The Green Lama: Unbound (The Green Lama Legacy Book 3) by Adam Lance Garcia Page A

across the Atlantic. He cared about Samothrace and Samothrace alone.
    “Bette Davis,” Andonis said after a massive swig of ouzo, grimacing as the fiery liquid ran to his stomach, his face red. He let out a wet cough. “Yeah—’scuse me—he says she wasn’t worth the trouble.”
    “Pity,” Petros sighed a yellow cloud, aggressively grabbing at his crotch. “’Cause I’ll tell you what I’d do with her, yes sir.”
    Vasili saw Alexei watching them. The old man kept his body turned toward his guests, nodding ever so slightly in Andonis’s direction. Vasili frowned in understanding, finishing off his last finger of beer before walking over to the bar.
    “How’s the store, Andonis?” Vasili said as he sat down, genially patting the shopkeeper on the shoulder.
    “Didn’t you hear?” Andonis exclaimed, his eyes bright. “Best one-day sale we ever had!”
    Vasili nodded slowly. “Yup, I heard. Iapetos,” he said the bartender, “another round for me, please? So, Andonis, Jethro Dumont, eh? The Jethro Dumont. Who hasn’t heard of Jethro Dumont? In our town, no less? That is big, big news.”
    “Yes, indeed!”
    The bartender slid a stein across the bar counter, which Vasili caught with practiced ease. There was no reason to pay, though; he was with Alexei.
    “He didn’t tell you where he was staying, did he?”
    Andonis scratched his cheek as he thought. “Well, I can’t say for certain it’s where he’s staying, you know, but he’s havin’ me ship all his stuff to that big hotel they built down by the shore. You know the one, Aiolos or something.”
    “Yeah, I know the place,” Vasili said. “Did he say anything else to you?”
    Andonis scrunched his face in thought as he swallowed another massive gulp of ouzo. “Mm. Not that I recall. No, he just seemed to be interested in seein’the ruins,” he said with a shrug.
    “Anything else, Andonis?” Vasili asked pointedly.
    Andonis frowned. “No. Just needed clothing, I guess,” he added with a shrug. “He needed a green hooded robe. Ain’t that wild? What would a rich man like Dumont need with a green robe? Americans…”
    Vasili pattedAndonis on the back. “Thank you, my friend.”
    “Except,” Andonis said as Vasili turned away.
    Vasili stopped short. “Except what?”
    Andonis tapped at his forehead, like he was trying to shake something loose. “Except, he did ask me if any other Americans had come through recently.”
    “Really?”
    “Yeah, I just told him about girl that killed Astrapios.”
    “Jean Farrell?”
    Andonis nodded. “Yeah! He even recognized her name. Apparently, she’s an actress over there or something. Small world, eh?” He took another swig of his ouzo. “You think they were ever an item?”
    “Probably,” Vasili answered absently. He could see Alexei beckoning him over. Allowing himself one last sip of beer, he pushed his way over to his employer’s table. He leaned down between Alexei and Gottschalk, excusing himself before turning his attention to the old man.
    “So?” Alexei asked, twisting his interlaced fingers.
    Vasili summed up what Andonis had told him. Alexei nodded slowly as he listened, hissing at the mention of Jean Farrell. Vasili noticed that even the balding Nazi raised an eyebrow upon hearing the woman’s name; perhaps she was more famous than Vasili had assumed.
    The old man tapped his nails against the wooden table. “Jethro Dumont, eh?” he said in a long breath, the Twins twittering beside him. One leaned over and whispered in Alexei’s ear. The old man nodded in understanding, his eyes cold.
    “The American millionaire?” Gottschalk asked in broken Greek. “Yes, we know of him. We had hoped he would have been sympathetic to our efforts, much in the way of Lindbergh, but unfortunately our efforts were derailed due to extenuating circumstances, nicht wahr, Herr Oberführer ?” Gottschalk said to the balding officer.
    “ Jawohl, Herr Obergruppenführer,” the officer said