The Lost Labyrinth dk-3

by Will Adams

  Mikhail frowned as he thought it through. Then his expression cleared. 'Yes,' he said, as though it had been his idea. 'We'll wait till after his talk. We know exactly where he's going to be, after all.'

  'Yes, boss,' nodded Zaal. 'Good thinking.'

  They turned together for the lift. A bead of sweat trickled down Edouard's flank. Catastrophe averted, for tonight at least. But what the hell was he going to do tomorrow?

  III

  Knox was struggling to concentrate on Augustin's talk. Gaille had begun her nightly routines in the bathroom, and she'd left the door teasingly ajar. She turned, as though aware of his attention, and wagged her toothbrush at him. 'How many times do I have to ask you to put the cap back on my toothpaste when you're finished,' she told him. 'It's grown a beard now. You know how I hate toothpaste beards.'

  'Yes,' he smiled. 'I know how you hate toothpaste beards.'

  She scowled good-naturedly and flicked her toothbrush at him, spraying tiny white specks his way, before turning back to the basin. He watched her fondly. She was wearing her favourite of his old T-shirts, baggy enough on him that it hung like a miniskirt down to her thighs, modest enough most of the time, except for when she leaned forwards to spit out toothpaste, and showed a little more. She was brushing her teeth with her usual rhythmic vigour, swilling water and gargling it around her mouth before spitting out the white froth, then rinsing her toothbrush out and pointedly turning to him to screw the cap back on the toothpaste before replacing them both in the tooth-glass, diligent as a schoolgirl. Then she began to brush her hair, twenty strokes with her right hand, twenty with her left. The same routine every night. These past few months, Knox had grown so used to it, he rarely even noticed any more. But every so often, like tonight, it would strike him fresh again, and he'd feel blessed.

  'Come to bed,' he said.

  'In a moment.'

  They'd been friends and colleagues before they'd become lovers, always an awkward transition-unless lubricated by copious quantities of alcohol, at least. It had been the Akhenaten affair that had convinced Knox to do something. He'd come so close to losing her that he'd realised how much she meant to him. He'd planned to ease himself in, a romantic dinner say, edging the conversation round, a couple of loaded jokes, a flirtatious look or two, gauging her reaction, keeping his lines of retreat open. But it hadn't happened like that. The world's media had clamoured for an interview with them both until Yusuf Abbas, Secretary General of the Supreme Council, had finally buckled. He'd arranged a single press conference in the hospital's lecture hall on the morning of Gaille's discharge. She and Knox had sat side-by-side behind a trestle-table, deflecting questions as best they could, just as Yusuf had instructed them, leaving the journalists little option but to go fishing.

  'So, then?' asked a Frenchman with a straggled red goatee and beaded hair. 'Is there anything-how can I put this?-of a romantic nature between the two of you?'

  Gaille had looked to Knox to see which of them would answer, then had leaned towards the bank of microphones. 'No,' she'd said. 'We're colleagues, that's all. Business partners.'

  The opportunity had been too good for Knox to let pass. 'You see what I have to put up with,' he'd said, lounging back in his chair. 'You rescue a girl from Macedonian separatists, you save her from drowning, and what does that get you these days? Colleagues! Business bloody partners!' He'd spread his arms wide, looked to the packed ranks of journalists for support. 'I mean come on, guys. Back me up here. I mean, don't you think I've earned at least a date?'

  'You've never even gone out on a date with him?' asked the Frenchman incredulously.

  'He's never asked me,' Gaille had protested, throwing Knox a reproachful glance. 'Not in that way.'

  'So,' he'd smiled. 'I'm asking you now.'

  'Really?'

  'Yes. Really.'

  Her throat and cheeks had turned marvellous colours. Her eyes had sparkled. 'Then yes,' she'd told him. 'I'd like that very much.'

  She came back into the bedroom now, running her hands like combs through her hair. 'What?' she asked suspiciously, when she saw him gazing at her.

  'Nothing.'

  'Sure!'

  'It's just that sometimes I forget how beautiful you are. And then you come in looking like that.'

  She threw him a knowing look. 'Not tonight,' she said. 'I'm knackered.'

