Murder on Olympus

by Robert B Warren

  I nodded at him, a show of respect for his skills. He nodded back. By now, the other students had dragged themselves off the floor and gathered around us. I caught glimpses of their faces, all glowering at me. I could tell they wanted to jump in, but they wouldn’t. This was a one-on-one duel between master and pupil. Interference was forbidden. It’d be like saying their master wasn’t strong enough to fight his own battles.

  This time I was the aggressor. I let loose a barrage of kicks and punches. He blocked them all and reached for my throat, his fingers curled like claws. I backpedaled, evading his grasp. I smiled. He was even better than I thought. Waves of nervous energy emanated from the other students. Caesar and I smiled at each other. I gestured for him to bring it on.

  He threw two punches and some kicks. I blocked the first few attacks, but he eventually saw an opening. He grabbed me and slammed me onto the floor. Before he could stomp me, I grabbed his ankle. He lost his balance and fell. We both scrambled to our feet. I kicked him in the chest as he reared back for a punch. He shuffled back.

  He wasn’t smiling anymore. I was.

  For an instant we stood across from one another, not moving. Like in an old western showdown. It wasn’t as cool as it looked on TV. I was exhausted, and I feared what would happen if Caesar landed a solid blow. I needed a second to think, to come up with a game plan.

  But there was no time for strategy. Caesar charged me, punching, chopping, and kicking. I weaved and ducked, then rose up with a left hook. The blow caught him squarely on the chin. His hands dropped as his bones turned to jelly. He fell flat on his face and started snoring. Someone cursed. I backed away as the other guys rushed over to check on him.

  Paul rolled Caesar over and slapped him on the face a few times, attempting to wake him. “Sensei!”

  “He’s out cold,” Marco said.

  “He won’t be the only one if you guys don’t start talking,” I warned.

  They glanced at one another. Paul looked as though he wanted to speak. Marco gave him a warning glance.

  “Got something to say, Paul?” I asked.

  He shook his head.

  “Look, if you tell me what’s going on, I promise not to call the police.”

  Again they looked at each other. Marco nodded. Then Jim said, “Okay.”

  I crossed my arms. Their compliance came as a surprise. But I was relieved that I didn’t have to fight anymore.

  “A while back, someone came in during one of our classes,” Jim said. “He knew you were a student here. He told us to rough you up the next time we saw you. Gave us twenty thousand apiece to do it. I don’t know what you did to piss him off, but I wouldn’t want to be in your shoes.”

  “What’s his name?” I demanded.

  Jim hesitated. “Hermes.”

  38

  Early the next morning, I made an unexpected visit to Hermes’s estate. The brawl at the dojo had landed him back on my list of suspects, which suited me just fine. I was hoping I’d get the chance to take down that arrogant prick.

  Before leaving home, I left Herc a voice mail and told him where I was going, in case I didn’t return.

  Hermes was at his desk, working on his laptop. His fingers were pale blurs as they rapidly tapped the keys, pounding out what had to have been hundreds of words per minute. I sat down in front of his desk. He didn’t acknowledge me, just continued to type away as if I wasn’t there. I cleared my throat.

  Hermes’s voice, when he finally addressed me, was calm and even. His composure made me angrier than I already was. “Good morning, Mr. Jones. What brings you here this morning?”

  “You know damn well why I’m here.”

  “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Of course you don’t. Well, let me refresh your memory. You paid off my karate class.”

  “Oh, that.” Hermes chuckled, still typing.

  I frowned. “You think this is funny?”

  “Very much so.”

  “Why’d you do it?”

  Hermes shrugged. “Hera requested it.”

  I laughed incredulously. “Wait, wait. Did you just say that Hera put you up to this?”

  “I did.”

  I didn’t know what to think about that. I knew Hera wasn’t the nicest Goddess around, and that she despised mortals. But I was trying to find her children’s killer. It made no sense that she would come after me like this, unless there was something she didn’t want me to find out.

