The Forty Column Castle

by Marjorie Thelen

  Zach, the incredible man, let out a few impressive baritone moans then flipped around and shoved a gun in the driver’s drooling face.

  “Hold it right there. If you move one muscle, you’re dead. You understand, Bruno?”

  The gun was pressed up into the guy’s nose. The car was still running. Bruno gulped and blinked.

  “You know this guy?” I asked, wide-eyed.

  “Yeah.” Zack ripped off the baseball cap the guy wore. “He normally doesn’t wear a mustache, but I won’t rip that off. He’s one of the guys in the Maruti.”

  “Now,” Zach said to Bruno, “real slow like, you turn off the ignition. Don’t try anything, or I pull the trigger. You understand?” He pressed the gun barrel further into the driver’s face.

  Bruno blinked in reply. He reached behind him and felt for the ignition.

  “Let me move,” he said in accented English.

  “Don’t try anything funny. Hurry.” Zach pressed him back toward the wheel with the tip of the gun.

  The engine died.

  “Claudie, get your clothes back on,” Zach said, addressing me but never taking his eyes from Bruno.

  “Right.” I sprung into action, buttoning up my blouse and fixing my pants.

  “Ready,” I said.

  “Okay. Claudie, you drive. Bruno comes into the back seat with me. We’re going to continue on to Mr. Bellomo’s. Everybody understand?”

  “Sure,” I said and jumped out of the car. I didn’t hear Bruno’s reply, but I bet he was with us.

  Zack sat back in the seat. “Now easy, Bruno, you climb over that seat and come sit back here with me.” He patted the seat beside him.

  “Move,” he said, when Bruno hesitated.

  He lumbered over the seat, being a bit on the bulky side. I slid into the driver’s seat.

  It occurred to me that I was now in control. I wondered if Zach would shoot me, if I didn’t do what he said. Damnation. I forgot I would be driving on the wrong side of the road. I never drove on Cyprus.

  “Zach?”

  “Yes, Princess.”

  I loved when he called me by my pet name.

  “I can’t drive on the wrong side of the road. You sure you want me to drive?”

  “You want to hold a gun on this man?”

  I considered for two seconds. “I’ll drive.”

  The car started with the simple turn of the ignition key. So far so good. I put it in gear.

  “Where to?” I looked in the rear view mirror. You could see a lot of the back seat in this mirror, when the lights from the traffic weren’t blinding.

  Zach spoke to Bruno in Greek, and they seemed to get into a tight argument. Zach positioned the gun against Bruno’s jaw and growled at him. Bruno spit out a raft of Greek and Zach translated that to, “Turn around.”

  “Sure.” I inched out into a hole in traffic and crept away. On the wrong side of the road for me. The right side of the road for Cypriots.

  “Claudie, you can go faster than a crawl,” Zack said from the back. He sat on the opposite side of the seat from me, and I could see him in the mirror.

  “Sure, okay.” I pressed on the gas, and we hit ten kilometers per hour.

  I found a crossover street and swung a wide U-turn. Horns blared. An oncoming car barely missed us. I ducked my head in reflex and kept turning, praying no one would mow us down.

  Zach kept doling out directions. We meandered through the city, me white knuckled on the wheel. We took a right turn and drove into an upscale neighborhood. After several streets of large homes and flowering trees, we pulled up to the gate of a walled house. From what I could see through the bars, it was a palace.

  “Where are we?” I asked.

  “I’d say in one of the nicer neighborhoods in Limasol,” said Zach. “Stop here and cut the engine. Get out, Bruno.”

  I jumped out and opened the door for Bruno. Zach shoved him out, but Bruno, being the lumbering, quick-witted oaf that he was, plowed into me, knocking me onto the pavement and out cold.

  Twelve

  I didn’t realize what Bruno had done until I came to.

  “What happened?” I asked.

  “Bruno knocked you down and ran off before I could get out of the car,” Zach said. “I didn’t even get a good shot at him. Besides, I couldn’t shoot because I might have hit you in the scuffle and didn’t want to attract the police.”

