The Revelation Relic

by Rob Jones

  Never had she been so scared in all her life and a good part of her wanted to give Jim Gates a resignation letter, or at the very least a transfer out of the HARPA team and back to the safety of a comfortable desk job. After the shower, she got dressed and with a cup of fresh coffee in her hand, she stepped out of her room and found the rest of her team gathered on the patio beside the pool.

  Behind them, the sun was rising over a distant peninsula, casting sparkling rays of golden light over the surface of the sea and the pool. To the east, it lit up the rugged coast of Arki island and turned its rocks a rich orange color. This place, she thought, might just be the paradise she had always dreamed of. Then, in the breaking waves of the Aegean, she caught a glimpse of three dolphins. They were visible for only a second and then gone again with barely a splash. She gasped, the morning suddenly filled with the hoarse cry of a levant sparrowhawk.

  And Blanco’s fat, contagious laugh.

  She turned and saw him almost in tears. By the looks of it, Lewis had laid down another of his notorious jokes and got an excellent result. Even Quinn was smirking.

  “Care to let me in on the gag?” she asked.

  Before Lewis could reply, Hunter and Jodie stepped out on the patio.

  “What time did you two get back last night?” Amy asked.

  No reply.

  “Jodie?”

  “Sorry, what?”

  “I asked what time you got back to the hotel.”

  “One, maybe.”

  Amy arched an eyebrow. “Late.”

  “I guess.”

  The sharp shrieking of gulls wheeling in the blue sky split the awkward silence around the breakfast table. Hunter’s eyes were closed.

  “And did you enjoy your burgers?”

  “Uh-huh. Delicious, thanks.”

  Amy and Blanco shared a look. Lewis raised his eyebrows and returned to his theological research with a don’t look at me expression on his face.

  “They must have been big,” Amy continued.

  “Not that big.”

  “But they took you four hours to eat them.”

  Jodie furrowed her brow. After a confused pause, she said, “Oh yeah, right. No, we went out after. Hunter has a lot of energy for such an old guy.”

  Quinn turned her head slowly until she was looking around the side of her seat at Amy. “Interesting.”

  “I’m not old,” Hunter said.

  “Oh, you’re not asleep then?” asked Amy.

  “Just dozing.”

  “I see.”

  He opened one eye. “Look, I know what’s on your mind.”

  “You do?”

  “Sure. You’ve been dying to ask us since we stepped out here.”

  “Oh, really?”

  “Yeah,” he said, closing his eye again. “Were the burgers vegetarian or regular beef. The answer is they were just normal beef.”

  Amy shook her head. “Fine, be like that. You know what? I don’t care what the hell happened between you two last night, just so long as it doesn’t affect the team.”

  “It might,” Hunter said. “I nearly put my back out.”

  Amy’s gasp was louder than Lewis’s chuckle.

  “What the hell?”

  Blanco cast a protective, fatherly eye over Jodie but instantly saw from her face that they were having some fun at Amy’s expense. He shut his eyes and sat back to enjoy.

  Quinn’s smile faded. Listening to Jodie and Hunter teasing the boss was amusing as far as it went, but the truth was, nothing much ever lifted her spirits for longer than a few seconds. Much like Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde, Quinn Mosley and Ghost were two very different sides of the same coin.

  Quinn was quiet, shy and introverted. Ghost was wilder. Much wilder. When she got online and started doing her thing, she became outspoken, gregarious and ruthless. There was no counting the damage she had caused as Ghost, and she had no problem with any of it; she just didn’t care.

  But in the quieter moments when the darkness fell, Quinn felt guilt. She never showed it. Regret was weak. She enjoyed her hard-won reputation as the team’s enigma, so showing any sign of weakness was out of the question.

  Her worst fear was making a mistake and letting the team down. She hated that feeling, and looked back on the Atlantis mission with a shudder. Amy had asked her to retrieve her bag with the satphone from the back of the truck they were in before it crashed. She had failed and the phone had been crushed.

