“Your sister can look after herself just fine.” Rif, an unwelcome presence at the best of times.
“She has to—it’s not like she can rely on you.” Nikos couldn’t resist taunting the man.
Rif moved toward him, the muscles in his jaw clenching.
Thea raised her hands. “Stop it, both of you. I’m sorry, Nikos, you have every right to be upset.”
He refocused on his need for information. “What have you heard from the kidnappers? Do they want money?”
“We’ve received two Latin texts, quotes from Cicero. No ransom demand.” She tucked her hair behind her right ear, fully exposing the scar, a gesture she used whenever she was in battle mode.
He felt bad about the accident that had caused the scar, but it had been Rif’s fault for goading him. The interloper had gotten too close to his sister, the two of them thicker than thieves. He’d felt shut out, alienated.
“A philosopher-kidnapper? Papa has all the luck. Perhaps they’re sipping sherry and discussing the merits of the Socratic method in modern interrogation.”
“Don’t joke. His entire crew—with the exception of Chef Henri, also missing—was executed on the Aphrodite.” She placed the newspaper on the desk.
Hmm. Whoever had done this was serious—meticulous, bold, and willing to kill, if necessary. The kidnappers would be hard to track, but he needed to find Christos before Thea did. “Any leads?”
“We’re working every angle. Nothing so far.”
“There are countless potential kidnappers. You could be at this for a while.”
“Nikos, this situation can’t be easy for you—it could bring back memories.” Her voice tapered off.
He wouldn’t discuss this now, not in front of Rif. He’d never been able to talk about his kidnapping to anyone other than the shrink and Papa, and look how that’d turned out. He’d also told Aegis, but only because a dog couldn’t talk back. “The coincidence hasn’t escaped me, but don’t worry about me. Papa’s the one who needs our concern.”
Before she could answer, her cell rang. “Thea Paris.” She listened, her face turning a chalky shade. “Thanks for letting me know.”
“What is it?” Nikos asked.
“I saw a homeless woman on the wharf just before Papa was kidnapped. Apparently her body has washed up on the shore.”
“So she did see something,” Rif said.
Not much of a lead. Nikos needed useful information if he was going to find their father before his sister did.
“Please forward me those texts. While you two lament the fate of those less fortunate, I’m going to give the kidnapping some thought, see if I can help determine who might have an ax to grind.” Other than him, of course. The only shared passion he’d ever had with his father was animals—Aegis was as close to neutral ground as they could reach. And there’d been his polo horse, Martino, a gift from his father for his sixteenth birthday. He’d loved that stallion more than life itself. But during a match, he’d pushed too hard, and Martino had fatally injured his leg. His father came with him to say good-bye to the horse, and they’d even had a drink afterward in Martino’s honor. But the détente hadn’t lasted long.
Nikos gave Aegis a last head-scratch and strode out the door, but not before he heard Rif say to Thea, “I think he’s starting to warm up to me.”
Interfering little prick. At least the ex-soldier might be of use playing bodyguard to Thea. Nikos couldn’t take care of his sister—the only person worth protecting—while also hunting for their father, so it was good to know Rif’s devotion could be put to use.
Chapter Fifteen
Just back from a run with Aegis and Rif, Thea stared out the Santorini hotel room window into the blinding morning sun. Paparazzi lined the cobblestone streets outside the main entrance, reporters pacing with microphones in their hands, piranha looking for prey. Media attention was a tricky issue during kidnaps.
She’d used the press strategically in the past, releasing tightly controlled information to trusted sources, but in most circumstances, it wasn’t advisable to address the media, since it could raise the value of the hostage, skyrocketing the ransom. In the case of Christos, the kidnappers obviously knew they had a billionaire in their hands.
Media attention could also lead to a hostage transfer, where one kidnap group passed along or sold the hostage to another group, sometimes turning a financially motivated criminal kidnap into a political one. For example, if a terrorist group had Papa, they could sell him for a hefty price to al-Qaeda or ISIS. And giving away too much information in the press could invite unrelated scammer or nutjobs to claim they had the hostage, which could divert attention and resources away from the real case.
At this point, she had nothing to gain by talking to reporters. Besides, given the apparent sophistication of these kidnappers, she didn’t think they’d be swayed by a plea from the victim’s daughter. The press would just be a huge nuisance.