  I was lying on some sort of divan, my eyes closed, my head killing me. But I recognized that voice. I didn’t want to open my eyes because I was afraid what I’d see.

  “What’s going on?” I asked, not sure I wanted to know.

  “Everything is okay,” he said.

  Did I detect a hint of gentleness in his tone of voice?

  He took a cool compress off my forehead. “Try to sit up and take some of these pain killers. Here, I’ll help you.”

  I wasn’t that stupid. “No, not me. I’ll take the pain. You leave me here, go on about your business and pick me up on the way out. I need some sleep.”

  Then I was aware of movement in the room, and it dawned on me that there was at least one other person beside me and Zach. Curiosity got the best of me, and I squinted open one eye.

  Mr. Bellomo. I’d never seen him, but this guy looked about right. Small, silver hair, decked out in French cuffs, gold cufflinks and gold rimmed glasses. Italian cut suit. A kindly look about him. Was he a member of the Mafia? The photos I had seen of Mafia dons had always looked more New Jersey than this one.

  “Do you know where my aunt is?” My eyes were wide open now.

  He smiled at me. Good teeth, too.

  “You do not have to worry about your aunt. I know where she is. She is safe.”

  “But you aren’t saying where she is?”

  He shook his head. He looked like the kind of guy you could trust but you didn’t argue with. Funny, but I liked him.

  “What about …”

  Zach cut me off. “The police talked to Mr. Bellomo yesterday. He knows they’re looking for you.”

  I struggled to sit up, deciding it would look better if I did, only to discover that my blouse was buttoned the wrong way and my breasts were trying their best to bulge out through the mismatched button holes. I rearranged things as best I could. My hair fell into my face and felt like I had combed it with an egg beater. I must have looked like a loose woman to Mr. Bellomo. I gazed about me. Everywhere my eyes turned they ran into Italian Rococo. A little fussy for my taste, but it worked here.

  “I would be pleased if you spend the night in my home,” Mr. Bellomo said in good English. “You will be safe with me.”

  “We have a hotel room,” I said.

  “We’d be delighted to accept,” said Zach. “The hotel room can wait.”

  I looked at him, annoyed. We hardly knew Mr. Bellomo. “No, really it is kind of you to offer, but we must be going.”

  “We’ll stay.”

  “In that case,” I smiled to Mr. Bellomo, who was looking back and forth between the two of us, “I’d like my own room. I sleep so much better by myself. That is if you have enough room.” I remembered the palatial look. I wouldn’t be surprised if he overlooked the Mediterranean.

  “No,” Zach said. “We’re a couple.” He pointed back and forth between us. “You know, we travel together and always share a room. We wouldn’t want to put you out.”

  “Not a problem. I understand completely.” Mr. Bellomo smiled. “I insist that you stay. This arrangement will be much more comfortable for you. In the morning when you feel better, we will talk. You shall have a room overlooking the sea.”

  What did I tell you?

  I tugged my blouse over my breasts trying to look a bit more presentable. “All right then, I do believe I shall turn in. I have a bad headache, and I’ve been up since the crack of dawn. We did an awful lot of sightseeing today, and I’m exhausted.”

  “Of course. I’ll have Luigi show you to your rooms. Rest well.”

  Rooms. With an s.


  Luigi turned out to be about 6’5”, around three hundred pounds, built like a grizzly bear. He nodded to us. I guessed that was the signal to follow him, which we did, me leaning on Zack.

  The floors were marble in the foyer as were the winding stairs we climbed to the second floor. I had never seen so much marble in one place in addition to a few well-placed Roman and Greek statues that I’m sure were the real thing. The stairs spiraled around the most opulent chandelier I’ve ever seen in my life, replete with hundreds of crystal prisms that reflected light into a million colors onto the stairway walls.

  “Pretty impressive,” I said to Zach under my breath as we followed Luigi down a long hall.

  “A little small for me,” he said and gave me that half grin of his.

  I wondered what he was up to and as soon as I got him alone I was going to find out. Like I had ever been successful at that.