  She sighed and lowered her sunglasses. Looked out across the bay. The translucent turquoise waters of the Aegean Sea were still today. Littered with countless islands like jewels strewn on electric blue velvet, this was the original home of the word archipelago, once used to describe only this place. This was a glittering landscape of gulfs and bays and calderas, heated in the summer by the hot, dry Etesian winds and the cradle of two ancient civilizations, Minoan and Mycenaean. This was somewhere Quinn Mosley might just be able to find happiness.

  Her thoughts were interrupted by a ringing telephone and when she turned, she saw the banter was over and Jodie was walking away from the table with her cell phone in her hand.

  *

  On the other side of the patio, away from her team, Jodie Priest read and then quietly deleted Tyler’s newest text. Then, she glanced up from her phone and slipped her sunglasses on. For a while, she stood still, silently admiring the clear, sparkling waters of the yacht marina and thought about how different things must be here compared with the life she knew back in California, back with the Tylers of this world.

  She watched a red and white fishing boat sail into the marina and moor up alongside a sun-bleached jetty. Safely roped into place, the fisherman walked back to the stern and began coiling up a length of bright blue rope, working in the hot sun as his small boat bobbed gently up and down on the smooth water.

  “All good?”

  She turned and saw Blanco at her side. He had a big, goofy smile on his face and was clearly enjoying the sights of the amazing little harbor.

  “It will be.”

  He nodded and said nothing, his eyes concealed behind his shades. Amy walked over and joined them, concern all over her face. “What’s up?”

  “She’s tight lipped,” Blanco said. “But I think it’s man trouble.”

  Jodie rolled her eyes. “Please…”

  Amy’s sigh was heavy and long. “Is that what the cloak-and-dagger routine with the phone has been about?”

  Jodie looked embarrassed. “Sorry, I thought I was more subtle than that. I should have known I couldn’t get one past you.”

  “Yeah, you should have. Is it Tyler again?”

  Jodie nodded, face staring down at her boots. “Yeah.”

  Hunter had strolled over. He looked at Amy. “Tyler?”

  “Tyler is…” Amy paused.

  “My ex,” said Jodie. “He’s my ex. And he’s trouble with a capital T.”

  “Come on,” Amy said. “Let’s go back to the table and finish breakfast. We have a big day ahead of us.”

  Sitting down, Blanco reached forward to pull another slice of mizithra pie off the large stone serving plate in the center of the table. “I didn’t know Tyler was bothering you again, Jo.”

  Her look of embarrassment worsened. “Sorry, Sal. I should have told you.”

  The smile on Blanco’s cheery face faded. “You can tell me when you need my help, that’s all you need to know.”

  “What’s this guy all about?” Hunter asked.

  Jodie said, “We met in Juvie and spent some time together on and off. I was young when we met, just sixteen. He stood up to the system. Didn’t let anyone push him around, not even the cops. To me, back then he was a real hero. I just wanted to run away with him and go on the road. It seemed kinda romantic. I was just a kid.”

  “And now you’ve moved on,” Amy said. “Which is good.”

  She nodded. “Sure, but Tyler hasn’t.”

  “Which is bad.”

  “Right. He keeps calling me. Trying
to get back with me. Talking about the good times we had and trying to reel me back in. I know what he’s doing.”

  “Have you told him you’ve moved on with your life?” Blanco said.

  “Yes, but he’s a very persistent guy. Like I said, he stands up for himself, fights for what he believes in. Fights for what he wants – and he wants me.”

  “But you don’t want to go back?” Amy asked.

  “Of course not, Amy. Back then, you saved my life. You think I want to go back to Tyler and a life of crime?”

  “Sorry. I’m just being protective, I guess.”

  Blanco rubbed his eyes and yawned. Checked his old, scratched watch. “Just tell him no, Jo.”

  Jodie lit a cigarette and leaned forward, elbows on her knees and head slumped forward, eyes staring down at the ground between her shoes. “Thing is, he’s not taking no for an answer, Sal, and I think he might start getting dangerous. He’s already started making threats.”

