The Lost Throne (46 page)

“Yes.”

“Then lock your hands behind your head and sit up slowly.”

Dial did as he was told, sitting up despite the pain that emerged in his ribs and back. With all the excitement, he had temporarily forgotten he had just been in a bike wreck.

Meanwhile, the shooter waited until Dial was in an upright position. Now, for the first time, he would be able to see the cop’s face in the beam of the headlight. Moving quietly, he walked around to the front and stared at the man whose life he had just saved.

And he was stunned by the sight.

P
ayne couldn’t believe his eyes. “Nick?”

Dial flinched at the mention of his name. With one hand, he shielded the bright headlight of the motorcycle and focused on the man in front of him. He was just as shocked as Payne. “Jon?”

“What in the hell are you doing here?”

Dial slumped to the ground in utter relief. “Holy shit, you gave me a heart attack. I thought you were going to kill me.”

“Kill you? I just saved you.”

“I know,” he said, laughing to himself. “But it’s been a strange night.”

Dial had met Payne and Jones several years ago at Stars & Stripes, a European bar that catered to Americans who worked overseas. They were in the MANIACs at the time, and Dial was still rising through the ranks at Interpol. The three of them hit it off, and they had kept in touch ever since—occasionally bumping into each other in the strang est places. Once at an airport in Italy. Another time at a bookstore in London. But this, by far, took the prize for their most auspicious meeting ever.

Payne helped his friend to his feet and was greeted with a friendly hug.

“Nice shooting,” Dial said as he patted Payne on the back.

Payne smiled. “Glad I could help.”

Jones watched the embrace from afar. “Guys? This is the
Holy
Mountain, not
Brokeback
Mountain.”

Dial laughed at the comment. “I should’ve known. Where there’s Payne, there’s Jones.”

Jones stepped forward and shook his hand. “Nick fuckin’ Dial. I knew I recognized that big-ass chin of yours. What in the hell are you doing here?”

Dial grinned. “Jon asked me the same damn thing.”

“And I’m still waiting for an answer,” Payne reminded him.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I’ll get to it in a moment. First, how are Marcus and Petros?”

Jones grimaced. “Which is which?”

“Marcus is the kid.”

Jones answered. “The kid’s fine. The other one, not so much.”

Dial, who hadn’t seen Petros’s death, needed to have things explained. Andropoulos filled him in the best he could, including how Jones had saved his life by shooting the other attacker.

“Speaking of which,” Payne wondered, “who are those guys?”

Jones added, “So far, we’ve killed four of them.”

“Only four?” asked Dial, who was quite familiar with their Special Forces backgrounds. “I’m guessing there are a lot more than that.”

He took a few minutes to describe the Spartans, the murdered monks, and the missing cops. He didn’t have time to go into all the specifics of the case, but he told them enough so they would understand what was going on. “We still aren’t sure what the Spartans are looking for. But whatever it is, it must be
big
. Otherwise, they wouldn’t have risked this type of exposure.”

Jones glanced at Payne but said nothing.

And Dial happened to notice. “What?”

Payne grimaced. “Nick, let’s take a walk.”

“Why?”

“Because we need to talk.”

The two moved away from Andropoulos, so the young Greek couldn’t hear what was about to be said. And Jones made sure of it by keeping an eye on him. Over the years, Payne and Dial had shared confidential information to help each other with various missions and assignments. And this was one of those times when they needed to speak in private, for both of their sakes.

“What’s up?” Dial asked.

“I want to tell you why we’re here. But only if it’s off-the-record.”

Dial stared at him, wondering where this was going. “Fine.”

“I think I know what the Spartans are looking for. It’s probably the same thing we’re looking for.”

“Which is?”

Payne reached into his pocket and pulled out a copy of the treasure map. “A colleague of mine recently called me from Russia and asked for my help. By the time I responded, it was too late. Someone had killed him.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

Payne shrugged it off. “D.J. and I poked around a little bit and figured out why he was murdered. He was looking for this.”

