The Grey Falcon

by J. C. Williams

  “That connect to the monastery?” she asked boldly.

  He knew his surprise showed.

  “You are not the first to look,” she explained.

  “Are there any?” he asked.

  “Of course,” she said. “It is why I want to be an archeologist.”

  Chapter 61

  Andjela spoke just above a whisper. “Let us go outside. I will tell you the story of the Kučaj Spirits.”

  Chad followed the young woman, intrigued.

  “If you ask the people who live in the hills and the people in Senje or Cuprija, they will tell you that the Kučaj Mountains have spirits. Ghosts. These ghosts come out of the caves and disappear into the field and down the river. People see lights in the hills and the fields. It is a story that has been told for hundreds of years.”

  “Is it true?” Chad asked.

  “It is a puzzle, no?” Andjela asked. She wore that bemused smile again.

  Chad checked his phone’s Google map. He saw it. “The river. The Ravanica River. It starts just below us. A kilometer, maybe. It flows into the Great Morava River. It would be an escape route from the monastery. There appears to be an east-west path or dirt road that connects to the river. Or one could cross the fields to the south and reach a larger road.”

  He looked at his guide. “The spirits were monks that used tunnels and caves to come and go to the monastery?”

  “Yes. The monastery was built by St. Lazar. His remains were moved here five years after he died. The Ottomans finally came north. They attacked the monastery and destroyed much of it. But Lazar’s body was moved and hidden. Many precious items were moved as well. The Ottomans posted guards to keep people from their worship. But the monks came and went. Is it not a coincidence that the monastery was dedicated to the ascension of Christ, and the monks and people ascend the mountain in secrecy?”

  “Am I right?” Chad asked. “Are there entrances through the mountains?

  “Three. One that leads close to the river is blocked by large stones. There are too many people living nearby. The government closed it for safety. There is supposed to be one to the north that exits near the road that goes past Ravanica. The road turns east and winds its way through the hills. One could go east or south. I have not seen that one.”

  Chad waited for more. She waited as well.

  He broke the silence. “But, the third one is open and you know of it. You have explored it. You said that is why you want to become an archeologist.”

  She waited on him.

  “It is on your farm,” he concluded excitedly. “You can show me.”

  He rephrased it as a question, “Can you show me the passage, Andjela?”

  “I am still working, but I will have my brother, Pravi, show it to you. It starts in a root cellar behind our house. We explored it together. Even though we were told never to go in there. You must go now or wait until tomorrow. My father will be home in two hours.”

  “I want to go now. Who else knows about it?” Chad asked.

  “My father. I think his two brothers as well. I have heard them speak of themselves as staratelji. I don’t know the English. They watch. Care for it. Keep it secret.”

  “Guards? Guardians,” Chad suggested.

  “Guardians, yes.”

  “Why?”

  “It is our family’s privilege. For centuries.”

  “Your mother knows, too?”

  “She died when I was ten, eight years ago.”

  “I am sorry. Andjela, I do not want you or your brother to get into trouble. If he can show me the entrance, I will find my way.”

  She called her brother.

  “Pravi will meet you. Drive through Senje, the village below us. I will write the names of the streets. The last one on the left turns southeast. It is only a short street. Park at the end of it. He will meet you there. It is a thirty-minute walk to our farm. Then the caves lead you back north. It is two kilometers, maybe an hour. Maybe longer since you do not know the way. There are other tunnels. Side tunnels. We have marked the correct way with white chalk. If you get lost, we will come look for you tomorrow. Dress warm, take food, water, and batteries for a light.”

  “Okay,” Chad responded.

  “Good luck, Dr. Archer,” she said looking at his card for his name.

  “Thank you, Andjela.”

  “Call me, Anjie. Oh, my father checks the door in the root cellar each night. He unlocks it in case the spirits need it. So, Pravi must lock it when he lets you in.”

