The Last Odyssey: A Thriller by James Rollins

Author:James Rollins [Rollins, James]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Thriller, Adventure
ISBN: 9780062892898
Google: emATxAEACAAJ
Amazon: B07QLDXRRC
Goodreads: 44890050
Publisher: William Morrow
Published: 2020-03-15T05:00:00+00:00

22

June 24, 10:12 P.M. CEST

Off the coast of Sardinia

This is fuckin’ embarrassing.

Belowdecks, Kowalski stood in his cabin’s tiny bathroom, which consisted of a steel toilet with a sink built into its back tank and a showerhead sticking out of the ceiling. The floor had a drain in it. Apparently, one was supposed to close the cubicle’s door, and the entire bathroom became a shower stall.

Maybe if you were a mouse with anorexia.

The rest of his cabin was hardly any larger. It had an upper and lower bunk that folded up against the wall, like the sleeper car on a train—only smaller. But the bathroom was his nemesis. Every time Kowalski moved, his elbows struck the walls. And the rocking of the yacht made everything extra challenging. Case in point: taking a leak. He stared down at the drenched left leg of his pants.

“Doesn’t this just take the cake.”

He zipped up and cursed under his breath. Brushing past the bunk, he shuffled to the door with a jangle of his chains. He pounded his fist. “Hey! Need a little help in here.”

The yacht rocked again, throwing him sideways. They were anchored off Sardinia, where the sea was choppy. It had taken them eight long hours to cross the Tyrrhenian Sea from Vulcano to reach this port. He had managed a brief view of the place as they motored toward it just after sunset. The lights of a big city lit up the coastline. Fireworks splattered the sky above it, but from a mile out, the display appeared anemic, just little puffs of fire.

Still, he could not stop staring. The shoreline had been tantalizingly close, and the city large enough for a guy to get lost in—or a guy and a girl.

He pounded again. “Hey!”

A muffled call came from the next room. “Are you all right?” Elena asked.

He stared down at his wet leg.

We’ll see.

He hammered nonstop, until someone finally swore and the locking bolt scraped. A stocky man yanked the door open. He pointed a compact MAC-10 machine pistol at Kowalski’s chest. Another guard backed him up out in the narrow hallway with the same style of weapon, only holding his firmly with both hands.

“What you want?” the lead man barked in broken English.

Kowalski backed up a step. Standing shirtless and in his socks, he could not look like much of a threat. Still, he lifted both palms.

“I don’t want any trouble. Just need a hand cleaning up.” Keeping his arms high, he jabbed a finger down at his leg. “I don’t want to sleep like this all night.”

The guard looked down, squinted, then his eyes widened. He turned to his buddy in the hall and said something in Arabic. They both laughed themselves close to tears.

“Yeah, real funny, Chuckles. I need to get out of these, and I can’t do that in these chains.” He shrugged. “Or you can help me cut these pants off and go ask Kadir if I could borrow a pair of his sweatpants. Probably be too baggy but I’ll manage.

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