by Rob Jones
Jodie gave him a look of sympathy and held up her hand and extended her smallest finger. “She has you wrapped around her pinky, Hunter.”
“Little finger,” he said. “And no she doesn’t.”
“Pinky,” Amy called out over her shoulder. “And yes, she does.”
Hunter looked at Blanco. “You’re not going to do that thing where you say whatever it’s called?”
The man from Brooklyn gave him a look of gentle camaraderie. Two old guys against the girls. “Not this time, Max.” He turned and watched Amy reach the top of the steps and ring the bell. “You got enough problems, friend.”
“Yeah,” Quinn said. “This time the sentiment is more important than the semantics.”
Amy was now standing at the top of the steps, hands on her hips. “Are we going to talk to Kostas or not?”
*
Sitting on the Hill of the Muses, the Acropolis had dominated Athens since the fifth century BC. Today, the breathtaking view north from the terrace just below the ancient citadel filled Kostas Venizelos’s apartment window and struck Jodie Priest with awe. As she stared at the hazy sunset slopes of Mount Parnitha away in the distance, a good part of her never wanted to leave this place.
“I never saw anything like this before in my whole life.”
Blanco was pleased she was impressed by it. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”
Amy put down her bag and gave a long sigh of relief to finally be somewhere safe. Turning to her old friend, she said, “Sorry it’s been such a long time, Kostas.”
Venizelos walked over to her. He was holding a bottle of champagne in one hand and waved away her apology with the other as he gave her a long, close hug. “It’s been a long time since we saw each other, Amy. When was it, exactly?”
“I think it was during the Bonetti trial,” she said, her face scrunching up in the sunset as she tried to remember. Her memories of the Manhattan art dealer’s smuggling trial came flooding back, including the raid on the Queens warehouse that had led to his arrest. “You gave evidence relating to some ancient Greek bronzes he was trying to get into the US.”
“But that was years ago! Either no one is smuggling Greek antiquities into your country or you’ve been using another expert.” He untwirled the champagne cork ceinture and pulled the muselet free of the bottle. “Be honest, Amy. Are you seeing another expert behind my back?”
She slapped his arm. “Stop being silly, Kostas.”
“At least you are safe now,” he said. “From what you told me in your call, you are all lucky to be alive.”
“We were lucky to get away with nothing more than a few cuts and bruises,” she replied.
“Too right,” Hunter said. “When that helicopter turned up I thought we were finished.”
“A helicopter?” the Greek man asked. “In the middle of Rome?”
Amy nodded. “Right bang smack in the heart of the old town.”
“But how could such a thing get past air traffic control?” he asked, staggered.
“Perhaps Neverov has friends in high places,” Quinn said.
“Maybe,” Amy said. “But considering what he did to Giuseppe Gallo, it sure ain’t the Creed.”
“The Creed?” Venizelos asked.
Amy frowned. “Another time.”
“Sounds interesting, but now come with me out to the patio.”
Venizelos led them outside, twisted the bottle and popped the cork, arresting its flight with his left palm. Bubbles flowed from the top of the green bottle as he set the cork down on the table and began to pour a glass for everyone. Handing them around, he made sure everyone had one in their hand before he put the bottle down and raised his own glass.
“To my old friend Amy Fox, and the brand new HARPA team.”
They repeated the toast and drank a sip. Hunter enjoyed the taste of the quality wine and turned his face into the setting sun. It was still hovering over the city, but not for much longer. He took another sip and blew out a deep breath. Turning, he watched with some amusement as Venizelos crawled around on his hands and knees beneath a large gas-fired barbecue. Their host cursed in Greek as he tried to fit a new canister to the valve.
Hunter looked at Amy. “When does he get to the agálmata?”
“Statues,” said Jodie.
Amy smiled. “Nothing is more important to Kostas than a good dinner, Max. He’ll get to it after we eat.”
“I can hardly wait.”
