The Bari Bones Read online

  Her eyes settled on Sam and she suddenly found herself doubting if she ought to have married him. What if she lost him? Had she been a fool to open her heart to him in the first place, just to run the risk of losing him? But then she recalled her father quoting some poet the morning of their wedding; ‘It is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.’

  She smiled and let the cool evening breeze blow away her fears. She couldn’t imagine a life without Sam.

  When Sam gently kissed her forehead, she realized she must have dozed off.

  “We’re here, sweetheart,” he whispered.

  “What time is it?”

  “It’s late. We should get some rest and I need to check on Khalil.”

  A sudden chill washed over her body.

  “What if they tracked us here?” Alex asked, suddenly wide awake.

  “I disconnected the GPS when we dumped the body. Mathraki’s main port is on the other side of the island. I thought it best to hide here on the east side until morning. I doubt anyone will find us here, but to be on the safe side you should also remove your phone’s SIM.”

  Alex placed a cup of coffee next to Sam on his nightstand and turned to go back into the kitchen.

  “You’re up early,” he said in a sleepy voice as he sat up to take a sip of the coffee.

  “You can blame Stavros for that. The boy’s stomach had him rummaging through the kitchen at the crack of dawn.”

  “Is he okay?” Sam asked.

  “Seems so, yes. I think he’s relieved to have made it home safely, albeit without the manna.”

  “Hopefully you’re right about his mother just having a bad case of the flu. Judging from the size of this island it’s hard to imagine they have any medical care at all. Have you checked on Khalil?” he asked.

  “Yup, he’s awake. The IV’s run out during the night and he’s in quite a bit of pain so you might want to hurry it along. Breakfast is almost ready.”

  Stavros devoured his cheese and tomato omelet before helping himself to another breakfast roll. Alex watched him from where she stood drinking her coffee in the kitchen. His messy ash-brown hair fell gently across his forehead and just about covered his prominent eyebrows and striking green eyes. He looked younger than the fifteen years he claimed to be; a question she’d had Khalil ask him earlier. He was just a child.

  A wave of anxiety ripped through Alex’s insides when she realized that his trip had taken him away from home for almost two weeks. It would be a travesty if his mother had passed away in his absence. She hurriedly placed her cup on the counter and made her way to where Sam was replacing the dressing on Khalil’s wound.

  “We need to get a move on, Sam. I’d never forgive myself if anything happened to the boy’s mother while he was gone.”

  “You’re right,” Sam said and turned back to address Khalil. “There’s no infection, my friend. You’re one lucky man. You’ll be up and at it in no time. Just keep still and let the meds do the work while we get the boy home. We’ll be back in no time.”

  Sam had given him more medication, the strength of which would render him asleep for most of the day, and before long the three of them were on the dinghy making their way to the shore. A small flock of seagulls hit the water with force several yards away from them, ascending just as suddenly with the catch of the day. As they neared the shoreline, Stavros jumped into the water and pulled the dinghy closer to the beach. In front of them the island looked entirely unpopulated and in direct contrast to the bustling shores of Corfu and the other popular Greek islands. Mathraki was eerily tranquil. Alex and Sam allowed Stavros to lead the way across the beach to the foot of a large sand dune topped with wild trees and colorful flora. Having lived there all his life it was evident he knew his way around the small island. He beckoned for them to hurry, ostensibly also experiencing a sense of urgency to get back to his mother. The sand was firm beneath their feet as Alex and Sam followed the boy over the sand dune. Alex briefly looked back. From the top of the dune they had a spectacular view across the ocean. The sun’s rays glistened off the blue-green water surrounding the yacht.

  “Stop worrying. There’s no way they’d find us.” Sam offered Alex some assurance.

  He was right. Without the GPS there’d be no way anyone could track them. They continued over a few more sand dunes, upsetting a family of pheasants along the way, to where a narrow road divided it from the next set. It was already quite hot as the morning sun beat down on them and they struggled to keep up with the boy’s pace.

  “Slow down, lad. You’re less than half our age,” Sam teased, knowing full well the boy didn’t understand a word of English.

  The road’s powdery white sand gradually transformed into off-white gravel and about a quarter of a mile further on the cobalt blue roof of a taverna welcomed them.

  “Well, what do you know? There is in fact life on this island,” Sam said sarcastically.

  The sighting of the taverna propelled Stavros to move even faster and he set off in a fast jog. Sam wiped the sweat from his brow as he and Alex joined in, though still arriving at the taverna well after the boy. Inside the crisp white walls of the taverna, they found Stavros already engrossed in a conversation with a man wearing a white apron over a matching collared shirt. The man’s tanned skin sat stark against his white apron and rolled up sleeves. From the entrance, Alex and Sam watched as the man’s jaw tightened before his strong arms embraced Stavros. A tall, skinny, apron-wearing brunette ran toward them. Instantly her slender arms folded around the boy who desperately clung onto the older man and moments later two more women were sobbing by their side.

  Alex stood in silence as they watched the tragic scene play out in front of them. It was obvious the boy’s mother hadn’t survived. They were too late. Alex’s insides tightened up as her mind flashed back to the day she’d received the news of her own mother’s death. Stavros would never see his mother again. Anger surged through her veins. She had failed Stavros. Miserably. Sam could’ve saved his mother, if only they’d got there sooner.