  Amy was shocked. “He’s threatening you?”

  A sad, broken nod. “Maybe I should just give in to him. He threatened me and what’s left of my family.”

  Blanco’s face reddened. “You want me to fix this? You know I can fix this.”

  She blew out some smoke and looked up at him, a sad smile forming at the corner of her mouth. “I think maybe that might be cracking a peanut shell with a sledge hammer, Sal. But thanks.”

  Quinn finished her breakfast and wiped her hand on her black jeans. “If you give me his last name and date of birth, I’ll totally destroy his entire life. It’ll take less than an hour. What crimes do you want him to have committed? I’ll get them on his record like that.”

  She snapped her fingers to show how fast poor Tyler’s life could get turned upside down, but Jodie shook her head. “Thanks, Quinn, but it’s not necessary. Besides, the son of a bitch already has a record as long as your arm.”

  “I could make it longer. Much longer. Next time he gets picked up for a misdemeanor, the cops could find an international arrest warrant for murder.” She shrugged. “Just let me know and I’ll tie the bastard up for years.”

  Hunter laughed. “That’s just fantastic. Totally unethical, by the way, but still magical.”

  “There’s really no need, Quinn,” Jodie said. “This is a battle I have to fight for myself.”

  “So what are you going to do?” Lewis asked.

  “I don’t know, but it’s my problem and not anyone else’s.”

  Hunter broke into the conversation, his face suddenly much more serious. “All right, everyone. It’s time to leave. The cave opens in less than thirty minutes and we need to be there before the crowds.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  A white disc sun in the middle of a cobalt blue sky dazzled the team as they made the short walk through Skala and up into the olive-covered slopes in the middle of the island. As they reached the end of the meandering historic trail, they saw a priest setting up a stall of tourist souvenirs and preparing for a day of profitable trading.

  “Looks like we’re here.” Hunter took in the small whitewashed stone building which had been constructed around the entrance of the cave. “And we seem to be the first.”

  “Then let’s get on with it,” Amy said, checking her watch. “With any luck we can get what we need here and be right back out again without any trouble.”

  Hunter heard what she said but kept his mouth shut. With a man like Neverov on their tail, and now the added pressures of the mysterious tattooed men and, almost certainly, an international arrest warrant, something told him they wouldn’t be alone for long.

  He followed Amy into the shade, walking down some steps into the temple. Off to his right, he saw the famous cave for the first time and was surprised by its size. Bigger than he had appreciated from photos back at UNESCO, the sacred cave itself had been incorporated into a special, purpose-built chapel.

  The chapel looked like most others belonging to the Greek Orthodox Church and was decorated with brass candlesticks, icons and colorful frescoes. The cave was also full of golden frescoes and in the corner was a small metal cage, fencing off the section where John had heard the voice of God. An open bible rested on a natural pedestal in the cave wall, and two smooth wooden benches offered rest to weary pilgrims.

  “This is incredible,” Lewis said. “Think about this for a minute. Where we’re standing right now is the last place on earth where God spoke to a human, at least directly. This is a big deal. I wish Meg could be here.”

  “Wait a minute,” Hunter said. “Something’s up.”

  Amy turned. “What’s wrong?”

  He walked away from them over to the other side of the cave. “There’s no draft over in this part of the chapel,” he said. “That’s what’s wrong.”

  Blanco wandered over to him. “Say again?”

  “This section of the chapel is well out of the way of the entrance and there’s no moving air over here at all, and yet look at the flames on those candles.”

  “Maybe it’s coming from behind that screen,” Jodie said, pointing at a wooden screen covered in golden murals.

  “In Eastern Orthodox religions it’s called an iconostasis,” Lewis said. “It’s how they separate the nave and sanctuary in their churches. As you can see, they’re usually decorated with religious iconography.”

  “Pretty,” Jodie said.

  “Yeah,” said Quinn. “Pretty boring.”

  “Heathen.”

  Hunter took another step forward and peered cautiously around the edge of the painted wooden screen. “Whatever you call it, there’s a breeze coming from behind it.”

