They drove to Athena’s home in his rental car. Again seizing the offensive, Jake persuaded her to call the police before the wreck was discovered. He was waiting out of sight on the terrace when two officers arrived twenty minutes later. Athena explained how she’d swerved to avoid a dog in the road and crashed the Jaguar. She didn’t have her phone, felt dizzy, and a passing motorist had offered her a ride, so she’d left the scene. She apologized and volunteered to take a sobriety test, but it was clear that she hadn’t been drinking, so the officers left without issuing a citation.

Athena washed the blood from her face and went to find Giánnis. He was watching television in the living room and she kissed him on the forehead. She smiled sadly, mourning the men who’d died aboard their ships and longing for the seemingly unlimited source of strength her father had once been. She sat next to him on the sofa and they held hands while they spoke.

She joined Jake on the terrace twenty minutes later.

“We need to talk,” he said.

“Not here. There’s too much sadness here already,” she said. “Can you get the Land Rover? I’m sorry. I’m wearing these stupid heels again.”

The gravel driveway crunched underfoot as Jake walked to the truck and brought it around. They drove in silence to the beach and Jake again parked facing the water. Athena pulled a wool blanket from the back seat and snugged it up to her neck as if to shield herself from further harm.

“You’re not with the State Department, are you?” she said quietly.

Jake stared out to sea.

“I saw what you did to those men.”

“I don’t think that was an accident,” Jake said.

“It wasn’t,” she said. An edge crept into her voice. “They were Albanian mafia—the same hoodlums who’ve been threatening my family for years. I’ve never seen those two before, but I know the type. They obviously haven’t given up.”

“You should hire professional security. Those men were dangerous.”

“My fiancé used to say that I always attracted the worst kind of men.”

“Does that include him?”

“Especially him,” she said with a smile, but it faded quickly, “but he died in a car racing accident two months before the wedding—the same week my brother disappeared. Four weeks later my mother’s cancer relapsed, and three months after that, my father had his stroke. In six months, I went from being on top of the world to being crushed under its weight.”

“I’m sorry.”

“And now all those families from the Symi,” she said. “Shattered.”