The Minoan Cipher (A Matinicus “Matt” Hawkins Adventure Book 2) (17 page)

As soon as the visitor stepped into the room, two huge creatures that had been sitting on their haunches next to the throne trotted forward and bared the fangs in their odd, pointed muzzles. She instinctively reached up to touch the oval medallion hanging from a gold chain around her neck. Inscribed on the metal medallion was an axe design. Inside the medallion was an electrical circuit that broadcast a silent signal, not unlike that of a dog whistle. The animals had been trained to attack anyone not wearing such a device.

Each creature weighed around two-hundred pounds. Standing on their hind legs they were taller than the average man. The breed had been developed centuries before to look like the gryphons painted on the wall. The mythical creatures were the followers of the Britomartis, the Minoan goddess of wild animals.

Instead of attacking, the animals nuzzled the visitor’s legs with their cold noses. With nothing to kill, they returned to their posts and curled up like large puppies. The figure in the chair patted the creature on her right and made cooing sounds, before she spoke.

“You said you had an urgent matter to discuss, Daughter. I trust it must be important to bring you here.”

“I would not trouble you otherwise, Mother. May I approach?” she asked.

A boney finger beckoned. The visitor stepped forward and handed over the photos. The woman called Mother pushed her veil back from her wrinkled face and shuffled through the pictures one-by-one.

“Where did you get these?” she said. Her voice had gained a hard edge.

“From a source within the Greek government. The American engineer working with the Greek woman brought it up from the great ship.”

“How could that be? I understood that the ship was to be destroyed.”

“I ordered Salazar to destroy the ship. Hawkins, the American engineer, salvaged the ship before the helicopters came in with their depth charges.”

“Where is this American engineer now?”

“Hawkins is still in Spain and presumably has the device with him.”

“I thought we put an end to this nonsense when we attended to Ventris and his English friend. Now this American threatens our secrets.”

The hooded figure waited in silence.

Finally, the old crone stopped her muttering, and said, “Do you know the function of this device?”

“Only that no one was to be allowed to salvage it from the great ship.”

The crone tapped the stack of photos with the tip of her finger.

“An instrument like this was carried aboard
every
great ship. The machines were the keys to our empire. With these devices, the great ships communicated with people of different nations: the Egyptians, the Syrians and the Greeks. But in the wrong hands, the device would allow someone to translate the Sacred Word.”

“That would be a disaster,” the visitor said.

“Yes, Daughter. A disaster. We are older than Rome, older than the Greeks and Carthage and all who have followed. The Way of the Axe goes back to an age when humans were just emerging from caves. The Old Order endures because we communicate in a tongue only we know. We have conducted our affairs for centuries using the Sacred Word. If the device falls into the wrong hands, all our secrets kept through the centuries will come to light. Our plans to regain power and influence will be in jeopardy.”

Her voice had been rising with each sentence. She was out of breath and wheezing. The electronic monitors began to blink in alarm.

“Should I call someone for you?” the visitor asked.

She dismissed the offer with a wave of her hand. “Listen to me. There can be only one explanation for this misfortune.
She
lives. The king’s foul spawn. The daughter of Minos. She is the cause of our ills. I can feel her presence. She is near and she must die, as the prophecy instructs.”

“I don’t understand, Mother. The king and his daughter have been dead for four thousand years.”

“No! I smell her.
She
is the reason our equilibrium has been disturbed.”

The crone’s head dipped to her chest, but she brought her chin up again quickly. “First, the machine must be retrieved. Hawkins and the Greek woman must be killed. I will call forth the Priors to carry out the prime directive.”

The hooded figure nodded. The Priors were the remnants of a monastic order, but their numbers had dwindled through the centuries. Now, only four of the trained assassins whose main mission was to kill anyone likely to translate the sacred script, remained.

“I will immediately forward the information on Hawkins and Kalliste Kalchis to the Priors.”

“Good. What do you hear from Salazar of the other business?”

“The event is on schedule. His people will be in place. He says there will be no mistakes.”

“There better not be.” She paused. “Tell me, Daughter, what is your opinion of Salazar?”

“I don’t trust him.”

“The Salazar family has been our loyal servants for centuries,” the crone said.

“Maybe Salazar tires of the role. He is the last of the family and has no heir.”

“This is why I chose you to succeed me, my daughter. I knew you were blessed by the Mother Goddess when I saw your skill with the sacred dagger, even as a child. But you have wisdom too. Tell me what you think we should do about Salazar.”

“Nothing for now. Let him carry out the event, then convene a gathering at the Maze where we will deal with him.”

“Who would take his place as head of Auroch?”

“Me.”

“An interesting proposition. But you may be premature. I would have to be convinced that he is a danger to the Way before taking drastic steps. We have more important matters we must deal with for now.”

“I understand, Mother.”

“Good. Go now. I am getting tired.”

The visitor bowed, and backed into the elevator. As the doors were about to close, the croaking voice called out from the throne room.

“Remember the prophecy, Daughter.”

“Yes, Mother.”

“She is near. She must die.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Tensions were high on the
Santa Maria
. The helicopters could return any minute. The fishing boat would make an easy target. But the return trip to Cadiz was uneventful. The boat pulled safely back to the dock late in the afternoon.

Hawkins thanked the captain and his son, then he got into a taxi with Abby and Calvin. Hawkins carried the artifact in a backpack. At the hotel, they made plans to meet for dinner and went to their rooms to shower and change clothes. Hawkins washed away the sea grime, changed into fresh slacks and was just buttoning his shirt when his phone signaled a text message.

