Maze of Death

by Philip Caveney

‘Of course. Lee is my property. I own him.’

  Coates could hardly believe his ears. ‘You own him? What’s that supposed to mean?’

  ‘Exactly what I say. I found him begging in the streets of an obscure Chinese village when he was around twelve years of age. It occurred to me that a king needed a servant who would obey his every command without question. So, I located his parents and I paid them a fair price for their son. They were only too happy to sell him to me.’

  ‘That’s obscene,’ said Coates. ‘A man cannot purchase another man as if he had no more worth than a dog.’

  ‘But that’s exactly what happened,’ said Wolfe. ‘Mr Coates, there are parts of the world where a man’s life is held to be of less value than that of a cow or a horse. I took Lee away from a place where he would never have grown to manhood. True, I have raised him strictly. He was beaten when he displeased me and rewarded when he obeyed. Any defiance he had in him was soon rooted out. Now he has no will of his own. Allow me to demonstrate.’ He turned his head to look at Lee, who was sitting impassively at the edge of the room. ‘Come here,’ he said.

  Lee got to his feet and approached his master. Wolfe indicated one of the candles burning in the middle of the table. ‘Hold your left hand over the flame,’ he commanded.

  Lee did not hesitate. He extended his hand until the palm was directly above the dancing yellow flame. His face remained expressionless, but Alec could see the flesh of his palm blackening, and after a few moments there was the powerful smell of burning flesh.

  ‘Tell him to stop,’ cried Ariadne. ‘Please!’

  Wolfe glanced at her. He seemed amused by her reaction. ‘Ariadne, how many times must I tell you? The daughter of a king needs to be made of sterner stuff than that.’

  He studied Lee for a moment. Now the man’s face was set in a grimace as he fought to control the incredible pain that must have been pulsing through his hand. Finally, Alec could stand it no longer. He leaned quickly across the table and blew out the candle. Lee looked at him in surprise and Wolfe seemed delighted.

  ‘Such defiance!’ he exclaimed. ‘What if I told you that Lee will receive a beating for this disobedience?’

  Alec stared at Wolfe. ‘Then I would say, give me the beating, because I’m the one who disobeyed.’

  Wolfe clapped his hands and grinned, while Lee looked down at Alec. For once there was a genuine expression on his face – a look of amazement.

  ‘Perhaps you really are the Theseus that Ariadne has been hoping for,’ said Wolfe. ‘Look at Lee’s face! He’s astonished. I doubt that anybody has ever offered to take a beating for him before.’ He waved a hand to dismiss Lee, and the manservant went back to his chair, his injured hand held stiffly to one side. ‘Now then,’ continued Wolfe, ‘we ought to be thinking about tomorrow morning.’ He looked towards Stephen and the professor. ‘Tomorrow, gentlemen, you will have the opportunity to demonstrate your skills. It has for years been my ambition to see the heroic flight of Icarus and Daedalus recreated. I can’t tell you how much I’m looking forward to it!’ He lifted his goblet in another toast. ‘To success!’ he said, and the others raised their goblets and took a sip; all but Ariadne, who sat there, her head bowed, looking absolutely miserable.

  But then she raised her gaze to stare across the table at Alec, and once again he saw it in her eyes – that pleading, helpless look. In that instant, he knew that if he ever managed to get off this island, he wanted more than anything to take her with him.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Daedalus

  THE CAPTIVES SPENT a restless night stretched out on the couches and chairs in their quarters. Alec’s sleep was troubled by a horrible dream in which he was wandering through a seemingly endless stone labyrinth, while behind him in the dark something unseen grunted and bellowed as it made its way steadily nearer . . .

  He awoke to the sound of the door opening and sat up to see a couple of servant girls carrying in trays of food and drink, watched by Lee and the two armed guards. As Alec swung himself into a sitting position, he was aware of Lee looking at him intently, as though trying to figure him out.

  ‘How’s your hand?’ Alec asked him and Lee seemed even more puzzled. He held it out in front of him to display the palm, which was a livid red. ‘You should put something on that,’ Alec advised him. ‘Do you have any ointment around the place?’

  Lee didn’t seem to know how to respond. ‘You eat now,’ he said. ‘Soon we go.’ And with that he, the guards and the servant girls departed, and the door was locked behind them.

