"Why Bulgaria?"
"Who knows?" He pushed Bedisa roughly onto the bed and stood.
He pulled on one of the red satin robes he favored. She watched in relief as the robe covered his massive buttocks. It was getting harder to pretend. Zviad's body disgusted her. He smelled. His skin had a greasy quality to it that made her feel dirty. His large penis was about his only redeeming physical quality as far as she was concerned. Iosif wasn't as well endowed, but he could be manipulated in ways impossible with Zviad. If all went well, she wouldn't have to put up with Zviad much longer.
She felt her abdomen where the baby was forming. It would show, soon. Zviad didn't know she was pregnant. Bedisa was sure the child was Iosif's. If Zviad suspected it wasn't his, he would kill her. Before he killed her he would cut her open and rip the child out of her womb. Zviad would know it wasn't his, once the baby was born. He was too clever not to know. It was the reason she had decided to speed up her plans.
"There's talk in town."
"What talk?"
She chose her words carefully. "You know I go to the salons. One of the women I know is married to a man who works for Rokovsky."
Rokovsky was Zviad's principle rival, boss of the Russian gangs in Moscow.
"Fuck Rokovsky. Rokovsky's mother sleeps with diseased beggars who drink slops from the brothels. What talk? Women are always talking."
"She enjoys trying to needle me. She doesn't know I allow it because I learn things useful to you." Zviad was growing impatient. She hurried. This was the dangerous part.
"The Russian thinks you are becoming weak. Bagrat's death has not been avenged. Rokovsky thinks you are afraid to do what has to be done."
Zviad's face grew dark with blood.
"Rokovsky thinks when a man's family is attacked it is a matter of honor. A man who cannot avenge his brother's death is not a man. She was saying you are not honorable. Or a man."
Zviad turned and drove his fist into the wall, smashing through the plaster. "This is what I will do to Rokovsky."
He hit the wall again and turned toward her. For a moment she was afraid. If he hit her like that it would kill her.
"What did you say to her?"
Bedisa smiled.
"I told her I knew that her husband likes men more than women. I wondered what would happen if Rokovsky found out about it. I was very polite. She turned several shades of color, mostly white. I don't think she will be saying these things about you again."
Zviad laughed. "Is it true? About her husband?"
"Yes. I'd heard rumors but I wasn't sure. The way she reacted tells me it's true."
"Good, Bedisa. I own this man now. I will use him."
"There is still the talk, Zviad. Others are wondering. You must move quickly to avenge Bagrat. What will you do?"
Zviad admired himself in a full length mirror.
"I think I will go to Bulgaria. I will make an example of this man. And his woman. An example that will be remembered. Then Rokovsky will understand who he offends. No one will speak of honor then."
Bedisa nodded. It was just what she wanted to hear.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
It was mid-morning the next day. Selena pulled up Bankya on her computer.
"Bankya is an exclusive suburb of Sofia. Lots of ruins, artifacts, mostly pottery and bronze. It has a hotel, hot springs, the old presidential palace. A big tourist draw because of the springs. It's a famous spa and resort. And it has a museum."
"Probably a lot of domes, too," said Ronnie.
Nick had been cleaning his .45. He reassembled it, put it back in the holster and stood. He had a headache.
"Let's get out there and get this over with."
They went down to the lobby, exited the hotel and got in the Peugeot. Arkady Korov watched them leave. He got in his rental and pulled out a safe distance behind. Just another battered gray Renault, one of many. They'd never see him. He followed them out of town. Signs pointed the way to Bankya.
Why Bankya, Arkady wondered. Maybe they were going for the waters.
Earlier he'd spoken with Alexei Ivanovich.
"Gelashvili believes the Americans killed his brother. He's gone after them. He should have arrived in Sofia by now. Sooner or later he will be where they are. Your primary mission is his elimination. The Americans may accomplish that for you."
"Understood."
