Arkana Archaeology Mystery Box Set 2

by N. S. Wikarski

  Daniel’s prayers stopped abruptly though he kept a wary distance from the others, apparently still shaken by the heathen spectacle.

  Turning his attention back to the pythia, the scrivener asked, “What did Matushka Ayana mean?”

  “I was there,” she said in wonder. “Part of me was sitting on the bench with the rest of you, but part of me...” She trailed off, trying to sort out the sequence of events. “I was circling around the fire too. And then another figure was there. It was the Minoan priestess.”

  “What?” yelped Daniel. His fears forgotten, he scampered forward. “What did she tell you?”

  “It wasn’t what she said,” Cassie countered. “It was what she did.” The pythia, now fully recovered, rubbed her eyes. “She wore a string of beads around her neck and then she put it around my neck. The beads were made of amber.”

  “Amber!” Griffin cried. He grew silent, lost in thought for a moment. Then, with rising excitement in his voice, he asked, “Are you quite sure?”

  Cassie studied his face in the flickering light. There was an unmistakable gleam in his eye. She smiled. “I know that look. You’ve got a theory, don’t you?”

  Ignoring the comment, the scrivener persisted. “You’re positive the beads were made of amber and not topaz?”

  “Listen, pal,” the pythia joked. “After validating artifacts for a couple of years, I can tell the difference between semi-precious stones and resins. It was amber and no mistake.”

  “Well, if that’s the case, we need to catch the next plane for St. Petersburg.” The scrivener leaped to his feet.

  The others rose uncertainly.

  “I thought we were planning to fly to Moscow,” Daniel objected.

  “That will be quite unnecessary,” Griffin replied. “Of course, I’ll need a little time to prove my assumptions. If I’m correct, the Minoan priestess has just pointed us to the golden road of Boreas.”

  Chapter 33—Water, Water, Everywhere

  Doctor Rafi Aboud emerged from the dark interior of the parking garage and blinked in the summer sunshine as he tried to get his bearings. He was standing on the southwest side of Navy Pier, a thirty-three-hundred-foot dock that jutted out into Chicago Harbor. Originally called Municipal Pier, it had first been opened in 1916. Envisioned as a dock for commercial shipping and passenger boats, it had also been designed with indoor and outdoor recreational areas for public use. Later renamed Navy Pier to honor sailors who served during World War I, the pier underwent a number of changes before falling into decline during the latter part of the twentieth century. An ambitious redevelopment plan in the 1990s transformed the derelict structure into what was now Chicago’s number one tourist attraction. A century after its construction, the pier was enjoying a resurgence of interest because of its new amusement park rides, concert stages, pavilions, and amphitheater.

  Aboud scanned the crowds milling around him before turning eastward to traverse the length of the pier. Midway down the promenade, he spied the grand staircase which led to the upper level.

  Stationed at the foot of the stairs was a tall, squarely-built blond man who grinned at his approach. “Hello, Rafi.” The man’s thick Slavic accent emphasized the “H” in the greeting.

  The doctor smiled in return. “Hello, Vlad. I’m glad you were able to meet me on such short notice.”

  The Russian regarded him with a wry expression. “I assume you have good news to report—finally.” He pointedly emphasized the last word.

  “Oh, my news is very good, I assure you.” Aboud’s eyes followed the staircase upward where it terminated at the base of the pier’s most famous attraction—a giant Ferris wheel which could be seen for miles. “Should we take a spin on the Ferris wheel?” he asked flippantly.

  “Ha!” Vlad barked. “That puny thing is unworthy of the name. The Moscow-850. Now that was a Ferris wheel! The tallest in all of Europe when it was built to celebrate the city’s eight hundred and fiftieth anniversary. Sadly, it’s been taken down now.” He shook his head gloomily. “Don’t remind me of past glories.”