  ‘I don’t know why you’re trying to be nice to that piece of work,’ snarled Ethan. ‘You saw what he did to me and Coates. He’d do the same to you if Wolfe gave the word.’

  ‘I know,’ said Alec. ‘And yet I feel sorry for him. He’s known nothing but cruelty since he was twelve years old. How can you expect anything else from him?’

  Coates was already at the table rooting through the various foods on offer. There were pancakes, bowls of sheep’s yoghurt, baklava, omelettes, served with crusty bread, and thick, sweet Turkish coffee.

  ‘We may as well eat heartily,’ he said, biting into something that looked like a doughnut. Alec recognized it as loukoumades, fried dough steeped in honey. ‘Whatever’s coming, we need to keep our strength up.’

  The others gathered round the table and ate with rather less enthusiasm. Alec noticed that Stephen looked pale and grim-faced this morning. ‘Are you all right?’ he asked.

  Stephen nodded and forced a smile. ‘I’ll be fine. Just nerves.’

  ‘Look, this idea of trying to get to Crete. Nobody will think less of you if you decide against it. It’s a jolly long way.’

  ‘Yes, but the Daedalus can do it, I’m sure of that. So long as Father’s right about getting out of range of Lee’s radio-controlled device.’

  The professor looked anxiously at his son. ‘It’s a theory, Stephen. I can’t be certain.’

  ‘But we have to try. After what happened to Miss McBride, who knows where it will end?’ Stephen forced a smile and tried to be positive. ‘Can you picture the reaction of the locals when I come swooping in from across the sea? They’ll think one of their legends has come to life!’

  The remark had been intended to raise people’s spirits, but it was met with no more than half-hearted smiles.

  After a little while, the door was unlocked again and Lee stood there, indicating to the captives that it was time to go. He was flanked by the two armed guards, ready to back him up if anyone tried anything.

  ‘Typical,’ complained Coates. ‘You don’t even get time to eat properly.’ He pushed another hunk of dough into his mouth and chewed it as he headed for the door. The party was marched through corridors and up flights of marble stairs. They finally came to an arched entrance and a set of spiral stone steps leading steeply upwards.

  ‘This is the tower from where Stephen is to launch himself,’ explained the professor. ‘Everything is waiting for us up there.’

  ‘Does it have to be so high?’ asked Alec nervously, peering upwards.

  ‘Oh yes,’ said Stephen. ‘It takes a little while to get the wings operating correctly. You couldn’t take off from the ground.’

  They rose steadily higher and higher. Coming to a small arched window, Alec glanced through it and was shocked to see how high they were. He certainly didn’t envy Stephen his task.

  At last, they emerged onto the roof of the tower, encircled only by a low stone parapet. Two flying machines were set out on the tiled floor – strange contraptions of wood, aluminium, rope and canvas, the wings extending to some twenty feet or so. They resembled huge dragonflies and Alec thought that they didn’t look capable of supporting the weight of a human being for even a few moments, let alone carrying anyone long distances through the air. Beyond the machines, a makeshift launch pad had been affixed to one section of the parapet – a short wooden plank jutting out into thin air.

  Alec stepped closer to the edge to look at the am
azing view. He turned to his right, where he knew Crete must be, but there was no sign of it even from this height. Could Stephen really hope to cross such a distance in the flimsy apparatus that was set out before them? A sudden deep rumbling sound made Alec snap his gaze to the left and there, on the horizon, was the dark outline of Santorini. From its midst a thick, dark plume of smoke and ash rose into the turquoise sky. Maybe it was the height of his viewpoint, but the eruption looked more violent than the last ones he had seen, and he thought he could detect a blossom of orange flame in the heart of the black smoke.

  ‘The god of the volcano seems angry,’ said a voice behind him, and he turned to see Wolfe emerging from the doorway onto the roof. He took up a position between his armed guards and Lee, clearly aware that this was a vulnerable place to be left unprotected.

  ‘I seem to remember somebody in Mexico saying something very similar,’ observed Coates. ‘But he was a superstitious savage, not a man of science.’