  Her raging thoughts were interrupted when the older man finally walked up to them.

  “Thank you for bringing our boy home,” he said in a deep voice, his English tainted with a strong Greek accent. He shook Sam’s hand and pulled Alex into a grateful embrace.

  “Did she… did his mother…?” Alex couldn’t finish her question.

  “She was a very brave woman,” the man announced. “It was better Stavros wasn’t here to see her die. She had a lot of pain. Come, come, sit.” The man pulled them toward a small table and yelled an instruction at one of the women who promptly arrived with a jug of lemon squash and three glasses. His authority gave away that the taverna belonged to him.

  “I’m Doudous,” he introduced himself.

  Alex and Sam reciprocated.

  “What’s going to happen to Stavros?” Alex asked.

  “Stavros is a strong boy; like his mother. He is like my very own son. I promised her that I will take care of him. We grew up together, here on Mathraki. She was like my sister, family. That’s my wife and my two daughters.” He pointed to the three women who compassionately sat with Stavros. “He has many people who love him.” Doudous dried his eyes with his apron and poured them each a glass of squash.

  “Stavros said you helped him. What do you need? I have fresh fish that came in from the boat this morning and my wife is making souvlaki. Whatever you need, I’ll give you.”

  Doudous bellowed some Greek words across the restaurant floor.

  “We’re fine, thank you. I’m sorry we couldn’t get here in time to save his mother. Sam’s a doctor, well he used to be one, and we had hoped he could have helped her,” Alex declared.

  “It was her time. No one could have saved her. The cancer was too strong. Stavros had the silly idea in his head that the Saint Nicholas manna would save her. It’s all a fairytale, we know that, but I had to at least let the boy try. He would’ve never forgiven himself if he d
idn’t do something to help his mother.”

  “So you don’t believe the fluid has the power to heal people?” Sam asked.

  “Come on, Sam. You’re a doctor, you tell me. They are just bones sweating in a closed coffin. The Italians stole the remains from the Turkish and every year they make bags full of money from the tourists, cheating people into thinking it has some supernatural power. Yes, the man was a saint and he did great things for the Turkish and Greek people, but he’s been dead for hundreds of years. It’s not possible.”

  Alex looked at Stavros where the women had now put him to work as a means of distracting him. He sat with a bowl of fresh olives on his lap, picking the leaves and stems off before dropping them into a wooden vat on the floor next to him.

  “Someone out there disagrees with you, Doudous. They killed the priest and then tried to kill Stavros. There has to be more to it than mere fables,” Alex said.

  “What do you mean someone tried to kill my boy?”

  “Exactly that. The priest somehow ended up dead and the murderer thought Stavros had taken the manna. They’ve been after us ever since we left Bari.”

  Doudous rose, placing his big hands on the table and leaned in, the veins bulging in his hairy arms. “You need to leave. If they followed you, we are all in danger.”

  Sam straightened up and Alex did the same. “No one followed us, Doudous, I assure you. We hid our boat on the east side of the island. You’re safe.”

  Doudous pulled the linen cloth from his shoulder and wiped the table before flinging it back over his shoulder and clearing the glasses.

  “I will not survive if anything happens to Stavros or my daughters. You have to understand that I am all he has and I have to protect him. God speed.”

  Chapter Eight

  They knew the topic wasn’t up for further discussion when Doudous turned without saying another word and took up his place behind the bar next to the kitchen. He had made his position very clear and neither Sam nor Alex could blame him for it. They’d have done the same in his situation. Stavros looked up from the bowl of olives in his lap. His once piercing green eyes had been replaced with a dull green tinge resemblant of the very olives he held in his hands. The corners of his mouth lifted in the faintest of smiles for the briefest of moments. He lifted his arm and gently waved a farewell at them before he continued plucking the leaves from the olives in his lap. There was nothing more Alex or Sam could do or say to the boy. His life had changed and would never be the same again. But, as Alex and Sam quietly walked along the white dirt road and back over the overgrown sand dunes, they each silently resolved to hunt down the priest’s murderer and establish the truth about the saintly fluid Stavros had risked everything for, believing that it had enough power to heal his mother and save the world. Some might call it revenge, but they called it restitution.

  And in the depths of her heart, hidden from her new husband, Alex made her own silent vow. She had lived through the pain of losing a mother and she’d witnessed the very same suffering in Stavros’ eyes. It would be a pain she would never bring upon or bear witness to again.

  Their moods remained somber as they each absorbed the drastic turn of events. Allowing each other time to digest was a coping mechanism they had learned over the many years of working together. And when they eventually reached the dinghy and found their way back to their yacht through the cool blue waters surrounding the Ionian island, they spoke again for the first time since leaving the taverna.

  “I’m going to check on Khalil and take a swim to clear my head. Care to join me?” Sam invited.

  “Sounds like a great idea, yes. Are you hungry? I can make you a sandwich,” Alex replied.