  Chapter 62

  Chad followed Anjie’s directions. He had packed a few things in London for this possibility. He expected there would be mountains and caves near the monasteries. His half full backpack had the clothes he needed. He took Anjie’s advice on the extra batteries, warm clothes, and food. He might end up staying the night. He stuffed his backpack with a battery lantern, powerful flashlight, small crowbar, and a heavy hammer. All of these items he found at a store in Belgrade. He also had a small, but powerful , light on a headband. The last thing that he grabbed was a charged up battery pack for his cell phone.

  He looked around the neighborhood and hoped that a strange car parked at the entrance into the wooded hills was not an unusual site. He didn’t think so as evidenced by the short graveled entrance where he parked.

  “Zdravo,” a wiry boy said emerging from the trees.

  “Hello,” Chad replied.

  His guide wore jeans, a t ee -shirt with a red guitar, Concrete Sun arched over it in lime green, and Cyrillic lettering under the guitar. He wore a baseball type cap worn backwards. His brown hair stuck out from under it. It was not the yellowish flax color of his sister.

  Pravi said something in Serbian, turned and walked away. Chad followed. They walked side-by-side for the next thirty minutes on a dirt road barely wide enough for one vehicle. Occasionally, Pravi said a few words. Some Serbian, some English.

  “Are they good?” Chad asked. “Concrete Sun?”

  The boy smiled. “Rad, man.”

  They passed several farms and fields to their right, in the downhill direction. Pravi pointed ahead and up the hill. There was a large farmhouse and several fields. Chad recognized corn and soybean crops. A small garden plot had squash, tomatoes, and some beans.

  “Podrum,” Pravi said, pointing to a broken down stone structure a few hundred feet up the hill from the farmhouse. Chad looked up the word on his app. Cellar. Anjie mentioned a root cellar.

  The stonewalls that were once a building still stood six feet high, sloping from back to front. The back wall was earthen for five feet and then stones extended up another three feet. An old cupboard stood in front of the back wall. Pravi easily rolled it out of the way. Chad noticed the wheels and a well-worn track. A heavy wooden door with well-oiled iron hinges was padlocked.

  With ease, Pravi used two thin steel pins to quickly pick the lock. He pointed inside.

  “Good luck,” the boy said.

  Chad slipped on the head-light and turned on his flashlight. “Hvala vam.” Chad said, thank you. He bent over and entered the darkness.

  He didn’t like caves. The memories of a collapse several years ago were still fresh. Chad took deep breaths and concentrated on looking for the chalk marks. He found the first one, an X, one hundred steps in. After that they occurred at any intersection, one X on each side of a new entrance, if he was to continue straight or one on the wall of the new direction if he was to turn. He turned off his phone to conserve the battery. No signal reached inside the cave, and it would waste power searching for one.

  The light beam bounced as he walked and he heard scurrying critters. Occasionally he saw them as well.

  Chad didn’t forget his primary mission – Lazar’s royal buckles. Or, anything of Lazar’s. He examined the walls closely for any signs of a hidden hole. Chad poked his head around a few side tunnels. Nothing. He looked for any marks or lettering chiseled into the rock that would give him a clue.

  Time passed quickly, and
thankfully he was able to walk upright eighty percent of the time. The way was clear and he didn’t need his tools to clear any fallen rocks. He didn’t bring it for that. He brought the hammer and crowbar for whatever door awaited him at the end.

  He had lost track of the turns, but was reassured by the chalk marks. The ground stopped sloping upward. The marks turned him to his left. The ground was level. The flashlight lit up a short wooden door forty feet ahead. He had reached the monastery.

  Chad approached the door cautiously. He listened with his ear to the door. It was quiet. He pushed it gently. No give. He pulled and it swung slowly open. Silently he stepped into a basement area. A bookcase was on his left. Floor to ceiling height. The back of it partially exposed to the tunnel. Convenient cutouts provided handles for anyone coming from the tunnel to slide it away from the door. Had Anjie moved the bookcase?

  Chad explored the room that he was in. It was relatively small. Fifteen by fifteen. Old chairs, tables, and boxes were stacked haphazardly. Straight ahead was a door that Chad thought would lead from the basement to the first level. He turned off his flashlight and saw light sneaking through cracks under the door.