  Wolfe gave him a shrewd look. ‘Be careful, Mr Coates, you don’t want to offend me. It would be an easy enough matter to instruct Lee to take your collar size down a few notches.’ He turned to Stephen and the professor, who were carefully checking over the flying equipment. ‘Gentlemen, I must start with an apology. My daughter has begged to be excused from watching your display. She says she has a headache.’ He rolled his eyes to suggest that he thought her excuse for not being there was pathetic. ‘Nevertheless, you have a fine day for it. You will launch from the board here, and if you direct your gaze down to the beach, straight ahead . . .’ He pointed to a place where a red flag was fluttering in the distance. ‘That’s your half-mile mark,’ he said. ‘Reach that point and I’m a happy man.’

  ‘And what happens to us then?’ asked the professor. ‘Am I to understand that you will let us leave your island?’

  Wolfe grinned. ‘I can hardly do that, Professor. But a king needs his inventors and I’m sure there are many other projects you’d like to undertake, given the necessary financial backing. I could give you whatever you need.’

  ‘You’re saying that they can be your pet scientists?’ said Ethan. ‘Boy, I bet that’s an enticing prospect, huh, Prof?’

  ‘Enough,’ said Wolfe. ‘I’m not here to make bargains, but to see history recreated. Gentlemen, are you ready to undertake your challenge?’

  Stephen nodded. He went over to the nearest machine and leaned forward to lift the apparatus around him. ‘Alec, perhaps you’d like to help me strap myself in?’ he said.

  ‘Yes,’ said Wolfe. ‘Good idea. Mr Coates, Mr Wade, you can help the professor get into the other machine.’

  There was a stunned silence. Stephen looked at Wolfe in dismay. ‘What are you talking about?’ he cried. ‘You know perfectly well I’m making the attempt on my own.’

  Wolfe looked puzzled. He shook his head. ‘I know nothing of the sort,’ he said. ‘As I remember the story, Daedalus and Icarus made their flight together. We . . . want to be authentic, don’t we?’

  Stephen was shaking his head. ‘You can’t be serious!’ he protested. ‘My father is seventy-one years old. He hasn’t got the strength to operate one of these things.’

  ‘Well then, why did you bring two of them?’ asked Wolfe.

  ‘The . . . the second one’s a back-up, in case there were any problems with the first. There was never any intention of my father flying.’

  Wolfe frowned. ‘Cast your mind back to our first meeting,’ he said calmly. ‘I distinctly remember talking to both of you, offering both of you the chance to do this thing. And both of you it shall be.’

  ‘No, no. It’s out of the question,’ Stephen insisted. ‘My father is frail; he cannot hope to fly one of these machines. I simply won’t allow it.’

  ‘Icarus cannot fly without Daedalus,’ said Wolfe matter-of-factly. ‘That was the challenge I set you.’

  ‘Let me try the other machine,’ suggested Ethan, but Wolfe waved him away.

  ‘Very noble of you, Mr Wade, but I have something else in mind for you. This task was freely undertaken by the two men who stand before you. Now, if the professor feels he cannot deliver on his promise to me, then perhaps we should try another approach.’ He turned to Lee and pointed at Stephen. ‘Tighten his collar,’ he said.

  ‘No, wait!’ The professor stepped forward. ‘There’s no need for that. I . . . I shall fly the second machine.’

  Stephen stared at him aghast. ‘Father, you can’t,’ he said. ‘It will prove too much for you.’

  ‘Nonsense!’ The professor shook his head. He was taking off his jacket now and moving towards the second machine. ‘If I’m not up to reaching the flag, I’ll simply land earlier,’ he said. He looked intently at Stephen. ‘As long as one of us reaches our target, then everything is fine. So don’t worry about me, you just strike out for your goal and show Mr Wolfe what the Daedalus is really capable of.’

  Stephen was about to protest further, but then he thought better of it. He nodded, but he looked far from happy. ‘Very well, Father,’ he said, and went on with strapping himself into the flying apparatus, helped by Alec, while Ethan and Coates went to aid the professor.

  Alec could see that the frail old man could barely support the weight of the wood and canvas frame. ‘He’ll be all right,’ Alec tried to assure Stephen, but anxiety was etched into every line of the young man’s face.

  ‘It takes a lot of strength to power these machines,’ murmured Stephen. ‘I fear he won’t be able to control it.’