  “Perhaps we should walk this way,” Aboud suggested tactfully. He steered his companion along the south edge of the dock. To their right, excursion boats rode at anchor, taking on tourists eager to see the city skyline, the harbor, and the pier itself from the vantage point of the lake. The two men made no move to enter the pavilions and shops that occupied the center of the structure. Instead, they kept traveling along the dock’s perimeter. They finally stopped walking when they reached the far end of the pier and had put some distance between themselves and the crowds. About a dozen sightseers were ambling around the tip, taking pictures or resting on benches while enjoying the view.

  Dismissing the tourists’ presence, Vlad turned toward Aboud and asked in a low voice, “What progress have you made?”

  “A great deal.” The doctor beamed. “The virus and vaccine have both been perfected.”

  A broad smile spread across Vlad’s face. “At last?”

  “At last,” Aboud confirmed with pride in his voice.

  “Then we are ready to proceed.”

  “Not quite.”

  The Russian’s smile faded.

  “Let’s keep walking,” the doctor urged.

  “Are you afraid you’ve been followed?”

  Aboud glanced casually over his shoulder. “One can’t be too careful though it’s highly unlikely. My benefactor’s people wear ridiculous black suits that are very easy to spot. Moreover, they shun public attractions the way a vampire shuns garlic.”

  Vlad chuckled appreciatively.

  “Of course, my benefactor does employ one outsider,” Aboud added. “An idiot who wears a cowboy hat. He almost killed my prize specimen a few weeks ago.”

  Vlad’s eyes narrowed as he scanned the sightseers around them. His height advantage allowed him a better view. “There is no one in a cowboy hat.”

  The doctor shrugged. “I didn’t think so. The man’s a complete imbecile. I doubt he would have the wit to find his way here.”

  They resumed their conversation and their walk, following the curve of the pier’s tip around to the opposite side.

  “Why are we not ready to proceed yet?” Vlad persisted.

  “I have one more loose end to tie up. Nothing that will take more than a week. When I leave my benefactor’s employ, I wish to do so on amicable terms, having met all his requirements. He will pay me well and give no thought to my future plans which will pay me better still.”

  “I see your point,” the Russian conceded. “You don’t want this fanatic sending someone to hunt you down. But surely you’ll need to stay around after your work is finished, no?”

  “I have made it clear that once I have developed his virus and vaccine, I will move on to other projects. My staff, however, will remain to fulfill his orders at least for a short time. My most able assistant, Maskeen, will oversee any additional production for the next month or so. Right now, he and my technicians are busy culturing plague and vaccine enough for one hundred and fifty men while I attend to the final task—the delivery device.”

  “Since we know no one is following us, let’s sit down for a moment in the shade.” Vlad pointed to one of the hexagonal benches spaced at regular intervals along the edge of the pier. After they were seated, he turned to his companion. “Just out of curiosity, what sort delivery device does your benefactor have in mind? Everybody knows airborne plague is very difficult to dispense.”

  Aboud laughed and shook his head in wonderment. “You’ll never guess what he gave me to work with. He wants to use water bottles.”

  “Water bottles?” the Russian echoed in disbelief.

  “Stainless steel water dispensers. The kind that sports fanatics all seem to carry nowadays. The containers hold half a liter of liquid. The lid is made of hard plastic and the container of brightly colored metal.”

  Vlad continued to peer at him doubtfully.

  T
he doctor elaborated. “The bottles won’t contain water, of course. Each one will house a pressurized gas canister. The aerosol can be dispensed by a hidden trigger in the lid.”

  “And you say he has ordered enough of these for one hundred and fifty men to dispense. That’s all?”

  “Incredible, isn’t it? I have no idea what my benefactor thinks he can accomplish on such a small scale. Given the power of the virus, it’s ridiculous to use it in this way—like detonating an atom bomb to demolish an ant hill.” Aboud threw his hands up in disgust. “Well, let him go fight his little war! His petty grudges hold no interest for me.”

  “You told me he was crazy.” Vlad nodded sagely. “Now I believe you.”

  “In any case, I must oversee the design and manufacture of the initial batch of containers. Once that’s done, I will be free to leave, and we will be free to launch our private venture.”

  “Things are looking up.” The Russian sounded pleased. “I’ll contact our prospective bidders and tell them we will shortly arrange a demonstration for them.”

