I shook my head into the phone. “I don’t know, Yannis. I told her to be careful and stay out of the North, but you know how much she loves Kyrenia.”
“Odd they detained someone like Elizabeth,” Yannis said. “I will make some phone calls. Where are you staying?”
“At the Golden Bay. Oh, Yannis, I’d be so grateful if you could help.”
“Of course, I will. I’ll come to your hotel around ten in the morning to pick you up. Check out and stay with my family here in Pafos. We’ll get to the bottom of this and secure your aunt’s release. Then we’ll get in some beach time. Don’t worry, Princess. I’ll see you soon. Ciao.”
“Ciao.”
I smiled to myself. Yannis would get this mess straightened out. We’d get my aunt out of jail and on the next plane back to Boston in no time.
Two
I was waiting in the hotel lobby when Yannis arrived the next morning, pushing eleven o’clock. I’ve never known him to be on time. I’d fallen into an exhausted sleep but felt disoriented with the change in time and country, even after a hot shower, and the thunderbolt they called Greek coffee.
As soon as I got up, I had called Zach in his room.
“Something’s come up,” I told him. “I’ve got some business to take care of with a Cypriot friend this morning, and then I’m going to Pafos to stay with his family.”
“Tell you what,” he said, “give me the phone number where you’ll be staying in Pafos, just in case. I’ll go on the Coral Bay Resort, and you can call me when you get to Pafos. We’ll go for a swim this afternoon, if that fits with your schedule.”
“That might work,” I said and gave him Yannis’s home number. I clung to the hope of a quick resolution to Aunt Elizabeth’s predicament.
I had donned a black jeans skirt, mini version, great for travel which showed a nice expanse of leg, one of my better features an admirer had once said. I liked silk tees for travel, the scoop neck version, and had a turquoise one on today with my favorite pair of black strappy sandals. I sported very dark, red-framed sunglasses to protect against the bright sun and hide the dark circles under my eyes. I hoped I looked more presentable than I felt.
Yannis hugged and kissed me, whirling me around. He wasn’t tall but he was strong and had arms like a weight lifter, so even at my height he threw me around like a rag doll. His bright eyes danced as he held me at arm’s length to have a look. He had the build of his ancestors, stocky and broad chested. His olive brown skin set off his most striking feature, green-gold eyes he inherited from his mother’s side of the family, originally from Venice way back in the 15th century when the Venetians ruled Cyprus. His black hair curled slightly behind his ears and had not a hint of brown. He always wore a smile and his shirt collars open. His enthusiasm for life attracted people to him, especially women.
“It is great to see you. You are as beautiful as ever, but a little too pale,” he said, releasing me. “We’ll have to work on your tan while you are visiting.”
He threw his hands up in the air. “This news about your aunt is terrible. I talked to my cousin, the head of the customs bureau, and he has agreed to meet us at his office in an hour even though this is Sunday and his day off.”
He gave me a beautiful smile. “So, Princess, let’s have breakfast. It will perk you up.”
I couldn’t argue with that. “I’ll be eternally grateful if your cousin can help us, and breakfast sounds superb. I’m running on my reserve tank.”
He helped me up into his dark green Mercedes, the preferred brand on the island, then went round and climbed into the right side. Since Cyprus was a former British colony, driving on the left was one British legacy. Speaking English with a British accent was another. I found the accent charming but chose not to drive on Cyprus because my brain refused to translate to driving on the left side of the road.
Warm breeze, blue sky, hot sun. It was good to be back on Cyprus. We drove down a side street to a small cafe on the waterfront, Yannis joking as we went, trying to lighten things up. He parked straddling the curb, an endearing Cypriot custom. At the restaurant we sat outdoors and ordered Greek coffee and English breakfast of eggs, tomatoes, beans and chips.
I launched into my breakfast as soon as the swarthy waiter set it before me. I especially loved the chips on Cyprus made with the yellow potatoes grown on the island and deep-fried. I picked up the last chip and coated it with the catsup on my plate. I had been relating the details of what I knew about my aunt’s predicament.
Yannis listened with few interruptions and when I had finished, his intense gaze traveled over my face and beyond my shoulder for a few moments.
I didn’t like the serious look on his face.
“My cousin says the authorities have been watching your aunt.” His voice took on the very gentle quality one uses when speaking of the dear departed.
A chill settled over me even though the day was heating up. I was vaguely aware of the chatter around us as the patio filled with Cypriots. I looked up from sipping my coffee, eyes wide. “You aren’t serious. You can’t be. Watching her for what?”
“Smuggling.”
“Yannis, my aunt raised me after my folks died.” My voice ratcheted up several decibels, and I could feel heat creeping up my neck. I got a glance or two from alarmed brunchers and lowered my voice. “Since I was sixteen years old she has been friend, counselor, and confidante. This woman is not a criminal though I admit she’s a little eccentric. They have the wrong person.”
He pursed his lips and frowned, as if not knowing quite how to continue. I saw more bad news written on his face, as he seemed to search for the right words to say.
“Marie-Claude, because of the worldwide crackdown on the antiquities trade, the price of ancient artifacts has gone sky high and smuggling has become very, very lucrative.”
He was in a position to know. He worked for the Department of Antiquities. He studied me like making sure this was sinking in.
I sat with my elbows on the table and looked down into my half drunk cup of coffee. I did not at all like the direction this conversation was going. I glanced at him when he didn’t continue.
“I’m listening,” I said.
He looked toward the blue-green sea, and the glint of the sun sparkled in his black-lashed eyes.
“There’s a group of smugglers operating on Cyprus who have been difficult to catch because they look and act very normal. Greek and Roman artifacts are their specialty. These bring an extremely high price, especially mosaics, and I don’t have to tell you we have a lot of those.”
“I know,” I said. I had met him on my first trip to Cyprus when I had visited Pafos as a volunteer with a group of archeologists who helped in the excavation of the Forty Column Castle, destroyed by an earthquake in 1223. Yannis had been project coordinator. We had also helped excavate beautifully preserved floor mosaics in a third century Roman villa.
“Where does my aunt come in?”
“They think that some of the people involved on Cyprus are a group of well-to-do though misguided women maybe looking for a little excitement in their lives, who knows. Your aunt was seen with them. The police haven’t made any arrests because they’ve been unable to catch anyone with the goods. Picking up your aunt has been the first break they’ve had.”
“Yannis, this is absurd. Those antiquities had to be planted in my aunt’s luggage. She isn’t capable of masterminding an elaborate smuggling operation.” I struggled to keep my voice low and my temper under wraps.
He nodded. “From what I know of your aunt, I agree.” He glanced down at his watch. “It’s time for us to meet Chris. Let’s see what he can tell us.” He signaled for the check, paid the waiter, and steered me between the tables to the street. Neither of us spoke on the drive to the customs house. I was too upset. He knew I was upset and didn’t want to make matters worse, I’m sure.