by Sewell, Ron
“At least the air’s fresh and here’s the door the bishop mentioned,” said Petros.
“More signs,” said Bear. “I know they’re the marks of masons.”
Petros chuckled as he lifted the heavy steel bar that fastened the entrance and pulled the handle. The metal hinges, stiff with rust, groaned. “First time this has opened for a long while.”
He wandered on, going deeper towards what the bishop called the holy of holies. The powerful beam of his torch illuminated the roof. “The red ceiling and vaulted chamber. Start searching. The icons are around here somewhere.”
“Over here,” said Takis.
Petros stopped, while Andreas, Kyriacos, and Takis knelt before the icons. Each brother gave the sign of the cross and prayed.
Petros, although not a religious man, sensed the hairs on the back of his neck tingle as if a presence filled the chamber. He remained silent respecting the brothers’ devotions. Moved by a whim, he rubbed his right hand over the cross painted in gold on one of the icons. A slight chill travelled along his spine.
“Hedging your bets?” said Takis.
“Doesn’t hurt.”
With the utmost care, he studied the craftsmanship.
“Exquisite,” said Petros. “Look at the detail. This one alone must be worth a small fortune.”
Takis stroked them with reverence, aware that the slightest damage would reduce their value. For a big man he appeared surprisingly gentle.
“Where’s Bear, Takis,” said Petros. He glanced at his watch; they had stayed too long.
“No idea. He wandered off into one of those passages a few minutes ago.”
“Takis, go and keep a lookout. Those guards are stupid enough to come back.”
“No problem, I’ll keep my eyes and ears open.”
A glimmer of light gave Petros direction as he traversed a slight incline. He found Bear shining his torch at the roof of a cavern.
“What are you staring at?”
“A reproduction of the heavens a long time ago.”
Petros shrugged. “We haven’t a lot of time. What the fuck’s that?”
Bear stared at him. “The altar dropping into its slot.”
“What?”
They joined Kyriacos and Andreas at the base of the stairs.
“Takis must have closed it for a reason,” said Andreas.
“Nobody’s questioning that. Have a look around and find out if we can shift the bloody thing from this side, but be quiet,” he whispered.
With the limited light from their torches, they searched for a valve or operating lever.
“Nothing,” said Bear. “Let’s face it. Why would priests want to close or open it from here?”
Fifteen minutes elapsed before the sound of running water came and the altar raised.
“Sorry,” said Takis as he peered at them. “The guards returned, sat having a chat and a cigarette on the steps before they cleared off.”
“You did right,” said Petros. “Where did you hide?”
“In the graveyard. I got a weird feeling as if someone was watching me.”
“Nerves,” said Petros. “Thankfully we’re dealing with conscripts and not professional soldiers. Bear, let’s go and check out what you found. I don’t want to be here longer than necessary. Andreas, verify the water level in the tank.”
Petros and Bear descended into another chamber.
Bear shone his torch into one of the many alcoves that contained stone coffins. “What’s in front of you is worth a king’s ransom. Give me a hand with the lid.”
Holding the torches in their mouths both men eased the heavy slab clear. They staggered under its weight and lowered it carefully to the ground. The light exposed a Knight Templar in full armour. He lay in the pose of death with his hands crossed and resting on his chest.
Petros’s expression was one of wonder as he let his eyes wander over the Templar. “We don’t rob graves.”
“PK, these men fought against Saladin at Jerusalem. I have no doubt they died in Cyprus. History tells us that when the Ottoman Turks overran this island they destroyed anything and everything associated with the Templar system. This was a devastating loss to the Templar organisation.”
“What do you want us to do, carry all these coffins out of here and back to the south?”
“That’s impossible but we should take what we can before the Turks find it and it’s gone forever. Remember these knights fought in the Crusades killing Muslims in the name of Christianity. Even today, many hate them. There’s bound to be a Grand Master of Masonry on the island. I’ll leave it up to him and his officers to make the ultimate decision.”
“Okay, but I’ll let you select the most important objects. What’s he holding in his hand?”
Bear removed what appeared to be a scroll. “It’s a rolled brass sleeve sealed at both ends with wax. This could be the knight’s own personal history.”
“I’m not an expert but if you open those and let air in, couldn’t it destroy the contents?”
“Let’s check the others.”
Fifteen minutes elapsed before all the lids were removed and they found that each knight held a similar tube.
“Bear, you tell me what you want to take. I definitely believe I’m a grave robber but I understand where you’re coming from.”
“What’s going on?” said Takis.
“Haven’t the time to explain. Just lift and shift everything I place on the ground.”
“I’ll get the others,” said Takis.
Bear removed the swords, jewel-encrusted daggers, metal seals and rings. He repeated the process at every coffin until the grisly task was completed.
“Bear, in that I accept why you’re doing this, I think we should at least honour the dead and replace the lids.”
“You’re right.”
With the caskets sealed, Bear cast his gaze around the chamber. “It’s a pity about the present political situation.”
“Time we left,” said Petros, “and drop the altar once you’re clear.”
