by Glenn Roug
room.
"Someone's made a discovery," Doc Minus Two said. "Maybe something big."
"A whole new section of the Minotaur's labyrinth."
"Not just an empty section. There must be something in there if they took the trouble to encrypt this map. And yet this person, rather than share the find with the world and become the most famous archeologist since Howard Carter found the tomb of Tutankhamon, decides to keep it to himself and then sends it to someone else taking great care that it doesn't fall into the wrong hands."
I was surprised that he had heard of Howard Carter, but had bigger fish to fry. "So, you no longer think it's double encrypted?"
"No, this map already contains the secret information — the new corridor — and this is a good enough reason to send it in such a secretive way. Now everything begins to fall into place."
I took a closer look at the map. The new, sixth section started on the east side of the cave, north of the entrance. It was not big. I assumed it was a few hundred feet in length. It was shaped like a lowercase a, curled back into itself. "Think about it," I said. "A section of the Cretan Labyrinth that has not yet been explored. A corridor that has not been damaged by any explosion or vandals or tourists."
"Explosion?"
"Yes. During World War II the German army used parts of the labyrinth to store ammunition. When they evacuated they blew up some of it, though not all. There's lots of ammunition still strewn about the place. There's lots of cave ins, too — some having occurred even before the explosions. It's a very dangerous place to go into. Many visitors died. This is why it's been closed to the public for years."
Doc Minus Two pointed to the new a-corridor. "Not to all of them, apparently. Someone must have gained access to discover this."
"Illegally. And I still don't understand why they chose to hide a discovery like this. No matter what's in there, if I was the one who found it, I'd go around the globe giving lectures. I'd write books. I'd make TV documentaries."
"You're thinking like an archeologist now. What if the person who found it was not an archeologist?"
I sat on the bed again. "What would a layperson do with some stuffy corridors, even if there's an important archeological find in them? They'd go tell a local TV station, that's all."
He shook his head. "Suppose whatever is in there has more than just archeological value? Suppose there is something in that corridor that appeals to the common thief? Not only valuable to science but easily convertible to cash?"
"What could that be?"
"I don’t know: gold; diamonds; ancient relics that are difficult to remove from the cave; the fucking body of the Minotaur himself. Who knows? It was enough for someone to want to kill you and sixty six of your buddies."
I lay back on the bed and stared at the ceiling. In my professional excitement I forgot about the mess I was in. "You don't think that was the reason?"
"I'm beginning to believe that it was." He went over to the complimentary coffee set and made himself a cup and did not ask if I wanted one, and instead remarked that the coffee was weak and that only coffee that was strong enough to float an iron wedge was worth drinking. The aroma filled the room nonetheless, and reminded me that I still did not have breakfast. "Someone's made the discovery of the decade," he said. "Whatever is in that new section is far too valuable to him or her to share with the rest of the world. But the perp needed to bring at least one more person into the secret. Maybe someone who could evaluate the thing or who offered to buy it or who is to help remove it. The perp was too cautious to send this over the internet, and so he used the Post Office, except that he attached a tracking device to make sure it got to its intended destination. But he got the box number wrong and the envelope landed in your son's mailbox, which the perp didn't realize until it was too late. Next, he saw the package in his tracking device get on a flight to Dallas it shouldn't have been on, and the person who was supposed to receive it didn't receive it. Of course he must have sent that person another scan of the map, but now he knew that there was someone else out there who might recognize this fairly well-known map and realize that something about it wasn't right. That was too dangerous for them to ignore. They had to make sure that whoever had the map was eliminated."
"Why not just go to the owner of the box? Kill one, not sixty seven."
"Because the perp's made a typo in the box number, remember? They had no way of knowing in which box the envelope landed."
"They could have cross-checked the names of all box owners in that branch against the passengers on that flight. There should be only one name who both owns a box there and was on the flight: me."
"That is correct, and I believe this is exactly what they did. Except that in this case it didn't work because neither your name nor your son's is on that box."
"How did you know that? I didn't even think about it but you're right. It was a box I had there for twenty years, since the days I ran a small — and not very successful — real estate agency with a partner. The box is on his name."
"What happened to him?"
"Died in a car accident years ago."
He twisted his mouth. "No wonder they were at a dead end. The only clue they had was that someone who owned a mail box in that branch was also on that flight, but they couldn't figure out who. At this point the choice was to kill all mailbox owners or all passengers on that flight, and there are far more of the former. Going after the passengers was the most logical thing to do."
"But how did you know my name wasn't on the box?"
"Simple. You're alive."
I snickered. "That makes sense. Go on. What happened next?"
"Next, they found the discarded envelope in the trash at the airport. Maybe already at the dump. Either way, the pen drive was not there. Now they really panicked: someone was indeed interested in their little secret."
"And the solution was sixty seven separate murders."
He nodded. "Like I said it seemed the most logical solution given the information they had. It isn't an easy decision to make, but they must have had the budget for it, and the right level of fear. Money and fear, that's all it takes to ruin someone else's day."
I got up and went to the laptop and pointed to the a-corridor again. "And all that for this? What the hell can it be that's worth sixty seven lives? We must go see it."
He looked at me as if he was seeing me for the first time. "You, of all people, want to go there?"
"Sure." I tapped on the screen excitedly. "Is that so hard to understand? I'm an archeologist. This, whatever it is, may be the biggest archeological discovery in decades. I want to see it. I want to have my name tied to it."
He nodded in mock appreciation. "I gotta hand it to you, Al, you finally managed to surprise me. I always thought you a coward. Now I see that you're a coward with delusions of grandeur. But much as I'd like to see you try, I have to strongly advise against it. The very reason they've killed all these people is because they fear that one of them has this map and is going to check out the new discovery. You better believe someone is guarding that cave. If you make it into it at all, you'd never see the light of day again."
"I don't care." I don't know where I had gathered the courage to say it. As if something foreign that had been lurking inside my mind all these years was finally let loose. I thumped on the desk. "All my miserable life I've never done anything that deserved the attention of even a school newspaper. I'm always looking at fossils someone else has dug out of the ground and trying to assess their age, or writing papers attacking someone else's research. Now's my chance to cut a figure in this world. I will never have an opportunity like this again."
"But you won't be allowed to pull it off, kid. So what's the point?"
Again he was right, but this time I desperately needed him to be wrong. He sensed that and said, "Once we crack this and put the perps behind bars you'd be free to go there and explore. Let's concentrate on catching them first."
I did not like that plan. "It may be too late then. M
ore people would know about it." But I decided not to pursue the matter for now. Only for now, mind you, as I was not about to wait too long with this. If he did not want to go with me, I could always get the FBI involved. They would not have a problem going in there If I told them about the a-corridor. Even if I could not join them, at least I would find out what was in there. Maybe even have my name mentioned in connection with it. Finding a good job would be an easy task then. They'll be lining up at my doorstep. I determined to tell K about the labyrinth as soon as possible.
An envelope slid under the door. I startled, but it was only the hotel invoice. I had the room for a couple of hours more before checkout, before having to go back to that dirty, spartan, outdoorsy world of Doc Minus Two, with an open Jeep and every trace of comfort banished far away. He did not seem to miss comfort, Doc. He never even tried the bed. "So what do we do now?" I asked. "Now that we have the answer but still won't go to Crete?"
"I went through police files on the murder cases yesterday. All of them. Most won't teach us anything. But there's one murder I want to take a closer look at."
"What's so different about it?"
"Yesterday, the police arrested a suspect."
X.
The murder victim was one Dominique Lasbrant. He was shot once in the forehead while sitting in his car after leaving a bar near his Tampa home. This happened