The Minoan Cipher (A Matinicus “Matt” Hawkins Adventure Book 2) (35 page)

The stranger dropped the weapon and staggered out of the shed, the eagle still clutching his head. The noise was awful. The stranger was screaming in pain. The eagle screeched in fright and then spread its wings and flew off into the night. The man wiped away the blood streaming down his face and turned to go back for his weapon. Molly was standing in the shed doorway, machine pistol in hand. He spun around and drunkenly staggered off away from the shed and around the corner of the house.

Cautiously, she followed in his tracks. The stranger might have gone to his car for another gun. She was relieved when she heard a car engine start. Headlights snapped on from the woods off to one side of her driveway where the stranger had parked his car in the trees. The car accelerated, its tires kicking up gravel, and pulled out onto the road, but instead of navigating the curve, it went straight. There was a horrendous
crump
sound. Then silence. She trotted down a couple of hundred feet to where the car had hit a tree.

The headlights were still on. The windshield was cracked from the impact of the stranger’s head. He was slumped over the steering wheel. She pushed him back into the seat and felt for a pulse in his neck. He was dead. His eye sockets were filled with pools of blood from his head wounds. He must have been blinded and not seen the bad curve in time. She went through his pockets and pulled out a wallet and cell phone. She used a corner of his jacket to wipe the blood away, turned his head to face her, and took a photograph with her phone. She hid the machine pistol in the shed. Then she called 911 to report the accident.

Molly was waiting next to the wreck when the police and rescue squad arrived. She said she heard the noise of the crash and went out to see what it was. After giving her account, she went back to her house and sat at her computer table. She took out the wallet and spread its contents on the table. The man’s name was William Thomas and his home address was in Nebraska.

She remembered the words the man spoke when she was hiding in the shed.

“They said you were in the Army.”

Who were
they
? And why was this man sent to kill her?

She woke up her computer and started piecing together a biography of the late Mr. Thomas. She didn’t find much until she got into the FBI file. The facial recognition program identified the dead man as Tommy Lee Crimmins from Fort Collins, Colorado. Going back from the present, she saw that he had been released from prison where he’d served a term for assault and battery. Before that, he’d worked for a couple of security companies. And his training for those jobs came in Afghanistan where he worked in demolition with the Marines.

Using his credit card number, she hacked into his account. Crimmins, or Thomas, had only arrived in Oregon early that morning, when she had seen him at the café.
Pickety-pick
. She worked back and saw that he had flown in from Boston. He’d stayed at an expensive Boston hotel, which suggested someone else must be paying the bill. And he had several dinners that ran more than five hundred dollars, which indicated he was not dining alone. Boston is across the Charles River from Cambridge, home to MIT.

Molly stared at a list of credit card charges on the screen.

Something was to going to happen. And it involved explosives, and the energy conference.

CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

Kalliste opened her eyes and gazed at a painting of a half dozen flying fish dancing in the air over an azure sea. She thought,
what a beautiful dream.
As she became fully conscious, the painful throb in her forehead told her this was no dream.

She pushed herself onto her elbow, then sat up and swung her legs over the edge of a platform bed. She looked down and saw that she was wearing an ankle-length layered skirt of pale blue and a white, long-sleeved blouse.

The room was around twenty feet square. The other three walls were also covered with frescoes heavy on an ocean theme: Octopi. Dolphins. Graceful, square-sailed sailboats. The artistic style was unmistakably Minoan.

The only other furniture in the windowless room consisted of a chair made of lattice wood and leather and a small table next to the bed. On the table was a ceramic drinking vessel, a pitcher and a bowl of fruit and nuts. The pieces of pottery were decorated with pictures of mollusks. She had an awful taste in her mouth, as if she’d been eating ashes. Ugh. Worse than an ouzo hangover. With an unsteady hand she poured water from the pitcher into the glass and took a deep swallow. She was starving as well as thirsty, and hungrily devoured several dates, some figs and a bunch of deep red grapes.

As she chewed on a juicy grape, she saw the bug-eyed octopi begin to move. Then a sliding door opened in the wall. She gasped with surprise. Lily Porter stepped into the room and shut the door behind her. The trademark short leather skirt and matching vest were gone. She was dressed in an outfit similar to Kalliste’s, except for the blue-black color of the flounced skirt.

Lily’s skirts rustled as she settled into the chair. “Hello, Kalliste. Surprised to see me?”

“Of course I’m surprised. What is this place?”

“We are in the royal apartments of the Maze, or Labyrinth if you prefer the more poetic name.”

“The only Labyrinth I know of is at Knossos.”

“We’re in Spain. A very special part of Spain.”

Kalliste was more confused than ever. The last memory she had was of walking across the square near her Santorini house, deep in thought about her translating work. She didn’t notice the figures in black dart from the pool of darkness under a spreading tree until it was too late. Rough hands grabbed her around the shoulders, pinning her arms. She felt a sharp sting in her neck. And a curtain of darkness descended.

“How did I get to Spain? Wait. I get it now. Hidden History is doing a piece on the Knossos maze.” She glanced around. “This is a set.”

“No, Kalliste. This is not a set for a television program.”

Her voice was low and almost monotone. Her unsmiling face was as hard as marble. She was no longer the scatter-brained producer of zany TV shows. Kalliste was still slightly confused from the drugs, but she was alert enough to know that something was dangerously wrong about this bizarre encounter.

Suppressing the fear that threatened to choke her words, she said, “In that case, I would appreciate it if you could tell me what is going on.”