  'I didn't mean it that way,' he laughed. 'I only meant that I sometimes forget how beautiful you are.'

  'Oh.' Those familiar warm colours rose again on her throat and cheeks. They tugged and twisted his heart every time, like a Chinese burn. 'Then, thanks.' She pulled back her side of the duvet, clambered inelegantly, almost childishly, into bed. He got under the duvet too, stretched his foot across, ran his bare sole down her calf. 'God, you've got cold feet,' she protested.

  'I could put my socks back on,' he said. 'I hear you women find that really sexy.'

  'Irresistible.'

  He felt a reprise of gladness for her presence, but this time it was followed by its own shadow. Happiness was a most precarious thing when you'd lost as many loved ones as he had. What with Petitier's death, and those goons in the lift, Athens felt like a perilous place right now. He didn't mind taking a little risk himself, but it was different with Gaille. He rose up onto an elbow. 'You're okay with all this, right?' he asked. 'With helping Augustin and Claire, I mean?'

  'Of course,' she frowned. 'How could you think otherwise?'

  'How far would you be prepared to go?'

  Her eyes narrowed, sensing something, though not sure what. 'Why do you ask?'

  He put on his best guileless face. 'It's just, we've been putting all our thought into what's going on here in Athens,' he said. 'That's sensible enough, because Athens is where everything has happened so far. But maybe we're missing a trick. We know for sure that Petitier's found an important new site in Crete, thanks to those seals he sent Nico. There's every chance he was murdered for what he's found there. It could easily be the key to this investigation. And it isn't here in Athens. It's in Crete.'

  Gaille folded her arms. 'No,' she said.

  'No, what?'

  'No, I'm not going.'

  'I didn't say you should.'

  'You were about to.'

  Knox didn't bother to deny the charge. She knew him too well. 'Someone needs to,' he said. 'Surely you can see that. It can't be Claire. She'd never leave Augustin's bedside, not at a time like this. And it can't be me. I've got this bloody lecture to give, and the police made it damned clear that I'm to stay in Athens. Anyway, all we've got to go on is some Linear A and Linear B seals, and you know far more about both those scripts than I do.'

  'But I don't know anything about Crete,' she protested. 'I wouldn't know where to start.'

  'The British School has a major operation at Knossos,' said Knox. 'Villa Ariadne, where Sir Arthur Evans lived while he was excavating. One of the archaeologists there is called Iain Parkes. He was at Cambridge with me.'

  'Then why not ask him to track down Petitier?'

  'Come on, Gaille. It's not just a matter of finding out where Petitier's been living for the last twenty years. Someone needs to go there, poke around, see what Petitier's been up to. I can't ask Iain to do all that. It's too much. I haven't seen him in ages. But I'm sure he'd help you get started.'

  'If you haven't seen him in ages, how do you know he's even there?'

  'Because after we decided to come here, I got in touch with him and asked if he'd be here; but he told me no, that he'd be minding the store.'

  'I don't want to go,' she said. 'I want to stay with you.'

  'We need to find out what Petitier brought here,' insisted Knox. He reached for his mobile. 'Look. I'll call Iain. You check out what tickets are available.'

  'Now?' she asked.

  'It's Easter weekend, Gaille. If we leave it till morning, who knows when you'll be able to get a flight?'

  She stared into his eyes, trying to read the truth; but he held his nerve and didn'
t look away and finally it was she who broke. 'You really think this could help Augustin?' she asked.

  'Yes. I really do.'

  'Fine,' she sighed.

  'Good,' he said. He leaned across to kiss her on the lips. 'I love you,' he said.

  'I love you too,' she replied. But, for the first time since they'd initially made their declarations, he wasn't quite sure that her heart was in it.

  FOURTEEN

  I

  A loud clang outside Knox's balcony door. He woke abruptly and sat up, uncertain for a moment where he was. Another clang, but now he recognised what it was, and that it was benign: dustmen collecting trash in the alley below. His heart resettled, he lay back down, listened drowsily to their good-natured banter for a moment or two before the tumult of yesterday's memories began to assail him, and then the dustcart began backing up, its reversing siren wailing. He rolled onto his side, illuminated the dial of his travel alarm clock, gave a groan.