  He had failed. Nothing. This cave passage had not held any hiding places along the way. Would he have to explore the other two? He took a minute to sit, drink some water, and munch a Snickers bar. He had hoped for a quick find. Now he resigned himself to hours of systematic exploration of all the caves and tunnels along the way back. He had his own chalk to mark off the turns he would take.

  This was foolish, Chad thought. What made me think I would happen to tumble across things left by Lazar? If they were in the tunnels and caves, surely someone else could have, and would have, stumbled across them before now.

  He leaned back and closed his eyes. What would I do if I were a fourteenth century Prince? I am about to go to battle where I am outnumbered three to one. This is a do-or-die last attempt to stop the Ottomans. My chances of winning are slim. My chances of surviving even slimmer.

  Prince Lazar had two sons and five daughters. What would happen to them? Execution by the Ottomans? Taken as prisoners or could his wife arrange marriages with other nobles?

  He didn’t know the answers to those questions, but he was sure his royal line would not be governing anywhere and would not need the symbols of their family royal line.

  So then, where would I hide them? In the monastery or church? It could be burned. The outside was stone, but much of the inside was wood.

  A foolish quest, he thought. He settled on further exploration of the caves on his return through the tunnel. That would be the end of it.

  Sighing, Chad took another look about the room. It could very well be in here. One of the boxes? A concealed hole in a wall? A false bottom in the chest of drawers? In plain sight on that other bookcase?

  What about that bookcase? It looked similar to the one covering the entrance to the cave. A bit smaller. He looked closer. There were no wheels. The dust on either side was undisturbed. Chad looked at each shelf. Nothing had been moved in a long time.

  Carefully he pulled one side of the bookcase from the wall and shown his flashlight behind it. There was a door there. A tall one. It looked narrow.

  Excited now, Chad walked the bookcase far enough from the wall to squeeze in. The door opened out, so he swung one side further from the wall. There was not a lock. That’s good. He pulled on the handle. It gave, but stubbornly. And, it squeaked.

  Can’t have that, he thought. No need to alert anyone to his presence. Chad searched the room and found a toolbox. Inside was a small can of oil.

  He oiled the hinges and worked the door open slowly.

  It opened to a shaft of light spilling down a steep stairway. Chad debated. Take the backpack or not? He took it. Silently he climbed the stairs. At the top, it opened onto a hall that led back in the opposite direction. He took his bearings. If he had entered the rear of the church from the tunnel, the stairs led to the far right side. The hall appeared to cross the entire width of the monastery. It was four feet wide for most of its length, but only a two-foot clearance where the fireplace jutted into the space.

  Chad heard voices. Shafts of light came from rooms on the other side of the wall. There were slits, at eye level. Well, eye level for a shorter man. What was the average height of a monk in the fourteenth century? No one was in the first room. He moved on to the middle room. There were two viewing holes, one on each side of the fireplace. The room was being set up for a dinner. Chad counted the chairs. Twelve.

  He moved on to the last room. A man stood before a projection screen. The screen faced Chad. The man’s back was to Chad. The writing on the screen was Cyrillic. A long table with twelve chairs was between the screen and Chad. A single laptop was on the table. A business meeting of some sort. The man turned to the table.

  Chad was surprised. He recognized Minister Mihajlo Brajkovic.

  Chapter 63

  Chad tried to remember what these viewing slots looked like inside the rooms. There was a thin metal grid over the opening on the room side. Most likely people would see them as part of the airflow structure for the heating system, a modern day addition.

  Ironic, he thought, that the man employing him to find Lazar artifacts was fifty feet away. Chad’s suppressed a juvenile playfulness, considering voicing a ghostly whispered entreaty to the Minister. “Braj-ko-vic”. Luckily, the adult in him vetoed the idea.

  A man entered the room. A large man. Dressed casually as compared to the suit and tie that the Minister wore.