“A silly question,” said Andreas, as he scratched his head. “But why don’t we take the icons now?”
“Simple,” said Petros. “No transport and those guards might be dim enough to come back again. I’d hate to be caught with my hand in the sweetie jar.”
“But if we hurry,” said Andreas.
“Andreas, we agreed to stick to the plan,” said Kyriacos.
“Bear, you and Kyriacos stay here and keep your eyes open. Andreas, Takis, follow me.” Petros pointed to the jacks. “Take these across the road and hide them. We might still need them.” He busied himself gathering the rest of their bits and pieces and tossed them into the sack.
Petros checked the time, his thoughts bouncing like a ball in a squash court; midnight had come and gone. He turned to Kyriacos.
“Did Andreas check the water tank?”
“Three quarters full,” said Kyriacos.
“Bear,” said Petros. “You take the team and your collection back to the hotel. Maria and George should still be up.”
“PK, where are you going?” said Bear.
Petros remained serious for a moment. He held up the sack. “I’m going to hide this near the guards’ rest room. Tomorrow we come in empty handed. Makes life easier.”
“What shall I tell Maria?” asked Bear. “She’ll be worried?”
“Tell her to keep the bed warm.”
From his usual vantage point he noticed a jeep and a lorry parked outside the house. For twenty minutes he monitored as the soldiers laughed and chatted. It looked as though not one of them expected anything but another boring eight hours duty.
He stowed his bag, took one more look and left.
* * *
Petros returned to the hotel to find Maria waiting by the fire door.
She took a deep breath letting it out slowly before grabbing him in her arms. “Where have you been? Thank God you’re safe. The others arrived back ages ago.”
She hugged him but his clear blue eyes were empty of any pretence.
“We have a problem. The bishop’s housekeeper talked. Come on, let’s get to our room.”
Petros sat on the bed and removed his boots and socks. He told her about the movement detectors and the discovery of the Templar coffins.
She sat down beside him and smiled ruefully. “Cancel this collection.”
“No way, we can beat them. But if anyone wants out they can go.” He had a sparkle in his eyes when he said it.
She stared at him for a moment. “You can be very stubborn.”
“Maria, I told the bishop I’d recover his precious icons and I will. I would prefer to go in without you but with the help of your brothers. Bear and I will go on our own if we have to. Tomorrow, I’ll still love you.”
“And I’m doing my bit.”
Petros looked at her. “You’re not coming and that’s final.”
Maria gave a half smile. “I can be as immovable as you. I have a truck to drive.” She tumbled onto the bed, closed her eyes and murmured, “Turn out the light and come to bed.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Petros did not sleep. His mind struggled with the question of who was aware of the icons. He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed.
“What’s the matter?” said Maria.
“I must get my head together before tomorrow.”
“You’re still going?”
He blinked hard and stared at the window. “Yes.”
“Cuddle me.”
He snuggled against her and closed his eyes. The warmth of her gave him strength. Nightmares haunted his sleep. He was back in Africa. The attack by rebels had been sudden and deadly. Like dust devils, a self-sustaining whirlwind sprayed a barrage of bullets directly at men waiting for a plane to land. Unprepared, they were slaughtered where they stood. With his squad he had rested in the shade of a gully, a detail which saved their lives.
Petros opened his eyes as the dawn crept into the room. In time he fell into a deep sleep.
Maria stirred. “Need to pee.”
He got out of bed, tugged the thin curtain to one side and peered through the dirty window. The morning light brightened his spirit and his worries faded. She returned from the bathroom and he went for a shower, turning it from hot to cold. Maria pulled the shower curtain aside. “Hurry up.”
Without a word he dragged her in to the streaming water. “Your turn,” he shouted, turning the cold on full. “I’ll get dried in the bedroom.”
“I hate you,” she said. Fumbling with the controls, she grimaced.
At breakfast, Bear sat opposite Maria and Petros. The brothers arrived and Maria gave the impression of being cheerful.
Petros waited until everyone had eaten and in a calm voice he said, “To win the game you must gain the advantage. The Turks know we’re coming. How they found out doesn’t matter. I intend to collect the icons, so anyone who wants out may leave now with no hard feelings.” He paused in the act of pouring another cup of coffee, while studying the faces of his team.
“You have your answer,” said Maria. “We volunteered.” Her brothers nodded in unison.
“Right, Bear get those artefacts you removed and conceal them in truck number one. In ten minutes you and I will make tracks for Varosha. I intend to keep an eye on those guards for most of today. I need to know if their routines have changed.”
“Are you going to sell what you found, Bear?” said George.
“Not a chance in a million. It’ll be handed over to the correct authority, catalogued, inspected and no doubt copied. Items such as these must be placed in a museum. It’s your island’s history.”
“What shall the rest of us do?” said Maria.
“Act like tourists, visit the sites. I want you ready to leave the hotel at six.”