Lily cracked her lips in a slight smile. “What I am about to tell you is true, although you may find it hard to believe.”

Kalliste glanced around the room. “These days there is nothing I find hard to believe.”

Lily ignored the comment and stared off into the distance.

“The story begins nearly four thousand years ago on the island where you were born, and whose name you bear. The volcano on Kalliste erupts, causing earthquakes and triggering a tsunami that wipes out Knossos and the other seaports along the northern coast of Crete. The Minoan empire is weakened. An invasion from the mainland threatens.”

“So far you have told me nothing new,” Kalliste said.

Lily dismissed the comment with a flick of her long fingers.

“You know only what you read in the history books. What I’m about to tell you few people know.”

“Go ahead then. I’m listening.” Trying to preserve the illusion of calm, Kalliste plucked a grape from the bowl and popped it in her mouth.

“Civil war ensues. One side is loyal to King Minos. The other supports the High Priestess of the Snake Goddess sanctuary. The king is about to be overthrown, and places his young daughter in the hands of the commander of the palace guard who leaves Knossos with the Minoan treasure. They sail aboard a cargo ship to the west, with the High Priestess and her brother in pursuit. There is a fierce sea battle off the coast of Spain. Both ships are heavily damaged by fire. The king’s daughter escapes in a sailboat. The priestess and her party make it to land, but their ship has been damaged beyond repair. They are stranded.”

Kalliste remembered the dark stains on the wreck of the sunken ship.

“The timbers of the Minoan vessel off Cadiz were charred from fire. That’s quite the coincidence.”

“No coincidence at all. You dove on the king’s ship.”

“We saw no sign of treasure.”

“That’s because there is none. Numerous dives were made on the ship over the centuries before it was determined that the commander disposed of the treasure before the battle.”

Kalliste remembered the diving bell and the other antique underwater equipment that littered the shipwreck.

“The divers all died looking for a treasure that wasn’t there,” she said.

Lily nodded. “At that point the wreck was abandoned and its location was lost over time until the fisherman caught his net.”

“What happened after the battle?” Kalliste asked.

“The priestess, her brother and a handful of followers made their way to a Minoan mining colony. They took control and prospered. The king’s people vanished. They hid their tracks well. Search parties went out from the mining colony, but with no success. There were no DNA footprints to follow in those days.”

“What’s DNA got to do with it?”

“In this case, everything. I borrowed some hairs from your pillow and had them analyzed.”

“You broke into my apartment to find some hairs?”

“Not me, but those under my command.”

The intrusion on her private property seemed trivial after having been kidnapped, but Kalliste was furious.

“I liked you much better when you were a TV producer. Too bad you went through all this breaking and entering and stealing for nothing.”

“No trouble at all, considering what I learned from the DNA tests. That your genetic line goes back to King Minos.”

“Oh, stop it, Lily. That’s ridiculous.”

“The DNA doesn’t lie. You are a direct descendent of King Minos’s daughter.”

“Fascinating. I always wanted to be a princess. You still haven’t told me what we’re doing in this place, and why we’re dressed in these foolish costumes.”

“I understand why you’re angry, but you will feel better after I put things in perspective.”

“I doubt it, but go ahead.” Kalliste’s curiosity overshadowed her anger.

“I told you how the priestess and her people entrenched themselves in the mining colony. The priestess remained pure so she could conduct the old rituals, but her brother and the other men intermarried with local women. As their line grew, they expanded their wealth and power throughout Spain and into other parts of Europe. They went into the highest levels of government and business. No matter where they were, they kept to the old traditions and rituals.”

“They practiced the Minoan religion?”

“It was modified to adapt to changing circumstances, but it endured in its basic form through the centuries.”

“You’re saying there are people alive in the world today who belong to a cult that worships the Snake Goddess?”

“The Way of the Axe is much more than a cult. It took an organization with power and wealth to build this replica of the original maze where they could practice their religion and be reminded of their ancient roots.”

“Does that religion include the bull dancers?”

“The farms around here bred the Auroch bulls for centuries and young men and women were trained in the ritual. It became more difficult to maintain the breed and train the dancers while keeping our existence a secret. We had to make other arrangements.”

“It’s hard for me to believe an ‘organization’ like the one you describe could operate in secret for so long without being discovered.”

“Oh, their secret was uncovered from time to time, but those revelations were quickly reburied. Important communications were transmitted using the ancient script, Linear A. I believe you’re familiar with it.”

“Of course. Linear A is one of the world’s great mysteries.”

“Apparently, it is a mystery no more. The translating device you and Hawkins brought up from the ship is similar to those used to keep the old language alive. We use computer programs now, not unlike the one you hoped the Hidden History channel would finance. Within minutes, we can decipher the scroll that gave you so much trouble. Simply figuring out the author’s name was an amazing accomplishment on your part, though.”

I have a big, fat Greek mouth
, Kalliste thought. She had told Lily everything about the device and the scroll when she called from Santorini to ask Hidden History to fund a computer-aided translation.

Attempting to divert Lily, she said, “Thank you, but all I learned was that the author’s name was Minotaur.”

“Don’t sell yourself short. The Minotaur was the nickname of King Minos’s second-in-command. He was the guardian of your ancestor, the king’s daughter.”

“Now I understand. You were behind the attack on my expedition and the destruction of the ancient ship,” Kalliste said.

“We couldn’t let the translator get into the wrong hands. Our prime directive is that Linear A be kept a secret. Once the script is deciphered, all our secrets, going back centuries, would become public.”