  “A while back, two assassins tried to kill me,” I said. “Did she hire them too?”

  “She did.”

  Suddenly, a lot of things made sense. The OBI agents who arrested Dalen Scott—they didn’t kill him in self-defense. They killed him because Hera ordered them to. Because he was a liability, one that could expose her master plan, whatever it may be. Considering that, it was probably no coincidence that the names of the arresting agents were being kept secret. Hera didn’t want them available for questioning. I wouldn’t be surprised if she had them killed as well.

  What didn’t make sense was why she would try to kill me now, when Zeus wanted so badly for me to investigate these murders.

  “Does Zeus know about this?” I asked.

  Hermes looked up from his computer and anchored his light-blue eyes on me. “No, and he never will.”

  I got the implication. If I blabbed to Zeus about the conspiracy, Hera would double her efforts to kill me. I had already dodged the bullet twice, but my lucky streak wouldn’t last forever. It was safer to stay quiet for now.

  “Why is she doing this?” I asked.

  “She has her reasons.”

  “Which are?”

  Hermes smiled. I knew this conversation wasn’t going to lead anywhere. He was toying with me now, dangling a carrot from a stick. I’d had enough of it.

  “You’ve already threatened my ex-wife. And now Hera’s out for my blood. How am I supposed to solve this case with this crap going on?”

  “You’re the master detective. You figure it out.”

  I clenched my jaw, wanting to knock that smug grin off his face, knowing he’d kill me if I tried.

  “Look at it this way, Jones. In the unlikely event that you solve this case, perhaps the First Lady will decide to leave you alone.”

  I smiled. “Or will she be more bloodthirsty than ever?”

  “I’d watch what I say if I were you, Mr. Jones.” Hermes peered down his nose at me.

  “It was just a question.”

  “Don’t patronize me, mortal. I know what you’re getting at. You think Hera is involved in these murders.”

  He was right. But I wasn’t about to let him know that. “I’m not accusing anyone of anything.”

  “Smart move. Now, if there’s nothing else, I’ll ask that you get out of my office. I have a lot of work to do.”

  There was no point in arguing. It wouldn’t have gotten me anywhere. Hermes was done playing ball. He knew why Hera was coming after me. That much was obvious. But he wasn’t going to tell me. Whether he was scared of angering the First Lady, or he just liked watching me squirm, I couldn’t tell. The only thing I knew was that I was up to my eyeballs in trouble.

  As I stood, Hermes said, “Oh, and Mr. Jones. Don’t mention any of this to Zeus. For your own sake.”

  “I won’t say a word,” I assured him. “But you have to do something for me.”

  Hermes grinned. We both knew that I was in no position to bargain. But he humored me regardless. “And what would that be?”

  “The guys from the dojo. I don’t want to them to end up like that assassin. You get what I’m saying?”

  Hermes chuckled. “Of course, Mr. Jones. I’ll see to it that they’re not harmed.”

  I nodded in appreciation.

  Hermes nodded back and returned to his
work. He was probably lying to me. But there was nothing I could do about it, except call the guys from class and tell them to watch their backs. Even though I was still mad at them, I didn’t want their blood on my hands.

  I left Hermes’s office and went to the foyer. An elevator behind the staircase took me to the base of Mount Olympus. The doors parted and I stepped into the dim, subterranean parking deck where my Thunderbird waited for me. Not for the first time, I felt guilty about trying to replace the old clunker. No doubt about it, the Lotus had been prettier and more in tune with my style. But the Thunderbird had been there for me through thick and thin. It was like an old friend. An old friend I had wronged. I felt like I should apologize.

  I got in the car, started the engine, and drove out of the deck. When I got home, I cracked open a beer and slumped onto the couch. The midday sunlight filtered through the window blinds, staining the floor with bands of white light.

  As far as I was concerned, Hera was now my prime suspect. If she was so eager to kill me, it meant she was probably involved in the murders. But why would she kill her own offspring?