  The upstairs halls were carpeted down the center with rose and cream Persian carpets. Not Pakistan, not Afghan, nor Chinese but real Persian carpets because they had the more figural patterns produced in Iran than the geometric patterns popular where I came from. I could only imagine what he had tied up in the upstairs carpets alone. That must be some export-import business he had.

  Luigi stopped outside a white double door with large, ornate brass handles. He waved his ham of a hand toward the door. I took it to mean here was our room. He opened the door and gave us the hand wave in.

  “Chatty,” I said to Zach when Luigi had closed the door behind us.

  We heard a click. We were locked in.

  “Zach, what’s going on?”

  He reached out and pulled me against him.

  “Now where were we?” He brushed his lips across mine but I didn’t respond.

  “Are you angry?” he asked, working his way around my face with the most exquisitely soft kisses.

  “It’s not going to work this time. I want answers. Why did Luigi lock the door? Why are we staying here when we have a perfectly good hotel room? What’s going on?”

  He sighed and tugged me along behind him to a huge sectional cream leather sofa, pushed me down and flopped down beside me. He laid his head back and closed his eyes. That’s the first time I’d seen him looking half-way tired.

  “Start at the beginning,” I said.

  “I can’t,” he said, eyes still closed. “If we ever get out of this mess, I’ll tell you everything.”

  “Out of this mess are the key words here. I’m glad you finally admit that we are in a mess. But the important question is -- are you in the same mess I am?”

  He chuckled, opened his deep brown eyes and looked at me. “Claudie, you are the most extraordinary woman I have ever met.”

  “Don’t go trying to flatter me to change the subject because I’m smarter than that.” I frowned. I guess he was flattering me.

  “My point exactly,” Zach said, sitting up and taking my hand. “By the way, that is a sexy shirt. I particularly like the button arrangement.”

  I looked down at how I had buttoned the shirt. It wasn’t just one button out of alignment, it was two off, and I looked like the town drunk. I sighed and rebuttoned them, Zach watching the operation with intense interest.

  “Better?”

  He grinned. “As I was saying, you are extraordinary. That performance back in the taxi was A-1. I’ve not seen better on Broadway.”

  “Thanks. I thought I got it into it pretty good.”

  “Want to continue?” The mischief in his eyes would have done the devil proud.

  “I’ll think about it. You haven’t answered my questions.”

  He sighed. “All right. Would you believe your aunt is in this house?”

  “No.”

  “Or at least I think she is. We’re going to look for her as soon as everything quiets down.”

  “We are? How? The door’s locked.”

  He patted the pocket with the plastic cards. “I’m world class when it comes to opening locked doors. Failing that, there’s always the balcony.”

  I eyed him suspiciously. “How could Mr. Bellomo have her in this house?”

  “Because he’s the one that sprung her from jail.”

  “You’re kidding.” I searched his eyes. “You’re not kidding. How do you know? I mean, how did you figure that out?”

  “The way he talked when you were passed out. I know for a fact that Mr. Bellomo deals in antiquities among his many other businesses.”

  “You mean he smuggles, too.”

  Zach frowned. “I don’t think he does directly, like we would never find his fingerprints on the goods. Others would do it for him.”

  I sat forward. “How do you know all this?”

  “The Internet. You can find out just about anything you want there.”

  “What? You mean they have Smugglers.com, and he’s listed?”

  He snorted. “No, I mean you can access a boatload of useful info on the Internet, and then you connect the dots. Understand?”

  I nodded my head and thought about that. I used the Internet extensively, and it was amazing what one could find with search engines and a little ingenuity.

  “But I don’t understand how nice, grandpa Bellomo, got her out or why he wanted to.”

  Zach leaned close to my ear. “Because he happens to be one of the most powerful men in the Mediterranean basin. It would be nothing for him to arrange for a few well-placed bribes and bingo,” he snapped his fingers, “she’s sprung. Bribes are not unheard of in this part of the world, you know,” saying it like he was imparting a big secret.

  “But why would he want to do this for Aunt Elizabeth?” I was baffled.