Dial took the map from Payne and studied it in the beam of the headlight. He instantly recognized the geography of Mount Athos. “Is this a
treasure
map?”

Payne nodded. “The man who killed my colleague was a hit man who used to work for the
FSB
. When I questioned him, he said he’d been hired by someone with a Mediterranean accent. We assumed he might be Greek, but we don’t know that for sure.”

“Why Greek?”

“Because the treasure is Greek. That is, if it even exists.”

Payne gave him a quick summary of the story of Richard Byrd, Heinrich Schliemann, and the possible existence of the lost throne. In addition, he filled him in on all the other treasures that could have been removed from Constantinople before the fire, everything from gold relics to ancient manuscripts.

“I think you’re right,” Dial said. “Our two matters are probably related.”

“I know. So what are we going to do about it?”

Dial gave the question some thought. “As far as I’m concerned, Interpol is here for one reason only: to catch the men who killed the monks. Everything else is a nonissue to me.”

Payne nodded in appreciation. “Glad to hear it.”

“And,” Dial said as he pointed at the map, “since my suspects seem to be heading toward this location, it might be nice if we could tag along with you.”

“That’s fine with me. Unless . . .”

“Unless what?”

“Unless the kid is going to be a problem.”

“You mean Marcus? He won’t be a problem at all. D.J. just saved his life. I really doubt he’s going to ask to see your visitor’s pass.”

Payne smiled. “Good. Because there’s one other thing I’ve been keeping from you. And it’s kind of hard to explain. . . .”

P
ayne asked Allison to step out of the shadows where she had been ordered to wait.

Dial stared at her in disbelief. He wasn’t expecting Payne’s big surprise to be a female. “You brought a
woman
to Mount Athos? The Virgin Mary is going to be pissed.”

Payne ignored the comment. “Nick, this is Allison. She was with Richard Byrd when he was killed in Russia. She goes wherever I go until this thing is done.”

Dial nodded in understanding. “Nice to meet you, Allison.”

She smiled and shook his hand. “You too.”

“I’m sorry to hear about your friend.”

“Thanks.”

“Okay,” Payne said, cutting them off. “Now that the introductions are out of the way, we’d better get moving. The longer we stand around, the more time we waste.”

Jones walked toward Dial and handed him a radio. “I got this from Petros. You should update the guards and tell them to stay below this ridgeline. We’ll leave the headlights on as a beacon.”

“Wait,” Dial said, “isn’t that counterproductive? Obviously, the Spartans have made it this far. It stands to reason that they’re ahead of us.”

“Some probably are,” Jones explained. “But so far, we’ve killed four soldiers who seemed pretty intent on stopping us from climbing this mountain. My guess is there are more Spartans down there, lying in wait. Let the guards worry about those guys. We can take care of the rest.”

T
he Spartan scout listened from the nearby trees, and then ran off to warn Apollo.

If they stopped this group of five, who were only a few minutes behind, they would have all the time they needed to locate the book. But that task would be tougher than it sounded, because these soldiers seemed to be far more competent than the other guards. The two largest men had already killed four hoplites in the last hour. Normally, it was the Spartans who showed such efficiency in battle, not their opponents.

Of course, if there was one thing the Spartans enjoyed, it was a worthy adversary.

P
ayne led the way, followed by Dial, Allison, Andropoulos, and Jones. They trudged single file up the steep terrain, with enough space between them to lessen the effects of a sneak attack. If a Spartan leapt out of a tree, he would only be able to attack one person in Payne’s group before someone got off a gunshot. At least that was Payne’s rationale. The truth was that in all of his years of soldiering he had never faced an opponent who preferred ancient weaponry to guns.

It forced him to view things from a whole new perspective.

Twenty minutes after leaving the motorcycles, the group came across a narrow chasm in the center of a long ridge. Payne and Jones shined their flashlights along the steep rock face, searching for an easier way around it, while the other three members of their party caught their breath. The temperature had started to drop, and the minor injuries that Dial and Andropoulos had suffered in their bike crash had started to take their toll. Their breathing had become labored, not only because of the thinning air but because their ribs had been bruised in the fall.

