The Song of Eleusis

by Phil Swann

  The pinwheel stopped, and Jennifer scooted closer to the screen to see what her search had discovered. She was expecting at most a couple of pages containing the name of her search with a brief synopsis of any inquiries. What she got however caused her to think her computer had gone on the fritz…again. Page after page began downloading to her desktop. She reached for the phone and then stopped.

  “Lance,” she said to the young man sitting at the desk across from her, “what was the name of that guy who worked with us last year? You played softball with him.”

  “You mean Larry Elkins?”

  “That’s him. Wasn’t he transferred upstairs to International Affairs?”

  “Yep, he’s still up there. You want me to call him?”

  “No, I’ll do it.”

  Jennifer picked up the phone and hit one number. “Larry Elkins, office of International Affairs, please.”

  As she waited for her call to be transferred, Jennifer scanned the files on her screen. What the hell was Grey into now? She considered herself extremely capable at her job, but what she was looking at was way above her pay grade. Half the dossiers carried the header FOREX, which meant they pertained to the foreign exchange markets. The other half dealt with Dealer Banks, known in the industry as the Interbank Markets. Because of sovereignty issue and the fact they dealt in dozens of currencies, these powerful financial institutions were completely off the grid and devoid of any oversight, which is why they were so appealing to high-roller investors, as well as investment banks and insurance companies here in the good ol’ US of A. They could get by with all sorts of shenanigans, and there was little anybody could do about it.

  “Larry Elkins,” came the voice on the other end of the line.

  “Larry, it’s Jen Pryce from downstairs. Remember me?”

  “Sure, Jen. How are you?”

  “I’m good. Hey, I’m wondering if you have a few minutes? I just came across some stuff I could use some help in understanding. You’re just the man for the job.”

  »»•««

  “What the hell am I looking at?” Ellie said.

  “Impressive, ain’t it?”

  “What’s it doing in Nashville, Tennessee?”

  “You have no idea how many people have asked that very same question.”

  Ben and Ellie sat in Ben’s Honda next to a large man-made lake. Centennial Park was an unexpected oasis of rolling hills and lush green meadows situated smack-dab in the middle of Nashville’s new urban sprawl. But that incongruity was secondary to Ellie. What had her completely dumbstruck was the park’s centerpiece, a full-scale, exact-to-the-inch replica of the original Parthenon in Athens, Greece.

  “It’s magnificent.”

  “Sixty-five feet high with forty-six Doric columns, seventeen on each side, six on each end, and no two exactly the same. Also, just like the Parthenon in Athens, there are no true straight horizontal lines. It’s intentionally off kilter to make it look more alive and flawless to the human eye. Pretty cool, huh?”

  “Bloody brilliant! But how do you know so much about it?”

  “I grew up in Nashville, Ellie. Every kid had to write at least one report on this thing in school—it’s practically a rite of passage around here.”

  “Of course,” Ellie said.

  “That’s not all—hang on to your hat—behind those massive bronze doors is a forty-two foot statue of Athena. Again, just like the original.”

  Ellie shook her head. “The last thing I ever expected to see in the middle of America’s Bible Belt was a gigantic shrine to a pagan god.”

  “Yeah, that little fact has somehow escaped the wrath of the religious whackos.”

  “Again I ask, why is it here?”

  “It was built in 1897 as part of the Tennessee Centennial Exposition. Remember, Nashville’s moniker is ‘Athens of the South.’”

  “Yeah, you said that back at the house. How did Nashville get that nickname?”

  “Not sure. Maybe we Nashvillians just think pretty highly of ourselves. Or it’s just another one of those quirky things about this state.”

  “How so?”

  “Memphis, Carthage, Sparta, Troy, Alexandria, Bethlehem.”

  “What about them?”

  “They’re all towns in Tennessee. We seem to have a strange affinity for cities from antiquity around here. Thus, Nashville, Athens of the South.”

  Ellie raised an eyebrow. “Interesting.”