  'What time is it?' murmured Gaille.

  'Four twenty. We've still got a few minutes.' He'd been right about the Easter rush for air-tickets: Gaille's choice had been flying out first thing this morning or waiting until Saturday afternoon. She hadn't been happy about it, but she'd booked the early flight all the same.

  It was a little after five when they set off. The streets were empty; they made excellent time. At first, Gaille tried gamely to make conversation, but it was so obvious she was struggling that Knox turned the radio on, not wanting her to feel obliged. She rested her head against the window and dozed off, until he hit a pothole and startled her awake, her arms flailing to brace herself, her eyes gluey with tiredness. He slowed down after that, did his best to keep the ride even. He parked in short-term, woke her gently.

  'There's no need to come in with me,' she said, a little stiffly, when he shouldered her overnight bag and headed towards the terminal. 'You mustn't be late for your talk.'

  'Don't be angry with me,' he pleaded.

  'I'm not angry with you.'

  'Yes, you are.'

  She bit her teeth together, as if struggling not to say something she might regret, but failing. 'This is a stupid bloody trip,' she said. 'I don't know why you're sending me on it.'

  'I thought you agreed. We need to help Augustin.'

  'But this isn't about Augustin, is it? Not really. It's about you getting spooked by that prick in the lift last night, and thinking up this wretched plan to get me out of harm's way.'

  Knox stood there, feeling foolish. 'I don't know what I'd do if anything happened to you,' he said weakly.

  'And I don't know what I'd do if anything happened to you. But that doesn't mean I'd lie to you or try to trick you or coerce you into doing things you wouldn't otherwise choose to do. It doesn't mean I think so little of your ability to help that I'd send you away when I needed you most.' She sighed and shook her head. 'Never mind. Let's discuss it when I get back. I'll do my best, I promise. And who knows? Maybe I will find something.' She nodded emphatically, as if to convince herself. 'Maybe I will.'

  He gripped the steering wheel tight as he headed back into town. He felt by turns aggrieved, dispirited, foolish and lonely. The dawn sun broke behind him and threw out shadows. Traffic began picking up, not yet enough to slow him down, but enough to make it clear that he didn't have time to visit Augustin if he wanted to make Eleusis by eight; a decision he was in truth relieved to make, for he lacked the heart to face Claire.

  He headed west along the old Sacred Way. It should have been infused with history, for this was the road on which, for many hundreds of years, celebrants had made their way from Athens to Eleusis. It didn't seem sacred anymore, however, just a series of shabby strips of shops and apartment blocks, interspersed with the occasional light industrial estate. He used the time to murmur his way through his talk, further familiarising himself with its themes and rhythms. Brake lights flared on the green van in front and it squealed to a stop, forcing Knox to slam on his own brakes. He leaned out his window to look, saw gridlock ahead. A minute passed without movement. Two. Drivers began to vent their frustration on their horns, late for work or leaden-eyed after a night shift. Knox took the opportunity to make some calls. He left a message for Charissa, though his speculations of the night before seemed feeble this morning. He called Iain Parkes again, for he'd only managed to get voicemail the night before. His mobile was still switched off, so he left another message with Gaille's flight number and expected time of arrival.

  Away to his right, he could see the famous Rarian Plain, where the young maiden goddess Persephone had one day gone to pick crocuses. Hades, lord of the underworld, had seen her and been smitten; he'd abducted her and taken her back beneath the earth with him. Demeter, Persephone's mother and the goddess of grain, had been understandably distraught. She'd searched the earth without success, before losing heart for a while here in Eleusis. But then she'd sent a blight to kill crops across the earth, causing a famine so severe that the other gods had prevailed upon Hades to let Persephone go. Just before she'd left, Hades had tricked her into eating several pomegranate seeds, thus forcing her to return to the underworld for several months each year, during which time the earth became barren again. A metaphor for the seasons, of course, though the myth was far more complex and subtle than just that.

