Spaulding presented Salazar with a list.
Salazar’s reaction was amiable. “Nothing you have asked for is unreasonable,” he said. “A huge corporation is always in danger of being unmindful of the hazardous, but unintended consequences of its work. If you present your points in writing, I will attend to them personally and assign staff to carry out my wishes. You can be assured of that.”
Spaulding said, “Also, we’d like your cooperation in providing access to information about your mining operations.”
It was a clever strategy, even if somewhat disingenuous, Salazar thought. They would make sure his acquiescence went public, thereby putting pressure on him. “Yes, of course. Anything else?”
“That’s it for now.” Spaulding chuckled. “You’re not exactly what I had expected.”
“And what did you expect?”
“That you’d deny having anything to do with the disaster. Instead, you’ve been quite accommodating. More like someone’s uncle than a callous businessman.”
“I am happy to have broken the stereotype. Please give my assistant all the contact information we will need. We’ll get in touch with you in, say, a week. If you have any problem, you will have a direct line to me. The advantage of being head of a large corporation means that, while you are blamed when things go wrong, you also possess the tools to put the pieces back together. Let’s talk again.”
He hung up. As his gaze fell on the photographic walls, the genial smile faded from his lips. The greenish-yellow eyes under the prominent brow glowed with anger. The muscles hidden under the dark blue suit seemed to ripple as he picked up the photos and tore them to shreds.
“Fool,” he muttered.
He would keep his promise. The company staff would carry out his wishes. There would be no restitution or cooperation. He had another plan for the coalition that had already been set in motion.
The phone on Salazar’s desk blinked; he picked up the handset.
“You had a call while you were in conference,” a voice said. “It’s from our friend in the government. He said his superiors are going to allow the expedition to proceed.”
“Impossible! He told us that the government had denied the permit.”
“They changed their minds at the higher level after they learned that the American had agreed to join the project.”
“What American?”
“A scientist from the Woods Hole Oceanographic Institution. His name is Matt Hawkins.”
Salazar’s thick fingers clutched the phone as if to crush it. Sweat beaded on his bald head. “Find out everything you can about this Hawkins and get it to me within the hour.”
“Yes, sir.”
Salazar slammed the handset down in its cradle. He was furious at the change of heart. When the ancient vessel was first found, he’d used his influence in the government to make sure no permit was issued. After that, it seemed as if the whole thing would simply go away. Then this blasted Greek woman appeared on the scene. And now an American.
Taking a moment, he breathed through the anger. In a way, he mused, the government turn-around had made his job easier. Rather than depend on unreliable government sources, he would see that his wishes were carried out directly. He reached for his phone again and called the number that would be the first step in stopping the shipwreck survey and permanently ending further interference from the troublesome Greek and her American friend.
CHAPTER SIX
Leonidas had been stoned out of his mind for three days when he got the call from Salazar. With no work on his plate, he’d moved into a fancy hotel suite and entertained himself with booze, marijuana and expensive prostitutes, like the young woman lying in the bed.
“There’s been a new development,” Salazar said. “The job that’s been on hold is active again.”
Doing his best not to slur his words, Leonidas said, “I thought the whole thing had been canceled.”
“The Spanish government issued a permit when they learned that an American scientist named Hawkins agreed to join the project. He will arrive in Cadiz in a few days.”
“No big deal. I’ll take care of it. Means a bigger body count, so I’ll have to charge you extra.”
Leonidas would never have joked with Salazar if he’d been straight, but the high potency weed had loosened his tongue. Salazar took the comment seriously.
“I don’t pay you by the body, Leonidas. Reimbursement will be as agreed upon. It will be deposited in your bank account when the job is finished to my satisfaction.”
Salazar clicked off without another word. Leonidas took a drag from his joint and spread his lips in a lazy smile. The call couldn’t have come at a better time. It had been months since his last job. A Russian mining magnate had run afoul of Salazar who’d instructed Leonidas to eliminate him.
The man had been well-guarded, however, Leonidas learned that surveillance was lax when the target wasn’t on his yacht. He approached the yacht from the water one night, climbed aboard to plant several explosive devices and triggered a time-delayed switch to activate when the yacht left port on a voyage to the Black Sea.
He’d returned to Spain at the behest of Salazar, who said he had another job for him— stopping a Greek and Spanish archaeological expedition. But when that assignment had been canceled, he stayed in Cadiz. He liked the Spanish women and had no place else to go.
“Carlos!”
The prostitute called from the bedroom, using the phony name he had given her. He went back into the room and saw that the young woman had risen from the bed while he was on the phone. Her name was Isabel and she was barely out of her teens. Her charming innocence was combined with a willingness to please, and he had hired her night after night.
She had a sheet wrapped around her slim body and was bending over a black leather case that lay open on the bed. Instead of being embarrassed at being caught going through his luggage, she shot him a languid smile, reached into the case and pulled out a white wig and a bushy white false mustache.
“What’s all this?” she said, widening her bright red lips in a drunken grin.
“You really shouldn’t have done that, hon.” He talked as if he were lecturing a naughty child.
She replied with a giggle, placed the white wig at a cock-eyed angle on her pretty head, and reached back into the case. This time she came out with what looked like a nose. She held it in the palm of her hand.
“Ugh,” she said. “Is this real?”
“It only looks real,” he said. “I’m an actor.”
Still looking a bit disgusted by her find, she gingerly dropped the prosthetic and the wig back into the case, then came over to Leonidas. She stood close, undid the tie on his white terrycloth robe and kissed his naked chest.
“That’s all right. The rest of you is very real.”
She reached playfully for his hair and pulled. The brown wig slid off in her hand and she let out a loud gasp. His face ended at the top of his forehead as cleanly as if it had been cut away with a scalpel. Above the line of flesh, the bone-white dome of his head was covered with scar tissue. He removed the wig from her hand and placed it back on his head.
“What happened to you?” she said.
“I was in a bad accident years ago,” he said.
The prostitute had said nothing when she’d seen the scar tissue on his body, but a sad look came into her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I was surprised. Many of my clients have injuries. It’s nothing.” She pecked him on the lips. “Now I have to go. You make me tired.”
She held her hand out for payment.
“Sure, hon. But first, you gotta give me a real goodbye.”