  “Enough sightseeing, you two,” came the voice of Grey over their earpieces. “Do you see anybody that looks familiar?”

  “No,” Ben replied, putting his hand to his ear. “Maybe we should get out of the car.”

  “Not yet, we’re still getting agents in place. Hold tight.”

  “Okay. Just remember the museum closes in twenty minutes.”

  “Museum?” Ellie asked.

  “That’s the only thing different. Directly under the room that houses the statue of Athena…I can’t remember what the room’s called…”

  “The naos,” Ellie said.

  “That’s it. Under the naos is an art gallery.”

  “Is there really? Is there also a treasury room?”

  “Yes. It’s on the same floor as the naos on the west side of the building.”

  “Just like the original,” they both said at once.

  Ben smiled. “Yeah, this place is used for about everything: concerts, plays, weddings, proms, you name it. Hell, I even did a record release here a few years ago. It’s quite a building.”

  “I’ll say,” Ellie replied.

  The two went quiet for a moment as they scanned the faces around them, hoping against hope they’d catch a glimpse of Buchanan or one of his crew. But everyone, and everything, looked normal. There were families stretched out on blankets having picnics, boys from nearby Vanderbilt University playing a game of flag football, scores of people biking or roller-skating around the winding drive encircling the park. As for the Parthenon, there was nothing unusual there, either. Folks unceremoniously entered and exited the landmark like always, co-eds sat against its massive pillars studying, while tourists circumvented the enormous structure with camera phones in hand. As far as Ben and Ellie could tell, everything looked normal.

  Ellie said, “You know, Ben, there’s more than a good chance we’re wasting our time. This might not be the place at all. Buchanan might not be anywhere near here.”

  “He’s here,” Ben said. “I can feel him. He’s probably looking at us right now.”

  Ellie couldn’t help but react to the unsettling possibility, jerking her head and looking around in all directions. She let out an uneasy sigh.

  “You okay?”

  “Yes. I’m just… I don’t understand any of this. I still don’t know what all this is about, and I certainly don’t know how Papau got involved with these people.”

  “You don’t like not knowing things, do you?”

  Ellie smiled. “No, I don’t. Never have. That’s probably why I became a scientist, a life spent in pursuit of finding things out. Suits my personality, I guess.”

  “Stewart said you were a musicologist too. Were you a musician?”

  “Singer,” Ellie answered, rolling her eyes.

  “Really? Were you any good?”

  “Yes—just not good enough. I was lucky, though. I realized early on I wasn’t meant for a life in the performing arts. My talents lay elsewhere. Besides, I always enjoyed learning about history. It was Papau who instilled that in me, I think. When I was a child, he used to tell me the stories of the ancients. I couldn’t get enough.” A sad expression fell over her face. “Papau was the closest thing I ever had to a real father.”

  Ben took her hand. “We’ll get him back. Buchanan’s not going to hurt him.”

  Ellie pulled her hand away. “Listen to me blathering on like a mental.”

  “Nothing wrong with opening up, Dr. Scotes. Or is that against the scientific mantra?”

  “I’m a Brit, Ben, we don’t o
pen up. It’s akin to letting down Queen and country.”

  Ben smiled. “Well, I’m an American, and opening up’s never been one of my strong suits either, so…not sure it’s a geographic phenomenon.”

  “Why didn’t you and your brother get along?”

  Ben feigned shock. “Wow! How long have you been holding that one in?”

  Ellie didn’t answer.

  “What makes you think we didn’t get—”

  “Remember, we get newspapers in England.”

  Ben nodded. “Right. It’s not the Tibetan Plateau.”

  Ellie smiled.

  “You know, I’ve been asking myself that question for the past year and a half. Trying to figure out when it all went bad between us. What was the moment?”

  “And?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t think there was one moment. It’s not like how it is in the movies. There’s not one defining time and place where I can say, here, this is when we went our separate ways, this was the incident that blew it all up, this thing right here was the straw that broke the camel’s back and our relationship would never be the same again. It’s not like that. As best as I can figure, it just sort of happened over time. Tom and I were always different. I guess the older we got, the chasm just got wider. But I’m starting to understand I had more of a problem with me than he did with me. That’s going to take some time to get my head around.”