  ‘But you have no option,’ said Alec. ‘Lee will strangle you without a second thought if Wolfe orders him to.’

  Stephen nodded, but it was evident that he was nearly sick with worry.

  Finally, all the straps were tightened, all the buckles secured. The father and son stood looking at each other in silence for a moment.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ said the professor gently. ‘I’ll just glide straight to the ground. You’ll see.’

  ‘Who is going first?’ asked Wolfe.

  ‘I shall,’ said Stephen. He looked as though he would have liked to give his father a hug – but the apparatus into which he was strapped prevented him from doing so. He could only shake his hand. ‘Don’t do anything silly,’ he said. ‘Just get yourself safely down as quickly as possible.’

  The professor nodded. ‘Good luck, my boy,’ he said. He watched as Stephen turned and made his way to the wooden launching board. Everybody crowded to the parapet to view the proceedings. Stephen climbed the couple of steps onto the board. He took up his launching position, knees slightly bent, arms outstretched to grip the handles that powered the wings. He stayed where he was for a moment, taking a series of deep breaths. Then he launched himself from the tower.

  For several heart-stopping moments, Stephen just fell headfirst into empty space; but then he began to pump the wing mechanism. The canvas sheets seemed to inflate with air and suddenly, magically, he began to level out and rise higher. He soared around in a great circle and came whizzing back above the tower. He was obviously anxious to see how his father would get on.

  Now the professor climbed unsteadily onto the wooden platform, his expression grim. He took up his position, staring down into the abyss below him. He hesitated for only a moment, and Alec noticed that his lips were moving as though he was muttering something, perhaps a prayer. Then he seemed to come to a decision and he threw himself forward. Again, there was that terrifying drop into space and Alec found himself holding his breath. He seriously doubted that the old man had ever flown in one of his creations.

  The professor began to move his arms and the canvas wings swelled with air. His flying machine rose a little, but it was nothing like the confident soaring motion that his son had achieved. Clearly, he didn’t have the strength to properly operate the system of ropes and pulleys that gave the Daedalus its upward momentum.

  Stephen soared in closer to his father and Alec could hear him shouting something, but whatever he was saying was swept away on th
e rush of air as the two machines moved in the direction of the flag.

  ‘Look at that!’ cried Wolfe. ‘Is it not extraordinary?’

  The two flying machines were moving away, but they could not have looked more different. Stephen’s craft was gliding smoothly forward with the grace and elegance of a bird. The professor’s machine was jerking and lunging in a series of fits and starts as the old man struggled to find the necessary strength to propel himself onward. And then suddenly, horribly, everything went wrong. The professor’s machine twisted to one side and the air spilled out of the canvas wings. Then it was falling, twisting and turning around on itself as the professor struggled desperately to bring it back under control.

  ‘Oh no,’ murmured Coates, who was standing beside Alec.

  Alec could only stare in horrified fascination as the stricken craft picked up speed and the professor fell to his doom. He seemed to go on falling for a very long time before the flimsy machine crashed into the vegetation far below and was smashed to pieces. The professor’s body lay broken and still in the wreckage.

  Now Stephen came soaring back, swooping low over the body of his father. Alec thought he could hear the distant sounds of him shouting down to the old man, but it seemed a vain hope. Nobody could have survived a fall from such a height.

  ‘He’s wasting his time,’ observed Wolfe coldly. ‘He should be heading for the flag.’ Alec knew in that instant that if he’d had a pistol he would have shot Wolfe dead without a moment’s hesitation. But he was helpless to do anything but stand and watch, as Stephen circled frantically above his father’s body, calling down to him and receiving no answer.

  ‘He’s not playing the game,’ complained Wolfe. ‘What does he think he’s doing?’

  ‘What do you suppose he’s doing?’ snarled Ethan. ‘He’s just seen his father killed for the sake of your entertainment. By God, if it wasn’t for this damned collar around my neck, I’d—’

  ‘What’s he doing now?’ interrupted Wolfe.

  Alec turned his head to look. He saw that Stephen was flapping the wings of his machine and starting to rise again. But instead of heading in the direction of the flag, he was banking to his right towards the open sea in the direction of Crete.