  Though I didn’t have an answer to that question, I was relieved that Hera was after me instead of Zeus. From the beginning, I had doubts about the president’s involvement in the attempts on my life. He was the one who hired me after all—and I was friends with his son. There was no explanation as to why he’d want me dead.

  Hera, on the other hand, could cook up more than a few reasons to take me out.

  Though Zeus knew what his wife was capable of, I’m sure he never expected her to go this far—taking control of the OBI right under his nose. I wanted to tell him the truth. But Hera would kill me if I did. For now, my only option was to continue the investigation, and hope I lived long enough to discover the truth.

  39

  The following afternoon I got a call from Magus, who told me that my order was ready. After work, I swung by the Ammo Crate to pick up my osmium rounds.

  “What’s up, Unc?” I asked as I walked through the door.

  Magus was behind the counter doing a crossword puzzle. He looked up and smiled. “Hey.”

  “You’ve got something for me?”

  “I do.” Magus reached under the counter and brought up a sealed cardboard box. He sliced it open with his box cutter.

  Inside were ten small red boxes, all of them unmarked. I opened one. It was filled with lustrous blue-gray bullets. I nodded and closed it.

  “You good?” Magus asked.

  “Yep.” I handed him my debit card and he rang me up.

  “You know, someone else came in here the other day and ordered some osmium bullets,” Magus said, giving the card back to me, along with a receipt. “Fifty boxes.”

  My eyes widened. “Fifty boxes?”

  He nodded. “He said he needed them as soon as possible.”

  “How much did that run him?”

  “A little over a quarter million.”

  “Wow!”

  “I asked him why he needed so many. He claimed that he and his friends were going on a chimera hunt. I wasn’t convinced.”

  “Why not?” I asked.

  “He was a little too jittery.”

  “Maybe he was just excited.”

  “Maybe.”

  I picked up the cardboard box.

  “You’re leaving already?” Magus asked.

  “Yeah,” I said. “I’m meeting someone this evening.”

  Magus raised an eyebrow. “That someone wouldn’t happen to be a woman, would it?”

  I smiled. “I wish.”

  After leaving the Ammo Crate, I drove across town to pay Hades a surprise visit. The last time I’d seen him was about nine years ago, while I was still with the OBI. One of his prized Cerberuses had escaped its cage, and was running amuck all over the city. Hades went to Zeus, who ordered me and the other agents to track down the beast and return it to its owner. Four agents had been eaten and another three wounded before we finally completed the mission.

  Hades showed his appreciation by throwing us a lavish party at the New Olympia Civic Center. I couldn’t make it because Alexis and I were celebrating our anniversary that night. But it was just as well. I heard things got out of hand, and several people had to be sent to the hospital. No one would tell me exactly what happened. I didn’t want to know.

  Hades lived in a subterranean complex beneath Mount Olympus. The only way in was by elevator. On my way down, screams of horror issued from the various floors. An indication of things to come? I hoped not.

  By the time I reached the bottom level, the screaming had stopped. The elevator doors parted to reveal a magnificent foyer. The floors were marble, the walls cream, and a chandelier sparkled overhead, throwing flecks of gold light. Twin staircases led to a balcony on the second floor.

  I stepped out of the elevator and was met by a minotaur with gray fur and black horns. He wore a hunter-green suit and an earpiece.

  “Plato Jones?” he said.

  “Uh, yes.”

  “The master is expecting you. Come with me.”

  The God of the Underworld was expecting me? That couldn’t be good.

  I followed the minotaur upstairs to Hades’s office. The space was large and inviting, with warm colors and sumptuous leather furnishings. It would have been perfect if not for the ghastly paintings on the walls. One depicted a man in a loincloth being impaled on a stake. Another showed a fire-breathing dragon burning a group of people alive. But the worst, by far, was of a woman eating a baby. I don’t think I’ll ever understand rich people and their fondness for the bizarre.