  “We’ll get the guy and the manna, Alex. I promise you. For the boy’s sake.” Sam promised as he took his wife in his arms.

  “I’m going to hold you to that.” She smiled and followed him below deck where she got started in the kitchen.

  She had barely taken the bread from the basket when Sam darted from the cabin into the bathroom and back out again.

  “What’s wrong?” Alex said startled.

  “He’s gone,” Sam answered as he sped past her onto the deck.

  “What do you mean he’s gone? The man’s recovering from a gunshot wound. There’s no way he could get up and move around. We’re in the middle of the ocean,” she added doubling up on his search.

  “Khalil!” Sam shouted as he searched the yacht before eventually climbing up to the flybridge.

  Horror ripped through Sam’s body when his eyes settled on the back of Khalil’s shoulders. Sitting in the captain’s seat, Khalil wasn’t moving. As Sam spun the chair around his stomach settled in his feet. Khalil’s head was slumped forward onto his chest. Blood had run from his nose and the corners of his mouth and dried onto his skin and beard. His left eye was dark red and barely visible under the swollen skin around it. In his lap his hands were bound at his wrists with a translucent cable tie that had already ripped into his flesh. Across his abdomen fresh blood from the gunshot wound had seeped through his dressings and his shirt.

  “Khalil!” Sam called, repeating it twice while his fingers checked for a pulse. It was weak but he was still alive. Barely. Sam continued calling out to him, silently praying he’d wake up. A slight frown appeared just above Khalil’s thick brows.

  “There you are. Hang in there, my friend. You’re going to be fine.” Sam’s hands rummaged through the cupboard below the dashboard and found the small pliers.

  “Who did this to you?” He asked a rhetorical question as he snipped through the cable ties.

  The muffled reply he received told him Khalil was in no position to speak. Instinctively his eyes settled on Khalil’s mouth. There was too much blood. Fear tugged at the pit of his stomach when the thought crossed his mind that they might have done something far worse. He braced himself and gently parted Khalil’s lips and jaw and found something entirely different.

  “Spit it out, mate,” he urged Khalil who was barely conscious but groaned under the strain of Sam’s fingers on his jaw.

  “What is it?” Alex spoke behind him, surprised that Sam hadn’t heard her come up behind him.

  Sam didn’t answer as he pulled out the crumpled ball of paper from Khalil’s broken jaw and dropped it on the floor next to them. Alex, without conscious thought, stooped to pick it up, closing her hand over the paper before shoving it inside the pocket of her pants. The sun was relentless and time was crucial. Getting Khalil out of the heat was priority. So when they eventually lay him down in his bed, Sam sprang to work on his injuries. The gunshot wound had opened up and required new stitches and redressing. Sam cleaned up the fresh wounds and skillfully treated what he could. They had broken his jaw and several ribs, the jaw requiring more than he was capable of offering outside of a hospital. It took the best part of an hour for the painkillers to work and Khalil’s heartrate to return to a semi stable state and when Sam finally left Khalil’s side, he found Alex sitting in the small saloon area on the deck.

  “How is he?” she asked.

  “We’re going to need to get him to a hospital, Alex. There’s only so much I can do here. He needs proper medical equipment and surgery to repair his jaw. It’s impossible to see just how bad the damage is without scans.”

  Alex didn’t have the words to reply. She took the blood-stained piece of paper Sam had pulled from Khalil’s mouth and flattened it out on the small wooden table in front of her. She sat back and allowed Sam to take it in before she spoke.

  “We might not be able to do that, Sam.”

  Sam stared at the note he now had in his hand. The words punched him in his stomach as he struggled to make sense of it all. His eyes conveyed his inner turmoil while Alex waited for him to respond.

  “Who are these people? How did they even find us?” His voice was saturated with anger as he now stood gazing out into the open sea behind them, struggling to control his temper.

  “I checked. The GPS is still disc
onnected and both our phones’ SIM cards were removed. Then I found this.” Alex put the black iPhone on the table. “It’s the dead guy’s. We somehow missed it when we cleaned up the yacht. It must have dropped out of his pocket or something. That’s how they found us.”

  Sam crossed the deck in three strides. His eyes searched the water around them. When his search delivered nothing he looked up into the sky.

  “They’re not watching, Sam. They’ve left. They’re forcing us to comply with their demands. We don’t have a choice. We’re going to have to do as they instructed.”

  Sam wiped his forehead and took a seat opposite Alex. He picked up the note and read it again.

  Find the fluid or we kill his wife and daughters

  Go to Bari and wait for further instructions

  No police

  “They’re good, yes,” Alex spoke Sam’s thoughts. “This note tells us they know exactly who each of us is. They’ve done their homework.”

  “He doesn’t deserve this. He’s a good man,” Sam said, still fighting the anger his body threatened to expel.

  “I know, Sam, and it’s all my fault. I should’ve never insisted we go inside that church. It was selfish of me. None of this would have happened had it not been for my curiosity.”

  “I disagree. Stavros would have been killed or locked up for a murder he didn’t commit if we weren’t there. Not to mention he wouldn’t have been able to get back here.”

  Unable to sit through his thoughts Sam rose to his feet and took up stance at the railing.