"Arkady. In this instance, the Americans are a means to an end. Observe them and learn what you can. Do not see them as your enemy."
Korov had said nothing. Orders were orders.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Sofia and Mount Vitosha were prominent in the view from the outskirts of Bankya as they drove in. The found the only museum.
"Maybe they'll have a dinosaur." Ronnie sounded hopeful.
There were no dinosaurs. In the museum they learned that the temple of Demeter was buried under a church outside the town. They left the museum and stood in the sunshine.
"What now?"
"Lunch, Ronnie. Then we'll check out the church."
They found a cafe. A dozen tables were set behind a low wooden fence and gate. Trees branched overhead. It was a pleasant spot.
"It's nice out." Selena took a deep breath of fresh spring air. "We can sit outside."
They ordered a spicy beef stew, bread and coffee. A large salad of tomatoes, cucumbers, onions, roasted peppers and an unfamiliar cheese. The food was good.
Korov watched them from a bench under a tree. His car was parked nearby. He held a local paper in front of him and pretended to read. He wore workman's clothes and a cloth cap. From time to time the Americans scanned the area. Their eyes lingered on him for a moment and passed on. Arkady knew it was automatic. They hadn't made him. The woman seemed absorbed in her food.
Then he saw one of Gelashvili's men. He was talking on his cell phone.
Five minutes later two cars drove by. Zviad Gelashvili was in the second one. The man with the phone got into the first car. Korov counted five men plus Gelashvili. In the cafe, the Americans had finished their meal. They stood up to leave. They got in their car and drove off. Gelashvili and his men followed.
Korov stood and folded his paper. The others were still in sight. He got in the car, started it up and pulled out after them.
What was the American expression?
Showtime.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
The Church of St. George was some distance outside of town, on a side road off the main highway. It was made of whitewashed stone and shaped like a cross. Wooden scaffolding rose along one side, a pile of debris littered beneath it. The church had a high arched entryway and a neglected look. A central bell tower rose to a single green dome topped by an Orthodox cross. The hillside above the church was dotted with old buildings sliding into disrepair. A monastery, from the looks of it long abandoned. Not much was happening at the church of St. George.
The entrance doors were made of heavy wooden planks and locked with a large, rusted padlock that looked like it might have been new when the church was built.
Nick looked around.
"No sign of a caretaker. We need to get inside." He jiggled the lock. It was old but it was strong.
Ronnie walked over to the junk under the scaffolding. He poked around in the debris, stooped and picked up a two foot length of steel rebar.
"Try this."
"You're going to break in?" Selena said.
"You got a better idea?"
Nick inserted the rebar through the u-shape of the lock, braced against the door and levered down. The lock broke. He tossed it aside. He pulled one of the doors open. They stepped inside and he pulled the door closed behind them.
The interior was lit by sunlight filtering through an arched stained glass window picturing St. George slaying the dragon. In the front of the church, the altar was draped in a red cloth and backed by three large wooden screens. Exposed beams blackened with age crossed the ceiling high above the church floor. Lamps of cut glass hu
ng on long chains at regular intervals. Doors to either side of the altar led to the arms of the cross. The faint aftermath of incense lingered over rows of carved wooden pews.
Next to the door was a dusty wooden table with brochures. Selena picked one up.
"The current building dates from 1664," she read. "The original church was built in the eleventh century on the ruins of a Greek temple dedicated to the goddess of the harvest."
"Demeter," Nick said.
"This mentions the statue of Erinys. It was found during the reconstruction. The brochure says the temple site still exists under the present building."
She kept reading. "The Greek temple was located over a natural limestone formation of caves that are thought to have been an ancient mineral spring. When the first church was built the caves were converted into crypts for the monks."
"You mean they're still there?" Nick picked up a brochure.
"Looks like it. They stopped putting bodies in after the new church was built."
"If it was part of the Greek temple there might be something there."
"Sure there is," Ronnie said. "Lots of bones. Dead monks."
