The Spear of Atlantis (Wilde/Chase 14)

by Andy McDermott

‘Hope you’ve got good damp-proofing.’ Eddie mentally filed away the information as they headed to the top floor.

  Pinto brought them down a hallway to another door, unlocking it and ushering everyone inside. His office was at the Scuola’s rear, overlooking a little piazza at the intersection of two canals. The red rooftops of Venice spread out beyond the tall windows, the lowering sun casting a gorgeous orange glow over the city. ‘That is beautiful,’ said Ana, entranced.

  ‘I am very lucky to work here, yes,’ said Pinto. ‘Please, sit.’ He helped Olivia into a comfortable armchair before sitting behind a heavy old desk of dark oak, tapping at the incongruously modern computer upon it. Eddie, Macy and Ana found places on a big chaise longue. ‘Now, let me look at the guest list. Somebody may have cancelled, but if they have not, I will just put four extra chairs in the hall.’

  ‘That’s okay, you’ll only need two,’ said Eddie. ‘I won’t be able to make it. Nor will Ana.’ The Brazilian gave him a questioning look, but said nothing, realising he was already devising a plan.

  Macy was puzzled. ‘Why aren’t you coming, Daddy?’

  ‘Me and Ana are going to help your mum, remember?’ He put emphasis on the last word, hoping his daughter would take the hint.

  ‘Okay . . .’ said the little girl, still confused, but to Eddie’s relief she didn’t question him further.

  Pinto was too involved with the computer to pick up on the unspoken. ‘Ah! You are in luck, Olivia. Someone cannot attend, so there will be seats. I will add you and Macy to the guest list. Now,’ he indicated the piazza below, ‘Mr Lobato will be arriving by boat; will you be coming by water taxi, or on foot? We need to know so we can receive you.’

  Macy excitedly answered for her great-grandmother. ‘Water taxi! Can we, can we?’

  Olivia caught Eddie’s subtle shake of the head. ‘No, Macy. It’ll take longer than walking.’ Macy huffed.

  Pinto chuckled. ‘You are stronger than me. I have four children, nine grandchildren and now two great-grandchildren, and still I have not learned how to say no to them.’ He typed, then leaned back. ‘There, everything is done.’

  ‘Thank you so much, Gregorio.’

  ‘It is my pleasure. Now, will you be able to stay for a little while? It has been a long time since we last had a chat.’

  ‘You stay and catch up with your friend, Olivia,’ said Eddie. ‘Me and Ana need to sort something out. We’ll meet you back at the hotel.’

  ‘I’d love to stay, of course,’ Olivia said to Pinto, covering her mild irritation at being told what to do. ‘As long as you have some of that marvellous Liberica coffee you had when I was here last.’

  ‘I rarely drink anything else,’ the Italian replied. ‘Well, except wine!’

  She turned to Macy. ‘Would you like to stay with me while your father and his friend do what they need to do?’

  This time, the little girl didn’t take the hint. ‘No thank you, Grams. I want to go with Daddy.’

  ‘That’s okay,’ Eddie said. ‘She can come with us.’ He stood, Ana and Macy doing the same. ‘Have fun, Olivia.’

  ‘I will show you downstairs,’ said Pinto.

  ‘I remember the way,’ the Englishman quickly replied. ‘Don’t get Olivia too drunk!’

  The Italian laughed, though Olivia was less amused. Eddie thanked him, then opened the door, glancing at its latch plate before exiting.

  ‘You have thought of something?’ said Ana as they descended the stairs.

  ‘Maybe. But I’ll need to check outside first.’ They reached the floor on which they had entered the stairwell, but Eddie – after checking for security cameras – waved for Macy and Ana to stay put before hurrying to the foot of the steps.

  The cellar door was old, thick wood, a faint scent of dampness coming from beyond. Drains in the floor suggested that the water in the canal outside had been known to make an entrance. He cautiously pulled the chest-height bolt. It was stiff, from both lack of use and the door’s weight holding it in place, forcing him to apply more effort to pop it free. He winced as a loud clack echoed up the stairwell, then quickly opened the door.