  “So Sarah had nothing to do with it?”

  “Sarah? You mean romantically?” Ben laughed. “Lord, no. Sarah and I are about as different as two people could be. Her and Tom, though…well, those two were about as perfect for each other as two people could ever be. No, there was never anything between Sarah and me. Besides, there is an age difference. It doesn’t amount to anything now, but when we were younger, it did. Back then I was just Tom’s bothersome little brother. What am I saying? That’s what I’ve always been, the bothersome little brother.”

  Ellie didn’t say anything, but after a moment Ben started laughing.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “The thought of me and Tom locking horns over the same woman like in some Tennessee Williams play. Priceless. Can you imagine the field day the press would have had with that one? Not to mention those dopes at the FBI.”

  “You know I can hear you, right?” Grey said over their earpieces.

  Ben made a face. “Oops, sorry, forgot you were listening.”

  Grey continued, “Okay, we’re ready. Get out of the car and slowly walk toward the Parthenon. If you see anybody that looks even vaguely familiar, say something.”

  Ben looked at Ellie and nodded. Ellie nodded back and both opened their door.

  As they stepped over the curb and went up the embankment into the park, Ellie reached out her hand for Ben’s, which he gave without hesitation. They walked through a small clump of trees and came out the other side onto the park’s main lawn. They paused and scanned the area.

  “What’s wrong?” Grey asked.

  “Nothing,” Ben replied, taking a breath. “We’re heading toward the Parthenon.”

  Ben squeezed Ellie’s hand, and they stepped onto the grass, moving closer to the mammoth building two hundred yards in front of them. Ben could feel his heart beating faster. Suddenly, every face looked like a threat, all movement was a prelude to an assault. Is Buchanan eyeing us right now through a telescopic sight attached to a high-powered rifle? What if I’m wrong? What if Buchanan doesn’t want them alive? What if he just wants them dead? What if this is all a trap?

  “Feeling pretty exposed out here, Pryce,” Ben said.

  “It’s okay, Ben. We’ve got agents all around you. You see anything?”

  “No.”

  Ellie abruptly stopped. She was staring at something off to the left.

  “What is it?” Ben asked.

  “Over there, by that tree,” Ellie said, nodding in the direction. “It looks like…”

  “A couple lying under a blanket,” Ben said.

  “The blanket, it’s gray wool, like those cheap ones on the beds at the prison.”

  Ellie began moving toward it. The closer they got, Ben could tell the people weren’t moving and the blanket was covering their heads. But a single leg was sticking out, and that was all Ellie needed to see.

  “Oh my God, it’s them!” Ellie took off running.

  “Pryce, twenty-five yards on our left.”

  Ben took off in pursuit of Ellie. By the time he reached her, she was on the ground.

  “They’re alive!” Ellie yelled, caressing Bea and Stewart’s head.

  Before Ben could say anything, a man in a helmet and fatigues appeared out of nowhere and fell next to him and Ellie. Ben moved aside as the man checked over Beatrice and Stewart. Suddenly, Ben heard another voice in his ear. “We have the first lady. North side of building. Repeat, the first lady down on north side of the building.”

  “Go,” Ellie said. “It’s okay. I’ll stay with them. You go to Sarah. Go!”

  Ben gave Ellie a quick nod and took off in a full sprint, never hearing the command from Agent Pryce ordering him to stay where he was.

  Ben bolted across the lawn toward the west side of the Parthenon. He was coming around the corner when someone cut him off, nearly taking him to the ground. He looked back as he stumbled to stay upright and tried to compute the face of the person wearing khaki shorts and a Dodger’s baseball cap behind him. “Marci?” he mumbled.

  “Hi, Pooky Bear, fancy meeting you here,” Marci replied.

  Jesus, not now. “Marci, I’m sorry, I can’t talk. I have to—”

  “Oh, Pooky Bear, you’re always trying to get away from me.”

