Jarkko patted his belly. ‘I am tough guy. Iron stomach.’
‘And a pickled liver,’ Cobb added.
Jarkko stared at him and burped his rebuttal.
Sensing an opportunity to belittle Cobb while ingratiating herself with a local, Sarah took a sniff of the liquid, shrugged like it was no big deal, and then drank the kafka in a mighty gulp as if she were at a bachelorette party in Las Vegas. To make the moment complete, she glanced at Cobb and sneered. ‘You’re such a pussy.’
Cobb started to defend himself, but quickly realized that anything he said would fall short of the mark, so he simply held his tongue in silence.
Meanwhile, Jarkko’s reaction was the exact opposite. He looked at Sarah with puppy dog eyes and muttered the first thing that came to mind. ‘I think I love you.’
Sarah smiled and handed him his cup. ‘In that case, I was hoping you could give me some directions.’
‘Yes!’ he exclaimed as he rose to his feet. ‘Jarkko will give you anything! His thermos! His yacht! His sexy underwear! Tell me, do you like to fish?’
‘I do,’ she said as she gently pushed him back down, ‘but let’s start with directions. Do you know a place called Diosmarini’s?’
‘Yes! Jarkko knows it very well. It is up steep hill. If you climb on Jarkko’s back, Jarkko will carry you there — and pay for breakfast.’
‘As tempting as that sounds,’ she grabbed Cobb’s elbow for emphasis, ‘we have a previous engagement.’
Jarkko groaned in heartbreak. ‘You are engaged? Why you flirt with Jarkko?’
She smiled at him. ‘Because you’re too sexy to ignore.’
‘Yes — Jarkko sees point. Jarkko has forgiven you!’
‘Glad to hear it.’
‘So,’ Cobb said as he glanced at his watch, ‘the café is right up the hill?’
Jarkko nodded. ‘Yes, keep walking. You find, right there. Look for white sign, white tables, white chairs. It is so bright even you can find it.’
59
Jarkko’s directions to the restaurant were spot on, much to the surprise of Cobb, who figured there was a damn good chance that the Finn sat on the bench all day, drinking his kafka, and randomly making up directions for wayward travelers in order to amuse himself. Then again, Jarkko’s affection for Sarah seemed so genuine that his moment of accuracy was probably intended to impress her rather than to reward Cobb.
Either way, the café was right where it was supposed to be.
And more importantly, so was Dr Manjani.
According to Seymour, the missing professor checked his e-mail every morning at Diosmarini’s café, using a local wireless network. Sometimes he remained online for minutes, and other times hours, but he made an appearance every single day. To find him, all they had to do was show up for breakfast.
The smell of roasted beans flooded their nostrils as Cobb tried to distance himself from the memory of the dreaded kafka. Though he longed for the biggest espresso that they were willing to make, he walked through the restaurant to the courtyard beyond where he spotted the professor at one of the ubiquitous white tables.
Manjani’s hair was shaggy and unkempt. Thick, bushy eyebrows pushed the frames of his glasses away from his face as he read from his laptop, forcing him to stare down his nose like Santa Claus checking his naughty list. He had dark circles under his eyes and his clothes hung loosely, as if he wasn’t sleeping or eating at all.
Cobb had seen several pictures of Manjani from the weeks and months before his disappearance, and the man he was staring at was a shell of his former self. If Cobb hadn’t been aware of the tragedy in the desert, he would have assumed that the professor was dying from cancer or some other horrible disease that ravaged its victims over time. Instead, he sensed the only things eating away at Manjani were his inner demons.
Remorse for the students who had lost their lives.
Shame for running away from his past.
Guilt over his survival.
As a former soldier who had lost men in combat, Cobb could identify with those feelings better than most. So much so that he could spot the suffering from across the room, like a pusher spotting a junkie. And yet, even though he felt empathy for Manjani — because based on everything he had heard, the professor was a good guy in a bad situation — Cobb knew that they were there for information, and he was willing to do just about anything to obtain it.
Cobb headed forward until Sarah grabbed his arm.
‘Slow down,’ she whispered as she pulled him aside. ‘So, what’s your plan? Are you going to stroll right up to him, tell him who you are, and lean on him for information?’
‘Pretty much. But you know, subtle.’
She smiled. ‘I’ve seen your version of subtle, and it’s typically anything but. How about you sit this one out and let me handle things?’
‘Sarah, we don’t have time for games.’
‘Jack,’ she said, ‘when you were in the Army, how often did you go up to the enemy, tap him on the shoulder, and ask him questions about his past?’
‘Define “tap”.’
‘That’s what I thought.’
‘What’s your point?’ he asked.
‘We did things different in the CIA. Much different. The trick is to get all the information that you need without arousing suspicion of any kind. You don’t want anyone to clam up because you asked the wrong questions or gave off the wrong vibe. Trust me, it takes a lot of panache to pull it off.’
Cobb grimaced. ‘Are you saying you don’t like my style?’
‘No,’ she assured him, ‘I’m not saying that at all. I just think this particular job might need a woman’s touch.’
‘Fine. Who did you have in mind?’
‘Very funny.’
‘I thought so,’ he said as he took a seat at an empty table on the opposite side of the patio from Manjani. ‘He’s all yours. Let me know if I can help.’
‘Just be sure to smile and wave when he looks your way.’ She pulled the tie from her ponytail and ran her fingers through her hair. ‘How do I look?’
Cobb shrugged. ‘Meh.’
She smiled. ‘You’re such an ass.’
‘Not really. I’m just lacking panache.’
‘Touché,’ she said before heading toward Manjani.
The patio overlooked the striking blue water of the Aegean. Waves crashed gently in the background as Manjani worked at the table he had commandeered near the far wall. The carafe of coffee and the empty plates that had yet to be cleared told Sarah that he was a regular, and that the staff were content to leave him alone.
She had to admit. His office had a hell of a view.
As she approached his table, Manjani caught her from the corner of his eye. He instinctively recoiled as he shielded his laptop from her prying eyes.
She caught it all and realized he was spooked.
She knew better than to ignore the reaction.
‘Oh, I’m sorry to interrupt. I was just wondering if you’re on the Internet right now?’ She pretended to catch herself. ‘Oh, umm, can you even understand me? Do you speak English?’ She started to pantomime her question, suddenly aware that she had no idea what gesture would convey the concept of the World Wide Web.
The bewilderment wasn’t part of her gambit, but it fit in seamlessly.
Her moment of honest confusion had broken the ice.
Manjani smiled. ‘Yes, I speak English. And yes, there is access to the Internet.’
‘Perfect!’ she gushed. ‘I hate to bother you, but can you tell me who won the game? We’ve haven’t seen a computer since the weekend, and my boyfriend is simply beside himself. The longer he waits, the grumpier he gets.’
Manjani stared at her. ‘Which game?’