"Hell, we've come this far. This is our last shot. After this we have no leads."
"I don't like bones." Ronnie shook his head.
"You wanted to see a dinosaur."
"That's different. Those are big bones. Lizard kind of bones. Human bones, they're bad luck."
"Boys." Selena interrupted. "Cut it out. Let's look for an entrance."
There was nothing obvious. They looked in the rooms to the side of the church. After twenty minutes they still hadn't found it.
Selena looked down at an old Turkish rug placed to the side of the altar.
"Nice rug. Probably two hundred years old." She looked around. The rest of the floor behind the altar was unadorned.
"Why put a rug here?" she said. She lifted the corner and pulled it aside. A wooden door was set into the floor with a ring at either end. Ronnie and Nick lifted it away. A flight of narrow steps descended into blackness. A dry, old smell drifted up to meet them.
"Déjà vu all over again," Nick said.
"It's not the same. We know what's down there this time." Even so, Selena seemed nervous. The last time the three of them had gone down a flight of steps into the dark it had almost killed them.
"We need light."
"You don't have your flashlight? I thought you always carried one."
She was right. He usually did.
"Not this time." Nick went to the altar. He took down two large candles. "These will do." There were matches. He lit the candles, handed one to Ronnie and walked over to the opening.
The steps ended twenty feet below. A narrow passage led away into darkness between rough stone walls. They started down the steps.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Sometimes Elizabeth wished she'd decided to become a doctor after all. Maybe an obstetrician. That would be good, to bring new life into the world. Or a surgeon. High tech lasers. Powerful glasses, blue scrubs and masks. The quiet sounds of technology in the background while her dedicated team helped her cut out bad things that made people ill and crazy.
The files that crossed her desk on any given day would make people crazy. Send them screaming into the streets if they knew what was in them. A terrorist plot aimed at killing fifty thousand people, barely stopped in time. A nuclear device gone missing. The latest from North Korea. A memo about possible gas attacks in the New York Subway.
Elizabeth often found a pattern where others saw unrelated pieces. Right now she didn't like what she was thinking. Her intuition was ringing alarms. The Pentagon's connection to CDC, Weinstein and Campbell bothered her. They were hiding something. That was nothing new, but what were they hiding?
Sophisticated bombs had killed two scientists, brutal murder a third. All three were tied together by the urn and what might or might not be in it, the key to a devastating crop disease.
She sipped water and swallowed two aspirins. She took a yellow pad from her drawer and uncapped FDR's pen. Sometimes she liked to write things down. To sort out her thoughts. It was slower, more intimate than the computer. It helped her think. She made a list.
C,M,W killed, two bombs. Semtex. Who?
Pentagon?
Myth/Demeter/Persephone/Urn
Crop blight
Attack/Selena/Leak Who?
Hospital shootings/Greece
There were too many things on that list. What was the Pentagon connection? There might be a way to find out. She triggered her intercom.
"Steph, could you come in for a minute?"
"Right there, Director."
Stephanie came into the office and sat. When it came to hacking into high security systems, Steph had no equal.
"What's up?"
"I have a tricky job for you. The Pentagon."
"You want me to hack in?"
"Yes."
"DIA?"
"Depends on what you find. There are a couple of things I'm looking for."
Steph waited.
"First we need to know what they're doing with CDC. Why was Campbell upset?"
"Okay."
"Find out if they have a bio-warfare plan involving crops or crop blight. Anything you can. They mustn't know it was us."
"What's second?"
"If you come across something, see if you can find out who authorized it."
"It will take a day or two. They'll never notice."
"Good enough. I'd like you to do it right away."
Steph got up and headed for her computers. Elizabeth picked up her pen and began tapping. She felt her chest tighten, her breath getting short. Time for her shot, she'd forgotten. She set the pen down. She opened her drawer, took out a hypodermic and a glass vial, measured out the dose and injected her thigh. In a minute she felt better. Her disease was halted, under control. But she had to pay attention.