  “Marci, really, I need to—”

  “Relax, Pooky Bear.” Marci moved toward Ben’s face like she was going to kiss him but instead pulled the earpiece from his ear, threw it on the ground, and stomped on it. “Stay where you are, or I swear to God I’ll put a bullet right through your miserable little heart, Pooky Bear.”

  Ben looked down and saw the barrel of a gun protruding from Marci’s bag.

  Ben went flush. “Marci, what the…? Why are you…?”

  The girl’s face was stone. “You’re going to go up these steps, through the door, and into the building. If you run, I’ll shoot you. If you yell, I’ll shoot you. In fact, if you even breathe in a way I don’t like, I’ll shoot you just for the fun of it. Now move.”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  “The Parthenon is now closed,” the uniformed man said. “Thank you for visiting. Please make your way to the exit.”

  Ben immediately recognized the guard standing by the massive bronze double-doors as Officer Leggett, the Nashville cop who Agent Pryce said was in the wind.

  “Stop here,” Marci ordered as the guard ushered the last of the visitors out.

  Ben did as he was told and stopped just inside the doorway. He didn’t move a muscle, allowing only his eyes to scan the cavernous room known as the treasury room. In Ancient Greece, this was where Athena’s treasures were stored. This room, however, was sparse, housing only small replicas of the building’s pediments, the triangular carvings seen above the east and west entrances to the Parthenon. For a brief instant, Ben considered overpowering Marci and taking cover behind one of the statues. Maybe she’d think twice about shooting him if there were witnesses around. He quickly dismissed the thought when he felt the barrel of her gun jabbing into his rib cage.

  With the last person out, the guard swung the immense bronze doors shut.

  Marci shoved Ben into the middle of the room. “Well done, Pooky Bear. I thought you were going to try something stupid. After all, you do specialize in stupid.”

  “Marci, why—”

  “You can put the gun down, Sheila,” Buchanan said, entering from a darkened hallway on the opposite side of the room. “He’s not going anywhere.”

  Sheila, the girl Ben knew as Marci, lowered the gun.

  Buchanan pulled back the hood of a floor-length b
lack robe and smiled. Ben saw he was carrying, of all things, not a gun but an iPad. “The thing I like about you, Lambros, is you’re as predictable as a summer’s rain. From the very beginning you’ve done everything you were supposed to do, when you were supposed to do it, and the very way we wanted it done, right down to delivering Timon Baros into our lap. By the way, did you enjoy my little performance at the house? I thought I was very emotional.” He turned to Leggett. “Go get Andrew.”

  Leggett followed the command and disappeared down the hallway.

  Buchanan turned back to Ben. “So for your sake, let’s hope you’ve held true to that admirable trait and brought it with you.”

  “Brought what with me?” Ben replied.

  Buchanan stuck out his hand, Sheila handed him the gun, and he pointed it at Ben’s face. “Let’s not do this, Lambros. The time for games is over. You know exactly what I’m talking about. Did you bring the song or not?”

  Ben’s mind was reeling. He knew he could only answer one way. “Yes,” he said, keeping his eyes locked on Buchanan. “Of course, I did.”

  “Good. Hand it over.”

  Ben shook his head. “Are you crazy? I’m not carrying it around with me. It’s up here,” he pointed to his head. “So if you kill me, it’ll die with me. I don’t think that’s something you want to do, Buchanan.”

  Ben was making it up as he went, praying he could buy enough time for Pryce and his team to somehow get into the Parthenon.

  “Does he have the skill?” Buchanan asked Sheila.

  Sheila nodded. “He does.”

  Buchanan looked long at Ben, jaw clinched, pistol still pointed at his head. “Fine,” he said, relaxing his arm. “Then you’ll play it for all of us.”

  “Who’s all of us?” Ben asked.

  Buchanan smiled. “You’re wrong, you know? I will kill you, without a second thought, song or no song. I just won’t start with you—I’ll start with her.”