Moments later, Hunter found himself wielding a metal spatula like a weapon. Carefully turning meat on the barbecue’s chunky, solid plate, he felt the tension melt from his shoulders. “I can’t wait to get stuck into these things.”
“You took the words right out of my mouth, Hunter.”
Jodie was beside him now, staring at the vast array of cooking meats with wide, glazed-over eyes.
“Not long now.”
“I’ll say one thing for you.” She took a deep breath and sighed. “You sure know how to cook barbecue. This smells perfectly goddam delightful.”
A short while later, the HARPA team were all seated around Venizelos’s large, nine-piece cast aluminum patio table, watching their host take generous quantities of fragrant lamb from the hot plate and heap it onto a large terracotta serving dish. With a theatrical flourish, he placed it in the center of a cornucopia of local cuisine – throubes olives straight from the tree, delicious vegetable-stuffed vine leaves, or dolmades, and calamari fresh from the sea drizzled in olive oil and lemon.
Quinn pointed some of the delights. “What are these, Kostas?”
“They are baklava,” he said proudly. “Honey, nuts and olive oil wrapped up in flaky filo pastry.”
“Goodness me,” she said, taking two off the plate.
Venizelos laughed. “Kalí óreksi!”
“Or bon appetit, as we say in English,” Hunter said.
Only Amy laughed, and then Venizelos encouraged everyone to help themselves. No one on the team needed to be told twice, and soon they were all piling into the delicious spread of food and drink their host had kindly provided for them. After dinner, Venizelos started work on the lion statue while Hunter helped Amy clear away the empty plates and glasses and bottles from the table. Blanco cleaned the barbecue ready for whenever Venizelos would need it again.
Jodie was with Quinn, leaning on the wall with her elbows and looking out over the city as she enjoyed one of the Greek professor’s cigarettes. Mount Parnitha was darker now, almost impossible to see. “This city is beautiful. You’re lucky to have such an amazing view, Kostas.”
Venizelos looked up from the statue and shrugged. “So I am told but I see it every day, which means I never see it. Besides, I am too preoccupied with my work to care.”
“Talking of which,” Quinn said. “You worked it out yet, Professor?”
He sighed wearily. “These things take time.”
“It’s not Koine, is it?” Hunter asked.
“Actually it is, but it’s been altered to create a sort of code. The shapes of the letters have been moved around to change their meaning. I have seen it once before on a theatre mask found among the ruins of a Dionysian temple.”
Jodie stepped up and gave Hunter a consolatory pat on the back. “Don’t worry about your screw up when you said the script wasn’t Koine Hunter. No one here even remembers, do they?”
“No,” the team said at the same time.
“Thanks, guys,” Hunter said.
Venizelos huffed out a low laugh. “Really, it’s a very good code. I wouldn’t hold it against Dr Hunter if I were you. Either way, the script is very badly degraded, and the lettering is ambiguous. You know what would speed things up?”
“If I stopped asking stupid questions?”
“You said it.”
Jodie stifled a laugh as Quinn pouted and stomped across the room. She fell down on the professor’s couch and pulled her laptop out of her bag.
“That’s her Do Not Disturb face,” Lewis said. “I’d take the
advice.”
Venizelos muttered in Greek. “Are you absolutely sure these agálmata are authentic?” he asked Amy. “I know in my heart they are and yet I wish they weren’t.”
She turned to Hunter. “Max?”
“Yes, these agálmata are authentic,” he said, emphasizing the Greek plural with a glance over at Amy. “Why?”
“Because I think I have a translation of the script. It’s fragmentary and I do not like what I’m seeing.”
“And what are you seeing?” Jodie asked.
Venizelos took off his glasses, rubbed his eyes and sank down into his chair. “Maybe I’m going crazy, but it says, ‘I am the man between the town and the stairs, and I say to those who seek Heaven’s Falling Star…”
“Why don’t you like it?” Hunter asked.
“It’s another reference to the Apocalypse,” said Lewis. “The falling star.”
“Exactly!” Venizelos said.
“But what about the first part of the verse?” Amy asked. “That sounded even more cryptic.”