  “You can expect to hear from me in about a week,” Aboud said. “I’ll call you when my current task is finished. Then we can plan a timetable for the auction.”

  The two men rose and shook hands before departing in opposite directions.

  ***

  A nondescript man wearing a baseball cap pulled low over his forehead watched them go. He removed a small listening device from his ear and then emerged from the shadows of the pavilion. Leroy Hunt claimed the bench the two had vacated in order to ruminate over what he’d just heard. The cowboy was fuming inwardly at Aboud’s description of him. He fought an overwhelming urge to follow the whistlepig to the parking garage and plug him right there as he got into his car. Of course, the preacher would get a mite riled since the doc had a week’s worth of chores ahead of him.

  Leroy glanced at his phone and swiped through the photos he’d just taken. While standing near the edge of the dock among a gaggle of tourists, he’d managed to take some choice shots of the scenery. He’d also managed to capture several close-ups of the two men deep in conversation. Even though he’d bet dollars to donuts that the big Russian was an arms dealer, he still had to ID him. The old man wouldn’t let Hunt make a move until all his ducks were in a row. With a little digging, Leroy would be able to give the preacher the facts he needed. Then the old coot would finally let the cowboy off his chain. It was past time for a junk yard dog like Leroy to go on a tear and howl at the moon. Way past time.

  Chapter 34—Queens of Denial and Other River Lore

  Cassie paced around her hotel room like a caged bobcat. She hated delays. The digital alarm read 1:50 AM. That meant waiting another ten minutes to find out what an amber necklace had to do with the Arkana’s quest. While at Matushka Ayana’s yurt, Griffin had announced that he knew the location of the golden road of Boreas but then refused to explain himself. He insisted that he needed one uninterrupted hour with his computer and the research staff at the vault to check his facts. As a result, the group drove back to their hotel in silence, and the scrivener immediately dashed away to consult his sources. Cassie, Daniel, and Olga were instructed to come to his room at 2 AM for a full report of his findings. Over the years, the pythia had become familiar with her partner’s quirks. His buoyant mood meant that he was 95% certain of his conclusions even before verifying them. Nevertheless, Griffin always needed to be 100% certain before he would venture a guess. Since this was his process and he couldn’t be rushed, Cassie resigned herself to fretting and pacing until the hour was up.

  A light tap on the door interrupted her thoughts. Puzzled, she went to answer.

  “Um, hello.” The scion ducked his head. “I’m sorry to bother you.”

  “No bother.” She held the door wider. “C’mon in. We still have a few minutes to kill before the summit meeting in Griffin’s room. Even though it’s almost two in the morning, I feel strangely awake.”

  Daniel shuddered involuntarily. “I may not sleep for days after Matushka Ayana’s performance.”

  “She really spooked you, huh?”

  The scion shuffled his feet in embarrassment. “That’s why I came to see you.”

  Cassie pointed to a chair. “What’s on your mind?”

  Daniel slid into one of the seats beside the small dining table.

  Cassie took the chair opposite. She folded her elbows on the table and waited for him to speak.

  The scion cleared his throat nervously. “I came to say I’m sorry.”

  She tilted her head. “For what?”

  “For my outburst during the ritual.” He smiled bitterly. “I suppose you shouldn’t expect anything else from me. I’ve always been a spineless coward.”

  Cassie scowled. “No, you’re not.”

  This comment brought Daniel up short. He stared at her in disbelief. “Of course I am. I’m always afraid.”

  “So what?” The pythia shrugged. “Everybody is. Being afraid isn’t what makes a person a coward.”

  The scion blinked, obviously flummoxed.

  “Look, Daniel. Heroes and cowards both get scared. They should. The big bad world is a dangerous place. Jumping into peril feet first doesn’t prove you’re brave. It only proves you’re too much of an idiot to notice how steeply the odds are stacked against you. Fear is a normal part of life. The only difference between heroes and cowards is what they do with their fears. Cowards get paralyzed. Heroes keep on going, no matter what. Right off the top of my head, I can think of at least three times you acted like a hero.”

  “When?” he demanded eagerly.