Her lungs would never recover. She wouldn't be running any marathons, but at least she was alive. She wished there was someone who could be with her, if it ever got worse. But there wasn't anyone.
She'd been single since a relationship gone wrong when she was a lot younger. She didn't have much time for relationships. She had a Brownstone in Georgetown, the ear of the President, a new Audi and more real power than most of the men who ran things in the nation's Capitol. But she didn't have anyone to share it with when she went home. She'd accepted there might not ever be someone. Her work had become her lover.
She took two more aspirin and looked at the list again.
Someone had leaked the information on the tablets. It was only a question of time until she knew who. Then she might find out who had killed Campbell and the others and sent thugs after Selena. The only thing certain was that it all centered around the urn.
Elizabeth leaned back in her chair. One step at a time.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
The passage at the foot of the stairs went straight for about twenty feet and made a right angle turn to the left. It opened into a long, high cave, hollowed out by the old mineral springs. The cave was dark. It had irregular walls with strange shapes hanging from the ceiling. Nick felt like it was ready to swallow him.
The bones started right away.
He didn't know what he'd expected. Maybe skeletons, wrapped in moldering rags. Maybe dried out, leathery bodies. Coffins. It wasn't like that.
Arched, oven-shaped shelves lined the walls. The shelves were piled with bones. Some shelves were filled with thigh bones stacked like firewood. Some with arm bones, others with the small bones of feet and hands. Some were filled with rows of empty skulls staring at nothing. Hundreds of skulls had been fastened onto the walls. They climbed and curved over the shelves. The light from the candles flickered and danced over the bones.
The bones were mute. The skulls had nothing to say. The crypt smelled of dust and centuries of silence.
"Guess the monks liked the idea of community," Nick said.
Ronnie held his candle high and peered at the skulls. "Gives me the creeps."
They walked toward the far end of the chamber. A thousand empty eyes followed them.
All that was left of the temple of Demeter was a cracked wall of marble and slabs underfoot. A large block of stone stood in the center of the slabs. It bore dark and ancient stains. A large niche had been cut into the wall. It was empty.
"Why down here?" Ronnie said. "Wouldn't they put it up on the surface?"
"Demeter and Persephone were worshiped in something called the Eleusinian Mysteries," Selena said. "The main temple was probably up top. Down here would be for secret rites by the priests. It's a cave, it's perfect. That big stone is an altar, probably for animal sacrifices. Ronnie, give me your candle."
She took it from him and held it up. On the wall over the niche was the figure of a horse.
"There's Persephone's symbol again. Looks like a dead end."
"We're in the right place for it," Ronnie said.
Nick heard a scrape of something on stone. His ear began to burn.
"Douse the light." His voice was quiet. "Someone's coming."
They blew out the candles. The chamber went black. At least there aren't any spiders. He drew his .45. Maybe it was a priest, wondering why the crypt was open. Maybe not.
A gleam of light showed at the entrance to the cave. Someone with a flashlight. Then a second beam. A large man stepped into the cave, silhouetted by the light behind. He held a flashlight in one hand, a gun in the other.
Not a priest. Not smart, either.
A second man followed. He had a gun. Another light moved behind him.
At least three. Maybe more behind or upstairs.
The first man flicked his light over the piles of bones. The probing beam found Selena against the old temple wall, her Glock extended in both hands. He shouted and raised his gun.
Nick shot the first man and dove for cover behind the stone altar. A second later Ronnie followed. Selena dropped to the floor. Everyone began firing. Muzzle blasts lit the crypt at both ends, painting the skulls and bones in brief flashes. The noise of the guns filled the cave. Fragments of ancient bone spiraled into the air. He felt the wind of passing bullets. Rounds ricocheted from the walls and the altar and whined around the cave in the dark. The second shooter went down. Then the third.
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