The Minoan Cipher (A Matinicus “Matt” Hawkins Adventure Book 2) (45 page)

The Mercedes plunged into the garage under the Auroch tower. The elevator sped Lily to the roof. She got into the waiting helicopter, which lifted off and flew across the city to the airport. A company jet sat on the tarmac warming its engines. As soon as she was in her seat, the jet sped down the runway, quickly reached its cruising altitude and headed for
La Mancha
at more than six hundred miles an hour.

Hawkins and Calvin were still floating down the river at around five knots when Lily’s plane landed on the airstrip near the castle. A waiting SUV driven by one of the crone’s guards transported her along the old road and through the main gate of the castle to the torch-lit courtyard. She stepped out of the SUV and walked across toward the Tripartite Shrine. She noticed a commotion in front of the entrance where her assistant priestesses were gathered around the Prior known as North.

She stepped up to the senior priestess. “Why aren’t you preparing the Greek woman for the ceremony?” she demanded.

The priestess reacted with a horrified expression.

“We can’t,” she sobbed. “She’s dead.”

A thunder cloud passed over Lily’s brow. She reached out and her long fingernails dug like talons into the young woman’s throat. The priestess tried to speak, but her face turned purple. She could barely breathe and would have died if not for the Prior.

“She told me that the Daemons killed someone in the Maze,” he said. “I was about to investigate.”

Lily released her grip. “Show me,” she said.

Clutching her bleeding throat, the priestess led the way through the shrine entrance and down the stairway into the Maze, with Lily and the Prior close behind. They followed a convoluted route that took them to a tunnel near the king’s apartment where Kalliste had been held.

The body of a woman lay on its side, face turned against a wall. The torso was a mass of shredded cloth and flesh. Having eaten their fill, the Daemons were curled up asleep near the body. In the dim light the woman’s hair looked a deep brown, the same shade as Kalliste’s. Lily knelt by the body and saw that the hair had been darkened by the blood pooling on the floor.

“Turn her over,” Lily said.

The Prior rolled the body onto its back. Lily stared at a face frozen in a mask of terror. “This is not the Greek. It is her attendant.”

“I don’t understand,” the Prior said. “The hounds would not attack someone wearing the medallion.”

“Look closer, Prior. Do you see the axe medallion?”

The Prior got down on one knee. The woman’s throat was a mass of bloody flesh, but it was obvious the medallion was missing. He glanced at the Daemons. “Maybe it was torn off and swallowed.”

“Very creative, Prior. But as you said, they would not attack, which means she was not wearing the protective pendant. The medallion was taken from her and she foolishly decided to leave the apartment without it. The Greek is still in the Maze. I want all exits guarded. Go through the tunnels one by one.”

The Prior pulled a hand radio from his belt and barked a series of orders.

“The Shrine portal is under guard,” he said. “A crew will move from one side of the Maze to the other. We’re checking security cameras as well. We’ll catch her.”

Lily turned to the priestess. “Tell my lovely flowers to be ready in the sanctuary in one hour. Go!”

Still mute from her damaged vocal cords, the priestess nodded, then she and the Prior disappeared down a tunnel leaving Lily alone. She was already enjoying the power that would soon be in her hands. The voices she’d been hearing had quieted except for the harsh cackle of the crone.

Remember the prophecy.

She is near. She must die.

CHAPTER SEVENTY-TWO

Kalliste was close to the exit portal under the Tripartite Shrine at the foot of a broad marble stairway. She sprinted up the stairs in her eagerness to escape from the foul place with its four-legged demons and red-eyed monster. Her exuberance almost proved her undoing.

As she reached the top of the stairway and entered the dimly-lit interior of the Tripartite Shrine, she heard shouting. She ducked into the shadow of an alcove. Within seconds, a group of men in uniform burst through the doorway, dashed across the floor and disappeared down the stairs into the Maze. Kalliste crouched in a corner.