  “You didn’t have to help Hannah escape the first time, much less the second. And you didn’t have to cover for Erik at all. You risked your own neck to save people who were in trouble. I’d say that’s the definition of brave.”

  Daniel gave a genuine smile of pleasure. “I never thought of it that way before.”

  “Probably because you’ve had a lifetime of the good old Nephilim smack-down. I’m sure nobody is ever perfect enough for Abraham Metcalf. It’s hard to see your own strong points when somebody else is always digging for flaws. And you’re got something even more important than courage going for you.”

  “What’s more important than having courage?”

  “Having a good heart. You broke the rules to help people in need. That tells me you know the difference between right and wrong. Not the kind of right and wrong that gets preached from a pulpit. It’s the kind that comes from listening to your own conscience. When push comes to shove, I believe you’ll always do the right thing because you’re a decent human being.”

  The scion colored at the compliment. His eyes darted toward the floor, and he hastily offered a counterpoint. “I’m still not proud of my behavior during the shaman’s performance.”

  “Oh, that.” The pythia waved her hand dismissively. “You got a little freaked out. No big deal.”

  Daniel glanced up, perplexed. “You don’t even seem surprised by my reaction.”

  “That’s because I’m not. Cut yourself some slack. All this paranormal stuff is a lot to take in.” She gave an unexpected laugh.

  “What is it?”

  “I was just remembering my first pythia vision. My reaction was to jump in my car and burn rubber. I didn’t slow down until I’d put fifty miles between me and the Arkana. It took two whole weeks for me to work up the nerve to come back.”

  “Really?” He seemed encouraged by her admission of frailty.

  “Compared to that, you’re handling your first brush with the supernatural pretty well—especially since you were raised by crazy people who told you it was the work of the devil.”

  “Thank you for understanding.” He paused, considering a new thought. “This mystical business is all so strange and frightening, and yet your job is to stand right in the middle of it.”

  “It’s rare that I get to stand in the middle of it,” Cassie noted ruefully.
“More often than not, I get knocked on my keister.”

  “Yes, I saw a first-hand demonstration at Shaman Rock,” he acknowledged. “These visions must be unpleasant, if not downright painful, but you never shy away from them.” Daniel searched her face intently. “Why?”

  “It turns out that I have a gift if you want to call it that.” The pythia shrugged. “I can see things that nobody else can. The Arkana needs my eyes to find pieces of our lost past. The artifacts we recover prove people used to know how to live in peace with each other and with the planet. Someday, when they’re ready to remember, the Arkana will be ready to show them who they were. As long as I can help shed a little more light in a dark world, I’ll keep on riding the wind horse, as Olga might say.”

  “I guess I’m not the only hero in the room,” Daniel kidded her shyly.

  “You’re right about that.” Cassie chuckled. “I never thought false modesty was a virtue.”

  “Still...” He trailed off, shaking his head. “You visit eerie realms that I’d rather not even imagine. How do you stay sane?”

  “That’s easy,” she answered readily. “I’ve got Griffin. He’s never failed to pull me back from the brink.”

  “You two seem very in tune with each other. Are you a couple?”

  She squinted at him uncomprehendingly. “A couple of what?”

  Daniel hesitated. “A romantic couple.”

  Cassie jerked her head back in alarm. “No! Of course not! We’re partners. He’d put his life on the line for me, and I’d do the same for him, but that doesn’t mean—”

  “I must be mistaken.” The scion rushed to reassure her. “Everything in your world is so different from the ways of the Nephilim. I’m still learning. Please forgive me if I offended you.”

  “No problem.” Cassie relaxed and grinned wryly. “At least you’re open-minded enough to try to understand us. It’s too bad you don’t have anybody in your own ranks to confide in.”

  “Oh, but I do. I have a friend. He’s not a Nephilim, of course. Nobody in the brotherhood would consider making sense of the Fallen. Chris is a librarian. He’s the most wonderful person, and he’s taught me so much about the wider world. There’s nobody like him—so handsome and so wise.” Daniel’s eyes glowed as he extolled his friend’s virtues.