  Hades was practicing his golf swing on an indoor putting green. His light-blue sweater-vest looked like it had been ripped straight out of Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood. Khaki slacks and a pair of sensible loafers completed the look. His blond hair was slicked down and parted in the middle. He smiled at me, flashing straight white teeth.

  “Good evening, Mr. Jones.” His voice was creepily low and gentle.

  “Same to you.”

  Hades put aside his putter and raised the window blinds. On the other side of the glass was a picture of a beautiful countryside. Artificial light flooded the room.

  He sat down behind his desk. “Please, sit.”

  I sat on the couch.

  Hades sat in silence for a while, smiling at me. It was a pleasant smile. Unsettlingly pleasant. Like Zeus, he emitted power. But his was different than his brother’s. It felt conscious—a dark presence looming behind me, silent and observant.

  “Can I offer you something to drink?” he asked.

  My first instinct was to say no. But declining the hospitality of a God was never a good idea. Besides, I was in a unique position. Hades normally offered his guests fire, chains, and torment.

  I shrugged. “Why not?”

  As if on cue, the door opened and Persephone, the Goddess of Spring and Queen of the Underworld, strolled into the office, bringing with her the smell of wildflowers. It might have just been my imagination, but all the potted plants in the room seemed to sway in her direction.

  In a white sundress with red flowers, and red heels, she looked like a sixteen-year-old on her way to a picnic. Her blond hair sported a poodle cut, and her makeup was a little too perfect. She carried a pitcher of lemonade in one hand while balancing a tray of cookies in the other.

  “Hello, sweetheart,” she said cheerily.

  “Hello, dear. Are those oatmeal cookies I smell?”

  “They sure are.”

  “Splendid.”

  These two couldn’t be serious. I glanced back and forth between them. They were serious.

  Persephone set the pitcher and tray on the coffee table. She kissed Hades on the lips and then fetched two glasses from the minibar.

  “Dear, you remember Mr. Jones, don’t you?”
Hades said. “He used to work for my brother a few years back.”

  “Of course.” Persephone poured me a glass of lemonade. Her blue eyes were wide and unblinking. Her smile looked painted on. “How are you, Mr. Jones?”

  “Ask me again in a few minutes,” I said.

  Hades laughed, shaking his finger at me. “Oh, Mr. Jones.”

  “Have a cookie, Mr. Jones,” Persephone offered. “They’re to die for.”

  I’ll bet. “Thank you very much.”

  I picked up a cookie, a small one, and put the whole thing into my mouth. It was grainy and crunchy. All I could taste was sugar. Pure, unbridled sugar. Hades and Persephone went as still as mannequins. They stared at me as I chewed. The intensity in their eyes made swallowing difficult.

  “What do you think?” Hades asked.

  I returned a shaky smile. “Delicious.”

  The tension in the room disappeared. Persephone touched her chest and let out a breathless laugh. “I’m so relieved. I was worried you wouldn’t like them.”

  I shook my head vigorously. “Oh no,” I lied. “I love exceedingly sweet things.” Especially on an empty stomach.

  “You simply must try the lemonade next,” she said.

  I did as she asked. I was afraid not to. The lemonade was like cold corn syrup with a dash of lemon. One sip nearly sent me into diabetic shock.

  “Well?” Persephone asked. She stood on tiptoes as if too eager to stay still.

  I smiled again, struggling not to wretch. “Best lemonade I’ve ever had.”

  Persephone beamed and put her hands on her hips. “Mr. Jones, you’ve just gone and made my day. How would you like to stay for dinner?”

  I smiled apologetically. “Maybe next time.”

  Persephone stared at me for a long moment, silent and unmoving. It was as if a circuit in her head had blown. Finally she said, “Yes . . . next time.”

  “Dear,” Hades cut in politely. “Do you think you could give us a moment? Mr. Jones and I have important matters to discuss.”

  “Of course.”

  “Wonderful.”

  “I love you,” Persephone said.