None of the three spoke as they took turns gulping bottled water.

Meanwhile, Jones caught up to Payne along the ridge. “What do you think?”

“We either go through here or walk a half-mile out of the way.”

Jones nodded. “We have to be careful. A smart soldier would use this to his advantage.”

“I was thinking the same thing.”

The two of them walked back and joined the others. Jones explained to them what needed to be done. “This is a classic choke point. We need to pass through it as quickly as possible. Jon will go first, followed by Nick, and so on. Once you climb through, be on full alert.”

While the others got ready, Payne pulled Allison aside.

“How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine,” she answered. “Tired, but fine.”

“Well, you’re doing great. Just keep it up.”

She smiled in appreciation.

“Do you understand what we need you to do here?”

“Climb through and be ready to move.”

“Simple enough, huh?”

“I think I can handle it.”

“For the next few minutes, can you do me a small favor?”

She nodded. “Sure. What did you have in mind?”

Payne pulled out the gun they had taken from Petros. “Can you carry this for me?”

She stared at the weapon with disdain in her eyes.

“Listen,” he said, “I know you’re not comfortable with guns. Up until now I haven’t given you one because I’ve seen the way you’ve looked at mine. But here’s the problem. For the next few minutes, our numbers will be cut in half. If we’re going to be attacked, this is where they’re going to do it. Tactically speaking, I need to do whatever I can to strengthen our odds. That means I need everyone to be armed.”

“Well,” she said, “since you put it like that, how can a gal resist?”

A
pollo knew he was outnumbered. His scout had warned him of that. But the beauty of his plan—which was similar to King Leonidas’s tactic to hold off thousands of Persians in the Battle of Thermopylae—was that he wouldn’t have to fight all his opponents at once. He would wait until their numbers were divided, then he would attack.

Instead of five against three, he would fight them three against three.

Then he would pick off the others when they rushed into the fray.

T
he gap in the stone face was about three feet wide. During rain-storms, water gushed through the chasm like a waterfall. Over the years, it had smoothed the rock and made it slick. Traction was difficult to find. The angle of the hillside wasn’t particularly steep, so ropes and anchors weren’t needed. Still, in order to climb the fifteen feet to the next ridge, they needed to concentrate.

For a large man, Payne was unbelievably nimble. Most Special Forces officers were small and wiry, soldiers who could run forever and hide in the blink of an eye, yet somehow Payne was able to keep up with them. In fact, he did more than that; he surpassed his peers by matching their agility and endurance and adding a brute strength that none of them possessed.

It was one of the reasons he had been asked to lead the MANIACs.

They were a special group, and Payne was the best of the best.

Using his hands and feet to climb, he scurried up the rock with ease. He dropped his pack on the ridge, and then scanned the nearby trees. With gun raised, he stared into the darkness, listening for the crack of a branch or anything else that seemed out of place.

But the area seemed deserted.

“Let’s go,” he said to his friends, who were waiting down below.

Dial was up second. He grimaced in pain as he used his arms to assist with the climb. Though his ribs were tender to the touch, they weren’t broken and weren’t going to stop him. Ten seconds later, he was crouching next to his friend on top of the ridge.

“Next,” he said to Allison.

She nodded and tucked the gun into her belt, nervous about the task at hand. Unlike the men, who had all been trained in one service academy or another, she had no experience with climbing—unless she counted gym class in junior high. She was in good shape from her frequent jogs around the Stanford campus, but this was something new to her.

Rock climbing in the dark simply wasn’t offered at her local health club.

While Dial stood guard, Payne kept his focus on Allison. In his hands, he held a thick tree limb that he had found nearby on the ground. If she struggled during her ascent, she could grab hold of it, and he could pull her up. “Don’t stop. Just keep moving forward.”

She followed his instructions, churning one leg after the other, using her hands to steady herself against the side of the chasm, never pausing to think. Her foot slipped once on the slick surface, but she maintained her balance with her arms and made it to the top without help.