Her escape must have been discovered. She forced herself to count to sixty, then she rose from her hiding place, folded the tablecloth that had been her comfort blanket and tucked it into the alcove. She cautiously approached the entrance.

The wooden doors were wide open. She peered around the jamb and saw a pair of uniformed guards a dozen or so feet from the doorway. She yanked her head back inside. Time was short. When it was discovered she was not in the Labyrinth the search would be expanded to the castle grounds.

She didn’t know what to do. If she made a run for it, she’d be cut down in an instant, but it would be better than the torture of waiting to be caught and killed. She was psyching herself up to make a quick dash when she heard the unmistakable sound of an approaching helicopter.

She ventured a peek around the corner. The two guards had turned away from the door to watch the helicopter drop onto the landing pad. One guard started walking toward the helipad. Now or never.

Kalliste stepped through the doorway of the Tripartite Shrine and began to run.

CHAPTER SEVENTY-THREE

As Salazar’s helicopter skimmed the castle’s crenelated ramparts and hovered in preparation for its landing, Chad peered down through a window and saw that the space enclosed within the castle walls was as empty as when he’d glimpsed it from the air with Hawkins. But when the helicopter landed and he stepped out the door with Salazar and his guards, he blinked his eyes in astonishment.

Directly in front of him, barely fifty yards from where he stood, was a strange-looking building. The façade consisted of three towers, with the tallest in the center. Downward tapering columns supported raised plinths surmounted by horn-shaped sculptures. Standing on steel legs over the building was a huge tent-like structure made of pale green material.

Salazar stepped up beside Chad. “What do you think of our little illusion?”

“Amazing, but what is it?”

“An example of octopus technology. It’s the latest in camouflage techniques. The roof is actually a system that includes light and temperature sensors. Color-switching controls adapt to changing light conditions the way an octopus switches color. The walls hid the castle’s interior for centuries, but we live in the age of Google Earth and prying satellite eyes. Walls are obsolete, no matter how tall they are.”

“Very cool,” Chad said. “What’s with the funky building?”

“Don’t let the priestesses hear you say that. They’ll cut your tongue out for denigrating the entrance to their most sacred site. This facade is called the Tripartite Shrine. It was built centuries ago to replicate the Knossos shrine that served as the entrance to the sanctuary of the Snake Goddess. The red on the back walls represents the Underworld, yellow is earth and blue is the heavens. The horns are the symbol of Poteidan, the Bull God. But enough of theology; we have work to do.”

“Sure thing, Mr. Salazar.”

As he waited for an order, Chad took in his surroundings with the eye of a Special Ops team member. High walls. Portals in the base of the four towers. Tall steel doors. A couple of big SUVs. The drone sitting on its launcher. Points of possible threat. Points of possible escape.

He was puzzled by the number of sentries. Only two. One was walking toward the helicopter while the other stayed near the door. Where the hell were the rest of the security guys Salazar had mentioned? The walking guard stopped suddenly and yelled. A woman had popped out of the entrance next to the shrine façade and was racing toward a castle tower.

The guard nearest Chad peeled away and did a fish hook run that cut her off. She saw the maneuver and changed course. The guards adjusted their pursuit so that both were closing in on the woman. Salazar’s men joined the chase.

The woman’s features were distorted with exertion, but Chad recognized Kalliste, Hawkins’ friend, who’d been kidnapped by the goons on Santorini. She’d been focused on her pursuers and didn’t see Chad directly in her path until she was around twenty feet away. That’s when Salazar yelled:

“Don’t just stand there, you fool! Grab her.”

Kalliste saw Chad standing in her way. She tried to veer off to one side, but momentum carried her into his waiting arms where she fought against his tight embrace.

“Let me go!” she snarled.

He put his mouth close to her ear. “Can’t do that, darlin’. They’ll shoot us both.”

She continued her struggle. “I don’t care. Let me go, you bastard.” She was breathing hard and barely able to get the words out.