Matt. Please Skype Dr. Constantine Vedrakis at this number and show him your exciting find. Thx. KK

Hawkins sent Kalliste a quick reply and connected his tablet with the number she had given him. A wide, sunburned face, framed by snowy-white hair and beard appeared on the screen. Hawkins estimated Vedrakis to be in his sixties. Eyes the hue of a New England winter sky peered through wire-rimmed glasses.

“Hello, Professor Vedrakis. My name is Matt Hawkins. Kalliste Kalchis suggested that we talk.”

Speaking with a trace of an accent, the professor said, “I find it hard to believe Kalliste ever
suggested
anything in her life. She has the guile of Odysseus and the relentlessness of Artemis.”

Hawkins nodded his agreement; he knew from personal experience that Kalliste was an accomplished arm-twister. “I was being diplomatic.”

“No need, Mr. Hawkins. I have the highest regard for my brilliant colleague. Otherwise I might have brushed her away when she
suggested
I talk to you. Our conversation must be short. I have my hands full herding fifty energetic young college students who are in Crete under a program with the University of Buffalo.”

“Then I’ll cut right to the chase. What did Kalliste tell you?”

“Only that you have made a discovery that will take my breath away. She tends to talk in superlatives. Tell me, Mr. Hawkins, was she exaggerating?”

“You’ll have to be the judge of that. Hold on.”

He held the artifact in front of the tablet camera lens and turned it in his hands. Like Kalliste, the professor asked that he repeat the rotation.

“Thank you, Mr. Hawkins,” Vedrakis said. “Please tell me where you found this object.”

“I hauled it up from a shipwreck around thirty miles off the coast of Cadiz, Spain. Kalliste believes the ship is Minoan.”

The gray eyes narrowed under bushy brows. “Cadiz. Of course. That would make sense. The city was the site of a Minoan mining and trading colony.”

“Then Kalliste wasn’t exaggerating?”

“Not at all. Your discovery has taken my breath away. I’m amazed at the condition it is in.”

“It was in a watertight bronze chest. My first impression was that this was similar to the mechanism of the Antikythera computer. Kalliste said it was a navigational device, but for a different type of sea.”

“There are similarities between the two mechanisms, but this instrument may be even more important than the Antikythera machine because of its different features.”

“You’re talking about the script?”

“That’s correct. Are you still in Spain, Mr. Hawkins?”

“I’m staying at the Hotel Cadiz.”

“I would fly there immediately to examine the artifact firsthand, but I’m tied down with this blasted student program. I have a great favor to ask. Can you bring the artifact to Crete?”

“I’ll see if I can be there tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Mr. Hawkins. I would be forever in your debt. It’s going to be difficult keeping my mind focused on these students while I await your arrival.”

After they hung up, Hawkins called Abby’s room and told her about the professor’s request that he bring the device to Crete. She checked with her company’s traffic controller and called back a few minutes later.

“We can fly to Zurich tomorrow on a freight plane and hitch a ride from there on a smaller jet to Crete. Best I can do. We’ll arrive in the afternoon. Might get there faster on a commercial flight.”

“Not a good idea. The device would look like an infernal machine on the X-ray screen. Airport security would throw me into a holding cell. Besides, the mechanism is pretty fragile. I don’t know if it would survive being tossed around by baggage handlers.”

“Both good points. We fly later but safer. See you at dinner.”

Hawkins called the professor with the travel details. They agreed to meet at the archaeological museum in Heraklion. Hawkins was uneasy about leaving the artifact in the hotel room, so he wrapped it in a spare pillowcase and tucked it into the backpack which he slung over his right shoulder.

Calvin was cooling his heels at the entrance to the hotel restaurant. He had a sour expression on his face. The
maître d’
who had been studiously ignoring Calvin’s request for a table for three had disappeared completely by the time Abby arrived. She had exchanged the jeans and sweater she had worn at sea for a long, silky, white dress that set off her tanned skin and auburn hair.

Her arrival brought the
maître d’
out of hiding, all smiles and heel clicks. He glanced with obvious distaste at the backpack on the tall man’s shoulder, then turned to Abby. He could hardly take his eyes off the attractive woman. He practically groveled when Abby asked for a private table, escorting them to a quiet corner of the dining room away from the ordinary guests. He clapped his hands and a waiter appeared instantly to take their cocktail order.

Calvin watched the
maître d’
strut back to the entrance to defend the restaurant from riff-raff. “Glad you showed up and lured Mr. Fancy Pants out of his hidey hole, Abby.”

“Can’t blame the guy,” Hawkins said. “Rough-looking characters like Calvin and me probably scare the regulars away.”

“Nonsense,” Abby said. “I couldn’t ask for more dashing escorts.” She gave their arms a quick squeeze, then her Annapolis and corporate persona asserted itself. “I suggest that we adjourn this meeting of the mutual admiration society and get down to business.”

Hawkins filled Calvin in on the plans to fly to Crete to see Professor Vedrakis.

“That works with me,” Calvin said. “Thinking of talking to a couple of arms dealers. Maybe they can put me on the track of Spike missiles.”

“Coordinate with Molly. She’s researching missile sales.”

“Will do. I apologize for the excitement today on the boat. Never figured on an air approach.”

“And I never expected to play bucking bronco with an ROV,” Hawkins said.

“I don’t understand why they didn’t go after us,” Abby said. “We witnessed their destruction of the archaeological site.”

Hawkins said, “I’d guess their orders were to get in, drop their firecrackers, and get out.”