  “Love.”

  “Love?”

  “He’s in love with your aunt.” Then he tapped the air with his finger. “But his romantic interest in your aunt doesn’t quite fit the picture.”

  I was still grappling with the idea of someone having a romantic interest in my Aunt Elizabeth. “You mean you think he’s in love with her? Isn’t he married?”

  “That wouldn’t mean anything in this part of the world. But no, he isn’t married. He’s a widower. Married for years, has kids but the wife died several years back. He keeps this house for business purposes, but he seems to spend a lot of time here. Must like the weather.”

  “Wow.” I slouched back on the couch to digest that one. I kicked off my cute sandals, since they were starting to pinch and dug my toes in the fluffy beige carpet in front of the couch. Most of the room was beige, cream and dove gray. He must use the same decorator as the Amathus Hotel.

  Could Mr. Bellomo be in love with my aunt? No, too far out. Too, too far out. All the women in the world, glamorous, wealthy, well-placed, and Mr. Bellomo falls in love with Aunt Elizabeth?

  “No, I don’t believe it,” I said aloud.

  “Don’t believe what?”

  “That he’s got a thing for my aunt.”

  Zach shrugged. “Stranger things have happened. Some men find the matronly type a real turn on.”

  I looked at him.

  “Not me, but everybody’s different.” He spread his hands like it wasn’t his idea.

  “But even if he were in love with her, why take the chance to get her out of jail?”

  “Because he thinks she knows where Berengaria’s jewels are, and he’s interested in the jewels. And maybe he is in love with her.”

  “Now you are smoking something. You’re saying Mr. Bellomo wants my aunt out of jail because she knows where these phantom jewels are and because he’s fallen in love with her?”

  “Yes. Make a great book, wouldn’t it?”

  I ignored the comment. “Why does he want the jewels?”

  “Because he’s in the antiquities business and because they’re worth a lot of money, that’s why.”

  “But he’s an upstanding business man.”

  Zach hooted. “Oh, c’mon Claudie, you are about to ruin your extraordinary reputation. He’s a business man in the big leag
ues. They don’t live in a black-white world like ordinary citizens. Everything for them is shades of gray.”

  We sat silent for a spell, heads back against the couch, staring up towards the ceiling.

  Unbelievable.

  “You think there’s anything to eat or drink around here?” I asked. My processing functions were on overload and needed fuel. “I don’t want to think about what time it is.”

  Zach stood and looked around. “Looks like we have one balcony, a room leading off from this one, probably the bed room.” He wiggled his eyebrows, and I ignored him. “Wet bar over there. There’ll be a refrigerator with the wet bar, so let’s have a look.”

  “Great,” he said, showing off an amber colored bottle. “Wild Turkey. Perfect.” He banged around some more. I heard cupboard doors open and close. “What do you want to drink?”

  “How about a big bottle of water.”

  “Coming right up.”

  He shuffled over, arms laden with junk food. Potato chips, crackers, cheese, nuts, and a big bottle of water.

  “Ice?”

  “Not for me, it’s cold.”

  He sighed over the Wild Turkey like Don Giovanni over a beautiful woman and poured a healthy slug into a whiskey glass. I worked on my water and helped myself to potato chips. Better than steak.

  My mind was whirling trying to put all the pieces of the puzzle together. If my aunt were here did that mean she was shacking up with Mr. Bellomo? Had he seduced her? I didn’t even want to think of it. Visions of a love slave, my aunt in a harem costume chained to a bed came to mind. I shook that one away. She wasn’t the type. How did she know where the jewels were, if there were jewels?

  Zack was doing neck nuzzles again, pushing me gently into the couch that would have fit three couples easy.

  I pulled away and tapped on his chest. “Hold on. What about my aunt? When are we going to look for her?”

  He unbuttoned my blouse.

  “Yum. These are very ripe.”

  “Zach?” I was having a hard time concentrating.

  “We need to wait a bit longer before we look for your aunt. We might as well make good use of the time.”

  “I love the way you do that.”