Venizelos smiled. “You mean the part about the man between the town and the stairs?”
“Yeah.”
“That is not cryptic at all,” he said. “Not to me. I know exactly what it means!”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
“Care to enlighten the rest of us?” Amy asked.
“It’s obviously a reference to the Cave of the Apocalypse.”
Jodie laughed and lit another cigarette. “Yeah, obviously.”
“How so, Kostas?” asked Blanco.
“The Cave of the Apocalypse is on the island of Patmos. On that island are two towns. The first is Chora, which means town, and the second is Skala, which means stairs. The Cave of the Apocalypse is between the two of them.”
“Ah,” Amy said. “Got it – and the man statue is the ‘man’ he refers to!”
“Or perhaps John of Patmos himself,” Kostas said.
Lewis took another spoonful of the homemade tzatziki and put it on the side of his plate next to the lamb. The setting sun was warm on his neck, but all of a sudden he felt a cold chill go down his spine. “The Cave of the Apocalypse. This gets heavier.”
“Wait,” Jodie said. “You’re all telling me there’s a real place called the Cave of the Apocalypse?”
“Sure is,” said Lewis. “It’s where John had his vision from God, and it looks like we might be going there to look for the final statue – the one of the man.”
“Did you know about this place, Hunter?” Amy asked.
“Of course,” he said. “The Cave of the Apocalypse was declared a UNESCO World Heritage Site over twenty years ago.”
“Know all,” Jodie said.
“Back in 1999,” Hunter said, turning to her. “When you were in a nappy.”
“Hey!” Jodie said.
“Diaper,” Lewis corrected.
“Nappy,” Hunter repeated. “And before anyone asks – no, I have not been there.”
Quinn broke up the banter. “What can you tell us about the island, Kostas?”
“First, Patmos is not a big place.” Venizelos spoke quietly, his voice soft and mellow among the chirping cicadas on the dry bark of the surrounding fig trees. “As Greek islands go, it is rather small and much closer to Turkey than Greece. But this is not uncommon for Greek islands. Anyway, it is most famous for being the location of the Cave of the Apocalypse. As Ben here says, this is where the Disciple John had his vision concerning the Book of Revelation, and of course where he wrote it. This is its significance, well – this and the secret tunnel.”
“A secret tunnel?” Amy asked.
He shrugged. Having delivered the shocking epiphany, he now backed away from it. “Maybe, maybe not. Some of my research on this subject has hinted at a tunnel hidden in the cave. I am sceptical. I have been there several times and never found anything.”
“This whole thing sort of freaks me out,” Quinn said.
Venizelos laughed. “There really is no need. The island today is popular with tourists, both religious pilgrims and non-religious people simply seeking peace and warm weather.”
“I’m with Quinn,” said Jodie. “The men who are chasing us are no damned tourists. They’re risking everything to get hold of something hidden in that cave, and that’s what’s freaking me out. “Who wants to find an apocalypse, right?”
“Vladimir Neverov,” Hunter said flatly.
“So, now we have three of the Four Living Beings of the Revelation,” Amy said. “And three verses. On the lion, I am the man between the town and the stars, and I say to those who seek Heaven’s Falling Star…”
Hunter said, “And on the ox, They must ask the Lion, the Ox, the Man and the Eagle.”
“Which we’re trying to do,” said Quinn.
“The eagle says,” said Blanco, “And the last word of God will unleash the Apocalypse and strike terror into Man.”
“So we’re missing the third verse,” Lewis said. “The order of the Four Living Beings is usually the lion, the ox, the man and then the eagle. We need the statue of the man and the third verse.”
“Yes, the man will give you the final location,” Venizelos said thoughtfully. “But you must go to the Cave of the Apocalypse to ask him.” He sighed and turned the statue over in his hands one more time, carefully. “Yes, this is a very beautiful piece of work, but its value lies in the message hidden here in the inscription.”
“Hidden in plain sight,” Amy said.
