Finally Officer Rossolatos appeared, with a younger police officer who had short black hair. Nancy and Mick reported the incident on Dragonisi without too much trouble. The only problem was, every time they said something, Officer Rossolatos translated it, and a barrage of conversation—all in Greek—followed. Nancy was dying to know what the men were saying.
She kept hearing one word crop up. It sounded like “diafevgo.” But when she asked what they were discussing, Officer Rossolatos brushed her questions aside.
“We will send a boat to Dragonisi to look for these people, but please, stay away from that place,” he warned Nancy and Mick. “These people . . . they may be very dangerous.”
“I’m a world traveler once again!” Bess said, waving her new passport in the air as she pulled out a chair and sat down at the table.
George and Kevin sat down next to her. “Now at least you don’t have to worry if anyone asks for ID when we go to Naxos tomorrow.”
“Great,” said Nancy. She, Mick, and Zoe were already sipping iced fruit drinks at Kounela, a waterside taverna in Chora. They had left a message at the hotel telling Bess, George, and Kevin where to meet them for dinner.
As soon as everyone settled in, the group agreed to let Zoe order up some traditional Greek dishes that they could all share. Then Nancy got a full report on her friends’ trip to Athens.
“The passport stuff took a couple of hours,” Bess said, taking a sliced orange from the rim of her glass. “Then we got to watch Kevin interview Angelique Seferis! She’s just as beautiful as she looks on TV—and nice, too.”
“I’m glad you girls could come along,” said Kevin. “It made the interview a lot more like fun.”
George smiled at him, but Nancy could see that she wasn’t as ecstatic as Bess. “Watching you in front of the camera reminded me how hard you work,” George told Kevin. “And you’re off to Spain on another assignment in a few days.”
Kevin placed his hand over George’s and gave it a squeeze. Nancy felt a little sorry for George. It had to be frustrating to be in love with someone who was always on the road.
“Everyone set for Naxos tomorrow?” Bess asked, putting aside her menu.
The group gave a chorus of approval. “The hydrofoil is the fastest way to go,” Zoe said. “It will give us more time to explore the island.”
Just then a procession of waiters appeared, each bearing a platter of food that made Nancy’s mouth water. Zoe explained all the dishes, from cubes of roasted lamb, called souvlákia, to spicy meatballs called ghiuvarlakia. There were also platters of dried octopus, fish steeped in olive oil, and grape leaves stuffed with spiced meat.
The platters were being passed around the table when Bess inquired, “How was Dragonisi?”
“Poor Nancy and Mick had a terrible time!” Zoe said, stabbing a grape leaf with her fork.
“What happened, Nan?” George asked, a concerned look in her brown eyes.
Nancy and Mick took turns telling the others about their day. First, Nancy recounted the story of their close call in the cave and of finding the explosives and passport photos. “Hardly standard camping gear,” she remarked dryly.
“It’s an odd coincidence,” Kevin said. “But how could they be connected to the passports that were stolen from the hotel?”
Nancy let out her breath in a long sigh. “I’m not sure,” she admitted, “but these people are definitely trouble. Maybe they need passports to get out of Greece. They might have found out about Dimitri’s studio and asked him to insert their photographs on the stolen passports.”
“But three passports were stolen,” Zoe pointed out, “and there were only two people in the cave.”
Mick snapped his fingers. “But there were three knapsacks! One guy could’ve been out running an errand or swimming or something.”
“That’s possible,” Nancy agreed. “Someone went through the hotel safe and carefully selected the ID of two American men and one American female—that could match the group hiding in the cave. And Officer Rossolatos told us that American passports are highly valued in the underworld.”
“Wait a minute,” Bess said, swallowing hard. “Are you saying that the woman from the cave is going to escape the police by using my passport?”
“Possibly,” Nancy said. “But she and the others need to have the photo page altered first. That’s why. I think there has to be a talented forger at work somewhere on these islands.”
As Nancy described their trip to the police station, she remembered the word that the Greek police had kept using. “Diafevgo,” she said, turning to Zoe. “I hope I’m saying it right. Can you tell me what it means?”
“It’s the Greek word for ‘flee’ or ‘escape,’ ” Zoe said thoughtfully. “Maybe they were relieved that you and Mick escaped from those people.”
Still not satisfied, Nancy said, “That might be it—but it seemed like something was going on. I wonder if the police have had dealings with those people with the explosives before.”
“Too bad Zoe wasn’t at the police station to translate,” Mick remarked.
“Or in the cave,” Nancy added. “The man in the cave kept saying something . . . shara. What does that mean?” she asked Zoe.
Zoe shook her head. “It’s not a Greek word.”
The table was silent for a moment as everyone considered Nancy and Mick’s close call. Then George said, “Nan, don’t tell me you’re going back to Dragonisi to look for that couple.”
Nancy shook her head. “No way—not with those explosives lying around. I thought it would be wiser to wait for the police to check out that cave. Unfortunately, they didn’t find anything.”
“Nothing?” Bess asked incredulously.
“Hardly a trace,” Zoe put in. “I called the police just before we left the hotel. They found the cave Nancy and Mick described, but the only thing left behind was the remnants of their campfire. They must have moved—and fast.”
“Not a good sign,” Nancy said, wincing. “They’re on the run. I think we’ve stumbled into some serious trouble here.”
“What are you going to do, Nan?” Bess asked.
“Keep an eye on Dimitri. If he’s the forger, he might lead us to the others involved. There’s one other person who concerns me, too.” Nancy told them her suspicions about Theo.
Kevin scooped up the last bit of souvlákia on his plate, then looked at Nancy. “Let me get this straight. You think Zoe’s friend Theo is helping those people with the explosives?”
“I don’t know,” Nancy said, “but so far, a lot of evidence points to it. Besides the cushions, I think I saw him talking with the red-haired woman who chased us from the cave. I want to check out his boat as soon as I can.”
Zoe was dubious. “I’ve known Theo for many years. We tease him about how he’ll do anything for money, but that’s a joke. He would never help criminals.”
“Maybe he doesn’t know they’re criminals,” Mick pointed out.
“It just doesn’t sound like Theo,” Zoe insisted stubbornly. “I don’t know what he was doing on Dragonisi, but he’s never been interested in snorkeling before. I think you’re wrong,” she told Nancy, raising her chin.
Not wanting to argue with Zoe, Nancy let the subject drop. But if Theo wasn’t a snorkeling fan, what was he doing with that group of divers?
After dinner the group walked along the waterfront to one of Chora’s discos, which featured a circular dance floor and a live band.
The walls seemed to throb with the loud drumbeat of rock music as Nancy took her seat at the table. Within minutes George and Kevin were among the young people on the crowded dance floor. Two tables were taken up by a soccer team from Germany, and a few of the guys came over to talk to Zoe and Bess.
Nancy and Mick had danced through half a dozen rock songs when Nancy decided she needed a breath of fresh air. She and Mick made their way out to a small garden terrace. Zoe was already there, she saw, drinking a soda.