  “Be careful, Max!” Amy said. “I don’t like this.”

  Blanco walked up beside Hunter. “You’re not going in there alone, brother.”

  Hunter nodded and gave him a nervous smile. “I won’t be alone, Sal – take a look behind the screen.”

  The English archaeologist watched Blanco poke his head forward into the small sanctuary behind the iconostasis. A second later, the man from Brooklyn shook his head. “Damn it, we’re too late.”

  Amy stepped across the chapel. “Too late for what?”

  “To save this priest,” Hunter said. “He’s been shot through the head, stripped of his robes and hat and dumped here.”

  Amy gasped and took a step back.

  “And that’s a cassock, not a robe and a kalimavkion, not a hat,” Lewis said.

  “Thanks for the update,” Jodie said. “I’ll make sure to make a note when we get home.”

  “By the looks of it, whoever murdered this man did it to gain access to that.” Hunter pointed to a large fissure in the cave wall and then down to a large life-size mosaic of Christ laying on its side beside the crack. “Seems the good Lord has been hiding a secret tunnel all these years.”

  “The passageway Kostas told us about!” Amy said. “We found it.”

  “No,” said Hunter grimly. “Someone else found it.”

  “Wait a minute,” Jodie said cautiously. “There must have been a struggle in here and then a gunshot, right?”

  “I guess,” Amy said. “What are you getting at?”

  “How long has he been dead?”

  Hunter sighed. “No more than thirty minutes. I’m no doctor but some of the blood still hasn’t congealed.”

  “In which case, he was shot after the place opened,” Jodie said. “There’s nowhere else up here to store that stall we saw out the front, guys.”

  “Oh, shit!” Amy said. “The man we saw out the front wasn’t a priest. He was a…”

  The bullet smacked into the top of the iconostasis and blasted its top panel to dust.

  “He was the man who killed the priest,” Hunter said. “And we’re out of here.”

  Another gunshot rang out. Hunter turned and saw the man more clearly now. It was Gubenko, his identity obscured by the black hat and robes of the man he had murdered moments earlier. In his hand, he was gripping a nine mil Makarov pistol and his face
told a simple story of revenge and murder. He raised the weapon again and screamed in Russian as he fired the third shot. The round zipped past Amy’s head and ricocheted off the rock at the side of the tunnel.

  “Go!” she cried out.

  Hunter bolted like a stallion and hurriedly led them into the fissure at the back of the sanctuary. It was a tight space and pitch black, so he pulled his flashlight from the bag over his shoulder and switched it on just as the passageway twisted around a tight turn to the right.

  “Did I tell you guys I think I might be claustrophobic?” Quinn called out.

  “Tell me later,” Amy said.

  “At least we have some rock between us and that psycho,” Hunter said. “Keep running!”

  They followed Hunter down the tunnel a few hundred feet until reaching a hand-built arch in the passageway. As they ran through it, Hunter noticed a slab of hand-hewn rock held in place above the arch by two guides carved into the bedrock.

  “Amazing. It’s a guillotine door,” he said. “Held up there above the arch by a rope tied to a counterweight, in this case that boulder.”

  “And it’s coming down.” Blanco pulled a combat knife from his pack and sliced the rope in one swift slashing movement. The rope tore apart with a snap and the heavy rock slab plummeted down into the sand, shutting off the arch.

  “Do svidaniya,” he said, with a shrug. Seeing their faces, he explained. “I dated a girl from Omsk once. She made great pirogi.”

  Hunter laughed. “Beautiful.”

  Relieved that the threat of Gubenko was on the other side of a ton of volcanic rock, the team took a second to catch their breath.

  “And now what?” Quinn asked.

  “Now we keep going.” Amy turned and shone her flashlight down the passageway. “Wherever it may lead us, I guess.”

  They started off down the passageway, hoping the slab hadn’t sealed them inside the mountain, but Hunter stayed where he was, staring at the stone slab.

  “Max?” Amy called out.