  The cellar beyond was dark, but he could see water gently shimmering within. He used his phone to take a flash photo, then switched on its torch. The ceiling was low, heavy beams stretching between carved stone pillars. He tilted the light down. Steps disappeared into the green water. Algae, broken wood and floating rubbish had collected in the corners. That meant there was a gap somewhere large enough for the trash to have come in . . .

  On the sunken chamber’s far side, just below the surface, was a faint rectangle of greenish light – an opening to the canal. He estimated its size, then quickly closed the door and rasped the bolt back into place. ‘Okay, done,’ he said, returning to Ana and Macy. ‘Let’s go, quick.’

  ‘What did you find?’ Ana asked.

  ‘A way in – maybe. I’ll need to check outside.’ He opened the door into the gallery, the guard giving them a sidelong look as they exited.

  ‘What are you doing, Daddy?’ Macy asked. ‘You’re acting all weird.’

  ‘I’m trying to help your mum,’ he told her. ‘The man I need to talk to, Mr Lobato? He’ll be here in a couple of nights, and it’s the only chance I’ll have to talk to him. But he won’t want to tell me anything, so I’ll have to make him.’

  She became unusually still. ‘Is it going to be like when you rescued me from that man in England?’

  ‘I really hope not.’ The man responsible for the destruction of Big Ben had tried to take revenge on Eddie and Nina for exposing the attempted coup by kidnapping their daughter. Eddie had hoped Macy’s subconscious had suppressed the memories of the traumatic event, but clearly she recalled it all too well. ‘But I’ll do whatever I have to do to help your mum.’

  Macy looked up at him, wide-eyed but determined. To Eddie, she had never looked more like Nina. ‘So will I. I want her back.’

  ‘Me too, love. Me too.’ He stopped in the middle of the gallery to hug her, not caring what the patrons thought. ‘And maybe you can help.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘I’m not sure yet, but . . .’ He kissed her, then straightened up. ‘Let’s have a look outside.’

  The trio left the Scuola, Eddie leading them around its side to the canal. A small bridge just east of the museum crossed the narrow waterway, while a walkway led under high marble arches to the piazza he had seen from Pinto’s office. He followed the latter route to the canal intersection, looking up at the Scuola’s rear wing. Pinto’s windows were a good fifty feet above.

  He turned to survey the canals. Like most of Venice’s waterways, they were directly abutted by buildings. Several apartment windows, he noticed, bore signs saying Affittasi – ‘For Rent’. He had seen multilingual posters throughout the city railing against the plague of foreign speculators snapping up properties to turn into lucrative tourist lets, pricing Venetians out of their own city. While he sympathised with the locals, an unoccupied flat could be very useful.

  But first he needed to find the opening he had seen in the cellar. ‘Wait here,’ he said, then went down a flight of stone steps to the water.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Ana asked as he leaned out to look along the canal’s edge.

  ‘There was a hole in the cellar wall. I’m trying to find it.’ There: a lintel just visible beneath the surface. He went to a spot above it, rolling up his left sleeve before reaching into the water.

  He found the opening’s edge. Ignoring the curious looks of passers-by, he stretched further to feel inside. If there was a cast-iron grille blocking it, he could forget his idea before it had even fully formed . . .

  His fingertips brushed wire. Chain-link, encrusted with muck. He pushed at it. The barrier flexed, but didn’t give way.

  ‘Daddy?’ Macy asked. ‘What have you found?’

  ‘What I was looking for – I hope,’ he said, swishing his hand to wash off the filth before withdrawing. He shook water from his arm
, but left his sleeve rolled up. ‘And the next thing I need to look for is somewhere with very hot water and loads of soap.’

  ‘Why?’ said Ana.

  ‘Because Venice might look beautiful, but it doesn’t smell beautiful, especially that close to the water. This canal’s basically a big sewer!’

  Macy wrinkled her nose and retreated from him. ‘Daddy, I love you, but . . . when we walk back to the hotel? I don’t want to hold your hand.’

  19

  Seville

  Nina’s estimate that there were another eighty holes in her replica of the spear marker was incorrect. It was only seventy-seven more, but the saving did not lessen her curses against the artefact’s creators.

  But now it was done. The question was: would it work?

