The Mediterranean Caper

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Book: Read The Mediterranean Caper for Free Online
Authors: Clive Cussler
You’re much too intelligent to be a garbage collector.” She looked into his strong tan face and his intense green eyes. “Oh well, I won’t hold your occupation against you. Have you been promoted to sergeant yet?”
    â€œNo. I’ve never been a sergeant.”
    Suddenly a bright flash in the rocks about two hundred feet away caught Pitt’s attention. A shiny object reflected the sun’s rays for a brief instant. He watched the area where the glint had shown but could detect no further flash or movement.
    Teri felt him tense. “Is something the matter?” she asked.
    â€œNo, nothing,” Pitt lied. “I thought I saw something floating in the water, but it’s disappeared now.” He looked at her upraised face, and his eyes turned devilish. “Well I’d better be getting back to the base, I’ve got a lot of garbage to collect.”
    â€œI should return also. My uncle will probably wonder what happened to me.”
    â€œAre you going to tell him?”
    â€œDon’t be silly,” she laughed. She stood up and brushed the sand from her body and adjusted the bikini.
    Pitt smiled, getting to his feet. “Why is it women always seem so shy and demure before they’ve been laid yet so sparkling and carefree after?”
    She shrugged lightheartedly. “I guess it’s because sex releases all our frustrations and makes us feel earthy.” Her brown eyes flashed with intensity. “You see, we women have animal instincts too.”
    Pitt playfully slapped her on the buttocks. “Come on, I’ll walk you home.”
    â€œYou’ve got a long walk. My uncle’s villa is in the mountains behind Liminas.”
    â€œWhere are the mountains and where is Liminas?”
    â€œLiminas is a small village about six miles up the road,” she said, pointing north. “But I don’t understand what you mean by asking about the mountains.” Her pointing hand swung toward the inland slopes a mile behind the road. “What do you call those?”
    â€œIn California, where I come from, we call anything under three thousand feet of elevation hills.”
    â€œYou Yanks are always bragging.”
    â€œIt’s a great American pastime.”
    They leisurely walked up the path from the cove. On the shoulder, off to one side of the blacktop, sat a sporty little open-top Mini Cooper. The British racing green paint on the tiny car was barely visible beneath an outer coating of Thasos dust.
    â€œHow do you like my smashing Grand Prix racing car?” Teri asked proudly.
    Pitt laughed; not so much at her exaggerated statement but rather the British use of the word smashing in reference to a car. “By jove, that’s a bit of all right,” he said, mimicking her native terminology. “Is it yours?”
    â€œYes, I purchased it new in London just last month and drove it all the way from Le Havre.”
    â€œHow long will you be staying with your uncle?”
    â€œI took a three month holiday so I’ll be here at least another six weeks. Then I’m going to return home by boat. The drive across the continent was fun but far too tiring.”
    Pitt opened the door for her, and she slid behind the steering wheel. She groped under the front seat for a moment and pulled out a set of keys. She inserted one in the ignition and started the engine. The exhaust coughed once and then blasted forth with a nasty little growl.
    He leaned on the dusty door and lightly kissed her. “I hope your uncle won’t be waiting for me with a shotgun.”
    â€œDon’t worry, he’ll probably talk your arm off. He likes Air Force men. He was a flyer in the First World War.”
    â€œDon’t tell me,” Pitt said sarcastically. “I bet he claims to have flown with Richthofen.”
    â€œOh no, he was never in France. He fought right here in Greece.”
    Pitt’s sarcasm vanished and a cold, eerie

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