later to the sound of a roaring engine. Cork and Vincenzo pulled up the short driveway just moments later. The Brit hopped out, leaving the local to himself behind the wheel.
“We good to go?” Zahra asked.
“Yeah,” Cork replied. “Vincenzo is a wizard with his hands.”
Zahra glanced at her father, who was similarly uncomfortable with Cork’s phrasing. She was about to ask whether or not Cork had found, yet another, port-side lover, but refrained from asking the question with Sofia standing nearby.
“You get much sleep?” Zahra asked.
Cork shrugged. “Enough.”
The Kanes waved their goodbyes to Sofia and headed for the tow truck.
“The only problem is fuel.”
Zahra and George stopped dead.
“Fuel?” Zahra asked.
“Yeah,” Cork replied. “Vincenzo doesn’t have enough to give us.”
“We’ll happily pay him for it.”
Cork shook her head. “I told him that, but some things aren’t worth parting with. He needs the fuel more than the money. Shipments are few and far between out here.”
“What does that mean?” George asked.
“It means—” Cork started.
Zahra butted in. “It means we’re even further away from getting to Cairo.”
The three of them climbed into the waiting truck. Cork blew out a long, annoyed breath. “Looks like we’ll have to land somewhere in Sicily and refuel, then head out again.”
And again.
Zahra had already done the math. Even after a stop in Sicily to refuel, they would need to stop one more time, probably somewhere in Greece, before finally arriving in Egypt. It was the frustrating part about using this kind of transportation. The freedom this method offered was priceless, however. Zahra could go anywhere she wanted, bring along anything she wanted, and leave whenever she wanted.
The biggest downfall was that it took a lot longer than it would on a 747.
Still…
Vincenzo chauffeured them to his property, giving Zahra her first glimpses at the man’s operation. There was a large barn-like building with multiple additions at the plot’s center. If Zahra had to guess, the add-ons had been done over time. It’s where Vincenzo must have stored his helicopter. There was no other building large enough to contain it. The local's residence was, obviously, off in the distance. Next to the barn sat the Puss E. Galore. The plane looked like it was ready to go, as was Zahra.