Dark Apollo. Sara Craven
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Название: Dark Apollo

Автор: Sara Craven

Издательство: HarperCollins

Жанр: Современные любовные романы

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СКАЧАТЬ in the Furies, Camilla thought grimly. The so-called Kindly Ones inexorably pursuing the erring, and wreaking their vengeance on them.

      Well, she would be a latter-day Fury, trailing Spiro Xandreou, no matter how well he might have covered his tracks.

      She said, ‘There’s no such thing as fate,’ and surreptitiously crossed her fingers under the kitchen table.

      

      * * *

      

      The Hotel Dionysius was small, fiercely clean, and frankly basic. Camilla sat at a plasticcovered table in a corner of the outside restaurant area, a tall glass of freshly squeezed orange juice in front of her. She was sheltered from the glare of the midday sun by a thatched roof, interwoven with a sprawling and healthy vine. Beyond the hotel’s tiny garden with its hibiscus hedge lay the main square of Karthos town.

      The island was only a remote dot in the Ionian Sea, but it was bustling with tourists. So far Camilla had heard French, German and Dutch being spoken, as well as English, and she and Katie had been lucky to get the last two vacancies at the hotel.

      She’d left Katie sleeping in their whitewashed shuttered room on the first floor. She was beginning to feel the effects of her pregnancy, and had been miserably sick on the flight to Zakynthos, and the subsequent long ferry trip. The temperature on Karthos was already up in the eighties, and she’d agreed with little fuss to Camilla’s suggestion that she should rest and leave the initial enquiries for Spiro to her sister.

      Camilla had been sorely tempted to cancel this whole wild-goose chase after a reluctant telephone call to Lorna Stephens’ Greek uncle. She’d explained, without going into detail, that she was anxious to trace a young waiter from the restaurant Clio, and wondered if he could help.

      To judge by the cynical sigh, and muttered, ‘Po, po, po,’ no further explanation was needed. ‘You know the name of this man, thespinis?’

      ‘He’s called Spiro Xandreou.’

      ‘Xandreou?’ Across the miles, she heard the sharp intake of breath. Then, ‘I regret I cannot assist you. But I advise you most strongly, thespinis, to proceed no further in this.’ A pause. ‘Most strongly.’ And he’d rung off, leaving Camilla with a host of unanswered questions.

      She’d been warned off, she realised uneasily. She could only hope that Spiro wasn’t some kind of thug—a member of the Greek mafia, if there was such a thing. Maybe he wasn’t on Karthos at all, but in gaol somewhere.

      But how could she tell Katie her suspicions, and burst the bubble of optimism and anticipation which encircled her? Maybe she just had to let her find out for herself, she concluded resignedly.

      Camilla sighed silently as she finished the iced fruit juice.

      But where on earth should their search start?

      ‘You enjoy?’ Kostas, the hotel’s burly proprietor, arrived to clear the table. He had a thick black moustache, a booming laugh, and he smoked incessantly. But the warmth of his welcome had been quite unfeigned, and to Camilla’s relief he spoke better than rudimentary English. The questions she needed to ask were omitted from the usual phrase books.

      She nodded vigorously. ‘It was delicious, thank you. Just what I needed.’

      ‘To travel in this heat is not good.’

      As he turned away, she said, ‘Kostas, do you know a family called Xandreou—with a son named Spiro?’

      The genial smile vanished as if it had been wiped away. He looked startled, and almost apprehensive. ‘Why do you ask?’

      She said lightly, ‘Oh, our families used to be—acquainted. I believe they come from here, and I’d like to see them again. That’s all.’

      There was a silence, then, ‘Xandreou, you say?’ Kostas shook his head. ‘I don’t know the name. You have come to the wrong place, I think, thespinis.

      ‘I don’t think so.’ She gave him a level look. ‘You’re sure you haven’t heard of them?’

      ‘Certain.’ He paused. ‘You are on holiday, thespinis. You should relax. Go to the beach—enjoy the sun—drink some wine. Make other friends—and don’t waste time looking for these people.’

      And if that wasn’t an oblique warning, she’d never heard one, Camilla thought, watching him walk away between the tables, which were already filling up for lunch.

      It was the same message she’d got from Athens: keep away from the Xandreou clan.

      Everyone knows them, but they don’t want to talk about them, she thought, a prickle of wariness running down her spine. Yet, somehow, for Katie’s sake, she had to penetrate this wall of silence.

      She picked up her bag, and walked to the steep outside stairway which provided an alternative access to the bedrooms.

      There’d been some cards on the reception desk advertising car and motorbike hire. She’d rent a scooter and take a preliminary look round. The brochure on the island had warned that most of the best beaches were out of town, and it might be pleasant to find some deserted cove and laze around for a while before the real business of their trip began.

      ‘Journeys end in lovers meeting’, she thought. I only hope it’s true.

      She was halfway up the steep outside staircase that provided an alternative access to the bedrooms when a voice below her said urgently, ‘Thespinis.

      Glancing down, she saw one of the hotel waiters, who’d been serving an adjoining table while she spoke to Kostas. He gave her an ingratiating smile. ‘You want Spiro Xandreou?’

      ‘Why, yes.’ Her heartbeat quickened in swift excitement. ‘Do you know him?’

      ‘Since boys.’ He touched a fist theatrically to his chest. ‘I too am a man of Karthos.’

      ‘Then can you tell me where to find him?’

      The young man shrugged, sending a slightly furtive glance back over his shoulder. ‘Is not easy for me, you understand…’

      Camilla understood perfectly. She extracted a thousand-drachma note from her wallet, and handed it over.

      He whispered hoarsely, ‘He is at his house—the Villa Apollo.’

      ‘Is that near here?’

      ‘Ochi.’ He gestured towards the craggy hills which formed the island’s hinterland. ‘Is long way.’

      ‘Is there a bus?’

      ‘No bus. Nothing there—only villa. You get car, or motorbike.’ He handed her one of the cards displayed in Reception. ‘My cousin rent—very cheap.’

      With you on commission, no doubt, she returned silently. But she thanked him politely, and went on up the steps.

      ‘Thespinis,’ he hissed again, and she paused. ‘Thespinis, whatever occur, you don’t say to boss I told you, ne?’

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