He held her tighter. “I’m a friend of Matt and Calvin. Don’t give them an excuse to kill us.”

She stopped fighting and their eyes locked for a moment before the guards pulled her from his grasp and dragged her to the shrine entrance. Chad experienced the same feeling of rage he had when Salazar’s men had killed his girlfriend. Hate for Salazar flowed through his veins like a mega-shot of adrenaline. He would not let the same thing happen to this woman.

His skin crawled when Salazar came over, put his hand on his shoulder, and said,

“Good work, Leonidas. If she’d gotten away, the ceremony would have been canceled.”

“Who was that?” Chad asked, because it was a natural question Salazar would have expected.

“Her identity is of no consequence. She’s an unimportant grain of sand whose escape could have brought our enterprise to a grinding halt.”

“Where are those guys taking her?”

“To a place men have seen only in their fevered dreams. Come with me, Leonidas. It’s time to introduce you to the Labyrinth.”

CHAPTER SEVENTY-FOUR

The inflatable boat carrying the two men was about a half mile from the castle when the beat of rotors shattered the night and the helicopter swooped over the castle walls. The five-horsepower motor was at full throttle. The swift current had given the inflatable an extra boost.

Hawkins lay on his belly in the bow, his sharp eyes scanning the river ahead. The inflatable rounded a curve and in the light of the moon he saw the sluice gate cut into the side of the river bank.

The landing had to go off without a hitch. There was no room for screw-ups. He pointed. “Pull in, Cal.”

Calvin cut speed, pushed the tiller over and pointed the inflatable inland. Hawkins was on his knees, bow line in hand. He had to act fast. The current was drawing the raft sideways back into the river.

Calvin goosed the throttle. Still not enough power to counter the pull of the current. They were sliding past the sluice gate. Hawkins stretched dangerously out over the prow. If he miscalculated and went into the river precious moments would be lost getting back into the raft. Setting up for another pass might even be impossible.

With a practiced hand, he looped the line around the metal framework that supported the gate. The inflatable fish-tailed to a jerking stop. He hauled on the line hand-over-hand. The inflatable bumped up against the gate. Hawkins secured the tie line with a clove hitch. Calvin tied off the stern line. The raft was snugged tightly against a rusty steel plate that could be moved up and down to control water flow. It was stuck in a half-open position, allowing water from the river into the sluiceway.

Hawkins removed his night vision goggles and peered over the top of the sluice gate. The castle was a couple of hundred yards away. Floodlights pointed down from the top of the wall and illuminated the electrical fencing around the perimeter.

He rolled out of the raft, crawled like a salamander up the muddy slope next to the sluice gate and lay belly-down on the grass, his eyes glued to the castle. If they’d been detected by cameras or sensors, all hell would soon break loose. When nothing happened, Hawkins whistled to Calvin, who passed up the waterproof bags and crawled up alongside him.

They dragged their gear through the grass to the edge of the sluiceway on the other side of the gate. The channel was around five feet across, bordered on both sides by stone walls. They got into their dry suits, pulled two compact Draeger dive rigs from a bag and clipped them onto their harnesses. Unlike SCUBA, the closed-circuit rig didn’t emit bubbles and noise that could broadcast their location. The unit’s oxygen cylinder would allow them to stay down for hours.

They used the oxygen flow to inflate the buoys attached to each bag, donned their masks, hoods, weight belts and flippers, then rolled over the top of the wall into the sluiceway. Hawkins almost gagged on the rotten odor rising from the stagnant water.

“Whew! Smells like a swamp.”

Calvin chuckled softly. “Hell, this is like a swimming pool compared to the bayou. You’ll get used to it.”

Hawkins was unconvinced. He held his breath and pulled a gear bag into the water. The bag sank slightly but remained partly afloat. He released air in the lifts until the bag had neutral buoyancy and would neither float nor sink on its own. They adjusted the buoyancy in the other bags, clenched their regulators between their teeth and slipped below the water.