She wasn’t sure what that meant, but also had no time to make contact with her handler to find out what to do. But something was up. She could feel that based on the whispers in Greek, which she caught some of, and the speed with which all those around Petros were reacting. Of course she would love to travel on his yacht. Now, the anchor pulled and the yacht turned to the west, they began picking up speed swiftly. Svetla, wearing a pair of short shorts and a white T-shirt tied just below her braless chest, exposing her tanned dark stomach, sat in a lounge chair sipping a glass of Greek red wine in the aft section of the massive yacht. Petros Caras came outside carrying a bottle of Ouzo and two glasses. He opened the bottle and poured them each a small glass of the clear anise-flavored liquid. She didn’t want to tell Petros this, since she knew it was not only their national drink but the man actually owned the factory that made this drink, but she wasn’t a big fan of anything that tasted like licorice.