  Traffic began to move slowly again. Three lanes merged into two, two into one. A blue flutter of police lights ahead, a shriek of injured car alarm, and then the culprit, a four-vehicle shunt of crumpled bonnets and deflated airbags, a man yelling furiously at the sky while a woman gave her statement to the police. And then he was through, the road at once opening up, allowing him to put his foot down and regain a little lost time.

  To his left, the sea came incrementally into view, the dark blue horizon and then a fishing trawler and finally the port itself, tankers and container ships being loaded and unloaded at the end of their long umbilical cords of jetties; yet somehow attractive for all that, what with the clear skies and sunshine glinting on the rippling water.

  He breathed in deep through both nostrils, feeling surprisingly privileged to be here to give a talk.

  Modern-day Elefsina. Ancient Eleusis.

  II

  Nina Zdanevich left her twin girls and returned to Kiko's room to find him already up and dressed, standing awkwardly by the end of the bed, as though he'd heard her coming and had wanted to look as if nothing was up-achieving, of course, exactly the opposite effect. She knew her son well enough not to approach him head on, however. 'Good morning, sweetheart,' she said.

  'Good morning, Mama.'

  'Did you sleep well?' she asked.

  'Yes, thank you,' he said. But he wouldn't meet her eye.

  She felt a lurch of dismay, she had to fight to keep her smile. She crouched and took his face between her hands, steered him gently until he met her eyes. 'Did something happen, Kiko?'

  'No.'

  She considered for a moment pressing him, but thought better of it. He was too imaginative and obstinate. Push him now, the lies would gloop out like cement from a mixer, and they'd soon set into stone, and she'd never get the truth. She nodded as if she believed him and smiled broadly. 'Great. Would you like to get some breakfast, then?'

  'Yes, please,' he said quietly. He took her hand as they went to the door. He kept his eyes on the carpet, his voice nonchalant. 'Will you be sleeping with the girls again tonight?' he asked.

  Tears pricked her eyes. She felt a moment of the most intense hatred: for herself, for her husband, for these loathsome Nergadzes, for the whole damned world. 'No,' she assured him. 'I'll be staying with you tonight.'

  'You promise?'

  'Yes, sweetheart. I promise.'

  III

  Knox drove into the town, turned left off the main road, following signs to the ancient site. Even the car park looked the part, a courtyard of haphazard cobblestones, with foundation blocks, plinths and pediments on either side, along with traces of ancient temples, stoas, altars and fountains
. He couldn't see Nico at first, but then he emerged through the half-open site gates, talking earnestly with an extravagantly tall black man who carried himself with a slight stoop, as though he wanted to deemphasise his height. He couldn't have been far into his forties, yet he exuded an exaggeratedly academic air, with his shabby suit and the gold-rimmed half-moon glasses that dangled on a string around his neck.

  'Sorry, I'm late,' said Knox. 'There was a pile up.'

  'So we've heard,' said Nico gloomily. 'Did it look like it would be cleared soon?'

  'That depends on your traffic police.'

  'Then we're doomed,' said Nico, trying unsuccessfully to make light of it. He gestured towards his companion. 'Have you met Doctor Claude Franklin? A colleague from the university.'

  'I don't believe so,' said Knox.

  'Nor I,' said Franklin. He had elegant long thin fingers to match his frame, so that Knox was mildly surprised by the firmness of his grip.

  'I mentioned him last night, I think,' said Nico. 'He knew Petitier when he worked here for the French school.'

  'Ah,' said Knox, his interest growing. 'You were friends?'

  'I'm not sure I'd go that far,' said Franklin carefully. He spoke slowly, articulating clearly, as though accustomed to people struggling with his residual American accent. 'We shared a house for a while, that's all.'

  'You'll excuse me,' said Nico. 'I have to see this damned crash for myself. In case I need to make arrangements.'

  'It'll be fine,' said Knox. 'There's plenty of time.'

  But Nico only shook his head. 'A conference on Eleusis in Eleusis over Easter week. I thought it was such a good idea. I thought I was inspired!' He laughed savagely and kicked a stone skittering across the cobbles. 'What was I thinking?'

  Knox shrugged sympathetically, then turned back to Franklin. 'So?' he asked. 'Was it just you and Petitier sharing?'