  Inside the room, Minister Brajkovic stood and hugged the man.

  “Jovan, it is always good to see you.”

  “You too, Br--, Mihajlo.” Zevic almost called his lifelong friend by his real name. Even though no one else was present, Jovan Zevic knew to be careful.

  Chad could hear the conversation but it was in Serbian.

  “You look excited,” the Minister said.

  “I am. I have the name of the man who has the photographs. It is just a matter of time, now,” Zevic shared. But, he didn’t share his thwarted attempt to search the policewoman’s flat.

  “It has always been a matter of time, Jovan,” Brajkovic gently chided.

  “I know.”

  “Any loose ends?” Brajkovic asked. It was a standard question after the many weapons trades they did to earn their fortunes.

  “Two taken care of. There may be two more. Not counting this man with the photos.”

  “You have a name, you said?” the Minister asked.

  “Yes. Dr. Chad Archer. An archeologist.”

  Behind the wall, Chad heard his name and witnessed the smile that spread across the Minister’s face. Was this big man one of the protective team that Minister Brajkovic wanted Chad to use? Could the man be trailing me, he thought? No way. I am using my other ID. Whatever context his name was used, Chad felt reassured by the Minister’s reaction.

  Zevic was puzzled. “Why the smile, Mihajlo?”

  “Archer is the one I hired to find Lazar’s sword. And, he found it. He is still looking for other items.”

  “You know where he is?” Zevic asked.

  “Not exactly. But, he will check in. And, I will try to contact him. I can bring him to us.”

  “Wonderful,” Zevic said.

  The Minister changed the subject. “How are the other arrangements going?”

  “Fine. Everything is ready. Part of the money is paid. The rest promised after it is done. The assassin has been selected and is preparing now.”

  “Good. You will stay here until it is done?”

  “Probably. Unless one of my loose ends becomes looser.”

  A uniformed officer interrupted them. Chad thought the uniform was military. He recalled a blue uniform on the police that he had seen in Belgrade. This uniform was different. Khaki green. The officer went to the Minister and said something that Chad could not hear.

  “Sir, your office has called and says they have some important info
rmation that they think you want.”

  The Minister replied, “Thank you. I will call them.”

  Minister Brajkovic took his phone from his coat pocket and made a call. Chad watched, hearing only one side of the Serbian conversation. The exchange was brief, but Chad watched the Minister’s face grow determined, then angry. When the Minister finished, he slowly placed the phone on the table, and then he banged his fist on the table and said, “Nadi ga.” Find him.

  Brajkovic explained, still speaking Serbian, “Archer has asked where Pajovic lived. He has uncovered the photographer.”

  Chad would remember the first words, to look up later when he could turn on his phone. He understood the two names – Archer and Pajovic. He had an uneasy feeling about all of this. An idea occurred to him. He should take a picture of the visitor and he should record this. He powered on his phone.

  Too late he remembered the boot up tones. He tried to smother it, but it echoed loudly in his small space. He looked through the slit and saw the big man look up toward him. Chad froze. The big man rose and walked toward Chad. Behind the wall, Archer felt exposed. He backed down the hall, bumping up against the fireplace, but out of sight.

  Quietly, Chad slipped the backpack off his shoulders. He silenced his phone and turned off the data. He waited. The murmur of voices stopped. Chad still waited. He knelt down and crawled to the spy slot. Carefully he rose and looked in. Only the Minister remained in the room.

  He crawled back to his backpack. Something was going to happen here today, he reasoned. He decided to wait for it.

  Quietly he propped himself against the fireplace. His elbow pressed against a stone. It moved. He wasn’t surprised. Six hundred years old, or perhaps only five hundred, if it was a rebuilt portion of the church. He fabricated a cone to shield his flashlight beam. With one hand holding the light and one hand working the stone, he removed it. The one below it was loose now. He worked it free. Shining his light in the small hole, he saw that the back of the fireplace was deeper than it needed to be. There could be a cavity here. A hiding place for a Prince’s family heritage?