Free The Forty Column Castle by Marjorie Thelen Page A

seemed an inane thing to be talking
     about after the scene we had left.
    He looked at me and half smiled. “Kind of you to share with me.” He took one. “Look
     behind you and get a couple of bottles of water from the case on the floor.”
    I added two bottles of water to our repast. He pulled open the console between us
     and fished out two power bars and handed one to me. That completed the feast.
    We munched in silence until I voiced my suspicion. “This is kidnapping, you know.”
    “Hardly. I’m helping you get away from the Cypriot authorities so you can find your
     aunt.”
    What a lying son-of-a-bitch. I had had such hopes for Zach. Men were the same when
     you peeled off the layers and got to the core, but this one was worse. He wore a bullet
     proof vest and carried a gun.
    I looked at the gun on the floor between us. His lay beside it. I thought of trying
     to overpower him which was a joke, but what did I have to lose? I shouldn’t have been
     so overt about looking at the guns. He picked up both and put them under his seat.
     He possessed an uncanny sixth sense. I wondered if they taught that in law enforcement
     school.
    We jolted up over a rise and looked out over the forested mountains below. We had
     reached the top of the mountain. Ahead lay a paved road that ran along the ridge.
    “Where are we?” I asked.
    “I’m not exactly sure,” he said. “But if my memory serves me well, we are not far
     from the border of the Turkish section of the island. I think there is a small inn
     along this road with some decent chow and a place to stay for the night.”
    Food and bed were appealing, as long as the beds were in separate rooms. I wasn’t
     in the mood for sharing one with a kidnapper. I might be able to get away if we had
     separate rooms. The problem was where I would go. On foot I’d have to trek through
     unfamiliar mountain terrain in flip-flops. To try to take the Rover would be difficult
     unless somehow I could get the key. A drug in Zach’s drink? With what?
    Isolated lights started blinking on along the forest ridges as twilight settled in.
     We were almost on top of the lodge before I saw it. A solitary lamp lit a short driveway.
     We pulled in.
    I fretted that I might make the news, and someone at this inn might recognize me.
     The lodge didn’t look like a place that got much traffic. I saw no satellite dish
     or outside antenna that would indicate TV reception.
    “I’ll wait here,” I said. “You see if they have any news of an escaped criminal tourist
     and her niece.”
    Zach laughed. “You’ll come with me. I don’t want you wandering off, looking for your
     aunt, and falling off a cliff.”
    I sighed, knowing I wouldn’t win this one.
    The lodge was cut into the side of the mountain and had winding stairs leading up
     to the front entrance. The structure had an alpine look with carved shutters and roof
     trim and window boxes on the railings. Bright red geraniums bloomed in the boxes.
    Zach steered me by the elbow up the stairs and into the front entrance. There was
     not a soul in sight. We walked to the check-in counter. He tapped the bell, and we
     waited. The room stretched the full length of the building. It was combination reception
     sitting room with worn overstuffed chairs clustered around a fireplace that was not
     lit and didn’t look like it had been in a long time. A solitary lamp burned on a pine
     end table. The glare of a bare light bulb lit the check-in counter. The atmosphere
     was on the cozy side of seedy.
    A thin, wiry man limped down the hall toward us after Zach tapped the bell at the
     desk again. He didn’t look Greek, at least not short and barrel chested but more Turkish,
     taller and gaunter in the face. I didn’t think we had crossed over into Turkish Cyprus.
     We would have had to cross the Green Zone with U.N. border guards.
    The man greeted us in Greek. Zach responded, carrying an entire conversation in what
     appeared to be fluent