  She picked up the authentic marker and placed her newly made duplicate of its sibling against its back, the pegs in the former slotting into the holes in the latter, then held them both up to the light.

  As she had expected, many of the openings in the golden surface were now blocked by the other disc behind it. Her painstaking, tedious work hadn’t been for nothing; the angles of the holes pushed through the foam board did indeed align with those in the metal.

  Now it was time to test her theory.

  She picked up the flashlight and switched it on, then turned off the room’s lights. Raising the two discs, she placed the brilliant little torch’s head inside the metal hoop and aimed her apparatus at the wall.

  A stellar display swept into view before her. Roughly a third of the holes had aligned to let light through – and she immediately saw that the points were decidedly organised. No random spatterings of stars arranged by human imagination into constellations here; there was a clear pattern, not quite repeating but certainly forming very similar blocks.

  Not a star map, then, like the one she had used to locate the lost Pyramid of Osiris in Egypt. The heavens were not so regimented. So what did it mean?

  Even as she asked herself the question, she realised the pattern was familiar. She had seen it, or something very similar, before. But where?

  Holding the discs and flashlight together, she lay back on the bed and brought the display up to the ceiling. The Dendera Zodiac in the Louvre pointing the way to the pyramid had also been overhead – somehow there was a connection. Constellations on the ceiling, patterns on the ceiling . . .

  She sprang back upright. ‘Duh! Of course!’

  Her first thought was to grab her phone, but that was no longer an option. She would have to find an internet café to confirm her revelation.

  It was too late to search for one now, though. And she was tired, energy reserves depleted. She needed to sleep.

  In the morning, she would check out her theory. One that she was already convinced was right.

  Eddie heard a gentle tap at his hotel room’s door. Expecting Olivia, he was slightly surprised to find Ana outside. ‘Yeah?’

  ‘Is it okay to talk?’ asked the Brazilian.

  ‘If you keep it down. Macy’s just gone to sleep. Come in.’ She entered, stopping in the short hallway as he closed the door. ‘What did you want to talk about?’

  ‘At the gallery, you seemed to have a plan. What is it?’

  ‘I haven’t fully worked it out yet, but I know it’s not something I can do on my own – or even with the two of us together. So I’ve called some mates. Waiting to hear back how many of ’em might be able to help out.’

  ‘You have friends who would drop everything to fly around the world to help you?’

  ‘I’d do the same for them – I’ve done it for them. You back up your friends, they’ll have your back when you need it.’

  She sighed despondently. ‘You have better friends than me.’

  ‘You haven’t got anyone you can rely on?’

  ‘No. Since I left Brazil, I have been on my own. I have made contacts, acquaintances . . . but not friends.’ She gave him a questioning look. ‘Do you think I am attractive?’

  ‘Not my place to say,’ Eddie replied, uncomfortable – especially as she was almost face-to-face with him in the narrow hall. ‘I’m married.’

  A small laugh. ‘Do not worry, you are not my type.’

  ‘Why, what’s wrong with me?’ he said with mock offence.

  ‘I like men who are my age. And have hair.’

  ‘Tchah!’

  She smiled, briefly amused before becoming serious once more. ‘Many men do find me attractive. And they all think that because I am alone, and cannot return home, they can . . . take advantage. A favour for a favour – I am sure you can guess the kind they have in mind.’

  ‘I can imagine, yeah.’

  ‘I have been a freelancer for two years now, and I am good at what I do. But Lobato was the only man apart from you who was not . . . interested in me. Even though I am a professional, everyone thinks I am just – I do not know!’ Anger entered her voice. ‘A dumb girl, a whore. A plaything who is only there to please them.’

  ‘After seeing you fight in the restaurant, I know you can hold your own,’ the Englishman assured her.

  Despondency returned. ‘But you still had to save me.’

  ‘Nobody can do everything on their own. Not even me – I would’ve been dead if not for you. And if the only people you’re meeting are arseholes, you need to meet some different people.’ He paused, then: ‘Tell you what. When we’re done, if you want to stay in this line of work, I’ll put you in touch with some friends who can find you jobs. Ones where you won’t be framing innocent women.’

