Two hours later and they had dropped Vince off in the busy main port where he had caught a taxi straight to the airport. As they watched the taxi speed off it zigzagged along the winding road that clung to the steep sides of the volcanic island. The place itself was barren and made up of unusual red and dark brown colours, with little vegetation it was easy to make out the white painted towns which had sprung up along the ridges of the coastal cliffs. Above them Morgan could see the outlines of churches and narrow walkways. Here the islanders, lived high on the plateau looking down like gods on the beaches and surrounding islands. The boy could see it was a unique place and thought that, under different circumstances, they would have visited its mountain villages and sampled the local hospitality. As they sailed away from the deep-water port, his mind once again returned to his dilemma. How could he, now get back at the mafia?
‘Why you look so sad?’ Ariston could see the boy’s change of emotion.
‘Things haven’t worked out the way I’d planned!’
The Greek looked puzzled. ‘Better to be here than dead!’ was his frank answer.
Ariston's truthful acknowledgement left him dejected. ‘I’ve accomplished nothing, been unable to protect my assets. I haven’t been able to stop the mafia from taking anything!’ Morgan said.
‘No matter, you are still alive! They do not know where you are, and you are young. You have time on your side! Plenty of time to fight back, if that's what you wish?’ Ariston spoke softly like a relative would comfort in times like these.
‘But I’m now in exile from both England and Corfu, both places I would call home. I don’t want to run. I want to fight and take out the bad people who have put me in this situation.’
Ariston frowned as he left the yachts wheel. He dropped the anchor to position them neatly in the Islands bay. ‘There are unscrupulous people everywhere all fighting for the same thing, your father’s wealth. Money and greed the foundation of evil. It gripped your father also in his younger years. That’s why he was called Satanna ‘The devil,’ he killed, for the freedom to build his empire. ‘It’s a war the only difference between them and you is who’s on your side. That ultimately will be the decision that might save you!’
‘I can’t choose a side. I am on my side against whoever stands in my way, to rightfully claim back what is mine!’ Morgan said as If he had found a voice for his cause.
‘You better start believing then. One day you will get a chance of revenge. That day, might come sooner than you think!’ Ariston spoke as if he was hiding something, and the boy knew it.
The next five days passed in a blur as they navigated the long sail from Santorini through the Aegean Islands and then down the coast of Turkey to Cyprus. Ariston as ever pushed the boat and Morgan to its limits during daylight, but at night found secluded anchoring bays to rest and recuperate. Before the boy knew it, they were sailing into the marina at Larnaca. His stomach after not eating properly in days could only think of one thing, Ismene the gorgeous girl from the Easy Jet counter at Manchester Airport and her father’s restaurant ‘The Village Taverna.'
Before all the formalities could be completed at the marina, Morgan made excuses to leave Ariston behind. After all it might be best for the boy to disappear for a while just in case the authorities became suspicious. In agreement Ariston and he parted company for a short period, until Ariston had finalised his business on the island and picked up supplies that Spiro had organised. It might take a few days before they were ready to sail on, in which case Morgan could lose himself properly like a tourist and enjoy a holiday away from the horrors of his past.