“Hidden is hidden if you do not know how to decode it,” replied Venizelos.
Amy raised her glass to chink it against Venizelos’s. “Then lucky you did know, Kostas.”
He raised his glass. “Indeed, it is!”
In a split second everything changed. From out of nowhere, a bullet shattered the wine glass and buried itself in the Greek academic’s chest.
Amy screamed as the impact of the shot blasted Venizelos back in his chair and sent him smacking into the deck. As the blood bloomed on his white shirt, he coughed and spluttered and died right in front of them.
Hunter and Blanco were already on their feet, guns drawn and scanning for the shooter. They didn’t have to search for long. Seconds after the fatal shot that had killed their friend, half a dozen men armed with Heckler & Koch MP5 submachine guns leaped from the single-story garage roof at the end of the patio and sprayed everywhere with rounds.
Hunter and the rest of the HARPA team were already inside the villa. The English archaeologist led the way through the house while Blanco stayed at the rear and fired a series of cover shots at the attackers.
“That was fast!” Amy said.
Jodie was confused. “Huh?”
“The Russians,” she said. “They got out of the Tiber pretty fast!”
Hunter booted open the kitchen door and led them down the corridor to the front door. “They’re not Russians.”
“Then who?” Lewis said, gun in hand.
“Did you see the tattoos on their necks?” Quinn said. “They all had… shit!” A bullet shattered the pane of glass in the front door and made her scream out loud. “Damn it!”
“They’re out the front, too,” Hunter said. “Pincer movement.”
“We’re boxed in?” Quinn said.
“No,” Amy said. “You can get to the garage from inside the house. It’s just down this flight of stairs because it’s on a slightly lower level than the rest of the villa. Grab that damned lion and follow me!”
Hunter let her move to the front. The focus and determination on her face was masking the pain she must be feeling over the murder of her friend, but if he had learnt one thing about Special Agent Amy Fox, it was her endless capacity to surprise him.
“In here!” she said. “We can take his car.”
“Is it big enough?” Quinn called out.
Bullets raked up the wall behind them as Blanco ran into view. “Couldn’t hold them any longer, sorry.”
“You got us this far, Sal,” Jodie said.
/> “Bad news about the car.” Amy was standing just inside the door leading down to the garage.
“What bad news?” Lewis asked.
“They already shot it up.”
Hunter twisted around as Blanco reached where they were standing. Behind him, shafts of light streamed in through the kitchen window and lit up the men as they charged up behind them.
“Into the street!” Hunter yelled. “If we stay in here, we’re dead.”
“Front door?”
Hunter shook his head. “No way. A crew like that will have the front door covered. What else is at the front?”
“Kostas’s bedroom,” Amy said. “There’s a balcony in it we can use to drop down to the front yard.”
Hunter gave her a look. “How do you know that?”
She returned the look and threw in a wink for good measure. “I’ll take questions at the end of the lecture, Dr Hunter.”
A bright, savage muzzle flash strobed in the hallway behind them. Bullets traced over their heads and bit into the plaster wall in the stairwell. Blanco returned fire, planting two rounds in one of the men and dropping him to the deck but the others kept coming without a glance at their fallen comrade. Firing controlled bursts at the tattooed men, Blanco yelled at everyone to get moving.
Hunter turned and saw Amy already halfway up the villa’s grand spiral staircase.
“Get a move on, Hunter!” Jodie said, rushing past him. “I don’t know about you, but this girl’s too young to die!”
“Kill them all!” screamed the man at the front. Hunter saw his face clearer now – the tattoo streaking up from his neck and onto his cheek like a vine. “They must be killed!”
Something told Hunter he needed to get the hell out of there so he sprinted up the staircase, gun in his hand. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw the men were already at the bottom of the stairs. They fired, drilling the wooden steps with rounds and blasting them to splinters as they skipped up each step, ever closer to him. He returned fire, burying two rounds in a double tap in the center of another man’s head. The man dropped like a lead weight, falling back into his associates and knocking them over.