  She nodded, taking his point. ‘Thank you. But why would you do that for me?’

  ‘Because I’m not an arsehole. Well, I have my moments, but generally I’m pretty clean.’

  That elicited a genuine laugh, which she stifled so as not to wake Macy. ‘You know, you are not what I expected from your file.’

  ‘No? What did you expect?’

  ‘Someone more . . .’ She tried to think of the best English word. ‘More grim. You have been through so much, but you are still . . . silly.’

  ‘Being silly’s how I stay sane,’ said the Yorkshireman, smiling. ‘I leave the grim Growly McTangodown stuff to Chris Ryan and Andy McNab.’

  She seemed about to say more, but his phone buzzed. He checked the screen, then answered. ‘Matt? Yeah, go ahead, Macy’s asleep.’ He listened, then gave Ana a thumbs-up. ‘You’re in? Fantastic. Reckon you’ll be able to get here tomorrow? Yeah, I know – good job you’re in the States rather than Australia. Have you got a gadget like the one I asked about? If there’s one thing Venice is famous for, it’s water!’ He shared a laugh with the man on the other end of the line. ‘Okay, call me when you get here. Thanks, mate.’

  ‘The first member of your team?’ Ana asked as he disconnected.

  ‘Second including you,’ he replied. ‘Although third including Olivia . . . and fourth with Macy.’

  She looked towards the little girl’s bed. ‘You are going to bring your daughter into this?’ There was both disbelief and disapproval in her words.

  ‘I’m not going to put her in any kind of danger,’ Eddie insisted. ‘But she’s got one advantage over everyone else I know.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘She’s a seven-year-old girl.’ He grinned, letting her try to puzzle out his meaning. ‘Anyway, it’s late, and we’ll be doing a lot of walking tomorrow. So I’ll see you in the morning.’

  ‘All right. I will see you then.’ She exited.

  Eddie looked back at his phone. He had called almost thirty people all around the globe, but how many more would be able to respond was another matter. All he could do was wait and see.

  And hope they could come up with a plan to snatch Gideon Lobato out from under the noses of his bodyguards.

  20

  Seville

  The next morning was an exercise in frustration for Nina. Despite being a major city, Seville still worked on Spanish time: nowhere offering internet access opened until at least ten. ‘Fi
nally!’ she grumbled as a café belatedly unlocked its doors. ‘You would have opened at six in New York!’

  But her annoyance quickly faded once she began her search. The subject was another Spanish city: Granada, about a hundred and fifty miles to the east. Like Seville, it was home to ancient archaeological sites, some dating back over seven thousand years, but she was looking for something considerably more recent.

  It was still not a modern site, though. The Alhambra was a thirteenth-century Moorish palace complex, built on a hilltop over the ruins of much older forts from Roman times, and even earlier. It was one of Spain’s greatest historical treasures – and if Nina was right, it held a secret nobody had ever even suspected.

  A few quick refinements of her search terms brought up a collection of photographs. She was interested in one particular part of the palace – the Salón de los Embajadores, the Hall of the Ambassadors. Despite its name, it was not an embassy. Rather, it was a throne room, a place to impress diplomats and potentates visiting the Sultan of Granada with its magnificence.

  Only one part of the room currently concerned her, however. The photos before her were all of its ceiling. It was a wonder in both size and beauty, the entire inner surface of the dome capping the hall decorated with elaborate clusters of stars. It was not an astronomical map; the constellations were too regular, forming repeating patterns across the wooden sky. The academic consensus was that it represented the Seven Heavens of Islam, a small hole in the centre revealing further stars beyond that were assumed to be Paradise. Certainly that was what all the guidebooks maintained.

  But there could be more to it than that.

  The repetition of the patterns was what had led Nina to connect the Hall of the Ambassadors and the stars revealed by the combined parts of the spear marker. Her frustration returned; she had no way to directly compare the two with her limited resources.

  She was certain her theory was correct, though. The Alhambra might be a product of the Middle Ages, but the similarities between the throne room’s ceiling and what she had seen in her hotel room couldn’t be a coincidence. Somehow the two were linked – and that link might tell her the locations of the mysterious spearheads.