* * *
Petros and Bear entered Varosha and stealthily approached the building next to the guards’ card-playing venue. Two of the soldiers left and crossed the road. They remained relaxed and joked with each other. A lack of discipline surrounded them; tedium from nothing ever happening. It appeared the men used the adjacent house as a toilet; afterwards they stood outside, chatted, and shared a cigarette before returning.
The harsh roar of a vehicle approaching at high speed caused the soldiers to stop playing. Petros noted that the VW Golf carried one man in uniform. The wheels locked when the driver hit the brakes and the car skidded to a halt.
“A captain by his insignia,” said Petros in a whisper.
“The way he slammed that car door,” said Bear, “I don’t think he’s a happy bunny.”
The captain shouted in an indecipherable language. His outburst made the corporal and his squad flinch, and with their weapons they ran from the building and formed a line. Petros continued to peer through the doorway, listening. “He’s reading the riot act. Looks like they’re scared shitless.”
“He definitely has their attention,” said Bear. “Poor sods. What does he expect from woodentops?”
His tirade complete, the captain drove away faster than he arrived.
“I get the impression that excuse for an officer had his balls put through a meat grinder this morning,” said Petros.
“Hang on, PK, something’s happening.”
Three men jumped into their truck and drove away. One man remained smoking a cigarette. The vehicle came back fifteen minutes later. The soldiers appeared relaxed and chatted among themselves. For the rest of the day three left on the half hour and returned after completing their checks.
Petros stood and leaned against a wall. “Why is it when you think you’ve worked out every option an officious bastard changes it. They’re physically checking the churches.”
“We have always agreed, PK, when you work outside the boundaries of the law you never assume.”
“Right in one. May I suggest we get our arses in gear and find somewhere to eat?” His voice grew sombre. “Sometimes this job frightens me.”
“PK, when you stop being scared, you’re dead.”
* * *
Petros placed his hand on Bear’s right shoulder. “Where did you hide our crossbows?”
“In the back of Maria’s truck.”
“I’ll be happier with a weapon. I just pray we’ll not need them.”
Petros glanced at his cheap plastic watch; five past three. His expression lightened.
“Now all we have to do is get you fed and when it’s dark do the fastest disappearing trick in the world.”
“Now you’re talking. I’m hungry.”
* * *
The colonel stopped, stood in front of the window and sipped his coffee.
“Explain something to me, Captain. You seem certain these icons will be retrieved tonight.”
“Correct, sir.” the captain said cheerfully.
“That’s good.” He lifted the percolator jug and refilled his cup, not offering the captain any. “I have no need to remind you, dead men tell no tales. Brief your people, impart whatever you like, but never mention the religious paintings.” He walked to his desk, rubbed his forehead and slumped into his chair. “Remember, Captain, if this fails your career’s finished.”
With a hasty, “Yes, sir,” Captain Yilmaz left, muttering under his breath. “Pompous, arrogant bastard. It’s all right for him in his warm comfortable office to never get his hands dirty but he’ll demand his share.”
***
Two hours of daylight remained when Petros and Bear walked across the floor of reception. Both men carried a canvas bag apiece. Maria and her brothers had not returned and Petros could hear Bear’s stomach growling.
The taverna, concealed from passing trade in a small courtyard, had no other customers. Petros and Bear ate a large plateful of goat chops and chips. In between mouthfuls, they discussed their plan for the coming evening.
“Thankfully, everything’s covered,” said Petros.
“It helps to keep it simple. Leaves less room for c
ock-ups.”
“Retrieving the icons is the easy bit. The hard part will be getting away.”
“You’re the smart one, PK.”
“No, I’m not. I try to think of someone smarter than me and ask myself what they would do. Then I do it.”
The meal over, they returned to the hotel. The rest of the team were waiting in Petros and Maria’s room.
Unease filled his mind as Petros considered all the options and the uncertainty of not knowing if the recovery would go as planned. He and Bear had gone over it several times. He glanced at his watch: six o’clock. Their preparations were complete, yet his surveillance told him they should not attempt an entry until it became dark and the guards changed. They had time to waste. With a slice of luck they would be in and out before any alarm bells rattled.
“Okay, guys, get your gear on, time to go,” said Petros. “Don’t forget to carry your ski masks and gloves.”
The brothers, along with Bear, left the room.
“What’s in the bag, PK?”
“Insurance, Maria, in case a stupid soldier gets trigger happy.”
“Guns?”
“No, but the sight of one of these pointed straight at them scares the shit out of most people. Time you and George moved the trucks, Maria. See you later.”
* * *
Petros concealed the two crossbows in a sack and followed his team dressed in army fatigues. Together they left the hotel by the rear fire door. Carrying their ski masks and gloves, they ambled in the shadows. There seemed to be an unusual number of soldiers on the streets. Were they simply enjoying a night on the town, Petros wondered.
In pairs and in silence they strolled along the street. When they reached the seafront they stopped and stared into shop windows. One at a time, they crossed the road to the beach.
The full moon enabled them to see but even though the beach remained deserted, Petros checked to make sure no one followed. In the foyer of a derelict hotel, he gathered them together.
“Right, you follow my orders, not your own. If I go down, follow Bear. Understood?”